clickmom

listening

Usually I am completely open with people I know and I don't hide anything.  I don't keep secrets because I am not ashamed of anything that happened to me or anything I may have done. I will openly admit that I did or said things as a young person that I wish I hadn't but,  in the end, I try to own every life experience. Sometimes people are surprised at how much I share, since I have been in some not fantastic situations, but again, no shame, no blame, it all just made me who I am today, and I'm ok with that.

However, in the case of one woman I often walk sweet pea in the woods with I do not share very much for a couple of reasons. 1. She is a therapist and I don't want her to think I'm after free therapy 2. When I'm out walking I kind of want to forget the shitty-ness of my current situation and 3. She is a great story teller and she has me captivated with her on going crush on her blind massage therapist.  It's been months and every time I see her I get ridiculously excited because it's like I'm about to get to watch an episode or two of my favorite series, which I never know when a new episode will come or if it'll be a 30 minute episode or a 90 minute episode. She's great story teller too- leaving me squirming in anticipation as she spells out every detail. I kid her about who she should seat with me at the table of woods friends at their future wedding. Sometimes other women walking their dogs at the same time join us and now I have got a group of lady dog owners from the woods all following the saga.

It reminds me of high school when this girl was trying every weekend to have successful sex with her very cool and handsome jazz musician saxophone playing boyfriend and we'd all gather around her in the cafeteria before the bell rang on Monday mornings asking if they had finally truly done it or not. That sounds way weirder than it was at the time. At the time we were all rooting for them and also us virgins were (completely safe from pregnancy or STDs) living vicariously through her. 

Still no biopsy results for the BIL.  They are doing some kind of pain relieving procedure on him shortly. This is so incredibly frustrating for all of us. I called him to see if they had taken him for the procedure and he was so loopy/out of it on pain killers that I could barely understand him. He rambled on, had trouble with finding words, I just wanted to reach through the phone and rock him like a baby.  My heart breaks for the poor guy.  He's had too much for one person. He told him he needed to know when he should move Oregon. 

 

still humble

No official report on the BIL.  Though the doctors are behaving as if it's worst case scenario.  

Sweet pea seems to be feeling better, coughed/choked twice in her sleep last night (that I heard anyway) so I wasn't going to walk her today, but she seemed to want a walk so I took her for a shorter than usual one and she hasn't cough/choked/puked all day long.  I think tomorrow she will be normal again.  That's what I'm hoping. Anything else might push me over the edge.

I reconnected with a childhood friend who is some kind of medical PR person so when she heard what was up with the husband she asked around and I am happy to report that I have officially surrounded us with THE professionals in this area who are best equipped at taking stabs in the dark on diagnosing his mysterious brain disease and telling me there are no treatments for it.  At least we will be in the most competent useless hands. 

In more news we never needed to hear but especially now that everything is falling to pieces, our A/C is broken and requiring either an astronomical band aid repair or more astronomical replacement before next summer.  Thanks universe.  FU, too!

I'm up to 16K words written for my book (though the editor pointed out me that the beginning could use some fine tuning and I totally agreed with her having already felt that about 5K in I got into the swing of writing much more.)  I have no idea what to do with the book once I am done writing it.  But, I watched Fight Club again the other night and would like to officially offer David Fincher first dibs at directing the movie version.  Oh My God, he's magical. For some reason when I cast this  as a movie (in my imagination) I only cast comedians.  Could it be I don't exactly take myself seriously?  It's a possibility.  I think I am getting the level of intensity down that I was hoping to get.  Either that or the space age music I am listening to while writing is totally fucking with my brain, and you know, I think that could be it too.  If I die tomorrow people should be able to say that I was humble to the end.

 

worrying fee

Today my BIL might get the biopsy results. Realistically, I think they are going to be very earnest and say something along the lines of You have in our best estimate fill in the blank weeks/months to live.  But what I am hanging onto is that they could potentially in a world of miracles come in all happy and say, You know , there is this one chemo that has no side effects that could put you into remission.  In the mean time, I am wondering how I even had the audacity to think I felt sadness and uncertainty related frozen in time before we knew this news now that I can hardly breathe (because, how much bad news can one family handle?????) and I see that no matter how crappy the situation the universe can always plop another pile of crap on top of what you've already got.

As if thinking about the BIL every second I am also wondering what exactly the husband is thinking and how he is experiencing or not experiencing his own brother's tragedy without a fully functioning brain.  The husband cannot wrap around his mind around the possibility that his brain is less than optimal despite the fact that he has done not much more than sit on the couch and stare at either an iPad or a television for almost a year and a half.  Seriously!  But this is because of the area of his brain which has atrophied.  It's frustrating to not be able to sit down with him and discuss his end of life choices because it is incomprehensible to him that he has a problem let alone is anywhere near his end of life.  His dad lived into his 70's and the husband is convinced he will too.  Kind of sadly sweet if you're not the one who will have to make all the decisions. The question I ask myself is, Should I make these decisions as the husband would have wanted when he was a fully functioning person or should I make these decisions as the apathetic brain damaged guy he became?  Because his current reality is that nothing bothers him and he just doesn't seem to care. Sometimes I wonder where the guy I married ended and where this guy began. I know how we got to this place.  We got here when I was looking the other way because all I wanted to do was raise my kids.  Even if I had not looked the other way, even if I had screamed from the loudest free tops THIS IS NOT THE GUY I MARRIED! no one would have listened.  No one would have taken me seriously. I would have been chalked up as some kind of ungrateful bitch. You know that is the truth.  Welcome to the world we live in.

As if worrying about the these two men in my life wasn't enough, sweet pea started to puke on the bed yesterday morning just as I was ready to bring her downstairs.  Then she puked at the bottom of the stairs and then again out on the patio when I brought her outside to pee.  So I decided to take her for only the shortest of walks and she was puking every 10 feet and couldn't even walk in the neighborhood. I called the vet and they said they had an opening at the exact time I was bringing the husband to the doctor, so Evan brought sweet pea in.  She puked at the vet's too, so that's always good because I don't want to seem like I'm panicked over nothing and they gave her a shot for yesterday and some pills for the next two days and now I am home cooking her burgers and rice for meals instead of dog food.  When I was a kid I had a friend who had a little white fluffy dog named Cupcake.  My friend's mom used to broil a hamburgers for Cuppy every night.  I'm channeling Mrs. D.  It looks like sweet pea's stomach has calmed down but she's acting like she doesn't feel well.  She is just lying around the house.  I'm worried about her too. 

If I could charge a fee for worrying I'd never worry about money again.

Can not

So, the laughing thing lasted about a minute.

New family tragedy because apparently we have not had our share. It looks like my beloved BIL has cancer.  Not even the "good" kind you can slice out, but an abdomen full of cancer, we are still waiting on biopsy results, so I know nothing for sure, but all signs are not good.  Recall: this is the dude who had had at least a dozen surgeries in the just under 30 years I have known him, including but not limited to multiple back surgeries, quadruple by pass, artificial heart surgery, (he walked around for 18 months with a freaking pump in his chest and a battery pack hanging off his side!)  heart transplant, hip replacement, and now .... Cancer. I look at this poor guy and I just can't even.... how is this even possible???  He finally had a chance to live a normal life and WHAM. How is it even real that the universe can be so unfair?  

I just can not.

Can not.

 

 

laughter makes me stronger

Oooops I did IT (and by IT I mean tripping in the woods and completely obliterating my knees) again.

Though this time was mildly amusing as opposed to the last time which was nauseatingly painful for days.  Today I was walking along when I suddenly I had the sensation that my shoe laces had been tied together. I fell flat on my face. When I tried to move to get up I discovered my feet were somehow attached to each other. I asked my friend to separate my boots, but she couldn't quite hear me since I was face down in the snow with a hood over my head.  Luckily, this guy I call squeaky pete, (it's a pretty literal nick name) was walking 5 feet in front of us and he came over and discovered that one of the oval metal circles which bind the chains and spikes to the rubber which keeps it all on my boots had snagged onto the next boot. He managed to un-snag my boot without breaking my ankle or requiring me to remove my boots and for that I was thankful.  I had this fantasy that this fall on the knees might serve to slide my still painful right knee cap back into it's dysfunctional but not painful place and that I would be instantly healed.  That is until this evening when frustrated by the ineffectiveness of OTC pain relievers I pulled my pants up to reveal two lumps of swollen beyond looking like knees knees.  God dammit.  Here I go again.

I think going to the Y this afternoon and doing 22 minutes on the expresso bike followed by an hour of qigong might have been a mistake (ya think?) 

But you know, I have an expresso bike story, so at least there is that, right?  You know I am totally obsessed with beating the pacer.  I've been doing a 7.4 mile course and beating the pacer by just under 2 minutes.  Pretty good right?  Today I knew I would have to choose a shorter course so I wouldn't be late for qigong, so I ran into the locker room to toss my coat in a locker and I saw the most disgusting item ever.  Sitting on the shallow ledge in front of the mirror was hairbrush that looks pretty much what I imagine a hair brush looks like after brushing a mange infected yellow muppet labradoodle.  It was piled high with a strange color yellow hair. I looked around and did not see anyone with post it yellow hair in the locker room so I tried to stroll over nonchalantly to grab a photo. Once I got my shot I turned to see an older woman totally catching me in the act.  She smiled and gestured towards the diseased looking brush.. I whispered I know right?  Gross! and then she waved her arms around in a big gesture like who would leave this tremendous sick mess here and I said something about someone possibly needing to see a doctor and feeling better about my own messiness and then we both laughed.  Then out of the corner of my eye I see a third woman laughing and I turn to face her, and for a moment she and I are laughing exactly the same with our heads thrown back and I realize I am laughing along with myself in the mirror.  Then I wave goodbye to my new friend the like minded older lady and I dash to the expresso bike still laughing to myself because now, apparently, I am my own new friend and I hop on the bike and set it for a shorter course (6.8 miles- but didn't have time to finish it)  due to lack of time and begin as fast I can.  22 minutes later I was 5 minutes ahead of the pacer. Laughter makes me stronger!! Yeah baby.

novel writing

I'm writing a book.  It's the book which has been rolling around in my head for YEARS now, ever since I suspected that my stepford neighbor was a peeping tom. Guess what this book is about! Surprise, surprise.

I just started seriously putting it on paper a few days ago and I already have 8,750 words down.  That's 15 pages, in whatever size and font a google doc presets itself in.  I am not a fancy girl!! The funny thing is that I have seen every single scene in this book in my mind a million times so I thought that the words would just flow like lightning out of my finger tips and onto the paper.  hahahaha. Nope.  But, I will stick with it.  Wild mom is an avid reader of trashy novels ( did I mention it is a trashy novel?) so I asked her to read the beginning and tell me if she thought I was heading int he right direction.  She said good things so I hope she isn't just being nice to me. Once I have a larger chunk down I will most likely seek another friends advice. I have a friend from the dog park who is the most real person I can imagine. She loves to challenge everything I say so if she is into it I will ask her to read along with me as I write this too.  I think she might be less reserved in calling me out on weak spots.

I think my key board might be at the end of it's life.  Sadly as I type away I can hear it squeaking and straining with each letter stroke.  Especially the space bar, which makes sense since it is probably the most pressed tab on the board.  Dammit. Bad timing.

In creative news, I have taken a breather from photography. Not so much a breather in taking photos, because I was taking some today in a snow storm (hello dedication) but more from entering contests.  I can't shake the feeling that the entire thing is just a ploy to get me to pay entrance fees with no pay off in the end. I just need advice. There are to many people out there willing to submit to contest after contest.  I feline it's become meaningless, or maybe that is just the rest of my life situation reflecting back on me.  I don't know. I would love to be recognized, but I don't want play the games and jump through the hoops.  You know?

I'm just tired and cranky. Everything sucks and I am trying to move along in the most minimal way possible.

 

 

perfume dreams

I'm not sure what classifies a dream as reoccurring (yup, it's another freaking dream post) but lately, as in 3 or 4 times in the past couple of weeks, I have been having a new kind of curious dream (curious because it is so out of the ordinary for me) and that is a dream in which I suddenly smell a strong dose of perfume.  It's a pleasant smell and the thing I find myself thinking in my dream is that I like the smell, it is comforting in a significant and familiar way but it isn't my dad's cologne, which I would associate those good feelings with. So in my dream I am wondering who the perfume smell belongs to.

I looked up on any old strange website what perfume smells in dreams could mean and here is the general consensus: A good smell is a good meaning, so I am in the clear there.  It could refer to pleasant experiences, it could mean I am satisfied with my life (uh...not), friends (possibly, but this was definitely a male associated smell so I think not), and achievements (still waiting for that recognition).  Or it could mean I have a special openness and sensitivity (I'll buy that)  Or, to plagarize some website that showed up when I searched what does a perfume smell mean in a dream "A perfume smell in your dream is the sign of luxury and pride." Which could refer to the life of luxury I am gradually saying farewell to.  But hopefully "A pleasant smell is the indication of nice things coming your way." and I have an unchecked stack of lottery tickets in my purse. And lastly, "If you inhale a sweet and stunning smell, this is an omen for not only a very sweet woman coming into your life, but also financial successes."  Now I wouldn't call the smell I dream smelled sweet but stunning might be an accurate description because I thought in my dream it was distinct and compelling, so maybe there is some dude out there just waiting for me (hahaha, so not going there) but the financial thing makes me think I gotta get on the horse and actually make my fingers type that book I have completely planned out in my head. It's a more sure bet than the lottery ticket alternative. 

I always awake from the dream by trying too hard to figure out who the smell belongs to because that makes me regain a bit of consciousness and I realize that the closest thing to my nose (sometimes too close) is sweet pea and despite my infinite love for her I would never describe her special signature scent as perfume, unless the code word for "rolled in something that hadn't fully rotted so I don't have to give her a bath" is perfume. I'm pretty sure that doesn't even come close.

On a completely unrelated note, I believe that if you are with the one you love for a real long time then the one you love will forever see you as the person you were when they fell in love with you.  This is fantastic if you met the love of your life in college. Yesterday I was walking with an older friend in the woods and she she said something negative about her appearance-relating to getting older.  I know she has been with her husband since she was 20, so I said But your husband looks at you and sees you as were at 20.  Then she told me this story about how she lost track of him in a store and asked the sales lady if she had seen a tall blonde guy. When the sales lady said she hadn't seen a tall blonde guy and my friend thought that she was being bitchy and unhelpful.  Then she spotted her husband and realized that every hair on his head was white as snow. I just think that's the sweetest thing.

UPDATE: I kept searching the meaning of perfume in dream and I found the one I am choosing to believe : To inhale the scent of perfume foreshadows happy and joyous events. 

biting finger tips

Speaking of grandma, (see yesterday's post) it's her birthday today.  She would be 105 if she was still kicking. That thought kind of makes me shudder. 105 is way older than I want to live, especially with my back and knees.  Oh lord, have mercy on me! Grandma got to live a nice long life, (96) so you know, it was all inevitable, and hey, look I'm 100% sure I don't want to live a day past the day when I don't know my own children anymore, and grandma was way past that day, but I still miss having the fun exciting grandma I had when I was a kid.  Also, I wish my own children could have a grandmother like I did. I really do feel like my kids were completely ripped off by not even getting the chance to have any grandparents at all.  It's so sad.

So, I'm starting to do the things that people who want to live a long life do, like go the Y and whip myself into cardiovascular shape on the revered expresso bike. I did forget the one itty bitty draw back to the expresso bike, which happens to be that somehow no matter how conscious I am about how I sit on the freaking bike seat I manage to pinch a bit of myself down there and then it is tender in one particular little spot for a couple of days afterwards.  I would completely alternate with something cardio but nonimpact like an elliptical machine but somehow I think (because I am a special kind of special) that the non impact elliptical bothers my knee(s). particularly the right knee which is still on fire after my not in the least bit comedic trip on a tree root in the woods last October (??) - could it be that long ago?? Once I get the cardio thing all back on track I'll start up with some resistance training because I am old enough to remind myself that resistance training prevents bone loss in one's AARP years.

In my new life and role as caregiver I take the husband to the Y with me. The problem is all with my attitude and I really never in my entire life wanted a gym buddy.  Now, not only do I have a gym buddy, but I have a gym buddy , who every time he sees my hair pulled back off my face in the daylight remarks on how much gray hair I have got going on.  This is from a dude who started going gray in high school!  I didn't pick up real speed in the gray hair department until I was 50 and Evan decided to get himself kicked out of party university and the husband went on disability- all in a 3 week period, so hell yeah I'm gray! It came down to go gray or shoot my brains out.  I EARNED those silver medals.  Shut up gym buddy and get in my car so I can drive you home. I will never color my hair. (outside of the joke crazy color I plan on putting on the tips of my hair for the nieces bat mitzvah next May- which I will promptly cut off in one fell swoop days later) 

The area where I really need to get on top of things is (as always) the putting massive quantities of food on my own mouth.  People, I am eating waaaaay too much. I know it's all stress eating.  What am I gonna do?  I have no other working strategies for dealing with stress. I'm at a loss.  I dream about being one of those people who couldn't possibly eat when they're stressed, and not the kind of girl who goes all cookie monster over anything she can get her mangled from biting finger tips on.

acception

When digital watches were new my grandma got one for me.  I think I was in junior high school.  Then, when I went to high school I used to time my morning walk to the subway. To get to my station I had to cross 5 avenues, which meant that on a poorly timed morning my 1/2 mile walk could potentially take an entire 5 minutes of red light waiting time longer than on a morning when I hit all green lights.  I drove myself so insane stressing about the lost minutes at red lights that I got an old fashioned watch that didn't even have marks for the minutes and put that digital watch in the drawer.

A couple of summers ago peanut showed me how the iPhone can keep track of the number of steps I take each day.

I just marched in place for 220 steps.

Guess who is having a little obsession problem again.

Today I walked sweet pea for shorter than usual at the woods because (well, because I had to pee and just didn't feel like peeing in the woods) I knew I was going to go out with her again this afternoon.  I took her to the beach, where I hardly ever go.  It does occur to me that it is weird to live in a beach town and never go to the beach.  I guess I'm not a sand in my shoes kind of girl. Also, it is freaking windy at the beach making it feel about 20 degrees colder than not at the beach.  Next time I'll only go if it is sunny. The sun is nice and there isn't too much sun in the woods.

I intend on meditating every day but am having difficulty finding a good time to hide for little while.  Also, the television is ALWAYS on in this house and TV and meditating don't go hand in hand.  I suppose I could tell the husband the TV is going off here and there but at this point it feels strange to be in this house with other people and not hear the television bringing down my IQ in the background. I know, it sounds an awful lot like I am making excuses, and I am. I am one big whiny excuse for a human being lately and I fear that I might be this whiny excuse for a human being for a long time.

I do not like the path that I am on and it is not in my ability to change it.  Accept the things I can not change, accept and move forward.  I'm trying.