There is supposed to be a picture here. Oh well. I'll work on it later.
In 1890, one of my great grandmothers got off of this ship in New York City. There was no Ellis Island for her to go through. She was met by a porter named Mr. Murphy, who was reportedly "the blackest Irishman she had ever seen." She came alone, a young woman from Ireland looking for a place to live her life. She moved to Charleston, SC, where she found a job as a maid. The family story (for what it's worth) is that she changed her name from Bridget to Annie because people made fun of Irish maids named Bridget.
In 1894, another of my great grandmothers traveled from a very small town on Prince Edward Island to another small town called Stow, Massachusetts. She too was a young woman looking to make a life for herself. Her brother in law, a minister in Canada, arranged for work in the US for young, unmarried women. She worked as a maid in the house of a widower with a small child. She later became a bookkeeper.
I'm not sure what they thought their lives would be like in the United States. I know they expected to work hard, and they did. I suppose they expected to make friends, and I think they did. Both women worked for several years before eventually marrying and having children. Their children gave birth to my parents, and for that I am greatful.
When they came to the United States, they came for economic opportunity, although it's unlikely either of them used those words. They came to work. Blanche Eleanor may or may not have felt welcome among the descendants of Puritans, but I don't know. She brought the quiet strength of a people who had been chased out of France, Germany, Switzerland, and other parts of Europe, brought to Prince Edward Island as Foreign Protestants to settle an English land few Englishmen wanted to colonize. And although people made fun of Irish maids named Bridget and there would have been plenty of signs saying "NINA" --- no Irish need apply, it seems that Annie found her place in the thriving Catholic community in Charleston.
Whatever they felt when they arrived, they stayed and strived and, if I do say so myself, made wonderful contributions to this wonderful country.
Thank God for America, and Thank God for our Immigrant Ancestors.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Friday, April 8, 2011
Morning Pages
With eight days left in tax season (not counting Sundays which are feast days), I am having trouble focusing on what needs to be done now and spending time thinking about what I want to do after tax season.
For once, my son's spring break is after tax season. We are taking a family trip the weekend after Easter, so we won't go out of town for spring break. We have a long to do list --- chores, school work, chores; but we are including day trips to fun places. The zoo, the State Museum, the Congaree Swamp, the book store...
I am very itchy right now. I have a lot of work to do between now and April 18, including tax returns for FRIENDS who ALWAYS wait until the last minute (you know who you are) and payroll deposits and reports for everyone. I want to go shopping for cute Easter stuff. I want to plant some stuff. I want to read a book that was not published by the Internal Revenue Service.
Oh well. I'll make it, I have so far. But then what?
For once, my son's spring break is after tax season. We are taking a family trip the weekend after Easter, so we won't go out of town for spring break. We have a long to do list --- chores, school work, chores; but we are including day trips to fun places. The zoo, the State Museum, the Congaree Swamp, the book store...
I am very itchy right now. I have a lot of work to do between now and April 18, including tax returns for FRIENDS who ALWAYS wait until the last minute (you know who you are) and payroll deposits and reports for everyone. I want to go shopping for cute Easter stuff. I want to plant some stuff. I want to read a book that was not published by the Internal Revenue Service.
Oh well. I'll make it, I have so far. But then what?
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Who has the time?
A good friend said that she didn't understand bloggers. She thought they must be the biggest bunch of narcissists in the universe. I had to confess that I have three theoretically active blogs. She looked at me and she said, "how do you have the time to do that?"
The answer is "I don't." And you can see that by the sparseness of my blog entries. I also don't have the commitment to writing everyday, no matter what. I wish that meant that when I do write it's interesting and relevant, but we all know that's not true. So why do I blog? (Other than the narcissism thing.)
Well, I need to write. I often write junk, whiny stuff, silly stuff, but I need to put the words that float through my brain on paper... or computer.
"So why not write in a journal?" she asks. Excellent question.
I do. I have lots of journals. Some are spiral notebooks, some have pretty pictures, one is a large fake leather bound tome that I meant to make into a multi-media journal until I realized I'm a one trick pony. I write. Just the other day I picked up an old journal and started reading through it.
"This time I really will lose weight..." I wrote, over and over again. I did notice that I've been having headaches and backaches for a couple of years now. I don't know why I always think of that as a new thing...
When I write in a journal, I know I am writing to no one. I don't even read it again, really. Sometimes that is great. Sometimes it's self-destructive rather than positive. Sometimes it's just plain boring.
When I write on line, I know that someone might read it. It might be someone I know, in which case I don't want to say anything to hurt any ones feelings or cause someone to sue me. If I were really narcissistic I wouldn't mind getting sued because then people might find my blog... which is not a bad i...
That was scary. Where do these things come from?
It is more likely that someone I don't know will read the blog. And in that case, I'd like my whining to be universal, or at least galaxial. I want to make sense to someone who is not me.
When I write in the blog, I don't do a lot of editing (shocking, huh?) but I self-edit (also shocking). It makes me think and not just react. I have to put things down in a logical way, and that helps me think more logically. I have to express ideas and options and other viewpoints, which makes me explore ideas and options and other viewpoints.
So when do I find the time to blog? When I have to. When do I find the time to read the blogs I follow? When I need to. And why do I blog? I'm a narcissist, of course. A whiny one at that.
Peace to you all & thank you for feeding my addiction.
The answer is "I don't." And you can see that by the sparseness of my blog entries. I also don't have the commitment to writing everyday, no matter what. I wish that meant that when I do write it's interesting and relevant, but we all know that's not true. So why do I blog? (Other than the narcissism thing.)
Well, I need to write. I often write junk, whiny stuff, silly stuff, but I need to put the words that float through my brain on paper... or computer.
"So why not write in a journal?" she asks. Excellent question.
I do. I have lots of journals. Some are spiral notebooks, some have pretty pictures, one is a large fake leather bound tome that I meant to make into a multi-media journal until I realized I'm a one trick pony. I write. Just the other day I picked up an old journal and started reading through it.
"This time I really will lose weight..." I wrote, over and over again. I did notice that I've been having headaches and backaches for a couple of years now. I don't know why I always think of that as a new thing...
When I write in a journal, I know I am writing to no one. I don't even read it again, really. Sometimes that is great. Sometimes it's self-destructive rather than positive. Sometimes it's just plain boring.
When I write on line, I know that someone might read it. It might be someone I know, in which case I don't want to say anything to hurt any ones feelings or cause someone to sue me. If I were really narcissistic I wouldn't mind getting sued because then people might find my blog... which is not a bad i...
That was scary. Where do these things come from?
It is more likely that someone I don't know will read the blog. And in that case, I'd like my whining to be universal, or at least galaxial. I want to make sense to someone who is not me.
When I write in the blog, I don't do a lot of editing (shocking, huh?) but I self-edit (also shocking). It makes me think and not just react. I have to put things down in a logical way, and that helps me think more logically. I have to express ideas and options and other viewpoints, which makes me explore ideas and options and other viewpoints.
So when do I find the time to blog? When I have to. When do I find the time to read the blogs I follow? When I need to. And why do I blog? I'm a narcissist, of course. A whiny one at that.
Peace to you all & thank you for feeding my addiction.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Thinking some more about eating styles
I've done a little looking around to see what other people think about your Myers-Briggs type and your approach to food, and it's been interesting. Like any trip around the Internet, it had its highs and lows and a bunch of irrelevant side trips, but what the heck. The journey is interesting.
In order to do that justice, I'll need to organize my thoughts and make links and stuff, and I don't really have time right now. So instead, I'll babble about Introverts and Extroverts. Or mostly Introverts, because I don't know much about Extroverts. Not that that will stop me from speculating...
So this is what came from a conversation with an Introvert. Introverts get energy from being alone. My theory is that if introverts are around people for too long and don't get their "me" time, they might over eat to get energy somewhere else. My I friend pointed out that he doesn't like to eat with other people. That whole breaking bread community thing is an anathema to him. (Word of the day) And so, he isn't going to over eat in front of other people.
Now, think about this: he is at a conference and around people all day and is low on energy. He doesn't eat much if anything at the banquet lunch. His energy is low. What does he do? Well, I would be eating Snickers bars all day, scarfing them in the corner when I got a chance to be alone. And when I went home I'd probably eat cheese with potatoes and cheese. And then I'd go to sleep.
And what about Extroverts?
I can see a couple of possibilities. Say that an Extrovert is also at this conference. She is getting lots of energy from the people around her. She might forget to eat food, because she is so caught up in the flow of energy. She might over eat to make the togetherness last (I'm picturing the never-ending pasta bowl at Olive Garden.)
I also wonder if Extroverts eat more when they are alone because they are low on energy and feeling lonely?
I wonder how the other factors affect this. An ESTJ might plan the meals, knowing she wouldn't eat unless she thought about it. And INFP might eat in public because she didn't want to hurt any one's feelings. And INTP might pack fruit so he wouldn't eat the candy on all of the tables.
I guess I'll keep thinking about this...
In order to do that justice, I'll need to organize my thoughts and make links and stuff, and I don't really have time right now. So instead, I'll babble about Introverts and Extroverts. Or mostly Introverts, because I don't know much about Extroverts. Not that that will stop me from speculating...
So this is what came from a conversation with an Introvert. Introverts get energy from being alone. My theory is that if introverts are around people for too long and don't get their "me" time, they might over eat to get energy somewhere else. My I friend pointed out that he doesn't like to eat with other people. That whole breaking bread community thing is an anathema to him. (Word of the day) And so, he isn't going to over eat in front of other people.
Now, think about this: he is at a conference and around people all day and is low on energy. He doesn't eat much if anything at the banquet lunch. His energy is low. What does he do? Well, I would be eating Snickers bars all day, scarfing them in the corner when I got a chance to be alone. And when I went home I'd probably eat cheese with potatoes and cheese. And then I'd go to sleep.
And what about Extroverts?
I can see a couple of possibilities. Say that an Extrovert is also at this conference. She is getting lots of energy from the people around her. She might forget to eat food, because she is so caught up in the flow of energy. She might over eat to make the togetherness last (I'm picturing the never-ending pasta bowl at Olive Garden.)
I also wonder if Extroverts eat more when they are alone because they are low on energy and feeling lonely?
I wonder how the other factors affect this. An ESTJ might plan the meals, knowing she wouldn't eat unless she thought about it. And INFP might eat in public because she didn't want to hurt any one's feelings. And INTP might pack fruit so he wouldn't eat the candy on all of the tables.
I guess I'll keep thinking about this...
Tuesday, March 1, 2011
Eating and personality styles
I am taking a class at St. Michael & All Angels Episcopal Church about Life Gifts... life gifts, spiritual gifts, personality, values; and how to use them for God and community and ourselves. Last Sunday, we talked about the Myers-Briggs scale. In the past, I've thought that I was INTP --- introverted, intuitive, thinking, perceiving. That means I get energy from being alone, I am a big picture information gatherer, I use logic and reason over feelings, and I like it loose and easy in the scheduling department. I have recently decided that while I do value reason and logic, I usually go with Feeling. I want everyone to be happy and get along, and work to make that happen. Sometimes, especially if I'm around a whole lot of Fs, I have to channel the T and say "OK, that's enough whining, 'getting your feelings hurt' is not covered by worker's compensation."
Yesterday, when I was writing on my eating blog about how I came to Eating the Angel Way, I wrote that I used to eat to make others happy. OK, I still do sometimes. I was in line at a covered-dish lunch and the lady next to me said, "I made the beet and Brussel sprouts casserole." So, of course, I put some on my plate. Also, I'll take the food that no one else has tried yet, because I don't want the cook to be hurt. Although I draw the line at fried chicken (WHAT? EVERYONE LOVES FRIED CHICKEN! WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU?) I've eaten sausage biscuits I didn't want because someone offered it to me, donuts, cake, hamburgers... you name it (except fried chicken). Why is that? Because I'm an F! I eat like an F!
Is that cool or what?
Which made me think of some other things about food and eating and personality styles.
For instance, as an NP, I love Eating the Angel Way, except the food diary. I wonder how a Sensing, Judging person (who would want an orderly, step-by-step process) would deal with ETAW? Oh wait, I've seen it. They keep the food diary religiously, then put their colors of food in a chart (I do love me some excel) and then plan how to eat a rainbow and white light food every day.
Is that cool or what?
I wonder how other traits affect the way we eat?
I eat more when I have to be around people and don't get my quiet time. If I don't get my solo-energy boost, I have to get it from food. Preferably cheesy mashed potatoes. I wonder if Extroverts eat more if they are stuck by themselves?
I bet somebody has thought of this. I think I'll use my LifeGift of research and check it out. I'll let you know what I find.
Eat well, drink water, keep your feet warm.
Yesterday, when I was writing on my eating blog about how I came to Eating the Angel Way, I wrote that I used to eat to make others happy. OK, I still do sometimes. I was in line at a covered-dish lunch and the lady next to me said, "I made the beet and Brussel sprouts casserole." So, of course, I put some on my plate. Also, I'll take the food that no one else has tried yet, because I don't want the cook to be hurt. Although I draw the line at fried chicken (WHAT? EVERYONE LOVES FRIED CHICKEN! WHAT'S THE MATTER WITH YOU?) I've eaten sausage biscuits I didn't want because someone offered it to me, donuts, cake, hamburgers... you name it (except fried chicken). Why is that? Because I'm an F! I eat like an F!
Is that cool or what?
Which made me think of some other things about food and eating and personality styles.
For instance, as an NP, I love Eating the Angel Way, except the food diary. I wonder how a Sensing, Judging person (who would want an orderly, step-by-step process) would deal with ETAW? Oh wait, I've seen it. They keep the food diary religiously, then put their colors of food in a chart (I do love me some excel) and then plan how to eat a rainbow and white light food every day.
Is that cool or what?
I wonder how other traits affect the way we eat?
I eat more when I have to be around people and don't get my quiet time. If I don't get my solo-energy boost, I have to get it from food. Preferably cheesy mashed potatoes. I wonder if Extroverts eat more if they are stuck by themselves?
I bet somebody has thought of this. I think I'll use my LifeGift of research and check it out. I'll let you know what I find.
Eat well, drink water, keep your feet warm.
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
Waking up
It has been two months since I blogged (can that be right?) and I'm going into a full-blown tax season rant.
Yesterday sucked. Not because it was Valentine's Day & I didn't feel the love. In fact, it was my dear husband deciding to take me (and Mark) for a romantic dinner for three that salvaged the day at all. I had called towhine vent, and he said, "Let's go out tonight."
Yesterday sucked because it was Monday and I wasn't feeling great this weekend. I didn't work on Saturday, so I knew I'd have the pile of everything with indecipherable notes on my desk. I was right, and it took about and hour to sort through that before I got to the basic Monday crap. But that isn't when the day started to suck.
It started when I took 45 minutes out of my getting ready for work time to write an email to my representative supporting the charter school bill in the SC House. I couldn't just write "I support it," because I think it's complicated and important that I explain that charter schools are a part of the solution and not the end of public schools. And so I wrote a well-thought out e-mail... ok, not the best, but better than average, and I sent it through the SC Legislature on-line website, and....
I got an automated message saying he doesn't read the e-mails but his constituents should call him at a phone number. Where I would have two minutes to give my well thought out opinion, which would undoubtedly be ignored as well.
And that made me mad all day, over and over, again. I voted for that arrogant SOB in the primary and the general election (although I'm not sure he had opposition). Which also makes me feel mad and powerless and frustrated. Because what does he care if I vote for him? He's supported by a narrow group of people who control enough votes in the single member district that he doesn't need to read e-mails or take phone calls.
And that is what put the dark shadow on my day and made me feel miserable, helpless, and frustrated all damn day.
And today, if I let it. But I think I'll drink another cup of coffee and read some blogs and not let this bother me today.
Yesterday sucked. Not because it was Valentine's Day & I didn't feel the love. In fact, it was my dear husband deciding to take me (and Mark) for a romantic dinner for three that salvaged the day at all. I had called to
Yesterday sucked because it was Monday and I wasn't feeling great this weekend. I didn't work on Saturday, so I knew I'd have the pile of everything with indecipherable notes on my desk. I was right, and it took about and hour to sort through that before I got to the basic Monday crap. But that isn't when the day started to suck.
It started when I took 45 minutes out of my getting ready for work time to write an email to my representative supporting the charter school bill in the SC House. I couldn't just write "I support it," because I think it's complicated and important that I explain that charter schools are a part of the solution and not the end of public schools. And so I wrote a well-thought out e-mail... ok, not the best, but better than average, and I sent it through the SC Legislature on-line website, and....
I got an automated message saying he doesn't read the e-mails but his constituents should call him at a phone number. Where I would have two minutes to give my well thought out opinion, which would undoubtedly be ignored as well.
And that made me mad all day, over and over, again. I voted for that arrogant SOB in the primary and the general election (although I'm not sure he had opposition). Which also makes me feel mad and powerless and frustrated. Because what does he care if I vote for him? He's supported by a narrow group of people who control enough votes in the single member district that he doesn't need to read e-mails or take phone calls.
And that is what put the dark shadow on my day and made me feel miserable, helpless, and frustrated all damn day.
And today, if I let it. But I think I'll drink another cup of coffee and read some blogs and not let this bother me today.
Tuesday, December 21, 2010
It's beginning to look a lot like Tax Season, but this time I'm an EA!!!
Yesterday, Mark brought me the mail. It included a large flat envelope. From the IRS. And I lost my breath... not the way most people do when they get large flat envelopes from the IRS, but in a good way. I squealed. Really. Mark and Katy looked slightly concerned.
I thought (maybe, probably not) that if they were going to reject me, it would be in a small business sized envelope. "We are sorry to inform you that you are unfit to practice before the IRS. And you are going to jail."
It was a cardboard page in a folder. I thought (really) that it was a request for fingerprints. I opened the folder. I started making squeaky noises like a cat with a mouse (the cat sound, not the mouse sound.) Both Mark and Katy pulled out their cell phones to call 911. "Are you ok?"
I started jumping up and down. "I'm an enrolled agent!" At least they knew to say "congratulations!" Others have to say "Congratulations! Now what does that mean exactly?"
It means I can represent tax payers before the IRS in non-tax court cases. It means I'm a professional tax preparer with a DESIGNATION other than "unenrolled preparer" or "charlatan." It means I DID IT!!!!!
I was very surprised to get it this soon, since I'd applied in November. I didn't expect anything until mid-January at best and mid-March more likely. Now I get to start the tax season as an Enrolled Agent. I'd like to start off right by commending the IRS on their efficiency. (Doesn't hurt to kiss up.)
I am so excited! I need new business cards, and a frame for my certificate, and a name plate that says "Kathy Duffy Thomas, EA." What a great Christmas gift!
I thought (maybe, probably not) that if they were going to reject me, it would be in a small business sized envelope. "We are sorry to inform you that you are unfit to practice before the IRS. And you are going to jail."
It was a cardboard page in a folder. I thought (really) that it was a request for fingerprints. I opened the folder. I started making squeaky noises like a cat with a mouse (the cat sound, not the mouse sound.) Both Mark and Katy pulled out their cell phones to call 911. "Are you ok?"
I started jumping up and down. "I'm an enrolled agent!" At least they knew to say "congratulations!" Others have to say "Congratulations! Now what does that mean exactly?"
It means I can represent tax payers before the IRS in non-tax court cases. It means I'm a professional tax preparer with a DESIGNATION other than "unenrolled preparer" or "charlatan." It means I DID IT!!!!!
I was very surprised to get it this soon, since I'd applied in November. I didn't expect anything until mid-January at best and mid-March more likely. Now I get to start the tax season as an Enrolled Agent. I'd like to start off right by commending the IRS on their efficiency. (Doesn't hurt to kiss up.)
I am so excited! I need new business cards, and a frame for my certificate, and a name plate that says "Kathy Duffy Thomas, EA." What a great Christmas gift!
Friday, November 26, 2010
Happy Thanksgiving Dammit
Yesterday was a fairly stress-free day. I was able to find what I need to make my pumpkin cheesecake. I didn't ruin the cheesecake when I put it in the fridge, forgetting something is leaking from the freezer (probably the ice maker) and causing food to water-log. I removed the cheesecake in time.
This is the perfect Thanksgiving plate. From the top going clockwise: turkey that was very moist because of the fennel bulb, onion, and orange placed inside during roasting, cardiac mashed potatoes (not so cardiac this year because they were made with white cheddar, cream cheese, and Greek yogurt without the usual sour cream and butter), succotash (lima beans & corn), two kinds of stuffing, cranapple sauce (no added sugar, just orange juice, orange zest, apples, and cranberries), creamed baby onions, ham, bourbon sweet potato casserole (my brother said next year he'd just take in on the rocks), and in the center green & wax beans with garlic, butter, and almonds. The pecan halves are part of the sweet potato thingy, I think. Hmmm... no blue or purple. Oh well. Maybe bourbon is purple.
We took the obligatory Thanksgiving pictures.
Roslyn, my beautiful niece.
Starting with Dad (see the shirt?) and going clockwise, that's my son Mark, my son Joseph, Bill, me, my sister Ellen, Ellen's husband Paul, and my husband Bob. I'll try to find a better picture of Bob and Mark, but they are being shy. Since I just got a new camera, I'm a little ticked, but we'll adjust. I'll hunt wear them down.
Today we will go to Bob's parents house, where I will put aside my churlish desire for order and forget that I have 10 thousand things to do and go with the flow and have a great time. Really, I probably will. We are bringing left over green & yellow beans, mashed potatoes, cranapple sauce, and cheesecake. Since the potatoes are a complete protein, I'll be fine even if they have fried chicken. What can't be fixed by a large plate of mashed potatoes?*
*I'm only joking, Annie & all Angels. Sort of. :S
Happy Day After Thanksgiving, Everyone!!!
We took the obligatory Thanksgiving pictures.
 |
| My brother John, with Bill in the chair. |
My dad John.
Roslyn, my beautiful niece.
Today we will go to Bob's parents house, where I will put aside my churlish desire for order and forget that I have 10 thousand things to do and go with the flow and have a great time. Really, I probably will. We are bringing left over green & yellow beans, mashed potatoes, cranapple sauce, and cheesecake. Since the potatoes are a complete protein, I'll be fine even if they have fried chicken. What can't be fixed by a large plate of mashed potatoes?*
*I'm only joking, Annie & all Angels. Sort of. :S
Happy Day After Thanksgiving, Everyone!!!
Monday, November 22, 2010
Why must you torture me like this?
OK, I am neurotic. I know that. You all know that. We all try to adjust. I do what I can to clean up after my neurosis and y'all don't poke sticks at it. Right?
So here it is, the holiday season. The season of where neurosis comes home to visit, even the ones you don't see most of the time. Like the Martha Stewart neurosis, that wants to make hand-made Christmas cards, twenty kinds of cookies, and a real rack of lamb for twenty. I don't have too much trouble keeping that one under control. Although I did actually BUY Christmas cards this year, and I wrote a short and sweet Christmas letter. Sort of funny but not over done. No bragging, really, and no talking about things best left unsaid. Surprisingly discreet.
The neurosis I can't control, try as I might, is the one that wants to make sure the family plans are set. I don't think I'm entirely unreasonable on this one. Bob and I both have family in town and want to spend time with them. Our son and his family have to deal with both of our families, plus Katy's mother's family and her deceased father's family in her hometown. There is an intricate mix of want to be together feelings and obligated to be together feelings. And there are things I'd like to do like make ornaments, bake cookies (not twenty kinds), and read meaningful stories.
And then there is life, which continues to happen. Mark's school, Bob's work, my work. All of the preparation for the tax season. Cleaning the house and the office so I can think straight. (Is that neurotic?)
And so, in order to not gocrazy crazier, all I ask is that people decide what they want to do more than two days in advance. I'm not talking about planning every single second (although I do it), I'm talking about deciding what day and time you are going to have Thanksgiving dinner. Or Christmas dinner.
Which is why my mother-in-law rolls her eyes and acts like I'm difficult when I ask for a commitment in early November. So this year, I said, we are having Thanksgiving dinner at my brother's house on Thursday at 3:00. In the past we've had the dinner on Friday, and I'd like to do it on Thursday this year. What are your plans, I hope I'll be able to be there? And although we are willing to eat two Thanksgiving dinners in one day, I kind of hope I don't have to do it.
And her plans are to have dinner at 12:00 or maybe 12:30ish on Thursday. BUT she won't be there because she's having surgery on Tuesday. She wants us to go to a cafeteria or buffet or something and be together. Without her. Bob says, Mom, don't feel you have organize something for Thursday, it would be great to do something later when you feel better. She says, no, it has to be Thursday. Even though she won't be there.
I say, ok, but I can't make it. I hate cafeterias (more neurosis) and I have other stuff to do. Bob says ok.
Then, she tells Bob that his sisters won't be there because they have other plans, but we should still go out with his brother's family. Even though she won't be there. And neither will his sisters. But it has to be Thursday. Bob says, let's do it later. Like in December. When she will be well enough to enjoy it. So, ok, it's going to be Friday and we are supposed to bring something but I don't know what and she will still be unable to enjoy it. And neither will I. But I will be there, and I will be cheerful and happy-looking.
Now, this is the thing. I had plans for Friday. Not meeting someone plans, but clean the house, catch up with Mark's virtual lessons, make cookies (not twenty kinds). Take the on-line class on Non-profit information tax returns. Read. Write. Sleep.
OK, some of you may now be thinking that I am being churlish, and maybe I am. Maybe the holiday neuroses are just too much for me today. Maybe I should just buck up and go to the damn family dinner even if it is at a cafeteria and I'm afraid of cafeterias. Maybe I should just learn to go with the flow.
Or maybe people should just freakin' learn to plan ahead.
So here it is, the holiday season. The season of where neurosis comes home to visit, even the ones you don't see most of the time. Like the Martha Stewart neurosis, that wants to make hand-made Christmas cards, twenty kinds of cookies, and a real rack of lamb for twenty. I don't have too much trouble keeping that one under control. Although I did actually BUY Christmas cards this year, and I wrote a short and sweet Christmas letter. Sort of funny but not over done. No bragging, really, and no talking about things best left unsaid. Surprisingly discreet.
The neurosis I can't control, try as I might, is the one that wants to make sure the family plans are set. I don't think I'm entirely unreasonable on this one. Bob and I both have family in town and want to spend time with them. Our son and his family have to deal with both of our families, plus Katy's mother's family and her deceased father's family in her hometown. There is an intricate mix of want to be together feelings and obligated to be together feelings. And there are things I'd like to do like make ornaments, bake cookies (not twenty kinds), and read meaningful stories.
And then there is life, which continues to happen. Mark's school, Bob's work, my work. All of the preparation for the tax season. Cleaning the house and the office so I can think straight. (Is that neurotic?)
And so, in order to not go
Which is why my mother-in-law rolls her eyes and acts like I'm difficult when I ask for a commitment in early November. So this year, I said, we are having Thanksgiving dinner at my brother's house on Thursday at 3:00. In the past we've had the dinner on Friday, and I'd like to do it on Thursday this year. What are your plans, I hope I'll be able to be there? And although we are willing to eat two Thanksgiving dinners in one day, I kind of hope I don't have to do it.
And her plans are to have dinner at 12:00 or maybe 12:30ish on Thursday. BUT she won't be there because she's having surgery on Tuesday. She wants us to go to a cafeteria or buffet or something and be together. Without her. Bob says, Mom, don't feel you have organize something for Thursday, it would be great to do something later when you feel better. She says, no, it has to be Thursday. Even though she won't be there.
I say, ok, but I can't make it. I hate cafeterias (more neurosis) and I have other stuff to do. Bob says ok.
Then, she tells Bob that his sisters won't be there because they have other plans, but we should still go out with his brother's family. Even though she won't be there. And neither will his sisters. But it has to be Thursday. Bob says, let's do it later. Like in December. When she will be well enough to enjoy it. So, ok, it's going to be Friday and we are supposed to bring something but I don't know what and she will still be unable to enjoy it. And neither will I. But I will be there, and I will be cheerful and happy-looking.
Now, this is the thing. I had plans for Friday. Not meeting someone plans, but clean the house, catch up with Mark's virtual lessons, make cookies (not twenty kinds). Take the on-line class on Non-profit information tax returns. Read. Write. Sleep.
OK, some of you may now be thinking that I am being churlish, and maybe I am. Maybe the holiday neuroses are just too much for me today. Maybe I should just buck up and go to the damn family dinner even if it is at a cafeteria and I'm afraid of cafeterias. Maybe I should just learn to go with the flow.
Or maybe people should just freakin' learn to plan ahead.
Monday, November 1, 2010
Kathy's one thousand one hundred and twelfth diet journal: Eating... the Angel Way: Welcome!
Kathy's one thousand one hundred and twelfth diet journal: Eating... the Angel Way: Welcome!
This is a link to a link. I am helping a virtual friend Annie who is writing a nondiet book about Eating the Angel Way. I am going to follow the guidelines and share my experiences. I know a lot of people don't care, but if you do, this is where it will happen.
Peace. Water. Warm socks.
This is a link to a link. I am helping a virtual friend Annie who is writing a nondiet book about Eating the Angel Way. I am going to follow the guidelines and share my experiences. I know a lot of people don't care, but if you do, this is where it will happen.
Peace. Water. Warm socks.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Listening to the bees
I am doing a lot of things these days, and most of them seem to be valuable, enjoyable, necessary, or comfortable. Some are more than one of those things. Some are barely one.
I am thinking a whole lot about busyness. You can see from my posts that it's something that I think about a good bit. I used to think that busyness was a good thing, the goal of a fulfilled life. When I heard people say, "I'm too busy for..." fill-in-the-blank, but probably something I like to do, I'd feel guilty and think, I need to do more stuff.
And when people tell me that my schedule makes them tired, I don't really understand, because I don't do nearly as much as most people. Or as much as they seem to do. And I really should do more...
As an aside, a Facebook friend from high school asked if I wanted to foster cats. I admire the work she does more than I can say and I really wanted to say yes. Even though we have four cats of our own and three of my son & daughter in love's and my husband hates having cats at all. People who know me are rolling their eyes and wondering if "animal hoarders" pays a finders fee. Anyway, I passed on that.
So there is something in me that tells me I'm not doing enough, and in answer to that, I keep adding stuff. Even stuff I don't do well, like baking cookies for a set time. Cookies that are normal and will sell to children. (Nota bene: elementary school kids aren't big fans of rosemary lemon cookies. Go figure.)
But maybe it's not that I'm not doing enough, it's that I'm not doing the right things. Or maybe that I have too much stuff going on to figure out what I truly love. (I'm seeing the eyes roll now as the "hoarders" analogy continues in some people's minds.)
I think I am doing some very good important things and I don't want to stop, but I want to do them better. And I want to stop kicking myself for not doing more. And I want to stop hoarding tasks and things to do.
I think I need to take some walks in the woods by myself and listen to the softer voices beneath the screeching harpy who is telling me to get busy. I think I need some quiet time.
I am thinking a whole lot about busyness. You can see from my posts that it's something that I think about a good bit. I used to think that busyness was a good thing, the goal of a fulfilled life. When I heard people say, "I'm too busy for..." fill-in-the-blank, but probably something I like to do, I'd feel guilty and think, I need to do more stuff.
And when people tell me that my schedule makes them tired, I don't really understand, because I don't do nearly as much as most people. Or as much as they seem to do. And I really should do more...
As an aside, a Facebook friend from high school asked if I wanted to foster cats. I admire the work she does more than I can say and I really wanted to say yes. Even though we have four cats of our own and three of my son & daughter in love's and my husband hates having cats at all. People who know me are rolling their eyes and wondering if "animal hoarders" pays a finders fee. Anyway, I passed on that.
So there is something in me that tells me I'm not doing enough, and in answer to that, I keep adding stuff. Even stuff I don't do well, like baking cookies for a set time. Cookies that are normal and will sell to children. (Nota bene: elementary school kids aren't big fans of rosemary lemon cookies. Go figure.)
But maybe it's not that I'm not doing enough, it's that I'm not doing the right things. Or maybe that I have too much stuff going on to figure out what I truly love. (I'm seeing the eyes roll now as the "hoarders" analogy continues in some people's minds.)
I think I am doing some very good important things and I don't want to stop, but I want to do them better. And I want to stop kicking myself for not doing more. And I want to stop hoarding tasks and things to do.
I think I need to take some walks in the woods by myself and listen to the softer voices beneath the screeching harpy who is telling me to get busy. I think I need some quiet time.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Fall forward
The weather has cooled down here, after the remnants of the tropical storm drenched us for a couple of days. I hope y'all up the coast are drying out now. I love the fall weather. I say there are 15 minutes in SC when you can enjoy the outdoors, and this is it. Fall and Spring are my two favorite days.
I have been sort of busy (busy! busy! busy! I am Important!). I actually worked a full week, which for me is 30 hours M-Th.
Mark was sick last week and he's catching up on his work in his virtual charter school. You know, when your kid goes to school, you take him in at 8 and pick him up at 3 and you pretty much assume there is learning in between. Like magic. And of course, Mark was at Carolina School for Inquiry, where excellent learning takes place every day, like magic. Magic and a great deal of hard work and planning from an excellent faculty, staff, and administration. With a virtual charter school, I have to make sure Mark has 30 hours of learning in a specified variety of subjects. Whether I know diddly squat or not. Now, the lessons are really well planned, with a mixture of on-line instruction, off-line work (including labs), and on- and off-line assessment. But Mark doesn't get the interaction he had at CSI. The energy that comes with a really good classroom setting, lead by a professional teacher. The on-line teachers are fine, but we haven't figured out if we can use them to Mark's benefit yet. It's a process. It's still happening.
I was sworn in to the CSI board again last night and elected chair. We are planning to work on sustainability and long range plans, especially on-going funding sources and technology. The new board has a lot of people who are new to CSI, at least to the board, and I'm really excited. They respect the history and the ancestral memory, but they are not entwined in past drama-baggage. They are looking to the future. One of the new board members suggested that there is a danger that some of the members who were re-elected (after being off a year) might be subject to the old bad patterns. That is an excellent point, and something we must all guard against. Although our mistakes were not as outrageous as the board from last year, we did have a couple of problems. For me, it is that I had trouble communicating with the community. I was trying so hard to keep the board professional and about governing not managing that I may have been too aloof. It's a fine line, and I think that there are some other board members who can help me find the balance. I am looking forward to the challenges. More challenge, less drama.
In other news, I have passed two of the three parts of the enrolled agent exam. I'm going to take the third part in the next two weeks. After that, I have to apply, which means a background check and examination of my tax return. More challenges, along with the regular ebbs and flow of a tax office. October 15 is the deadline for filing personal tax returns if you got an extension. It's like a mini April for us. Then we start going to workshops and classes, sending out planners, examining last year's procedures to see how to make it better this year, and incorporating the new regulations into our routines. It's very exciting. OK... maybe not to everyone. Go figure.
I am also running for the St. Michael & All Angels Episcopal Church vestry, which meant I had to go get "received" into the church by the bishop. Last Sunday my friend Morgan and I went to Rock Hill (about an hour away) for me to do that. It was very cool. The church was beautiful in a very different way from St. Michael's. The people were welcoming, the music was great but different. I got goose bumps when I was received, although that's when the rain started. Hmmmm. Anyway, I forgot to get my official certificate, so I might not be able to be on the Vestry anyway. If that is the case, I'll take it as a sign from God and be grateful for the heads up.
Oh yeah, I have volunteered to help a non-profit organization called Girls, Inc. here in Columbia. I have three sons, and like many women, I always wanted a daughter. At some point I realized that the good Lord had a reason for giving me sons not daughters, and it may have something to do with the violent twitch I get when I hear high pitched squeals. Although I enjoy my nieces (hey Roslyn!), my cousin Lizzie, and my daughter-in-law Katie, I am not a girl scout leader type. Which is irrelevant, because I'm going to be helping with the bookkeeping. Accounts rarely squeal. And who knows, maybe someday I will have the opportunity to work with these great young women, even if they do squeal.
On Mark's schooling, I need some advice. I want to enrich his world history experience by watching a couple of movies. I'm going to get Luther when we get to the Reformation next week, but isn't there a good movie about Michelangelo or Leonardo da Vinci? Something that will show the art and give him a feel for the time and politics and culture. Any suggestions for this or any world history type movie from 1400 to the present would be appreciated.
So that's me today.
I have been sort of busy (busy! busy! busy! I am Important!). I actually worked a full week, which for me is 30 hours M-Th.
Mark was sick last week and he's catching up on his work in his virtual charter school. You know, when your kid goes to school, you take him in at 8 and pick him up at 3 and you pretty much assume there is learning in between. Like magic. And of course, Mark was at Carolina School for Inquiry, where excellent learning takes place every day, like magic. Magic and a great deal of hard work and planning from an excellent faculty, staff, and administration. With a virtual charter school, I have to make sure Mark has 30 hours of learning in a specified variety of subjects. Whether I know diddly squat or not. Now, the lessons are really well planned, with a mixture of on-line instruction, off-line work (including labs), and on- and off-line assessment. But Mark doesn't get the interaction he had at CSI. The energy that comes with a really good classroom setting, lead by a professional teacher. The on-line teachers are fine, but we haven't figured out if we can use them to Mark's benefit yet. It's a process. It's still happening.
I was sworn in to the CSI board again last night and elected chair. We are planning to work on sustainability and long range plans, especially on-going funding sources and technology. The new board has a lot of people who are new to CSI, at least to the board, and I'm really excited. They respect the history and the ancestral memory, but they are not entwined in past drama-baggage. They are looking to the future. One of the new board members suggested that there is a danger that some of the members who were re-elected (after being off a year) might be subject to the old bad patterns. That is an excellent point, and something we must all guard against. Although our mistakes were not as outrageous as the board from last year, we did have a couple of problems. For me, it is that I had trouble communicating with the community. I was trying so hard to keep the board professional and about governing not managing that I may have been too aloof. It's a fine line, and I think that there are some other board members who can help me find the balance. I am looking forward to the challenges. More challenge, less drama.
In other news, I have passed two of the three parts of the enrolled agent exam. I'm going to take the third part in the next two weeks. After that, I have to apply, which means a background check and examination of my tax return. More challenges, along with the regular ebbs and flow of a tax office. October 15 is the deadline for filing personal tax returns if you got an extension. It's like a mini April for us. Then we start going to workshops and classes, sending out planners, examining last year's procedures to see how to make it better this year, and incorporating the new regulations into our routines. It's very exciting. OK... maybe not to everyone. Go figure.
I am also running for the St. Michael & All Angels Episcopal Church vestry, which meant I had to go get "received" into the church by the bishop. Last Sunday my friend Morgan and I went to Rock Hill (about an hour away) for me to do that. It was very cool. The church was beautiful in a very different way from St. Michael's. The people were welcoming, the music was great but different. I got goose bumps when I was received, although that's when the rain started. Hmmmm. Anyway, I forgot to get my official certificate, so I might not be able to be on the Vestry anyway. If that is the case, I'll take it as a sign from God and be grateful for the heads up.
Oh yeah, I have volunteered to help a non-profit organization called Girls, Inc. here in Columbia. I have three sons, and like many women, I always wanted a daughter. At some point I realized that the good Lord had a reason for giving me sons not daughters, and it may have something to do with the violent twitch I get when I hear high pitched squeals. Although I enjoy my nieces (hey Roslyn!), my cousin Lizzie, and my daughter-in-law Katie, I am not a girl scout leader type. Which is irrelevant, because I'm going to be helping with the bookkeeping. Accounts rarely squeal. And who knows, maybe someday I will have the opportunity to work with these great young women, even if they do squeal.
On Mark's schooling, I need some advice. I want to enrich his world history experience by watching a couple of movies. I'm going to get Luther when we get to the Reformation next week, but isn't there a good movie about Michelangelo or Leonardo da Vinci? Something that will show the art and give him a feel for the time and politics and culture. Any suggestions for this or any world history type movie from 1400 to the present would be appreciated.
So that's me today.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Coming up for air
I am very busy. I hate when people say, "I am very busy." First, I immediately feel lazy. Then I think, "who cares?" And then I wonder why they are so busy if they are just going to complain about it.
I am very busy for a couple of reasons. (1) Some things have been thrust upon me. (2) Some things I have taken on myself.
Things that I have to do: work. visit people. clean my house. shop. shower.
Things I have chosen to do: be a learning coach for my son's virtual charter school. take the enrolled agent exam. spend time with people. read. go to church (and all of the things that go with it.) serve on boards. volunteer to help a non-profit with their bookkeeping. eat.
You see that the list of things I've chosen is longer than the list that I've had thrust upon me. So I'm not going to complain when I say, I'm very busy.
There are many things I'd like to share --- the learning coach thing, the vacation to Lake Lure, NC, random thoughts. But I'm sort of crazy at this moment because I signed up for Part II of the enrolled agent exam on Friday and I'm afraid I'm not going to pass. I know a bunch of stuff, but there is a bunch I'm not getting through my head right now. Like which part of a sale of a partnership is ordinary income & which is capital gain and when you have a 1231 gain... oh crap.
I could use some good thoughts, prayers, and maybe a cheat sheet or two. See ya soon!
I am very busy for a couple of reasons. (1) Some things have been thrust upon me. (2) Some things I have taken on myself.
Things that I have to do: work. visit people. clean my house. shop. shower.
Things I have chosen to do: be a learning coach for my son's virtual charter school. take the enrolled agent exam. spend time with people. read. go to church (and all of the things that go with it.) serve on boards. volunteer to help a non-profit with their bookkeeping. eat.
You see that the list of things I've chosen is longer than the list that I've had thrust upon me. So I'm not going to complain when I say, I'm very busy.
There are many things I'd like to share --- the learning coach thing, the vacation to Lake Lure, NC, random thoughts. But I'm sort of crazy at this moment because I signed up for Part II of the enrolled agent exam on Friday and I'm afraid I'm not going to pass. I know a bunch of stuff, but there is a bunch I'm not getting through my head right now. Like which part of a sale of a partnership is ordinary income & which is capital gain and when you have a 1231 gain... oh crap.
I could use some good thoughts, prayers, and maybe a cheat sheet or two. See ya soon!
Friday, August 20, 2010
On the gym
I think I mentioned that Bob and I joined the gym about a week before my 50th birthday. It made sense. We're both hitting 50. We want to exercise, but we live in SC where it is at 80 degrees at 7 am for most of the year. When it's cool enough to walk outside, it's too dark. It wasn't working for us. I'd thought about yoga classes, but the gym offers yoga among other classes and costs less. There is that nasty 2 year financial commitment, but that's just incentive to work out, right?
Maybe.
And anyway, Gold's Gym, which we joined had just hired my daughter-in-law. That didn't work out, so now I feel free to tell the story of the fitness trainer who I thought was going to help me learn to use the machines. Silly me.
OK, so I go in and the woman I'm supposed to see isn't there. It turns out I'm scheduled for Saturday at 9 am not Friday. OK, that's not going to happen, I say. So they set me up with a guy for Friday afternoon.
I'm thinking he's going to weigh me, talk about goals, show me how to use the machines. No. We did talk about goals, but I'm not sure he heard me.
D: so what are your goals?
Me: I want to be healthier. I'd like to lose weight...
D: how much?
Me: About 50 lbs.
D: (Raises eyebrow)
Me: That puts me in a healthy range and if I lose too much weight I'll be all wrinkly. Like Nancy Reagan.
D: OK. (Writes: "Lose 60 lbs." on my goal sheet.)
Me: (Eye roll.)
D: (Long and boring spiel about rates for personal trainers who will "Kick my butt" and get me into shape.)
Me: I don't want anyone to kick my butt. I'm 50 years old. I want to use the treadmill and the girly weight machines. Can you show me how to use those?
D: (More crap about personal trainers, kicking butts, and rates "you can't beat")
Me: (Eye roll.) OK, well let me talk to my husband about this.
D: Oh (eyebrow raise) did you ask your husband if you should buy those shoes?
Me: (Double eyebrow raise and expression that everyone who knows me knows means get the hell out of my way but D. thought meant he'd brow beaten me into submission.) (Like the brow pun?) No, but my shoes don't come with a two year contract.
Then, just because he'd pissed me off, I explained to him that as an INTP on the Meyers-Briggs scale, I tended to believe people who I liked and because of socialization, I tended to want to make people happy. And that now that I was 50 I'd finally figured out that I needed to walk away from long-term commitments and talk the decision over with other people who would help me put things in perspective. His gaze went blank, and when I finished, he said, "Well let's workout then."
He did NOT show me how to use the treadmill or elliptical machine, which are much more complicated than they sound. He showed me one weight machine, but didn't really help me use it, he just adjusted it. And he had me do these awful squats and weight things. Then I left feeling kind of crappy about the whole thing.
In fact, I couldn't get out of bed the next day. My legs would not move. By Sunday, I could walk, but almost died during the service (Episcopalian calisthenics.) Morgan laughed at me every time I moved from sitting to standing to kneeling. The 90 year old people pushed me forward during communion (not really, they were very patient.)
Bob went to visit D on Saturday and he missed work on Monday. Why in the world would D think it's a good thing to work two middle-aged people who admitted they hadn't been in shape since the last century (or their last incarnation, in my case) to the point of near-crippling? Did he think that would make us want to jump up every morning and get our butts kicked again and again? Personally, I can think of a lot more interesting ways to inflict pain on myself.
Maybe he wanted us to be so miserable, we don't use the gym again, now that they have our two year financial commitment and they still get the money whether we show up or not. Probably not, I don't think he thought that much. I think he believes everyone wants to get their butts kicked by muscle-bound personal-like trainers. Maybe he's INTP and that's his world.
In any case, we went religiously for a week after we recovered. Life intervened and we haven't been back for two weeks. We will start again on Monday. Me on the treadmill reading my Barnes & Noble Nook and Bob on the elliptical watching FOX news alternated with the Morning Joe. And if we see D, all of us will pretend we have never been through that embarrassing little S&M episode. At least I will. I think D has forgotten us already. I feel so... cheap.
Maybe.
And anyway, Gold's Gym, which we joined had just hired my daughter-in-law. That didn't work out, so now I feel free to tell the story of the fitness trainer who I thought was going to help me learn to use the machines. Silly me.
OK, so I go in and the woman I'm supposed to see isn't there. It turns out I'm scheduled for Saturday at 9 am not Friday. OK, that's not going to happen, I say. So they set me up with a guy for Friday afternoon.
I'm thinking he's going to weigh me, talk about goals, show me how to use the machines. No. We did talk about goals, but I'm not sure he heard me.
D: so what are your goals?
Me: I want to be healthier. I'd like to lose weight...
D: how much?
Me: About 50 lbs.
D: (Raises eyebrow)
Me: That puts me in a healthy range and if I lose too much weight I'll be all wrinkly. Like Nancy Reagan.
D: OK. (Writes: "Lose 60 lbs." on my goal sheet.)
Me: (Eye roll.)
D: (Long and boring spiel about rates for personal trainers who will "Kick my butt" and get me into shape.)
Me: I don't want anyone to kick my butt. I'm 50 years old. I want to use the treadmill and the girly weight machines. Can you show me how to use those?
D: (More crap about personal trainers, kicking butts, and rates "you can't beat")
Me: (Eye roll.) OK, well let me talk to my husband about this.
D: Oh (eyebrow raise) did you ask your husband if you should buy those shoes?
Me: (Double eyebrow raise and expression that everyone who knows me knows means get the hell out of my way but D. thought meant he'd brow beaten me into submission.) (Like the brow pun?) No, but my shoes don't come with a two year contract.
Then, just because he'd pissed me off, I explained to him that as an INTP on the Meyers-Briggs scale, I tended to believe people who I liked and because of socialization, I tended to want to make people happy. And that now that I was 50 I'd finally figured out that I needed to walk away from long-term commitments and talk the decision over with other people who would help me put things in perspective. His gaze went blank, and when I finished, he said, "Well let's workout then."
He did NOT show me how to use the treadmill or elliptical machine, which are much more complicated than they sound. He showed me one weight machine, but didn't really help me use it, he just adjusted it. And he had me do these awful squats and weight things. Then I left feeling kind of crappy about the whole thing.
In fact, I couldn't get out of bed the next day. My legs would not move. By Sunday, I could walk, but almost died during the service (Episcopalian calisthenics.) Morgan laughed at me every time I moved from sitting to standing to kneeling. The 90 year old people pushed me forward during communion (not really, they were very patient.)
Bob went to visit D on Saturday and he missed work on Monday. Why in the world would D think it's a good thing to work two middle-aged people who admitted they hadn't been in shape since the last century (or their last incarnation, in my case) to the point of near-crippling? Did he think that would make us want to jump up every morning and get our butts kicked again and again? Personally, I can think of a lot more interesting ways to inflict pain on myself.
Maybe he wanted us to be so miserable, we don't use the gym again, now that they have our two year financial commitment and they still get the money whether we show up or not. Probably not, I don't think he thought that much. I think he believes everyone wants to get their butts kicked by muscle-bound personal-like trainers. Maybe he's INTP and that's his world.
In any case, we went religiously for a week after we recovered. Life intervened and we haven't been back for two weeks. We will start again on Monday. Me on the treadmill reading my Barnes & Noble Nook and Bob on the elliptical watching FOX news alternated with the Morning Joe. And if we see D, all of us will pretend we have never been through that embarrassing little S&M episode. At least I will. I think D has forgotten us already. I feel so... cheap.
Thursday, August 19, 2010
Decade of what?
I am planning to make my 50s the decade of joy, but so far it's the decade of "get the hell out of my way or I'll hit you with a bat." I'm hoping this will change soon. Maybe I'll just sit here and rest a spell.
There are already really good things. I joined the gym and went for awhile. I'll probably start going again soon. An old friend made contact after 12 years. Well, 12 since we talked and about 22 since we've seen each other. It is really good to hear from her. I think we both are awakening at 50, but I might be presuming there. I think I mentioned that I sometimes feel as if I was in a coma for about 20 years, beginning to come alive again at about 40.
The things that are dragging me are the same old things. Nothing dramatic, nothing I can fight head on, really.
My computer broke. I'm using an inspiron mini (which seemed like such a cute idea when I bought it). I'm hoping the desk top will get fixed soon. Especially since my youngest son is in an on-line virtual charter school. Computers that you can actually see are really important here.
My dishwasher broke. I hear it's been fixed. That's good because I was about to take all of the dishes upstairs and give them a shower. And by all the dishes, I mean ALL the dishes. Since my sink drains through the dishwasher, I couldn't even use the kitchen sink without flooding my floor. Serious bummer.
Mark and I are painting the study/classroom. I have high hopes for organization when it's done (tomorrow, I hope.) I often say I can be organized in one area of my life at a time. I usually pick work. Now I need to be organized in work and Mark's school. I am almost wondering if it would be that bad if he went to a school that teaches Charlotte's Web in its 6th grade honors English class. But then I remember that SC funds its public colleges and universities at about 10% so the tuition to even state colleges is more than the value of my house. Scholarship, baby.
And then there are the shenanigans at his old school, where a selfish board refused to approve contracts for three teachers (the day AFTER school started) but did find the time and money to buy pretty report card covers and a wand with which to put up school achievements. Since thetwits fallible human beings won't acknowledge the great job of the director and teachers who are committed to multi-age, child-centered, inquiry-based education, I'm not sure what they want to put on the sign. (The school has made Adequate yearly progress two years in a row, and last year's 6th grade (Mark's class) led the entire district among 6th grade classes.)
I'm thinking that a trip to the gym might not be a bad idea. Or maybe I'll go upstairs and paint a room, then organize my really cool school supplies.
There are already really good things. I joined the gym and went for awhile. I'll probably start going again soon. An old friend made contact after 12 years. Well, 12 since we talked and about 22 since we've seen each other. It is really good to hear from her. I think we both are awakening at 50, but I might be presuming there. I think I mentioned that I sometimes feel as if I was in a coma for about 20 years, beginning to come alive again at about 40.
The things that are dragging me are the same old things. Nothing dramatic, nothing I can fight head on, really.
My computer broke. I'm using an inspiron mini (which seemed like such a cute idea when I bought it). I'm hoping the desk top will get fixed soon. Especially since my youngest son is in an on-line virtual charter school. Computers that you can actually see are really important here.
My dishwasher broke. I hear it's been fixed. That's good because I was about to take all of the dishes upstairs and give them a shower. And by all the dishes, I mean ALL the dishes. Since my sink drains through the dishwasher, I couldn't even use the kitchen sink without flooding my floor. Serious bummer.
Mark and I are painting the study/classroom. I have high hopes for organization when it's done (tomorrow, I hope.) I often say I can be organized in one area of my life at a time. I usually pick work. Now I need to be organized in work and Mark's school. I am almost wondering if it would be that bad if he went to a school that teaches Charlotte's Web in its 6th grade honors English class. But then I remember that SC funds its public colleges and universities at about 10% so the tuition to even state colleges is more than the value of my house. Scholarship, baby.
And then there are the shenanigans at his old school, where a selfish board refused to approve contracts for three teachers (the day AFTER school started) but did find the time and money to buy pretty report card covers and a wand with which to put up school achievements. Since the
I'm thinking that a trip to the gym might not be a bad idea. Or maybe I'll go upstairs and paint a room, then organize my really cool school supplies.
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
The Decade of Joy
When I turned 40, I went to the doctor.
I was at a low point in my life--- feeling tired and depressed, not sure what to do with myself, waiting for the times to get better. I was staying at home with my 2 year old baby and trying to help my 14 & 11 year old sons make it through puberty. Although I did wonderful things with Mark (the baby), I didn't do much with myself. I played a hell of a lot of Canasta with my parents. Together time with your parents is great at any age, but let's be real. A forty year old really shouldn't be that good at Canasta.
And so I went to the doctor. Up until then, I'd only gone to the ObGyn or to the Doc-in-the-box if I was really sick. I think I thought, "gee, you are forty, you need to take care of yourself. Go to the doctor."
Well, the doctor liked me. I was fat and forty and had great insurance and a lot of time on my hands. My thyroid was low, my iron was low, my will was low. I went on medication for hypothyroidism. I had a boat load of tests (and by boatload, I mean that I paid for my doctor's yacht) to find the cause of the anemia.
As an aside, as the Colonoscopy Poster Child, let me say: This is when I had my first colonoscopy, and that was a good thing. Since then, two of my uncles have died from colon cancer, along with at least two of my Dad's cousins. I have had this test every three years since then. The test isn't fun, but colon cancer is worse. And when you get tested, they remove the polyps so they are gone before they can develop into cancer. It's well worth the agonizing misery the day before.
So, I had tests on all parts of my body that might cause anemia. They never figured it out, but when I had a hysterectomy because of heavy bleeding (which THEY said wasn't enough to cause anemia but I thought was enough to make me die) and three very early term miscarriages, I got over the anemia. I guess. I sort of quit paying attention.
Then... I had my first migraine, an agonizing pain that felt like someone was hitting me with a spiked pike for a week. It wasn't typical, so it took awhile to figure it out. After they called it a migraine, I had one a day for a few months. I lost 30 lbs in three months. I looked like hell, but I was thin(ner) and was trying to decide whether it was worth the pain when the migraines just sort of went away. I still get head aches, but nothing that keeps me from eating, dammit.
And then my blood pressure, which had always been normal even though I'm fat, went up. A whole lot.
Sometime over the decade, I woke up psychologically. I went back to school and became a tax preparer & accountant of all things. I helped start a great school for my youngest son, and worked with that on a daily basis for five years. I felt alive and competent. I vaguely wondered where I'd been the last twenty years.
Here I am: 49 years and 363 days old. I am no longer fat and forty, I am fat and fifty. I do like what I'm doing, but I'm not sure what else I want to do. I love my children and am really really glad they are older. I pray that they are able to become independent and challenged in their lives very soon. I hope they come visit. Often.
And here I am, working every day, taking on more and more tasks and completing my to-do lists while writing more. And I still don't know what I want to do with my life.
That is why I am calling this the Decade of Joy. I'm not going to quit my job and move to Santa Fe (not yet). I'm still clearing out the crap in my house and my life. I'm still thinking about being in business for myself (with Bob's help). I am still working on quality public charter schools. But now, I'm adding time for my joy and dropping the stuff that isn't important and/or Joyous.
This is my JOY:
Instead of yelling at Bob because he grabs his guitar and heads out to the hammock when I want to clean the bedroom, I'm going to grab a G&T and head out with him.
We joined the gym, not because we (or anyone else) thought we ought to (and that's another story or two), but because we want to. I'm going to use the walking-type machine, the girly weight machines, the yoga class, and the water aerobic classes as much as I can. I'm not going to care that Duston the pt kid thinks I'm a wuss.
I'm going to write more. That gives me joy, even if I never get an actual story written.
I'm going to have lunch with friends, because I like that and it doesn't make me stress. Hey, maybe friends can walk with me at the gym. Whatever.
I'm going to talk to my kids without asking them when they plan to go to college/get a job/cut their hair. I'm going to listen.
And the stuff I'm not going to do... well that's another story. But maybe I won't tell it.
I was at a low point in my life--- feeling tired and depressed, not sure what to do with myself, waiting for the times to get better. I was staying at home with my 2 year old baby and trying to help my 14 & 11 year old sons make it through puberty. Although I did wonderful things with Mark (the baby), I didn't do much with myself. I played a hell of a lot of Canasta with my parents. Together time with your parents is great at any age, but let's be real. A forty year old really shouldn't be that good at Canasta.
And so I went to the doctor. Up until then, I'd only gone to the ObGyn or to the Doc-in-the-box if I was really sick. I think I thought, "gee, you are forty, you need to take care of yourself. Go to the doctor."
Well, the doctor liked me. I was fat and forty and had great insurance and a lot of time on my hands. My thyroid was low, my iron was low, my will was low. I went on medication for hypothyroidism. I had a boat load of tests (and by boatload, I mean that I paid for my doctor's yacht) to find the cause of the anemia.
As an aside, as the Colonoscopy Poster Child, let me say: This is when I had my first colonoscopy, and that was a good thing. Since then, two of my uncles have died from colon cancer, along with at least two of my Dad's cousins. I have had this test every three years since then. The test isn't fun, but colon cancer is worse. And when you get tested, they remove the polyps so they are gone before they can develop into cancer. It's well worth the agonizing misery the day before.
So, I had tests on all parts of my body that might cause anemia. They never figured it out, but when I had a hysterectomy because of heavy bleeding (which THEY said wasn't enough to cause anemia but I thought was enough to make me die) and three very early term miscarriages, I got over the anemia. I guess. I sort of quit paying attention.
Then... I had my first migraine, an agonizing pain that felt like someone was hitting me with a spiked pike for a week. It wasn't typical, so it took awhile to figure it out. After they called it a migraine, I had one a day for a few months. I lost 30 lbs in three months. I looked like hell, but I was thin(ner) and was trying to decide whether it was worth the pain when the migraines just sort of went away. I still get head aches, but nothing that keeps me from eating, dammit.
And then my blood pressure, which had always been normal even though I'm fat, went up. A whole lot.
Sometime over the decade, I woke up psychologically. I went back to school and became a tax preparer & accountant of all things. I helped start a great school for my youngest son, and worked with that on a daily basis for five years. I felt alive and competent. I vaguely wondered where I'd been the last twenty years.
Here I am: 49 years and 363 days old. I am no longer fat and forty, I am fat and fifty. I do like what I'm doing, but I'm not sure what else I want to do. I love my children and am really really glad they are older. I pray that they are able to become independent and challenged in their lives very soon. I hope they come visit. Often.
And here I am, working every day, taking on more and more tasks and completing my to-do lists while writing more. And I still don't know what I want to do with my life.
That is why I am calling this the Decade of Joy. I'm not going to quit my job and move to Santa Fe (not yet). I'm still clearing out the crap in my house and my life. I'm still thinking about being in business for myself (with Bob's help). I am still working on quality public charter schools. But now, I'm adding time for my joy and dropping the stuff that isn't important and/or Joyous.
This is my JOY:
Instead of yelling at Bob because he grabs his guitar and heads out to the hammock when I want to clean the bedroom, I'm going to grab a G&T and head out with him.
We joined the gym, not because we (or anyone else) thought we ought to (and that's another story or two), but because we want to. I'm going to use the walking-type machine, the girly weight machines, the yoga class, and the water aerobic classes as much as I can. I'm not going to care that Duston the pt kid thinks I'm a wuss.
I'm going to write more. That gives me joy, even if I never get an actual story written.
I'm going to have lunch with friends, because I like that and it doesn't make me stress. Hey, maybe friends can walk with me at the gym. Whatever.
I'm going to talk to my kids without asking them when they plan to go to college/get a job/cut their hair. I'm going to listen.
And the stuff I'm not going to do... well that's another story. But maybe I won't tell it.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
nostalgia
This week, I went to Charleston with my husband and youngest son. Charleston is my father's birthplace, the place where my parents met and married, where we spent almost every New Year's Eve and every weekend from Easter to Labor Day throughout our childhoods, where my aunt and cousins still live. Although I haven't been there as often in the last 30 years, I have been there many times. And yet, for some reason, this week the nostalgia hit me like the wall of humidity that greets you when you walk from the air conditioned hotel lobby.
I was there for a conference, and so we were with my boss and his wife and my co-worker and her sister. Maybe it was sharing memories with them.
My mother's mother moved to Charleston from Massachusetts when she retired from teaching. It wasn't until I spent summers with her that I really "did the tourist thing." Gramma and I walked or rode buses and taxis all over the city. She took us on the horse and carriage tour of South of Broad. We'd go to the Market, or even just the Piggly Wiggly on King Street. And where ever we went, she'd say, "This is Kathy Duffy. Her uncle is Father Duffy. Her grandfather was John Duffy the pharmacist. Did you know him?" And although it wasn't surprising that everyone knew Uncle Tommy, I was shocked by the number of people who remembered John Duffy the pharmacist. It was almost enough to break through the soul-deep mortification I felt as a psychotically shy child with a talkative grandmother. Almost.
On Tuesday afternoon, we drove to Folly Beach. The road to James Island, where I enjoyed a true childhood with my friends Bernadette, Elizabeth, and Roland, was so different it didn't strike any chords. Actually, I think it might be an entirely different bridge. It certainly didn't awake my sleeping child-map that remembers the turns and the Spanish Moss and the Dairy Queen we stopped at once in a while for a rare treat.
Although Folly Beach isn't a part of the child memories, the ocean and the waves that were. The waves were breaking in just the right place for some serious wave-riding. For the first time in 25 years, I didn't stand in the shallows with small children or watching anxiously for potential threats against my fearless sons as they dove into the waves. Mark and I rode the waves ourselves. I heard my mother's voice as I said, "Hold up, that one isn't going to break for us." I saw my awe for my mother reflected in Mark's eyes as he saw I could really tell when the wave would break and when it was faking. Of course, he didn't say anything. He was having too much fun, and maybe he didn't realize what an art it is. I got tossed into the sand with the whole ocean as a Netti pot, and I haven't had such a good time in... 30 years?
Wednesday we went to Sullivan's Island to visit Fort Moultrie, and that is another story...
I was there for a conference, and so we were with my boss and his wife and my co-worker and her sister. Maybe it was sharing memories with them.
My mother's mother moved to Charleston from Massachusetts when she retired from teaching. It wasn't until I spent summers with her that I really "did the tourist thing." Gramma and I walked or rode buses and taxis all over the city. She took us on the horse and carriage tour of South of Broad. We'd go to the Market, or even just the Piggly Wiggly on King Street. And where ever we went, she'd say, "This is Kathy Duffy. Her uncle is Father Duffy. Her grandfather was John Duffy the pharmacist. Did you know him?" And although it wasn't surprising that everyone knew Uncle Tommy, I was shocked by the number of people who remembered John Duffy the pharmacist. It was almost enough to break through the soul-deep mortification I felt as a psychotically shy child with a talkative grandmother. Almost.
On Tuesday afternoon, we drove to Folly Beach. The road to James Island, where I enjoyed a true childhood with my friends Bernadette, Elizabeth, and Roland, was so different it didn't strike any chords. Actually, I think it might be an entirely different bridge. It certainly didn't awake my sleeping child-map that remembers the turns and the Spanish Moss and the Dairy Queen we stopped at once in a while for a rare treat.
Although Folly Beach isn't a part of the child memories, the ocean and the waves that were. The waves were breaking in just the right place for some serious wave-riding. For the first time in 25 years, I didn't stand in the shallows with small children or watching anxiously for potential threats against my fearless sons as they dove into the waves. Mark and I rode the waves ourselves. I heard my mother's voice as I said, "Hold up, that one isn't going to break for us." I saw my awe for my mother reflected in Mark's eyes as he saw I could really tell when the wave would break and when it was faking. Of course, he didn't say anything. He was having too much fun, and maybe he didn't realize what an art it is. I got tossed into the sand with the whole ocean as a Netti pot, and I haven't had such a good time in... 30 years?
Wednesday we went to Sullivan's Island to visit Fort Moultrie, and that is another story...
Thursday, June 24, 2010
Summertime, and the living is...
OK, first an update on Dave, Adrian, Bud, and the missing Lumina. Dave says he is going to pay for it. He thinks Adrian might have it. We are holding our collective breath...
I started to write about how hectic my next two weeks are going to be and how unhappy that made me, but then I decided to slap myself. I really need an attitude adjustment. OK, so my idea of a perfect life is to live alone in a house with a big porch on a beach without hurricanes or mosquitoes with books, writing equipment, and regular conjugal visits from my husband. OK, he can live with me. People would visit often enough, but in a really really informal way. I'd have beer, basil lemonade, and cookies for them. They'd go home (although they could sleep over if they needed to.) And money is no object. I don't need a lot. Just enough so I don't have to worry about it unless I want to buy a $500 cotton t-shirt. And that won't happen.
So... my real life. I missed work yesterday to take care of my grandchildren because my son & daughter in law needed help. I had a great time with them, although the fantasy about cleaning my house while watching them was ... a fantasy. I did get a teeny bit done. But mostly I played.
Today I am at work, trying to catch up with what I didn't do yesterday and can't do next week because we are going to Charleston, SC for a tax workshop/conference. (This is when I start the slapping.) Bob, Mark, and I are staying at a really nice hotel right across from the Market, within walking distance of the finest restaurants, shopping, and historical sights in SC. Bob and Mark may go to the beach one day while I learn how to help people who are going through bankruptcy and other fun things. Sunday & Monday nights are paid for by my boss. Tuesday, we are paying, so I can have a little bit of a real vacation and visit family on Tuesday evening and Wednesday. Obviously, I am an ungrateful wretch if I don't see what a cool thing this is. (And I LIKE learning about tax stuff.)
Again, I'm a wretch because I'm feeling pressed about family obligations this weekend before we go to Charleston. A family wedding on Friday and the second quarter birthday party at my in-laws on Saturday. The wedding will be nice, even though it keeps me from my usual suspects happy hour and that puts me out. The second quarter birthday party will be as good as I make it. And I don't want to talk about that right now.
Next week, we'll miss the regular happy hour again for another family gathering with the in-laws. We're meeting at Little Pig's Barbecue, which is a really good place to eat as long as you like pork. They have three kinds of barbecue --- mustard based (my choice), ketchup based (yuck), and vinegar based (ok). They have all of the normal sides --- slaw, green beans, mac & cheese casserole, banana pudding, rice and more. It's a great place and I'd be really happy to go there if I weren't missing happy hour.
On July 3, I think we are going to my boss' house for more barbecue as well as swimming and horseshoes. On July 4, we'll have a picnic at church, then go to my brother's for swimming, burgers, and brats. The sausage, not my children. I think we have July 5th off. I know I'll need it.
And so you see what a whiner I am. This looks like a great couple of weeks, doesn't it? It will be as fun as I make it, I guess. OK, well, off to have fun, even if it kills me...
I started to write about how hectic my next two weeks are going to be and how unhappy that made me, but then I decided to slap myself. I really need an attitude adjustment. OK, so my idea of a perfect life is to live alone in a house with a big porch on a beach without hurricanes or mosquitoes with books, writing equipment, and regular conjugal visits from my husband. OK, he can live with me. People would visit often enough, but in a really really informal way. I'd have beer, basil lemonade, and cookies for them. They'd go home (although they could sleep over if they needed to.) And money is no object. I don't need a lot. Just enough so I don't have to worry about it unless I want to buy a $500 cotton t-shirt. And that won't happen.
So... my real life. I missed work yesterday to take care of my grandchildren because my son & daughter in law needed help. I had a great time with them, although the fantasy about cleaning my house while watching them was ... a fantasy. I did get a teeny bit done. But mostly I played.
Today I am at work, trying to catch up with what I didn't do yesterday and can't do next week because we are going to Charleston, SC for a tax workshop/conference. (This is when I start the slapping.) Bob, Mark, and I are staying at a really nice hotel right across from the Market, within walking distance of the finest restaurants, shopping, and historical sights in SC. Bob and Mark may go to the beach one day while I learn how to help people who are going through bankruptcy and other fun things. Sunday & Monday nights are paid for by my boss. Tuesday, we are paying, so I can have a little bit of a real vacation and visit family on Tuesday evening and Wednesday. Obviously, I am an ungrateful wretch if I don't see what a cool thing this is. (And I LIKE learning about tax stuff.)
Again, I'm a wretch because I'm feeling pressed about family obligations this weekend before we go to Charleston. A family wedding on Friday and the second quarter birthday party at my in-laws on Saturday. The wedding will be nice, even though it keeps me from my usual suspects happy hour and that puts me out. The second quarter birthday party will be as good as I make it. And I don't want to talk about that right now.
Next week, we'll miss the regular happy hour again for another family gathering with the in-laws. We're meeting at Little Pig's Barbecue, which is a really good place to eat as long as you like pork. They have three kinds of barbecue --- mustard based (my choice), ketchup based (yuck), and vinegar based (ok). They have all of the normal sides --- slaw, green beans, mac & cheese casserole, banana pudding, rice and more. It's a great place and I'd be really happy to go there if I weren't missing happy hour.
On July 3, I think we are going to my boss' house for more barbecue as well as swimming and horseshoes. On July 4, we'll have a picnic at church, then go to my brother's for swimming, burgers, and brats. The sausage, not my children. I think we have July 5th off. I know I'll need it.
And so you see what a whiner I am. This looks like a great couple of weeks, doesn't it? It will be as fun as I make it, I guess. OK, well, off to have fun, even if it kills me...
Monday, June 21, 2010
I am not making this up...
OK, about three months ago, our 1996 Lumina's transmission broke. We had it towed to a transmission repair shop where they told us they'd look at it for $400. That's on top of the $90 tow. On a really ugly car. The car in which I'd spilled spaghetti sauce and Italian dressing and could never get clean. The car with only one working seat belt in the back (see spill above.)
Bud, the owner, did tell us that if we decided to fix it, the $490 would go toward that cost. So we know we are looking at a pretty hefty repair bill. On a car with a blue book value of $450 if it runs. And at this point it did run, but only backwards.
So Bob asked Bud if he knew anyone who might want to buy the car. Bud grumbled something that sounded negative, but one of Bud's employees (Dave) told Bob he'd give Bob $150 and pay for the tow. Great.
AND SO, Bob and I take off from work and go get a copy of the title. We take it back and get ready to sign over the poor old Lumina to Dave. UNFORTUNATELY, Dave didn't have the money then. He'd get his check cashed and get with us on Monday. OK.
Bob takes off on Monday and goes to see Dave, who had had a family emergency over the weekend. (I think his cousin Jose Cuervo showed up, but what do I know?) He did not have the money.
Bob and Dave dance this dance for a couple of weeks, with Bob taking off from work to meet Dave, only to get a last minute phone call. In the meantime, poor Dave is having one family emergency after another. (I'm thinking it was his brother Jack Daniels & his uncle Captain Morgan, but I'm cynical.)
And it turns out that Dave can't buy the car, but his buddy Adrian can. And he will get Bob the money as soon as his fiance gets their bank account unfrozen.
This has gone on a long long time, and at this point I don't care. I was about to call SCETV and get them to pick up the car and sell it for whatever they can get. Bud seemed to think we would pay the tow if the "deal" fell through. Bud was mistaken.
But now, as of today, the car is missing. I am not making this up. Adrian (or is it Dave) thinks it was stolen (who the hell is going to steal a 1996 Lumina that only goes backwards?) Bob told Bud that we needed to know if he was in the city or county, because we needed to know where to file the police report. Bud said Dave is going to pay Bob anyway. And then Bud said he saw pigs fly... but I think that was cousin Jose again.
Bud, the owner, did tell us that if we decided to fix it, the $490 would go toward that cost. So we know we are looking at a pretty hefty repair bill. On a car with a blue book value of $450 if it runs. And at this point it did run, but only backwards.
So Bob asked Bud if he knew anyone who might want to buy the car. Bud grumbled something that sounded negative, but one of Bud's employees (Dave) told Bob he'd give Bob $150 and pay for the tow. Great.
AND SO, Bob and I take off from work and go get a copy of the title. We take it back and get ready to sign over the poor old Lumina to Dave. UNFORTUNATELY, Dave didn't have the money then. He'd get his check cashed and get with us on Monday. OK.
Bob takes off on Monday and goes to see Dave, who had had a family emergency over the weekend. (I think his cousin Jose Cuervo showed up, but what do I know?) He did not have the money.
Bob and Dave dance this dance for a couple of weeks, with Bob taking off from work to meet Dave, only to get a last minute phone call. In the meantime, poor Dave is having one family emergency after another. (I'm thinking it was his brother Jack Daniels & his uncle Captain Morgan, but I'm cynical.)
And it turns out that Dave can't buy the car, but his buddy Adrian can. And he will get Bob the money as soon as his fiance gets their bank account unfrozen.
This has gone on a long long time, and at this point I don't care. I was about to call SCETV and get them to pick up the car and sell it for whatever they can get. Bud seemed to think we would pay the tow if the "deal" fell through. Bud was mistaken.
But now, as of today, the car is missing. I am not making this up. Adrian (or is it Dave) thinks it was stolen (who the hell is going to steal a 1996 Lumina that only goes backwards?) Bob told Bud that we needed to know if he was in the city or county, because we needed to know where to file the police report. Bud said Dave is going to pay Bob anyway. And then Bud said he saw pigs fly... but I think that was cousin Jose again.
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Gray rainy mornings in Columbia
It is gray and a little rainy. I think there is a chance of thunderstorms. You may think I'm strange, but I love this weather. It feels comfortable, like an electric blanket with a frayed cord. OK, that's a little strange, but I was thinking about the possible thunderstorms. I love thunderstorms. I've missed them over the winter. I don't think it's hot enough for a really good storm, but I'm feeling tingly just thinking about it.
My mood is like this weather. Gray and damp, waiting to see what is going to happen. Is that enough blue to make a pair of cat's pajamas? Is the sun going to come out? Will it be bright and sunny by the time I get to work?
Are those real storm clouds? Will we have a thunderstorm, finally, to break the tension of the almost rain?
Is it because this is the last week of school and I still think like a student/teacher/parent when it comes to the calendar? Is it because tax season is over, but I still haven't caught up and I have a pile of tax returns that people wanted yesterday? Is it because Mark is leaving his school but I still hope that the school will go on? Is it because a lot of people "need" me, but it's not like I'm a rocket scientist and there aren't other people who can do the job just as well, and I really don't know what I do want to do? Is it because I'm not sure about finances, family, friends?
Oh Wow, I need a thunderstorm.
My mood is like this weather. Gray and damp, waiting to see what is going to happen. Is that enough blue to make a pair of cat's pajamas? Is the sun going to come out? Will it be bright and sunny by the time I get to work?
Are those real storm clouds? Will we have a thunderstorm, finally, to break the tension of the almost rain?
Is it because this is the last week of school and I still think like a student/teacher/parent when it comes to the calendar? Is it because tax season is over, but I still haven't caught up and I have a pile of tax returns that people wanted yesterday? Is it because Mark is leaving his school but I still hope that the school will go on? Is it because a lot of people "need" me, but it's not like I'm a rocket scientist and there aren't other people who can do the job just as well, and I really don't know what I do want to do? Is it because I'm not sure about finances, family, friends?
Oh Wow, I need a thunderstorm.
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