I've put away the ark. The skies are clearing, I see some blue. It may actually stop with the dark dreary weather already.
Today is a visit to the oncologist, for me 3 year checkup. Since nothing feels awry I'm guessing all will be well. Hardly seems like three years. Actually it seems much longer, even though it has gone fast. Yesterday I had a major meltdown. It just hit me from out of the blue -- I missed the bewbies so bad. I guess that will happen from time to time.
The Halloween display is finished and ready to put up. The weather has been bad enough to make us wait until Friday to assemble everything, except the train and village. Those will go up today and tomorrow. I do hope we have lots of kids to enjoy the trains and get this candy OUT OF THE HOUSE. Do you know how addictive Reese's are?
The leaves have all turned and are now on the ground everywhere. It is late this year. The year seems prolonged. I took a news break, which made things slow down. I started watching again, and decided that television news is like soap opera; you can miss a week or two of episodes and catch up in 2 hours. And it is just as deadly dull. Funny thing about not watching the news: it still happens, and it just doesn't affect you nearly as much if you don't know about it. Not that I want to go through life ignorant; but most of the stuff on tv that passes for news, isn't. So I'm back on news recess. I trust my friends and the local paper to let me know if there is something that really requires my attention.
This is really getting boring. I have nothing important to say today. My attention is fixated on the doc visit. I will post about how it goes.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Finding My Lost Self
Tomorrow I think I will be reading through this blog, trying to figure out just when I started losing myself. Yes, I've lost my compass. Somehow this blog became the barometer of where I was on my journey. Sometimes, probably after the breast cancer, I wandered off the path. It was in Iowa, that much I know.
Iowa was good for me in many ways. If you have to get breast cancer, better to get it in a small town with a great hospital and Mayo-trained doctors, where you wait days, not weeks or months, to get treatment started. And if you have serious inner demons you need to uncover, where better than a small town with one of arguably the best mental health centers in the country, and again no waiting list.
But Iowa was also stifling and painful. A friend in Minneapolis described Iowa as one big small town. That would be quite apt. No matter how long we lived there we would have always been "the new people."
I suspect that the Iowa leg of my journey was more complicated than what I describe and yet quite simple. I suspect that those four years were the most physically unhealthy of my entire life. In addition to the breast cancer, my blood pressure was out of control, my stress levels were through the roof, and my vertigo was yet to be diagnosed and treated.
These are not simple ailments of getting older. They are the clear indications of stress gone wild and wacky; of all of the painful experiences of the previous few years descending enmasse to declare war on the endocrine system. I won the war; but the peace has been difficult to negotiate and sustain.
Thus I find myself in this beautiful home, not quite yet "living" in it. The other day my husband asked me what I needed to do in my head to turn things around. At first the question made me angry; but on reflection I realized that I needed to stop sitting in this house, waiting either to get better or to die. I needed to start living; to go through the pain and see what is on the other side. Daily pain is debilitating and frustrating. You can't wail, like a newborn, and have someone pick you up and search for the reason and fix it. You learn to live with it. I have to learn to live with it and not let it tear me apart.
This has been a rather self-absorbed post today. It was and is intentional. I'm hoping that whoever reads it who has faced a similar crossroads might have some words of wisdom or encouragement for me. I'm getting out in the world; I suspect it may not be quite that easy.
Iowa was good for me in many ways. If you have to get breast cancer, better to get it in a small town with a great hospital and Mayo-trained doctors, where you wait days, not weeks or months, to get treatment started. And if you have serious inner demons you need to uncover, where better than a small town with one of arguably the best mental health centers in the country, and again no waiting list.
But Iowa was also stifling and painful. A friend in Minneapolis described Iowa as one big small town. That would be quite apt. No matter how long we lived there we would have always been "the new people."
I suspect that the Iowa leg of my journey was more complicated than what I describe and yet quite simple. I suspect that those four years were the most physically unhealthy of my entire life. In addition to the breast cancer, my blood pressure was out of control, my stress levels were through the roof, and my vertigo was yet to be diagnosed and treated.
These are not simple ailments of getting older. They are the clear indications of stress gone wild and wacky; of all of the painful experiences of the previous few years descending enmasse to declare war on the endocrine system. I won the war; but the peace has been difficult to negotiate and sustain.
Thus I find myself in this beautiful home, not quite yet "living" in it. The other day my husband asked me what I needed to do in my head to turn things around. At first the question made me angry; but on reflection I realized that I needed to stop sitting in this house, waiting either to get better or to die. I needed to start living; to go through the pain and see what is on the other side. Daily pain is debilitating and frustrating. You can't wail, like a newborn, and have someone pick you up and search for the reason and fix it. You learn to live with it. I have to learn to live with it and not let it tear me apart.
This has been a rather self-absorbed post today. It was and is intentional. I'm hoping that whoever reads it who has faced a similar crossroads might have some words of wisdom or encouragement for me. I'm getting out in the world; I suspect it may not be quite that easy.
Monday, September 21, 2009
Watching the Watchers
I'm amused by the accusations being leveled against liberals who dare to state the obvious: that a lot of people are scared as hell that the President is Black. Nothing seems to shake up the conservatives more than being called racist. What distresses me, amidst my amusement, is how many liberals are back pedaling, claiming that other things divide us and it is not racism.
Yes, it is true that a majority of voters voted for Barack Obama, a Black man. Interestingly enough, during the campaign many of the folks who felt so very very threatened by the prospect of a Black man in the White House accused him and his supporters of playing the race card, attracting the vote BECAUSE he was Black, not in spite of it. In other words, racists are always absolutely certain that the other side is all about race and they aren't.
Most people know that racism is wrong. Even as they cringe from contact with "one of them", or talk about how "they are so lazy", or how "they really can't lead, you know", they insert the usual some-of-my-best-friends line because they know how very very wrong they are. People who do this, together with outright blatant racists of the white supremacist variety, don't scare me. I can see them clearly; there are no bushes for them to hide behind.
No, it's the closet racists who really scare me. These are the folks who stand up and yell at the President, showing no respect for the man or the office, and claim it is anything but racism. They defend posters such as the witch doctor one at the "tea party" rally as free speech. They turn the conversation back on those who dare call them what they are, labeling the likes of Jimmy Carter as profiting from racism.
These same people have made a mockery of honesty and transparency. Patriotism has become a shibboleth for them, an easy brand without meaning or substance, to separate themselves from those of us who engage in critical thinking.
The bottom line for me is a very strong personal belief that racism is behind most of bad behavior engaged in by far too many people. I do not believe that honest disagreement and/or criticism of President Obama is racially motivated. I do believe that yelling at him during a speech, disrupting the democratic process by drowning out the voices of your opponents, parading signs showing Jim Crow style pictures, and tolerating all of this unacceptable behavior is racist. And I'm waiting for someone prominent on the other side of the fence from Jimmy Carter to call it what it is.
Remember how many times we have called for Muslims to disavow violence and martyrdom? This is the same thing. How about it, my Republican friends? Isn't time for someone on your side to stand up and say, "This is wrong. This is not dissent; this is chaos. This is not exercising freedom of speech; this is saying 'Black people don't deserve the same level of respect, and since we seem to be able to get away with it we're going to keep on doing it.' " Isn't it time for someone to say STOP?
Yes, it is true that a majority of voters voted for Barack Obama, a Black man. Interestingly enough, during the campaign many of the folks who felt so very very threatened by the prospect of a Black man in the White House accused him and his supporters of playing the race card, attracting the vote BECAUSE he was Black, not in spite of it. In other words, racists are always absolutely certain that the other side is all about race and they aren't.
Most people know that racism is wrong. Even as they cringe from contact with "one of them", or talk about how "they are so lazy", or how "they really can't lead, you know", they insert the usual some-of-my-best-friends line because they know how very very wrong they are. People who do this, together with outright blatant racists of the white supremacist variety, don't scare me. I can see them clearly; there are no bushes for them to hide behind.
No, it's the closet racists who really scare me. These are the folks who stand up and yell at the President, showing no respect for the man or the office, and claim it is anything but racism. They defend posters such as the witch doctor one at the "tea party" rally as free speech. They turn the conversation back on those who dare call them what they are, labeling the likes of Jimmy Carter as profiting from racism.
These same people have made a mockery of honesty and transparency. Patriotism has become a shibboleth for them, an easy brand without meaning or substance, to separate themselves from those of us who engage in critical thinking.
The bottom line for me is a very strong personal belief that racism is behind most of bad behavior engaged in by far too many people. I do not believe that honest disagreement and/or criticism of President Obama is racially motivated. I do believe that yelling at him during a speech, disrupting the democratic process by drowning out the voices of your opponents, parading signs showing Jim Crow style pictures, and tolerating all of this unacceptable behavior is racist. And I'm waiting for someone prominent on the other side of the fence from Jimmy Carter to call it what it is.
Remember how many times we have called for Muslims to disavow violence and martyrdom? This is the same thing. How about it, my Republican friends? Isn't time for someone on your side to stand up and say, "This is wrong. This is not dissent; this is chaos. This is not exercising freedom of speech; this is saying 'Black people don't deserve the same level of respect, and since we seem to be able to get away with it we're going to keep on doing it.' " Isn't it time for someone to say STOP?
Thursday, August 27, 2009
Judge Not, etc.
Yep, the controversial blogger is back. I want to list some truths today; truths that far too many people seem to have forgotten or never knew. Whatever happened to critical thinking? Here is my list.
Barak Obama was born in Hawaii, in the United States. Get over it.
A whole bunch of opponents to health care reform that involves a government plan are also whining and hollering about protecting their Medicare. Guess what? Medicare is a government health care plan. The GOVERNMENT runs Medicare. By the way, the VA hospitals are run by the government. The Congress get healthcare from the government. Get over it.
Ted Kennedy was a liberal, a heavy drinker, a troubled man. He was also a tireless champion of the less fortunate, those who struggled. His actions over a lifetime as a legislator show that he believed that his Christian faith demanded compassion and action on behalf of the downtrodden.
If every state in the union were to legalize gay marriage, and every gay couple who wanted to were to get married, heterosexual couples would continue to marry, in and out of church, and traditional marriage would continue to be in the majority. The only thing that "might" change would be a drop in our hideously high divorce rate.
The phrase "We're Americans; we don't do that" doesn't work anymore. We have done that, we still do it, and unfortunately we probably will do it in the future. Do what? you ask... Torture our enemies, impose our will on other peoples with brute force, consider ourselves superior.
America does not have the best medical care in the world. In fact, we are #37 as rated by the World Health Organization based on death rates, percentage of population suffering from chronic conditions, and maternal/child death rates. #37. Think about that. #37. And we are #50 in life expectancy.
America has a higher percentage of its population in jail than any other country for which we have numbers. And 75% of our prison population is in jail for crimes other than violence. Most are there for drug abuse, and petty crimes related to feeding their habit. A large percentage of women are there for being prostitutes, while the men who solicited their services paid a fine and are still free, and their pimps are rarely arrested.
If drugs such as marijuana, cocaine, and heroin were to be made legal tomorrow, with marijuana being as accessible as booze, and the opiates available to addicts from clinics, there would be no increase in users. There might be a precipitous drop, however, in Hepatitis C, petty theft, shop lifting, and prostitution. And some very well paid criminals who sell the stuff would be out of work.
Over 13 million children in America are hungry and/or face food insecurity. That means they fear they won't have anything to eat, fear that is present on an on-going basis and overwhelms their ability to learn in school and to grow socially. This is shameful.
Most illegal aliens do not come here to exploit our social service systems. They come to escape brutality, hunger, disease, and pain. They work their butts off for us, cleaning our homes, picking our food, parking our cars, building our houses, and for the most part at minimum wage. For every one illegal you can document to me who is making a good hourly wage I can document 25 who are working at barely minimum wage.
The majority of Americans profess to follow the teachings of a man who preached non-violence, compassion, care for the poor and downtrodden. If these Americans would spend more time following his teachings and less worrying about their own eternal salvation I guarantee we would have universal health care, we would rise up like a mighty army to make sure children in America did not go to bed hungry, and people with addictions would be treated with compassion and help rather than scorn and abuse.
To any who might read this and feel the urge to tell me if I hate America so much I should go elsewhere: I don't hate America. I'm not going anywhere, because it is my duty as an American and more importantly as a human being to work as hard as I can to right the wrongs I see; it is my patriotic duty to hold my government accountable for the way it cares for its citizens and for the image of us it shows to the world. It is my duty as a human being to demand of myself compassion and care and non-judgmental acceptance, and to require that from everyone else.
Barak Obama was born in Hawaii, in the United States. Get over it.
A whole bunch of opponents to health care reform that involves a government plan are also whining and hollering about protecting their Medicare. Guess what? Medicare is a government health care plan. The GOVERNMENT runs Medicare. By the way, the VA hospitals are run by the government. The Congress get healthcare from the government. Get over it.
Ted Kennedy was a liberal, a heavy drinker, a troubled man. He was also a tireless champion of the less fortunate, those who struggled. His actions over a lifetime as a legislator show that he believed that his Christian faith demanded compassion and action on behalf of the downtrodden.
If every state in the union were to legalize gay marriage, and every gay couple who wanted to were to get married, heterosexual couples would continue to marry, in and out of church, and traditional marriage would continue to be in the majority. The only thing that "might" change would be a drop in our hideously high divorce rate.
The phrase "We're Americans; we don't do that" doesn't work anymore. We have done that, we still do it, and unfortunately we probably will do it in the future. Do what? you ask... Torture our enemies, impose our will on other peoples with brute force, consider ourselves superior.
America does not have the best medical care in the world. In fact, we are #37 as rated by the World Health Organization based on death rates, percentage of population suffering from chronic conditions, and maternal/child death rates. #37. Think about that. #37. And we are #50 in life expectancy.
America has a higher percentage of its population in jail than any other country for which we have numbers. And 75% of our prison population is in jail for crimes other than violence. Most are there for drug abuse, and petty crimes related to feeding their habit. A large percentage of women are there for being prostitutes, while the men who solicited their services paid a fine and are still free, and their pimps are rarely arrested.
If drugs such as marijuana, cocaine, and heroin were to be made legal tomorrow, with marijuana being as accessible as booze, and the opiates available to addicts from clinics, there would be no increase in users. There might be a precipitous drop, however, in Hepatitis C, petty theft, shop lifting, and prostitution. And some very well paid criminals who sell the stuff would be out of work.
Over 13 million children in America are hungry and/or face food insecurity. That means they fear they won't have anything to eat, fear that is present on an on-going basis and overwhelms their ability to learn in school and to grow socially. This is shameful.
Most illegal aliens do not come here to exploit our social service systems. They come to escape brutality, hunger, disease, and pain. They work their butts off for us, cleaning our homes, picking our food, parking our cars, building our houses, and for the most part at minimum wage. For every one illegal you can document to me who is making a good hourly wage I can document 25 who are working at barely minimum wage.
The majority of Americans profess to follow the teachings of a man who preached non-violence, compassion, care for the poor and downtrodden. If these Americans would spend more time following his teachings and less worrying about their own eternal salvation I guarantee we would have universal health care, we would rise up like a mighty army to make sure children in America did not go to bed hungry, and people with addictions would be treated with compassion and help rather than scorn and abuse.
To any who might read this and feel the urge to tell me if I hate America so much I should go elsewhere: I don't hate America. I'm not going anywhere, because it is my duty as an American and more importantly as a human being to work as hard as I can to right the wrongs I see; it is my patriotic duty to hold my government accountable for the way it cares for its citizens and for the image of us it shows to the world. It is my duty as a human being to demand of myself compassion and care and non-judgmental acceptance, and to require that from everyone else.
Thursday, August 06, 2009
We opted to take a rather badly needed vacation, and are now in Elko, Nevada on our way to Ely. The Northern Nevada Railroad is in Ely, and Rex will get to drive a full size steam locomotive. He is, to say the least, totally jazzed.
From there we will go on to the Bay Area to see friends, and finally, a leisurely drive home through the Redwood Forest and along the Oregon Coast. I am feeling better already. Pictures when we get home. The one I didn't get was the eagle from the carrion road buffet that we nearly hit. He was so big he had a hard time taking off, and despite heavy braking we nearly cliped his tail feathers.
Such excitement.
From there we will go on to the Bay Area to see friends, and finally, a leisurely drive home through the Redwood Forest and along the Oregon Coast. I am feeling better already. Pictures when we get home. The one I didn't get was the eagle from the carrion road buffet that we nearly hit. He was so big he had a hard time taking off, and despite heavy braking we nearly cliped his tail feathers.
Such excitement.
Friday, July 31, 2009
These are some of the murals in the house. The chickens reside in the kitchen, and the forest is my office/meditation room/playhouse. I love it.
Friday, July 24, 2009
The Mural Grows
I love the process of watching this mural grow and grow. Each new layer adds to the peaceful tranquility of this room, something I am only beginning realize how badly I needed.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
On the Walls
The murals are being added to my room. I can't call it my "studio" anymore, because it really is my retreat. If I decide to be creative, I have a space. But if all I want to do is sit and be peaceful, or play on my computer, or read... This will be the place. More pictures will come.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
From Start to Finish (and back again)
I present to you today a slide show of the building of the house. Soon we are having a professional photographer take pictures of the inside. I will share those with you then.
It goes up
It goes up
Monday, June 01, 2009
To All Who Want Pictures
I'm holding off on pictures now until everything is done. There are so many delicious wonderful surprises in this house: painting where you least expect them, murals, quilts, books, games. The garden is nearly finished. They had to come back and do the backyard because it just didn't fit with the rest. So now we will have a patio for real, with a place to barbecue.
Slowly the art goes up on the walls, as slowly as the murals are being painted. I am of a mind to learn to do this myself, since walls as pallette is a fascinating concept.
I have come to an unusual conclusion. Buying fabric is of itself an art form. I watch people in the fabric stores, and I am fascinated with how many of them are holding their patterns -- be it for dresses or quilts or whatever -- and carefully measuring out each piece. That is so not me. I fondle, look, regard, smell, drape. I load my cart with bolts that leap out and yell ME ME ME as I pass them by. I have a half yard of sparkly silky stuff right now that I just fell in love with, and two yards of luscious silvered silk that makes me wish I looked good in a Burka instead of an aging Norwegian in a fancy schmatta. I am sure I will find something to do with it. My carts are always a riot of color, and I never really know how much of something I'm going to buy until it is spread out on the cutting table, preferably next to a couple of others.
The biggest problem I have is that my mind's eye greatly exceeds the scope of my abilities. I picture a gorgeous wall hanging of a woman bearing a water jug on her shoulder, gracefully striding down a path, with that lovely silk I purchased draped and flowing. But I have no idea of how to execute what I see in my head. It is a huge frustration. Classes are beyond me right now; too much pain and discomfort to be able to sit in a class and really learn and pay attention. And I'm not sure there are classes that teach you how to pull things out of your mind and into a multi-dimensioned reality.
Perhaps I just have to try. Just create. Just do it, as they say. And be willing to scrap it and do it again and again until it is right. If it weren't such a burning desire I would set it aside. but it calls to be done.
Slowly the art goes up on the walls, as slowly as the murals are being painted. I am of a mind to learn to do this myself, since walls as pallette is a fascinating concept.
I have come to an unusual conclusion. Buying fabric is of itself an art form. I watch people in the fabric stores, and I am fascinated with how many of them are holding their patterns -- be it for dresses or quilts or whatever -- and carefully measuring out each piece. That is so not me. I fondle, look, regard, smell, drape. I load my cart with bolts that leap out and yell ME ME ME as I pass them by. I have a half yard of sparkly silky stuff right now that I just fell in love with, and two yards of luscious silvered silk that makes me wish I looked good in a Burka instead of an aging Norwegian in a fancy schmatta. I am sure I will find something to do with it. My carts are always a riot of color, and I never really know how much of something I'm going to buy until it is spread out on the cutting table, preferably next to a couple of others.
The biggest problem I have is that my mind's eye greatly exceeds the scope of my abilities. I picture a gorgeous wall hanging of a woman bearing a water jug on her shoulder, gracefully striding down a path, with that lovely silk I purchased draped and flowing. But I have no idea of how to execute what I see in my head. It is a huge frustration. Classes are beyond me right now; too much pain and discomfort to be able to sit in a class and really learn and pay attention. And I'm not sure there are classes that teach you how to pull things out of your mind and into a multi-dimensioned reality.
Perhaps I just have to try. Just create. Just do it, as they say. And be willing to scrap it and do it again and again until it is right. If it weren't such a burning desire I would set it aside. but it calls to be done.
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