Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Ah We are Back To Consistency

So my very few dear friends, I have not been so consistent with this blog. Although I promised to be. But a choice had to be made between consistent blogging and consistently being available for life and consistently getting a little sleep. Surprisingly, I chose the latter. In August, when this blog went to sleep, my dad broke his hip. We didn't know it at the time and it is a long and sordid story but the interim result was that he acquired a severe narcotic induced dementia that, although it has resolved, left it clear that there was non-narcotic induced dementia as well. It became clear that this was of some long standing and a little worse than we thought. In the meantime, however, there was a week long hospital stay and a month of rehab/nursing home. During this time life became work and nursing home and not much else. Little time for family, self, friends or blogging. I went from work to nursing home to take out to teenage homework, to bed. My dad is home, not happy but home, at our house. Along with him has come caregivers and a mind boggling number off appointments with various doctors and therapists. More on the caregivers another day, it has been a trip! More on the calendars, it continues to be a chore. But I keep trying to chronicle this life; difficult but filled with wonders nonetheless.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

Could You Just Put Your Pants On?

Ok so here we are, it was about six months into the extended family experiment. My husband comes home from work to have lunch which he does with some regularity. Its about 1 p.m. As he is making himself a ham and cheese sandwich my father walks through the house and he is stark, staring naked. My husband is a bit taken aback but figures he will just go into his room and close the door, or put on pants. But no, my dad goes about his business wandering to and fro, naked as the day he was born. Finally, unable to stand it any longer, my husband asks if he could put on pants. The response was...no! At this point in the telling of the story I was pretty much flabbergasted. Maybe he is starting to feel so comfortable here that he feels he should be able to do as he pleases, or at least as he did in his own home when he lived alone. My husband made the point that if he could not walk around naked, then nobody else should be allowed to either. Later in the day, at a clothed moment, I finally had to weigh in. I explained to my dad that my teenage son lives here too and he might have feelings about the naked grandfather thing. Additionally, my son's friends are here; a lot. And I know they would have feelings about the naked grandfather thing. Certainly it's too much information for me. Now its a few months later and we have mostly solved the naked thing, although there is the occasional lapse. Now more often he wanders about for the better part of half a day in his underwear. I do tell him when there are going to be children, or guests, about and he will get dressed. Frequently he complains about how cold my house is (I have sacrificed and turned the thermostat up to 75 which for me is Saharan heat). His solution for this is unique. He still wanders about in his underwear but wears a winter fleece jacket; understand I live in Central Florida where it is generally never colder than 60 even at night. He can often be found at the dinner table in short tennis shorts and a flannel lined windbreaker. Of all the possible problems that I imagined or anticipated when we decided he would move in here, daytime nakedness was just not one of them, it was quite a surprise. He cannot believe that I am hot all the time, he thinks I am making it up. We often suggest that he might not be cold if he wore pants; he just doesn't believe.

Friday, July 31, 2009

They Are Squeezing My Shoes

There has been so much written about my generation that we have lots of labels in the popular press. We are the baby boomers and we are the "sandwich" generation to name the two biggies that come to mind. I like to think of it as just squeezed. And of course this economic downturn (read catastrophe) we are currently experiencing is adding to the squeeze. Police officers, at least in New York, used to have an expression that someone was "squeezing their shoes". I have always loved this expression, I find that it perfectly captures how I feel at times. And now is one of those times. As I have written before, my father came to live with us about eight months ago and there are so many observations and subjects to talk about it is hard to know where to start. And as I have often written about, I have a teenage son now beginning his junior (read hell) year of high school in a very difficult program (and no I am not pushing him too hard). My dad is quite competent in some respects. He still balances his checkbook, no matter how long it takes. He still takes his shirts to the dry cleaner but it is a half day expedition. He has terrific difficulty with his computer, phone, tv and cable box. He is alone during the day, mostly, so he waits for me to return home for his social interaction and to tell him where the "x" went on his computer. My son, the other half of the "squeeze", managed to do very poorly in school last year. He agrees that he can do the work, he agrees that he didn't really try, he says he's ready to try but doesn't really know why he didn't. He will require a great deal of structure, help and motivation to make it through this year. You get the idea, I am in the middle. They are squeezing my shoes. My husband is great. He is kind and helpful with my dad and does everything possible for my son. But my dad really only wants to talk to me, he gets pissed at everyone else (gets pissed at me too but not quite as much). And my husband simply isn't good at the school thing. So he cooks comfort food that isn't really good for me but is made with great intentions. I often wonder what I am supposed to be learning through all this. Usually one thing jumps right into my mind...patience. Apparently I didn't have enough because I am learning more, it is greatly required. Retirement seems a very long way off.

Tuesday, June 2, 2009

Facebook Revisited

Facebook is fun...sometimes. I have, however, come to the conclusion that people, many of whom claim they are too busy to breathe, actually have way too much time on their hands. I went to the movies with friends Sunday night and discovered that, although they were enjoying the movie, they were actually texting and "Facebooking" during the movie. Good grief. It is as if people can no longer be alone with themselves, it is sort of frightening. I have work, I have family, I have things to focus on. Facebook provides a wonderful opportunity to re-connect with people I haven't seen in years and I like that part very much. It provides an easy way to communicate when there really isn't time to have long phone conversations. In some ways it provides a certain intimacy since you are not talking "live" or face to face; although it really is live; we just act as if it were not. I have a hard time keeping in touch with folks because I honestly don't have time for long phone conversations. But it doesn't mean I don't love them and miss them, I just have a ridiculous life. Nevertheless, I find Facebook tiring sometimes and I am astounded at the amount of time people spend on the silliness. It took me about two weeks to figure out that I would ignore all the invites to groups, games, throwing things (except kitties because the visual amuses me) and simply chat occasionally with my friends or express my self, or ask people to join my blogs (shameless plug). Personally, I like being alone with myself today, maybe a little music, often a book. I can turn my cell phone off for a whole day or night and be not troubled at all by the idea that I might miss a call. I love my friends but I truly don't need their constant company. I don't want my "social networking" to be a chore, I just want to enjoy and love my friends. I am mildly disgusted by the ego involved in some cases and the work involved to keep up that some people invest. I like myself today, enough to just be alone. The next time people tell me they are too busy for almost anything, I will tell them to just give up a f Facebook every other day. They would have plenty of time for everything.

Monday, June 1, 2009

Nothing To Be Afraid Of

So this morning, my boss, who is officed and resides about 4 hours away, showed up about 9:30. In he strolled and said "Hi". I just said good morning, enquired about his weekend and went back to work. As I went about my business, the random thought floated across my mind that I was glad I was doing nothing wrong because gee, he isn't normally there. And hard on the heels of that thought was the thought that when you don't do anything wrong you have nothing to be afraid of. I am so glad today that I have nothing to be afraid of. I give an honest day's work and then some to my job, I always have. Even when I am not thrilled with it, I try to do my best. All through our building people have a serious stress reaction when my boss shows up for a few days (he owns the company). This always makes me wonder what is going on when he isn't there that people feel they can't do when he is? If folks are just doing their jobs properly, it really shouldn't make any difference if he is there or not. He doesn't monitor anything more on site than he does off, he isn't there to get anyone in trouble, he's just there looking after his business, as he should. You shouldn't be more on the job, or on your toes, when the boss is around; your job is your job and you should give your best effort to it no matter what. Then, when your boss is around, you don't have to change your ways, look over your shoulder, or have anything to be afraid of. How nice.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

Graduation - Hope In All the Right Faces


And since we are on the subject of education...I recently attended the college graduation of a friend. She is what is commonly known as a "mature" student. She is many years out of high school, three kids and a world of living later. She has been in school almost as long as I have known her; about five years. Raising her kids and doing homework. Wow, do I have respect for that. I have accomplished a lot but I don't think I could have accomplished that. But I digress, as usual. We raced over to the campus stadium, about an hour from home, at the crack of dawn and found our seats (her parents got there before the crack of dawn and saved them for us!). As the hundreds of graduates began to file in and take their seats I found myself truly moved, looking on as I was from my "mature" vantage point. I looked into the sea of faces, mostly young and untried, and what came to me was that the hall was thick with hope. Many of the graduates had painted messages of thanks to their parents on their mortarboards, that was truly wonderful to see, that there are still kids who don't believe they are "entitled" to everything and who have gratitude. What was astonishing was the number of graduates in the bachelor's of education program. Teachers are so terrifically underpaid and under appreciated these days. It seems generally that they now have to pay for and beg parents for supplies for their classrooms that underfunded school districts are unable to provide. I have to assume lots of them know this. But there they were, faces shining, diplomas held high, hopeful to start their careers. These are not just the hopeful, they are the hope. In their hands are the future of our country, those who will make policy and care for us when we are old, those who will forge our place in the world, those who will teach the next to come.

Friday, May 22, 2009

Shout It From the Rooftops ~ We're Ignorant and We're Proud

Back to bumper stickers. It has been raining for so long that I have spent much more time than usual sitting at red lights or at long lines of cars where lanes are blocked off, intersections under water, etc. So here's one that has been around a long time "My kid can beat up your honor student". Good grief. Since when has it become an American value to be violent and stupid. I know, many of you will say oh, that's been happening for a long time now. How sad is that? Certainly in politics we have seen that literacy and education have been conflated with arrogance and elitism. "Alright, so you got an education..you think you're better than me?" "Yep". I admit it, I am a snob, not an elitist, a snob. I believe that lifelong learning is a value to be cherished. Even if you don't have a formal education, there is always something to learn. There are so many ways in this technological world to educate yourself, to be interested, to be curious. I am not a snob about formal education. I am a snob about those who think they have nothing and no reason to learn. So sue me. Even in a job you don't love, you are bored by or just plain want to change, there is something new to learn. One of the great joys of living another day is that there is always something new to learn. It makes me nuts that I can't seem to instill this curiousity, this love of knowledge for the sake of knowledge, in my teenage son. I am just hoping its in there and will come out later when he passes through the hormonal fog to the other side. There was a woman where I work that couldn't make friends with her computer; I can really relate. But her solution, for the same problem over and over again, was to call IT for help, never learning her way to a better solution. Now I grant, we can't all be computer whizzes. But we can learn new things. To live in the world today we have to learn new things. I learned how to make a blog, at first so intimidating I thought I would kill myself. Now I have two. I have a touch phone. I was the woman with the oldest cell phone in America, a phone my son called the dinosaur. Even my dad, who's memory precludes him from a lot of technological learning, will sit at the computer and try. That's all it takes, Try. Like Ty Murray on Dancing with the Stars; he was still a bullrider but he had a lot of Try. We should not be proud of our children's ignorance, let alone our own. We should strive to find the teaching in every new day and shout that from the bumper.

Thursday, May 21, 2009

The Sense God Gave a Flea

What happened to common sense? I was reading someone else's blog and the article was about teaching kids safety (http://whatkidsneedtosucceed.wordpress.com) and the issue was whether it is safety or fear that we are teaching. Great concept, spawing many ideas. And there was a comment that was aggressive but didn't really disagree with the author's point of view that we should try not to make our kids scared of their own shadows. I agree. And there are a lot of bogeymen in the world, I know, I represented a lot of them. But whatever happened to common sense. Don't run with sharp sticks if you fall it will hurt. It will hurt if you run and fall no matter what, and that would be ok, its the addition of the sharp stick that makes it a non-starter on the common sense front. I know that I have probably caused my child to be too cautious and that is a shame. I believe that some risk is required to live a full and fulfilled life. If you give your heart you won't know love, or the pain of having it broken; just try to see truthfully who you are loving. If you don't venture into other people's cultures you won't see the richness and beauty of sharing that experience, or possibly experience the painful prejudice of being the outsider; just don't go where you might be shot for it. If you don't go out in the rainstorm you won't see the beauty of the lightning, although you may be struck by it; just don't hold up a golf club. This is hoping he has the "sense God gave a flea." You get the idea. How many times have I said "you don't have the sense God gave a flea"? I want him to have that, and more, but not too much. I want my child to have the most wonderful life filled with every kind of experience and yet, to to that, he will have to take risks that frighten me. I will just have to have faith that luck, God and common sense will shield him from the worst the world has to offer. For the bad he must suffer; just make it survivable.

Monday, May 18, 2009

D'var Torah

We have this really cool idea in Judaism, that anyone can and should interpret the Torah. In our world it is not just the Rabbis that have the power, intellect, right, whatever to interpret scripture. In our world scripture is personal, to be understood and explicated by each of us. I love doing this. I particularly love writing the D'var Torah for a shabbat service (this is equivalent to the sermon, its a commentary). Finding a theme, particularly one that resonates in the modern world, is not always easy. Some Torah portions are filled with terrible things. This week was all about the punishing God, the torments to be inflicted if we don't observe all the rules. Its a difficult portion unless but the good news is that God loves us nevertheless. The last one I wrote on was all about skin sores (often interpreted as leprosy) and things unclean. I have been asked to write about this particular portion several times; not easy or attractive (its just a matter of dates). Each time the Rabbi says the teachers at the seminary say only the best get to write this portion because it is so difficult. I think he is just glad I did it, rather than leaving it to him! Nevertheless, it is interesting to do. It stretches my mind. And it makes me glad to be a Jew, because everyone's Midrash (commentary) is welcome and encouraged. I love that egalitarian approach to the bible, to religion. And while I know that in the more orthodox corners of our religion women's commentaries are not always welcome, I sit in a corner where my view is solicited, welcomed and praised. How cool is that?

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

psych a delic state u

Driving home in my car the other evening I was amusing myself by looking at signs and bumper stickers as I always do. I am a big fan of words and am endlessly amused by how people use and abuse them, especially here in the US of A; we are language manglers of the first water. One small example (although off topic) there is a small local restaurant with an out of proportionally large sign. It is an old fashioned sign in a 60's sort of geometric shape. Now this sign has said the same thing probably for as long as I have lived here, but I never noticed the message quite as I did today. It says: "Old homemade Italian style bread". I am thinking what they actually meant to say was "Old style Italian homemade bread". I am guessing they didn't really mean to advertise that they would be providing their customers with old bread. But whatever they meant, that is what they said. I saw a sticker that really struck me. It was a rear window sticker fashioned after those that are the names of a college or university; kind of arched and florid. Here is what it said: "Psychadelic State U". Yep, it really said that and....no that is not a typo. You and I both know that psychedelic is spelled as I just did. And all I could think was that not only should a person not be all that proud that they think acid trips are a good substitute for a college education, but the proof that they are not is in the spelling. How fitting that they couldn't even spell their own joke properly, and how pathetic. We live in the strangest country in the world where people think this is funny, where my former clients showed up for felony court wearing "things go better with Coke" t-shirts and rednecks hang tennis ball testicles from the backs of their pickup trucks (yes I know this last is not about words but it is so weird I had to include it). As a nation we seem to have virtually no boundaries about what we will say and do in public and although we know othat the internet is providing a new and sometimes devastating means of memorializing our dumbest moments, it is still the words that live on. Our words live on to haunt us, to remind us and to evidence how we abuse them. I think "Psychadelic State U" says it all, illiterate minimum wage worker with a wasted education.

Sunday, May 10, 2009

Happy Mother's Day

Wow. There are so many things about mother's day I could talk about. Amazing that what is essentially a holiday created by Hallmark has taken on such vast significance in this country. We tried to do a couple of errands today and the stores were closed?? As if this were some major national holiday. And I get just as sucked in as everyone else. But it feels good to be appreciated, I think. But I think further that this falls into the same category as food banks at christmas and turkey dinners for the homeless on thanksgiving. We fill the food banks at the holiday out of an abundance of good will but ignore the need the rest of the year. We make turkey dinners for the homeless for thanksgiving but we don't concern ourselves with how they eat the rest of the time. We should not need a national day to honor our mothers. We should do it every day. We are taught this from kindergarten, but unfortunately we do not learn it until much later in life. For goodness sake it says this in the ten commandments, for those with even a mildly religious bent this is a cornerstone concept. Our mothers, good and less so, for most of us did the best they could, gave their hearts, their time and their minds to try to make us the best people possible. Not everyone's mother was good or loving or even a parent at all. In our frenzy over this national holiday we forget this fundamental truth: not everyone loves their mother and not all mothers deserve our love. But most do. So even though I know that it is a hallmark holiday, and I know I am loved and respected all year round, it is nice to hear it out loud once in a while.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

The Marching Band Maven

Ok, so on the subject of heroes. I was watching the news and amidst all the usual annoying crap, trivial bullshit and depressing bad news there was a gem of a story. I didn't catch the whole thing but... Apparently there is a gent in New Orleans who decided that there was not enough for the children to do. So he started, of all things, a freelance marching band. It is not clear to me how or where the instruments come from, but this guy apparently teaches the music, and the marches and moves to the kids. This has become an enormous success. In fact it is such a success, that there is a 400 place waiting list. The man said in the story that there is an eight year old who calls him every day and says "are you the man with the band? I want to be in your band." Wow. This also falls in the category of what one person does can make a difference, despite what people often say. This man's perseverance and clarity of vision is making a huge difference in the lives of hundreds of children. Although he has the most impact on the kids in the band, he has also already affected the lives of the 400 kids who want to be in his band. This is a hero, real deal. He isn't trying to make a reputation, be in a movie, get famous; he is just trying to do some good in a world really short on selfless goodness. Let's see... your role model can be a multi million dollar athlete rapist, or some musician in New Orleans who loves music and loves kid. I know who I pick.

Thursday, April 30, 2009

Where have The Heros Gone?

Today was just one of those days. I read motivational quotes and just didn't feel motivated. You ever have one of those days? I was reading the blog of someone whose writing and opinions I have some respect for. I don't know this person personally but I read his opinions regularly. Sort of like the people I hope will read this some day! He was writing about the death of Paul Harvey, who inspired him greatly, as he did so many millions. And about the illness or death of many of the inspirational leaders that he looked up to; many of them of an earlier generation. And he was mourning the loss of all the wisdom, the heros, the role models. His conclusion was ultimately that their wisdom will live on. My conclusion is that we have to work harder to be wise, to be the role models and the heros. He came to the conclusion that there was nobody left to look up to. My conclusion is that we have to create those citizens. In every generation there are leaders and heros. Often they don't look familiar to us as we grow older and they grow younger; perhaps we will miss them entirely. But the younger generations won't miss them, they will recognize leadership when they see it, they will be inspired by greatness of effort, of ideal and accomplishment. Look at what happened in the last presidential election It was the young that carried the day; they recognized inspirational when they saw it. It is our job not only to raise heros and leaders, but to point them out, to keep an open mind, to show our children where to look. Nobody is inspirational because they are a good basketball player, they are inspirational because they use their money and fame to bring something good and important to the community, to the children, to the poor. And then there are those who are inspirational because they do important, good things and they are not rich, they are not famous and they do not get recognition, they simply do the right thing. Isn't that really what we want to teach our children anyway, that you do the right thing because it is the right thing and for no other reason.

Monday, April 27, 2009

Going Green; Faux, Fun or For Real

Okay. Those of you who know me might know I am pretty nutty about the use of toxic chemicals in the home and about recycling. But there are different types of nutty. First off, I have recycled for years. I have been married to the same dear man for almost 20 years but he still doesn't know what you can recycle and what you can't. In every town there are certain things you can recycle. The plastics havae a little number on the bottom. In our last town you could recycle 1-5. Here just 1, 2 and 3. But if it looks like cardboard, my husband throws it in. If it looks like plastic, my husband throws it in. But I digress as usual. The thing that irks me most is when people say "what I do can't matter, can't make a difference". What I say is "if we all picked up our trash, there would be no trash". Not exactly but you get what I mean. But there are many levels of "going green" these days. There is celebrity going green, there is moderately wealthy or well off going green. These levels of greenness involve major renovations to your home or the building of the perfectly green home, sometimes with expensive eco-friendly materials, etc. Then there is "going green for show". People who talk big or who make a show of this but don't really live it. Now I am all for the big gesture, the green home, etc.; but not all of us can do this. But all of us can make some simple changes. But we resist. Use a little less paper towel. Buy micro fiber cleaning cloths and wash them. Use vinegar to clean everything and reduce your bleach footprint. I buy eco-friendly laundry and dish soaps. They are a bit more expensive but I save so much on the other household cleaning items that I still save. Of course now the clorox brand has come out with a line of "green" products. This is great and I'm all for it. But the traditionally eco-friendly brands are actually less expensive (they used to be the expensive ones). Meanwhile, Americans are so addicted to multiple cleaning products that we don't think something as simple as vinegar will work (and not smell once it dries). If you need bleach, use a bleach pen on the spot, not a cup of bleach. But trust me, you rarely need bleach. Wash your cans and bottles and put them in the recycle bin; and your magazines and your newspapers. Stop using disposable items like paper plates, cups amd napkins. Fill your dishwasher all the way up. Combine laundry so you are running a full load. Clean your AC filters amd your dryer vents. These are normal people things you can do that make a difference. You don't have to be rich to do them and, despite what my teenager thinks, what one person does can and will make a difference. I am not a celebrity and I do foget my reusable grocery sacks, I am a nut but not obsessive, I can't retrofit my house but I can retrofit my habits. Change is not only possible, it is necessary.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

The Blogger Blogs about Blogging

I just had to write this. I blog for me. I started this because I can candidly be myself, I can actually just say what I think without worrying about who I have to be at work, or with my kid, or at Temple. Don't get me wrong, I am always pretty much me. But over the years I have learned, as have we all, to keep something back, depending. My friends don't agree with me about everything and sometimes its better just to keep it to yourself. There are people I truly like, sometimes love, whose politics are so different from mine that it just isn't worth talking about. So here, I can say just what I want. How liberating is that? Its almost as good as singing. Of course I can't talk too much about health because my mom is my #1 fan and I wouldn't want her to worry. (No mom, I'm not hiding any desperate health secrets). I kind of love that I have found a written voice which is something I share with my mom who is a writer. Of course my talent is much less and quite different. I can't write a novel, I don't have the discipline and don't understand how to structure a plot. And I can't write a full length book, at least not yet, because I see and think about life in these bits. Blogging is just right (write?) because I can describe it in bits. I can tell just the bit of story that is on my mind at that moment. Anyway, the point of this is that although I do this for myself, I am really very excited. My mom has been not only the #1 fan but my only fan for a long time. Now I actually have 3 fans. I am really very excited There is something very nice about thinking other people like reading your writing. Surprised me. So to my three fans... Thanks.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

Say Goodnight Gracie

Alright. the perfect story of the overcommitted working mom, wife and person with a parent living in their home. Sometime during the day my husband managed to pull out his back (of course he has to do a ridiculous amount of physical work tomorrow, a job for which he only gets paid if he works; no benefits no sick days). This happens occasionally for no particular reason and he is then incapacitated. In this particular case he tried to stop a two thousand pound roller from running over another human. Why he thinks he can stop two thousand pounds is something of a mystery. but he continues to think he is physically invincible and he mostly is. Anyway, I digress. My boss is here from South Florida, the day is passing in a blur of projects, crises, e-mail and phone calls from licensing authorities all over the country. There is a corny event I would like to see at the Temple tonight at 7, I think my dad would like, a little lecture/film thing on Burns and Allen. But I don't normally get off work before 6 or so. I work about 20 minutes from home. At 4:38 I get a call from the boy wonder who has stayed at school to meet with a teacher and needs a ride home (fifteen minutes in the wrong direction!). As a diabetic struggling to do the right thing I know I have to eat because I can't wait until 8:30. So I call my dad who has always been a great cook but now he is very very very slow, and sometimes confused. I ask him to slice and marinate the beef I took out for stir fry and maybe slice an onion. I should have given him several hours warning but didn't. After quite a few phone calls we got it straight what is needed. I blew off my boss at 5:30, raced to the high school (had to call my son on his friend's phone because of course he forgot to charge his phone), picked up the kids, dropped off the friend and got home about 6:10. I heated up the wok, threw in the beef, at which time my dad starts telling me why my recipe and method is wrong. He gets out a tool and starts flinging food around, complaining that I am boiling his Japanese food (which is not what I was cooking?!) At this point my son, having been ordered to set the table, is asking "salt? pepper? what do you want to drink? knives? bowls?" and my dad is muttering "why are you boiling that? too much liquid. use this tool to take it out. what do you mean you're not taking it out? who's recipe is that?" My head is about to explode. We sat down at 6:39. We know my husband isn't going, he is groaning on the sofa. We know my son isn't going, he is way too cool. My dad just doesn't eat that fast. I say, its ok if we don't go. He says no, I'm done let's go. So we end up at the Temple, spend an hour with Burns and Allen (I think my dad went for the cookies which he knows they'll have) and come home. Laughter is good. I am in bed by 9:13. All I can say is Goodnight Gracie.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

Teenage Problem Solving: an Oxymoron?

So. When my son and his friends complained about certain teachers, I listened, at first, with half an ear. I figured they were mostly attributing their own lack of motivation, work and committment to the teacher's flaws. And then I started to actually look at the assignments in a different way. This was primarily as a result of my son experiencing a brief disastrous dip in his grades and schoolwork. A dear friend of mine started talking to him and us about how to be successful, how to address schoolwork, etc. An example of what I began to see in some classes was as follows. Read Oedipus but I won't give you any background on Greek drama. Tell me what all these words mean (describing aspects of Greek drama) but I won't gie you historical context or source material or references. Do a presentation on Macbeth but oh, by the way, you don't have to read Macbeth. Now I won't underestimate the teenagers lack of motivation, work and committment, but this is not good teaching. It is hard to describe here the deficits in the method of teaching but I am covinced they are there. Next, there we are at the dinner table and the teenagers start in complaining but before you know it, they are asking what to do. Wow. I believe that you instill respect for teachers and others in authority, but they don't all deserve to be "liked" or esteemed as teachers. My answer way this, you have to find a solution because the teacher isn't going to change. The teacher isn't going to acknowledge that they are doing something in a less than helpful way. And the teacher is going to give you a grade. So you need to solve for what is. You learn what the teacher does, how they operate, and you figure out how to succeed despite it. That is your job, along with learning what you can, to succeed in spite of those who may not be the best at supporting your success. You learn to be a problem solver. Because all through life, you will be the most valuable... player, friend, employee, if you are the problem solver and not the complainer. Complaining rarely does any good; success I think really is the best revenge.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Role Model Lunch

Great news story on NPR the other day. It was about school systems that were trying to ban bad, fatty, unhealthy snacks from school cafeterias and vending machines. Now if you are one of my three (ok I am exaggerating) loyal fans you know that obese children is one of my pet peeves (see earlier blogs). So I was listening with great interest to this great thing the teachers and school boards were trying to accomplish. Just think, you put in your .5o and get a little pack of carrots? Or an apple? An orange juice? The cool ideas are pretty much endless. It reminds me of the Automat in New York when I was a kid. I loved the Automat. It was a huge cafeteria style place (seemed huge to me at the time) and all along the walls were what seemed like hundreds of little glass doors. Each door had some wonderful food item behind it. You lifted up the door and took out your selection. The difference between this and modern vending is that you paid the cashier at the end of the line. The cashier would add up your choices and you paid. But the prices, if I remember correctly, were on each item behind the door. Anyway, I loved it. An endless variety of tempting food choices! Anyway, back to Public Radio. So I'm listening to this great health effort and they get specific to one school. The focus of the story, it now appears, is that at this particular school while the teachers are all about healthy vending for the children, they are outraged that the same crappy, fatty disgusting snacks are to be removed from the vending in the teacher's lounge. Way to go role models.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

The Funny Part of the Seder

Okay. So I am usually immaculately well organized around these important events. I know well in advance precisely who is coming; I have the silver polished; I have the linens ironed. Generally the soup is made and froze at least a month in advance. The shopping is done in advance and whatever else can be done, is done. Boy this year...not even close. I mucked up inviting people, although it worked out in the end since clearly I needed to have less than my usual 20 or so. This year we were just a comfortable, intimate 1o. The soup I managed to do before the fact. But the day before, which I did take off from work, I intended to bake the flourless chocolate cake. I called tech support for my printer and 5 hours on the telephone later, I had the promise of a new printer but nothing else and definitely no chocolate cake. I did manage, before calling tech support in India, to start the onions sauteing for the chopped liver. My dad has always made it, and more. Now, it is all he can do and it takes a long time and makes a big mess. So I try to make the parts ahead and he "chops" on the day of; first thing so it is out of the way. Meanwhile I managed to obsess about the ritual items so much on the day of that I forgot to put silverware on the table! I put wine instead of water in Miriam's cup, etc. All through the day I thought, oh, I'm doing fine. Then I would realize some crucial item I had forgotten. Like Charoset. Good grief, forgot all about it! Whipped up my two versions. I didn't feel like using the haggadot we had that were very long so I picked up a bunch of the old Maxwell House ones to use (some of you will remember those, never should have been reprinted!). It is unbelievably old fashioned. Full of "he" and "thee" and "thine" and actual whole sentences and paragraphs that nobody could read aloud because they made no actual sense. I couldn't stop laughing. And the Cantor took to using the sonorous voice you imagine of a deity, speaking in God's voice. And even the teenagers were laughing. Until Cantor began to lose his voice because he is allergic to cats, a fact we forget about all the time. We only had one young child so she got to find the afikomen. Jacob pretended to search too and declared that he should get money too because he "came in second". All in all we had a pretty nice time, with people we love, and a pretty funny time. I will always think of this seder as the coming in second seder because I was so not together and of course I have very high expectations. But laughter is a better second place prize than anything.

Chag Sameach!

It is passover! I know, I know, it is Easter too. For some reason these two are inextricably linked in the minds of many, but they have nothing really to do with each other so far as I know. Every religion has a spring ritual of some kind, just as they all have a winter ritual of some kind; all going back to the pagan, pantheistic days. Of course more "modern" explanations, I don't know 1,000 years or so, grow up around these rituals. And they continue to evolve, holding their core meanings, into what we have today. If you haven't done it, or don't do it. It is hard to explain why you cook for two days and then sit down to a three hour ritual. But there is pleasure in it, especially now for me as I don't know how much longer my son will be here for it. He pretends not to like it, but he looks forward to my dad's chopped liver, the matzoh ball soup, the hard boiled eggs. He's too cool to admit this now. But I caught him snagging that extra matzoh ball! For me, I set the table with real love, with my grandma's things, with silver and china and flowers. Really the only time of the year I do it all. And I feel so connected to the people who have gone before. I still miss my grandma after a bunch of years. Our family is very small but we have people we love and that makes every holiday special. We have always had a varied group of people at our holidays and my son, I hope, has learned that you build a family in many ways. You build yourself a firm network of love and support and you live in it. This year we had his best friend who is from Gudrat [sp?], in India. It was very different for him, I'm sure. My son goes to lots of their ethnic celebrations. A little cross-pollination can't hurt in this world. I hope he can do it for himself when he has his own home. Or maybe, he'll just keep coming home?

Monday, April 6, 2009

What happened to the "g"?

I know we all noticed it during the McCain-Palin run, this dropping of the "g"s in speech. Palin was the master of the folksy "workin" folks, "hearin" you all, "lovin" her kids, etc. We even made fun of it. Saturday night live certainly did. And I do live in central Florida, kind of a southern place, home of Nascar and beach driving. In our neck of the woods there is a lot of "g" droppin in the speech of ordinary local folks. This is mixed in, of course, with the french of the Quebecois that winter here and the New York accents of those that retire here (and there are a lot of those). But a strange thing has been happening. Regular people, who don't do a lot of "g" dropping, have started doing it in their regular speech. I even caught myself doing it, It was scary. I heard myself and thought "why am I speaking this way"? I had no really good answer. But boy I am trying really hard not to do it any more. I am reminded that all my son's life, as log as he could talk, I have said "don't say ain't". This past week the chidren informed me that "ain't" is now in the dictionary. I think I don't care, they still shouldn't say it. Their description is that its in the dictionary but doesn't really mean anything which I thought was kind of cute. At any rate the reflexive use of the word ain't is similar to the dropping of "g"s when there is no call to drop the letter. And even if it comes naturally to you culturally, there is no point in not tryin to get it right!

Friday, April 3, 2009

Is there any hope at all?

So yet another advertising rant; I think my last for a while it must be time to move on. But I could not let this pass. So it was another dog thing, there seems to be a lot of dog stupidity going on in advertising at the moment. Yet another ad desultorily caught my eye, as usual while I was doing something else at the same time. It was stupider than breakfast for dogs, by a mile, but different. It was for a movie. I have to assume that this was a movie that never made it to theatres. I am hoping against hope that it really never made it to anywhere. The movie was called the Hollywood Chihuahua. The ad featured the usual silly looking little chihuahua but this one had large pink sunglasses and other accessories. That in itself is ridiculous enough, but this stupid looking dog also speaks. More insane it speaks some faux hollywood drivel/cant. I can't remember what the dog says but it caused me to actually look up and think, oh my god, this is what we present to the world. So we have this new president, full of change ideas, masterful strokes, new ideas and hopeful solutions. This is a great thing that the world sees and begins to view us differently. At least other nations can hold some hope that there is a new level of intelligence, maybe, at the highest level of American government. And what happens, I ask you, if the ambassador of some allied nation catches this ad for the Hollywood Chihuahua? Or any random citizen of a nation whose respect we hope to earn? All hope must be lost that there is any intelligence at all in the American landscape.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

What on Earth is Wrong With Us? Liqui-gels?

Apparently I am still on an advertising rant. Some strange things just stick in my head. As usual I am reading e-mail, or writing this blog thing, or reading Facebook and a tv ad catches my attention. First I should say that all those "silent" ads, the ones where you never hear the name of the product or a human voice, are in my opinion the stupidest marketing idea ever. They may be really cute and artsy and attractive to look at but since most of us multitask through the commercial, they are not very effective as advertising. If you watch the commercial you might say, oh how clever. But if you are looking at your Facebook while you watch tv, that commercial is a million bucks right down the drain. The purpose of advertising is to sell stuff, not to make art. That being said, there is also a level of stupidity that is stunning but I'm not sure if it says more about the advertiser or the viewer. So back to the ad. It is a Claritin ad. I am a Claritin user, so I maybe pay a bit more attention than I otherwise might. The whole ad is about the "new" Claritin in liqui-gel form. First, liqui-gel is not a word. We all know what it means from watching tv ads and taking those squishy little capsules. Second I listen carefully, for some mysterious reason, and I can find no substantive claim. There is no claim made that taking this medicine in squishy form works better, faster, more thoroughly or anything else. We are supposed to buy it because squishy is better. We don't know why or how but its "NEW!" and therefore better; probably more expensive too. I can only imagine how many people register the "new" "improved" and go out and spend the money. It astonishes me that you can create an ad that is presumably effective in getting people to go out and purchase something with no evidence or claim as to why or how its better. Its just squishy.

Thursday, March 26, 2009

Dog Food For Breakfast

So I was half watching television the other night and a commercial caught my eye. I know I hadn't seen it before because I would have remembered it. It was an advertisement for dog food. This advertisement brought to my mind the discussions I have had throughout my life as a pet owner; conversations that I think all kids in particular have. Can dogs see in the dark? Do cats know their names? Do horses have tastebuds? There is a word for attributing human characteristics to animals. It is anthropomorphizing (I think I got that right). I remember when I learned that word, I just loved it. How great that there is this wonderful big word for what children (and adults) do with their pets all the time. We think our pets are glad to see us when they probably are just hungry. We talk to our pets. I often think, while I am talking to my cats, "what must they be thinking about this crazy human babbling on." The implicit assumption is that I believe they understand English; interesting. We wonder what is in the mind of a dog, probably nothing but eating, sleeping and so forth. And eating brings me back on subject. The ad was for dog food flavored and named as eggs and bacon, and various other breakfast foods. They were actually referring to them as "breakfasts". Do we really think a dog knows eggs and bacon are for breakfast, do we really think the dog cares? Dog food for breakfast anyone?

Wednesday, March 25, 2009

My Husband Thinks Menopause is a Permanent Condition

The poor dear. My personal version of menopause (including the mini hell they call peri menopause) started in my mid forties. A little more than a decade ago. It all began with severe fatigue (the kind where you can't get out of bed) and vicious mood swings. At first this was hard to distinguish from my usual emotional volatility but it ultimately became clear that it was a bit more than the crazy we were used to. A good doctor helped a bit with some low dose birth control which morphed into low dose compounded (yes there was actually a pharmacy still compounded custom medications!!!!!) hormones as things went from bad to worse. Of course you have to keep in mind that I still got the monthly pms. In my naive mind I always thought my periods would get less problematic as this time of my lilfe approached. HAH! I had never had particularly difficult periods, until now. As things progressed I had periods from hell, pms that wouldn't quit, hot flashes and night sweats, all at the same time. This made it easy to believe in some cosmic punishment although I can't imagine what I could have done to deserve this. Meanwhile my husband is marginally surviving crying jags, screaming harridan episodes...you get the picture. The other peculiar metamorphosis that began taking place was the sleeping temperature at our house. When first we were together, I was always bundled up in a down comforter and nightgown. My husband was always naked with a leg sticking out from under the covers in order to keep cool enough. Now I had windows open, fans running and the temperature as cool as I could get it. Tanks tops and panties was about as much as I could, still can, stand (too much information?). So now my poor husband is putting on long sleeved shirts and extra blankets in an effort to keep off the menopausal chill. The doctors say when you go a year without a period you are through. I clung to this thought like a life raft. And each time I approached a year... you can guess. This went on for years. I have finally passed the magical year mark and now they say well, some folks never lose all the symptoms. How encouraging. There is good news, however. As time has passed the mood swings have subsided and we are back to the old crazy which is familiar (although after this long not as familiar as you might think). The heat is less persistent but is still part of my daily life. In fact I write this from my side of the bed, covers thrown aside, fan droning.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

Throwing Kitties


Wow. Consistency is just harder and harder. I have been ridiculously sidetracked by many things but currently by Facebook. My sixteen year old says that Facebook is social networking for old people. He of course would not be caught dead. Its Myspace, texting or nothing. What I find fascinating, among many things, is how I can be affected emotionally by a visit to Facebook. I find myself oddly envious of the apparent vivacious sociability of others; by what appears to be their terrifically busy lives filled up with friends, people. Sometimes I can feel weird, as if my life isn't also full of people? And I really believe the vivacious social life to be primarily conducted on the Facebook site, not in real life. When thought of in that way, who cares. And really, who cares what other people's social lives are? It has nothing to do with mine. Other times, however, I feel oddly happy, so far two friends from past times have found me and I really like that. One I don't much care about other than its nice to be "thought of". The other I am genuinely pleased to reconnect with. That, I think is the true value of the social network. I am mystified by most of the gimmicks of what you can "give" "send" or otherwise do on the site. Except my very favorite which is "throw a kitty". You collect the kitties that are thrown to you and you get access to more. As I am a cat lover, I find this "throwing" of kitties pretty amusing. What I don't want is to start thinking that the number of kitties I have on my profile is how I should judge my worth in the world. It is easy to disappear down a facebook hole and not really come out.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Old Fashioned Work Ethic

The idea that a workplace is a workplace seems oddly old fashioned. Folks seem to crave an artificial family, emotional support. We all seek allies, that is sensible, time-honored and appropriate to a degree. But trying to find an emotional life at work is ridiculous. Because the person you want to bond with may be the person who has to write you up or fire you. Nobody seems to get it that when you go to work you leave your personal shit at the door, suit up, pate on a smile and do your best. I listen to people talking about their personal problems all day long at work when they are supposed to be working. It is downright tiring. In the same category, I am pretty well sick to death of listening to people complain about their jobs. I don't love my job some days, but I am pretty darn grateful to have it. Especially in these times when there are literally millions out of work. I am constantly tempted to say "if you don't like it, find another one". But I don't. I am even more astounded that managers permit people to spew negativity and then wonder why they aren't productive. It is interesting that my emotionally sensitive son (and yes, he really is) has always had a problem with the emotional ups and downs of life. When things are difficult, he tends to just tank in his school work or other commitments. We talked about this recently, about the idea that you sometimes just have to keep going, despite life handing you lemons. You don't have to make lemonade but you have to stay on track. This is just one of those lessons you just have to learn, at least I think so. Obviously a lot of folks don't learn it since they seem to think that their employment is a god given right and not a gift. Old fashioned I guess.

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

In the Here and Now

Too much life, I wasn't kidding. I suppose if I was younger I would have more energy for all the various things I have to do. On the other hand I am doing them. On another hand, if I was younger my parents wouldn't be old and my son wouldn't be a teenager. So there is order in the universe, it is just too much universe. Or something. They say that the busier you are the more you accomplish. I think that is only true to some precarious breaking point where you never finish anything and forget to do hundreds of things. That must be right before you have a breakdown? Maybe my memory is just going, hard to know. Am I too busy or am I demented? What a choice. I feel as if I am living all the American headlines. Losing your home? That was almost us. We got lucky. Squeezed between kids and parents? That is us. Loss of job? Meet my long suffering spouse. The good news is that we are luckier than many; we are still in our home, I still have a job and nobody is seriously ill. Yep, that is the good news. The bad news seems to be that I am slowly losing my mind. The struggle to live in the now, to just be grateful, to find joy grows greater these days. But really, to be effective, its not supposed to be a struggle.

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Too Much Life

Good Grief, three weeks since I wrote last, too long. Very much has happened in my life and we are all still settling down. People who know me, see me and ask how I am (most know there has been much stress) and I am simply not sure. I am not sick, I am not feeling bad, I am not depressed. I am overwhelmed most of the time. At least recently. My father has moved into our home. And I think it will be ok. He has lived alone for decades and it must be a terrible time for him to accustom himself to house rules and other people's habits. It must be terrible to think that you have to be dependent or that you need to give up your home, your space, your ability to make all your own decisions. It must be hard to eat on someone else's schedule instead of going out for chinese at 10 p.m. It must be extra hard, at eighty-one, to have to learn where all the stores are, the banks, the gas stations, when you've been going to the same places for the same decades. It is hard, too, from this side of the equation, to try to incorporate a lot of someone else's things into my home. Trying to figure out where guests will sleep and having to spend a great deal of time sorting through someone else's belongings. So, it is hard all around. Suck it up I say. What an opportunity to do something good, to pay back the help he has given me. Truth be told, we haven't had a particularly "normal" father-daughter relationship; he isn't your usual sort of dad. But he loves me I know, and he has always been willing to bail me out. So it is my turn to bail him out. The answer to the question of how I am is that I am just having a little too much life at the moment. Someone asked me today why I was doing it, why I didn't send him to an assisted living facility. First, he wouldn't go, he would just have chosen to remain in his home, at risk. Second, what other answer is there than that he is my father. Isn't that enough?

Friday, January 16, 2009

To Finish A Few Thoughts

There is a terrific crisis of health care, or the lack of health care, in America. There is lots of talk about it and I wrote about it after my hospital experience. There are millions of stories, virtually all of them bad. In business we look for the "root causes" of process issues, inefficiencies, failures of productivity, etc. One of the primary "root causes" of the crisis in American health care is right before our eyes most days. Remember those obese children I wrote about. Well they turn into the young adults who never had type II diabetes but now they do in record numbers. They turn into young adults with kidney failure, heart disease and other diseases of, at least, middle age. They don't exercise, they don't know how to eat and they are sicker than we have ever been. Diabetes is an epidemic. Unfortunately I have it. Some people think that it is never genetic, some people think it is. My grandfather and my father both developed mild type II in their late middle age. Mine came earlier and more severely but I have been overweight and they never were. My doctors at the time knew I was "pre-diabetic" but they did not counsel me, medicate me or otherwise suggest changes I could make to help avoid the development of the disease. I know that now. And now, unlike many, I can't "fix" it with diet. I can control it but not eliminate it. Some people can eliminate it, as they can mostly eliminate their obstructive sleep apnea with diet, exercise and sometimes medication. One problem is that doctors are very free with medication and don't really do much in the diet and exercise/education area. And most of us don't take the education all that seriously when it does come. So all this childhood obesity is leading us into a much worse crisis in healthcare than we already have. And the solution is in our own hands, and in our shopping carts.

Tuesday, January 13, 2009

Obese Children

Walk through any ordinary grocery store in America and you will witness, if you are observant, a wide variety of forms of child abuse. In the super Walmart possibly more than in your higher end store, but not necessarily. For the purposes of this discussion I am not including your large health food groceries where a more peaceful ambiance seems to hold sway and healthier children seem to be more prevalent. We've all seen the snap, the slap, the yell. We may have been tempted to the same. We think we have refrained for the most part. And mostly we walk away thinking "how awful" but what can I do. Generally not much. The most common form of obvious child abuse is the obese child. I think we have gotten so accustomed to seeing fat people that we have become situationally blind to it. But I find myself keenly aware of the fat children. Frankly I want to beat the parents to death. I participate in my own forms of self-abuse, as do we all. Children, however, don't have the information or ability to make certain choices for themselves, we the adults do it for them. We make the choices that fill our shopping carts with sugar soda, fatty chips and pre-fab dinners full of carbs, fat and sodium; not to mention the empty calories. We make the choices that puts junk food in our children's hands and dinners on the table that include no green vegetables; bread and butter at every meal - its the American way. My stepmom says a green veg and a red/yellow veg at every meal (meaning a tomato or carrots). While I have not been able to keep up with it as much as I should since she stopped cooking for us and went home, we try. Just as everything we feed ourselves is a choice, so is everything we feed our kids; and those are choices with long-ranging effects. Childhood obesity and diabetes is epidemic in this country. Our choices create life long patterns of eating in our children. Just as we try not to pass on our other bad habits, we shouldn't let our busyness, our laziness, our apathy or our ignorance be our excuse for passing on our bad eating habits. We think, oh, I'm in a hurry, it won't hurtp just this time. But "this time" multiplies and before you know it, you have an obese child. I don't much care what people do themselves (at least in this context), but it is child abuse to do it to your children

Wednesday, January 7, 2009

Wearing Purple

So.. for those of you who are new to my blog (all 1.5 of you) you may not know that my very first blog post ever was about the wearing of the red hats and my resolve not to do that. Go back to the first blog entry on this site to see what I had to say about that. So... I have been saving the purple rant and here it is. There is this thing, I don't know the genesis of it, that you see in catalogs; a book, a plaque, etc. and it says "when I am old I will wear purple". I take it that this is intended as a declaration of independence; that perhaps you would not wear purple before because you cared what others thought and they would have negative thoughts if you wore purple. First, this seems specious as a basic assumption. Wearing purple, which I have always done, isn't a bad thing in social perception terms unless it is the color of Barney. Second, whether I care what other people think about my clothing or my appearance isn't all that likely change from age 40 to age 80; I could be wrong, or different about this but that's me. What I am sure of is that I will not ever wish to wear a banner that says "look at me I'm old". We do treat the elderly in this country as fairly well invisible and I may find many ways to shout, or demand, "look at me" because I exist, I have important or interesting ideas, I'm funny (to some) or just am; but not because I am old. That's a crappy reason for people to look at you. So we are back to the red hat thing. Do something to identify yourself as part of a group, in this case the elderly, rather than doing something to identify yourself as you. Does this mean that as I get older I have to stop wearing purple? I think not. I'll just wear purple when I feel like it and when I am old I will will wear whatever the hell I want.

Tuesday, January 6, 2009

Appliances Redux

So..... Off to work I go to begin the new work year. At lunch I race to a doctor's appointment and then to the scratch and dent. I identify a very good deal (not what I'd really like but not bad) and I write up a check. They put the check in the telecheck machine and it says no, you can't write a check here. It spits out a code that nobody has ever seen. This takes a long time with three guys standing over the little machine scratching their [heads]. Finally I say "I have to go back to work" I will come back later with cash. This, of course, because I am waiting for a new debit card from the bank (sheesh). Race back to work. As I am figuratively racing, I see behind me the flashing lights of the local constabulary. I am in the far left lane, don't know what you are supposed to do. I manage to cross 3 lanes of traffic and pull off the road, mystified; I wasn't speeding, I wasn't talking on my cell phone (legal here but causes drunk type driving). The nice officer informs me that my tags are expired. Silly me, I am supposed to remember that they expire even though the DMV always sends a renewal and they didn't. I am also supposed to remember that they expire on my birthday even though I never look at the back of my car. Oh well, I always think it renews on the month that you registered your car, like other states. The nice policeman writes me a ticket but says, no worries, just renew your tags and take the renewal to the clerk's office and they'll drop the ticket for $10. Great, another lunch hour excursion to look forward to. He also says carry the ticket because it is basically a 30 day free pass, they can't write you a second ticket. Good news, I can drive illegally til I have time to go to the DMV to renew. (Of course the p.s. to this part of the story is that I did get stopped again, second officer nowhere near as nice as the first, dumb as a rock and pissed that he can't write me a ticket. He really wants to know why I didn't go to the DMV over the weekend to renew my tags - of course DMV is not open over the weekend, everybody knows that). Now I am quite late getting back to work. As I drive back to work, I call the telecheck folks and some guy in Pakistan says no, there is nothing negative on file, but no I can't write a check, no that's all he knows and no he can't explain any further. (Sheesh). Later, I sneak out to the bank for cash. Finally, I leave work and race back to the store, provide the cash and they say well now it is too late to get it on the truck for delivery tomorrow. Tomorrow, of course, is Saturday, the only day there is someone home and available to take delivery. I beg, whine, plead and cajole and finally they agree to put it on the truck. Saturday they bring my new washer and now I have the pleasure of facing the mountains of laundry still remaining to do! But I love my new washer. If only it could fold. Now if I just had a working stove my enslavement would be complete.

Thursday, January 1, 2009

In Threes?

All my life people have said that bad news comes in threes. Well we have had a bagful of bad "luck" this year so I don't count any more. But in the last couple of weeks, just prior to having the only real party we have each year, my large stove burner went blooey and the part, of course, remains back ordered. So we made do, cooking brisket on an induction burner on the counter and latkes on the gas burner on our barbecue grill. Ah Jewish cuisine in the balmy south; at least it wasn't snowing. Then, while full of wet sheets and towels and, of course, my things, the washer quit. So we called the applicance doc who came out, told us nothing, fixed nothing and took our check for $69. He was to call us back to let us know the price of fixing it. four days later, still waiting, we called the applicance store. They informed us that the parts would be $400 without labor to fix. So a good friend says, I have an investment house that has been sitting empty for four years, there is a washer there, take that one. Of course we have no idea if this one works but its worth a try. So my husband borrows a truck and schleps this unknown washer to the house. We hook it up and it washes but no rinse, no spin! Meanwhile now my old washer full of wet clothes is out in the garage. Now we are about two weeks behind in the laundry and not only is it piling up but we are running out of socks and underwear. Another friend has an empty house they have been moving out of for some time; but it has a washer dryer. So I spend about 5 hours today running laundry. I figure I will just dry things til the next load is ready to come out of the washer and take them home damp and dry them there. So I return home with two enormous vats of damp laundry. I put a load in the dryer: no heat. It worked fine until the washer died, now it has apparently had an empathetic breakdown. So off to the scratch and dent or the used appliance dealer I shall go, to find another unreliable set. Anyway, that is three for this week; just starting off the year with a bang. Maybe now we can have a nice long three somethings of peace before the next bad three happens.

Resolutions For Living

New Year's Eve always leaves me with a sense of renewed hope. Weird. It probably should leave me with a sense of time passing too quickly; there is some of that too. This year everyone I know is facing tragedy and devastation of one kind or another. People our age (not yet 60) are starting to die suddenly and everyone has lost their life savings. People are losing their jobs and their homes and nobody seems to quite know what to do. I think for some it is harder to adjust because they have never really had to struggle. I know how to do without and how to buy less, spend less, eat cheaper, etc. So it doesn't seem quite so unfamiliar to me as it may to some. That doesn't, of course, mean I like it; and there is always the point at which you don't think you can do less. For some reason, this year, I think something good is about to happen to us, and I don't think it is just wishful thinking, I really believe it. I believe there is opportunity in bad times and I believe that it forces us to think outside the box, look for something new to do, some new way to look at our world and our situation. Maybe I just think because it all started sooner for us that somehow I feel like it ought to end; I don't really think that's the case though. Because I feel this way, more than ever before I am resolved to have no resolutions. I am resolved that whatever it is I resolve to do I will resolve to do it all through the year. When opportunities to be better, act better, improve myself or do more present themselves, I will try to take advantage of them and not because I made a new year's resoution but because they present themselves at that moment. I am resolved not to become mired in bad news and depression but to find a way through this time to a better one. I am resolved to keep an open mind to all the possibilities. I am resolved to continue to take care of myself, whatever the month or time of year. I am resolved to keep in contact with those I care about. I am resolved to continue living to the best of my ability and to continue hoping and working for a better life, come what may. I am resolved to do all these things in June as I do them in January. I am resolved to see the blessings in my life as often as possible, on every day, and I wish you all the same vision in the new year.