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I'm moving

Literally and figuratively, in blog world. I have started blogging in Wordpress. All my previous and brilliant posts, along with your sparse but equally brilliant comments, have been imported into my new blog site mamainsqueeze.wordpress.com. I am very excited about this move and promise to visit this site occasionally but I dearly hope you will move over there with me as I have newly committed to try to consistently describe what its like to be me (and there are thousands just like me situationally speaking). Although I am often messagey I hope you laugh a bit occasionally as we roll along. That's mamainsqueeze.wordpress.com . Click the "About" tab and enter your name and your email and your comment. Thank you for being a fan.

Pants, Revisited

Ok, we moved to a new house. Weirdly, there haven't been too many complaints about the 71-72 degree constant (dare we hope to edge toward 70?). But... the floor is travertine in most of the house which is unbelievably cold, even to me. So everyone's feet hurt. Of course it has been in the forties which for Central Florida is a bit weird and unsettling and might have something to do with the ridiculously cold floors! But my dad has now taken to wearing the same sweatshirt, with hood, in the house for days and days and days with nothing underneath. Its as if one layer of clothing is all he can stand. Maybe multiple layers are just too heavy. Hard to know but he thought his comforter was too heavy. So we took the comforter off and now he has three blankets... but apparently those aren't too heavy. We can't completely ignore the muttered comments about the north pole that occasionally waft our way but the overt and personally directed complaints are in remission for the moment. This house, blessedly, appears to hold temperature a bit better than the old one which helps I think since it doesn't really go up and down. It has been so cold and wet that we have been spared the "if you don't wear shorts when its 50" conversation and, even better, the sight of my dad in his heaviest ski parka with nothing else on but jockey shorts. This latter visual is my teen son's least favorite in all the world and for now, gratefully, we have revisited long pants.

Yeah, sure

I keep saying I'm going to be consistent but that's the only thing I've been consistent about! it would be so nice if life was not so messy and complex but, rather, allowed us enough time to do those things we really enjoy. But... life gets in the way of life, yes it does. And it is messy and complex. The cats have it right. Sleep, eat, hunt mice, and again. So I would cook, sing and write; and again. Unfortunately that's not how it is right now. We have moved. We have, at least apparently and momentarily, pulled our teenager back from the brink of academic disaster. Etc. etc. We have technology to fight with, I have found that this activity sucks up hours and hours each week. E-mail that doesn't go through, computers that won't connect, phones with a bad signal, and on and on. Its amazing the number of distractions from the core pleasures life can offer up. Work is a major diversion; and it sucks up a giant amount of time. It used to seem to be everything, now....not so much. On the back side, it feels as if I should be doing something more pleasing and self-sustaining. But money is good too. So, I will try again. And you all will say... yeah, sure.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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?

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.