Ceremony

I’ve decided I need something visual, something that will allow me to see that time is actual passing that retirement really is in reach. I’ve decided to fill my mantle with candles, one for each week until I retire. I searched the house, pulling candles from anyplace I could find them. I pulled them from the bedroom, the bathrooms, the kitchen, the china cabinets, the closets and finally the boxes of holiday ornaments. I came up with 26! I needed 26! Life is good!

I’m going to inaugurate the ceremony this Friday. I’ll light all of them (and pray to God I don’t burn the house down) and take a picture of the family standing in front of the brightly burning mantle. Each Friday, beginning with the 9/8/06, I’ll take away a candle, light the remaining ones and take the family picture. It will be nice to see the number of candles go down each week. It will be nice to be able to see the progress.

Mom Camp is Over

and it is time to go back to work.

Mom camp is when I take the week off and boy A and boy B, each have friends over. They have to amuse themselves in the morning and I take them somewhere in the afternoon. My first choice for the afternoon is the pool. I sit in the shade and read while they wear off energy. This year they were too grown to go to the pool all five days. Dang.

Each boy had a friend over. The played video games, went to the pool 2 days, bowling 1 day, the driving range one day and 18 holes of golf one very long day. In fact the golf came took so long I was beginning to be really worried. I dropped four of them off to play 18 holes--walking only, no one is old enough to drive, at 9:30. When I hadn't heard from them by 2;30 I began to worry. By 3:00 I had them killed and buried in the back nine. I was somewhat relieved after calling the front dest, but not really relieved until they called me T 4:30. And yes they had a cell phone and no I did not know the number. Luckily they came home after haveing a great, though tiring day.

In any case, I need to go back to work come Monday and I don't wnat to. It is fun being home. I got stuff done. I have lots more to do and I don't wnat to go to work.

The Powerful, the Brave and the Free

I’m sitting here thinking I don’t have anything to say, I don’t want to think. I didn’t write yesterday. I don’t feel like writing today. So why do I have a blog. What purpose does it serve? I know it calls to me. I know I feel the need to have a blog.

I started this blog months ago yet stopped after a few entries because I was hurt that no one read it or left comments. I would leave a comment on other sites with a link to my site and excitedly check the next day to see if they had left a comment on my site. No one ever did. I was hurt and I was tired of always being disappointed, so I stopped. The problems is, I missed it. Having an online blog fulfills a need I didn’t know I had. It makes me feel powerful and brave. It doesn’t matter, at least for now, that no one reads it. It just matters that I have the courage to be open and real.

Right now there may not be much in here that looks like any big deal. It may not look like there is anything written here to worry about. But it is a big deal to me. It shows that I am not perfect. It shows that I have failed; I did not get a promotion I desperately wanted and know I deserved. It shows I’m not a perfect mom and my kids aren’t perfect kids. Maybe that’s why I don’t care whether or not anyone reads it. Being open means I am vulnerable. It comes under that tree falling in the forest story. If I write personal information in a journal that no one reads am I really making myself vulnerable?

I’m vulnerable because I have always worried too much about what people think about me. I don’t really expect others to think I am perfect, they can tell readily that I’m not, but I want everyone to think I am on the wonderful side of good, of interesting, of funny, of nice, of likeable. I want to be likeable. I want everyone to like me, though I don’t feel compelled to like everyone. Since I want everyone to like me, I struggle with being open and real.

This online blog is another step towards being real and being open; with letting people see the real me. After all I like the real me. I don’t want to change me and be someone else. I just need to learn to accept that people who are important to me will still like the real me and If they don’t then they aren’t worth being important to me.

Back From Vacation

So the ship was beautiful. So the stateroom was pretty dang big. So drinks were plentiful, varied and less expensive then I thought they would be. So the food was usually good. So the massage was out of this world. I have learned I am not a cruise person. There are just too dang many people on the boat. And they think they have a right to get in my way, they think they have a right to sit around my pool, they think they have a right to go the parties I want to go, to get off the boat when I want to get off the boat, to sit in the lounge when I want to sit in the lounge. In other words they think they have the same rights that I have. When I win the lottery I am going to hire a private yacht.

Boy-A added to the excitement, he cut his toe while opening the door to the in-laws cabin the first morning. The nurse in the infirmary (Carnival Lines) was out and out rude. And I had to restrain myself from smacking her over the head. But the Doctor was excellent, and his toe got stitched and the rest of the cruise was much better. Except that he couldn’t go in the pool, he couldn’t practice running on the track (he wants to try out for track when school starts). And he and his brother could not wear off all their energy and they were a pain much of the time we spent in the cabin. But we survived.

The in-laws drove all 6 of us. And for us Marylanders, driving and getting lost in NY City is no fun. And we all know what happens when a car full of family is lost in a strange place. The driver and the navigator begin to squabble. I found it really interesting seeing how the in-laws fight. It is way too civil and polite. Neither raised a voice. At the most one or the other would have a bit of an edge to their voice. When that happened, the other would back down. That is not the way I fight with their son. I get cross quickly and when I am cross I get loud. I get angry if he doesn’t agree with me and even angrier when he backs down just to shut me up. I’m a lot of fun to live with.

The Story of Rocky

Rocky is one of our four cats. The boys found him several years ago. He and his sister, Star, had been abandoned in the woods. None of us could bear the though of leaving two kittens to fend for themselves, so we collected them with every intention of taking them to the animal shelter. At least hubby and I intended to take them to the animal shelter. But the boys had other ideas. And here we are several years later with Rocky and his sister Star. They are sweet, loving animals and at this point I can't imagine living with out them. Except for the times they pee in the dirty clothes.

Can I Walk a Mile in a Cruise Ship Cabin?

I have Restless Leg Syndrome (AKA Ucky Foot). Ucky Foot means that just as I fall asleep I'm jerked wide a wake by the uncontrollable need to move my feet. In fact one of the reasons Hubby and I got a bigger bed was he was tired of me kicking him as I was waking up. The urge to move my legs won't end until I get up and pace the floor (usually at least 500 steps).

For the last few years, taking extra iron pills has been helping keep it under control most nights. It would only bother me a couple of times a month, but recently the iron pills aren't working. Almost every night, just as I am falling wonderfully asleep, just as I doze off and the urge to move my feet strikes me and I kick myself awake. The stupid thing is I will invariable lie in bed, debating with myself whether or not I really need to get up and pace. It's stupid, because the urge never-ever-ever goes away unless I get up and walk. Eventually I get up and pace and count steps.

This morning, I realized there is dang little room to pace in the cabin. After all it will be filled with beds and guys. (Now doesn't that sound cool--I'll be in a small cabin filled with guys!) It would if they weren't all related to me either by birth or marriage. And I Boy-A weren't a newly minted teen-ager who thinks I am too dumb for words.

Vacation is Coming

Going on a cruise, first cruise ever. Too bad we can't take the dog.

Mel Gibson

There is something about being rich and famous that is a soul killer. The rich and famous need to protect themselves from all the people who want to talk to them, meet them, want a part of them. Much of that protection is made up from an infrastructure of people; lawyers, assistants, body guards, service folks and all sorts of other kinds of staff.

If you are one of the infrastructure, where is the line between doing your job and protecting Mr. or Ms. Rich and Famous (R&F) and being a sycophant? Of course R&F has to be the one in charge of the line, but you can’t do it alone. They need to have someone they trust to help them keep their heads on straight. The problem is I don’t think many of the R&F do that well. Most seem so coddled and protected that they don’t have a clue what life is about.

This all started out because of Mel Gibson’s recent self destructive anti-Semitic rant. The thing him is he knows that kind of behavior is socially unacceptable. He is recanting what he said. He is saying he does not believe what he said. He is blaming alcohol. His denials are unbelievable and at this point his apologies are (IMHO) unacceptable. But, to me, that is not the point. To me, the point is how he can believe in something that he has to publicly disavow. Doesn’t that fact that he has to deny his believes make him wonder about their validity? If you can’t, when necessary support your beliefs publicly, maybe it is time to re-think them.

I believe in denial.

My oncologist checkup is overdue. Long overdue, months over due. I’ve told my husband I’ll make the appointment when I am ready. I’ve promised friends I’ll make the appointment soon. But I don’t. I’m too scared. I’m not scared of what he will say, or what the test will find. I’m scared of thinking about it, dealing with it. I get through some of life on denial. And making appointments, dealing with CAT scans and blood tests is not denial. It’s proactive. And it is too hard to be proactive about this. Thinking about making the appointments brings back memories of some of the worst times of my life.

When I learned I had cancer my worst fear was that I would die and leave my babies. And the thought of leaving my boys was far worse then the fear of dying. Boys need their mommy and mommies need to see their boys grow up. It wasn’t that they wouldn’t have been well cared for, after all they had would still have had the world’s best daddy, loving grandparents, aunts, uncles, etc. But they wouldn’t have had me.

Well, obviously I didn’t die. And I know I need to make the various appointments and see the stupid, viscous, scum sucking Oncologist (he is really a fantastic doctor and a wonderful man. He saved my life and helped give me the courage and support I needed to get through a very difficult time—but I feel better calling him those names). I can do it. I can do it. After all I am woman!! I can roar!! Right, Helen Reddy?