Choices

I have a routine. Monday through Friday, I get up, take my shower, get dressed (including my shoes), go downstairs, let two dogs out, make coffee, feed the cat and take the third dog for a walk. When I get back, I let the dogs in, pack my lunch and go to work. The weekends are different. I sleep in a little longer. When I get up, I go downstairs (still in my pajamas), let the dogs out, feed the cat, make coffee and try to keep an eye on the dogs (since Tucker is an escape artist). Sometimes, like this morning, that doesn't work out for me.

I looked out the backdoor, just in time to see Tucker climbing over the fence. I ran through the house, grabbing the leash (which is strategically placed just for this scenario), and out the front door to make chase. Of course, I was still in my pajamas, unshowered, sans my morning coffee. So, yes, I probably looked a fright. It usually only takes me a block or so to catch him. I realize that this is his way of sticking to our routine of the morning walk. Today, however, he was off on a full run. Which meant I was at a full run after him (cursing under my breath). After about a half a mile, he was still ahead of me and passing a jogger. I yelled to her to please grab him for me. She stopped and turned, just as he squatted to take care of business. "Uh, he's all yours" she told me, as I caught up to him and secured the leash. Then she looked at me (in my pajamas and out of breath) disdainfully, and asked me if I wanted a bag to clean up after him.

I really am a responsible pet owner. I do clean up after my pets. I do not take the time to grab a bag when I am chasing a runaway. Apparently her house was right there, I gratefully accepted her gift of a grocery bag, and picked up after my dog.

As I was walking back home with him...trying to beat the rain and badly needing my coffee and a cigarette (yes, I know they are bad for me). I considered what she probably thought. Then I decided that I didn't care. After all, our routines weren't that different. We were both out on an early morning jog (albeit, with different motivation).

This week has been hectic, I have found myself being much more reactive than proactive. I did have a plan, it just didn't go according to schedule. I have been a bit anxious and unorganized. I have been trying to get ahead of the game at work and at home, planning for my upcoming vacation. Unfortunately, most of my efforts have been derailed by mini-crisises that have arisen all week. Sometimes, life just happens. I am good at activating plan B and adjusting to the curve ball. Though, there are times when I envy people whose lives always seem to go according to plan A. I could make some changes to ensure things followed my plan. I could be more organized, I could get completely dressed first thing on Sunday morning, I could choose not to own rescued dogs (who won't be deterred by fences and commands), I could choose a more conventional profession, I could tell my sons, now that they're adults, they're completely on their own. Without the dogs and cat and children and grandchildren, I would have more money, more time, less stress and a cleaner house. This certainly isn't the life I envisioned when I was 20. This is the life that I choose, over and over again.

Do I have regrets? Occasionally, but they don't last long. There are times when I feel a fleeting twinge after passing on new clothes and shoes, so my grandchildren will have new clothes and shoes. When I pass on a haircut, so I can buy dog food. When finishing my degree and having a running vehicle is put on hold (again), for a myriad of other needs and causes. Then I feel gratitude. Gratitude that I have good friend that allows me to ride to work with her every day. Gratitude that I feel each day on my arrival back home, seeing three furry faces at the window. Gratitude that my grandchildren are happy and healthy. Gratitude in knowing that my plans will eventually come to fruition (and it doesn't matter if I am 55 or 60 when that occurs). Gratitude, that in this economy, I have a home and a job and health insurance. Gratitude that I can be happy living out plan B.

The escape artist, after the great escape.
How can I be mad at that sweet face?

Happy Easter

I have been away for awhile. Not literally, but away from here. Between the busyness of life and some computer problems I had, I have missed writing. Though the few times I had a moment, I found myself with much to say, but not enough time or words to express it.

I have been enjoying the Spring, the renewal and newness of the world around me and a renewed mood and hopefulness within me.

Today, I wish all of you a happy Easter, a glorious spring and whatever celebration of hope that you celebrate.

It's Monday and I got nuthin'

I know we all get the same e-mails that get forwarded around the world (or at least the cybersphere) a million times. So...you may have already seen these, but I thought they were cute. At least they kept my interest for a minute.

Gardening Rule: When weeding, the best way to make sure you are removing a weed and not a valuable plant is to pull on it. If it comes out of the ground easily, it is a valuable plant.

The easiest way to find something, that has been lost around your house, is to buy a replacement.

Never take life too seriously, because nobody gets out alive anyway.

Health is merely the slowest possible rate at which one can die.

Life is sexually transmitted.

The only difference between a rut and a grave is the depth.

In the 60's people took acid to make the world weird. Now the world is weird and people take Prozac to make it normal.

How is it that one careless match can start a forest fire, but it takes a whole box of matches to start a campfire?

Did you ever notice that when you blow in a dog's face, he gets mad at you, but when you take him on a car ride, he sticks his head out the window?

Whenever I feel blue, I start breathing again.

I hope you have a wonderful week. I wanted to post this video, it just shows how much you can do with so little. This is Ilana Yahav, she is a sand artist and creates pictures on a light box using only sand and her hands.

Daddy's Girl

I have mentioned my father here before. I don't think that I have really explained our relationship though, I grew up as a daddy's girl. If you don't believe me, ask my siblings. They will tell you, I was the favorite. I don't say that as a matter of bragging, it is just a fact. Don't get me wrong, he loved all of his children. He was a good father to all of us. He provided generously for his whole family. But he and I? We shared something more.

I am really not sure why, but I can postulate a number of reasons. My mother was almost forty when she had me. She had miscarried two previous babies. When she became pregnant with me, her youngest child was eight. The doctors told her that she would miscarry this baby as well. She was confined to bedrest for most of the pregnancy and low and behold, she delivered a perfect baby girl. I was a miracle in my father's eyes. Then, at age two, my trachea was severed in an accident. Again my parents were told that I might die. Again, I was a miracle. I was also the baby of the family. And in many ways, I am the most like my father.

I am certainly not perfect nor am I a miracle. During my teenage years, my father quickly realized this. At times, I was the bane of his existence. I was the only one of his children that ever spoke back to him. I snuck out and came home drunk. I saw boys he disapproved of behind his back. I smoked dope. I was defiant and argumentative. I dropped out of college. I was a Democrat. Despite all of this, he loved me. He was always there for me, even if he never understood me. He never gave up on me. At the height of my rebelliousness, we still did things together. We went camping, we rode horses, we sailed, we worked on cars. He taught me how to fix things. He taught me how to manage money. He taught me how to be a parent. When I was in an abusive marriage and finally decided I'd had enough, he got me out. He took me to a lawyer, he bought me a car. When I was struggling as a single mother, he bought us groceries, he bought us shoes. He told me he was proud of me, when I didn't have much pride left. My father died several years ago. I miss him. Lately, I have been missing him much more. I have been thinking about him. I don't know why, except it just hits me now and then. My father's birthday was earlier this week. I didn't even remember it until last night. When I did remember, I went to bed and cried.

I thought about how he would be proud of my boys. I thought about how he would love my dogs. I thought about how much I just wanted to be able to talk with him. I thought about how we never really understood each other, but how we would probably understand each other now. He would understand my tendency to take in strays. I would understand why he always worried about me. Though we never saw eye to eye on religion or politics, we would share a caring and compassion for all people. We would agree that sometimes people need a little help changing their circumstances and we would offer it if we could. We would agree that everyone deserves a second chance (and sometimes a third), even if they are a criminal. I know we would agree on those things, because those are the things he taught me. He didn't teach them with words, but with deeds. I think that it would please him to know how much I miss him, but he would tell me that I am fine and I am strong. He would also tell me to take care of my mother and to be nice to my sister, because they need me. Then he would tell me to stop crying and to quit sharing all this personal stuff on a blog, because it's nobody's business.

I love you Dad. I wish I could tell you that one more time.

Life is not for sissies

I am still around and I really am okay. I have just been feeling quiet. I want to write, but then I have no idea what to say. I am feeling better, but a complete recovery seems to be a bit longer in coming. I will admit that I haven't been taking very good care of myself, I suppose that I thought that a little pill would just do it. This week, I have started eating better, making myself go to bed earlier, being more careful about all of my medications and also my vitamins. I can tell a difference, my body is coming around (slowly).

At work, I have caught up and taken charge of things again. Good thing too, lots of drama and conflict are going on there. It has been leaving me drained in the evenings. I am finding irritation in many things that I normally would just sweep under the rug. Perhaps there is too much already under the rug. In some ways this has been good, I tend to always fix things. Lately, I have been handing things back for people to fix for themselves. J is my saving grace, he has been an anchor to me. He gives me strength and is often a voice of reason. He has kept me from slipping too far into this funk. My mind has been clinging to him, holding my head above water. I am only now climbing back out. I long for Spring, there have been many days that have teased me, sunny warm days, I need that.

I have begun so many posts, only to decide that they were just whiny and depressing. I have a no whining rule, but today I am breaking it. I am determined not to delete another half-finished post. Sorry, I will absolutely understand if you don't finish reading. Not all is bad, I am not crying, depressed and curled up in a ball, I am just quiet, reserving my strength. I am aggravated with myself, I am not on top of things the way I want to be. I remember when my mother-in-law began developing Alzheimer's, she still had many lucid moments and she would get mad at herself. She once told me, "I never had patience for stupid people, now life is enacting its revenge and I am one." Perhaps Karma is doing the same thing to me. Except, I am still aware of the blessings that I have, many blessings. So that is what I have been doing, reserving my energy and taking stock in my blessings. Trying to embrace the changes, trying to be accepting.

Those changes are occurring all around us, yet the more things change, the more they stay the same. I know the changes have to come from within. Even more than enacting change, I must be accepting of what is. Those are my own thoughts, but here are some from Ghandi, I need to meditate on these:

You must be the change you wish to see in the world.

A man is but the product of his thoughts. What he thinks, he becomes.

And finally, from the great philosopher, David Bowie...

If it sounds to good to be true...

it probably is, except for my Blueberry Coffee Cake.

I am coming back from the dead and not as a zombie! After being on a higher dosage of medication for a week, I am feeling fairly normal. Still tired, but that might be normal. This has been a week of ups and downs. My youngest son had more car problems (he is extrememly hard on cars, need I say more?), that was a down. J was here on Tuesday and spent the night, definite up...absolutely the week's highlight! My oldest son has fallen prey to a secret shopper scam (I did try to warn him, but he didn't listen). This is a down, though more for him than me. He was sent a cashier's check, which they deposited. I won't relate all of the details, but it was supposed to be a quick $300.00. He kept saying that if it was a scam, he would know before any harm was done. As of last night, their account showed a $1,000,000.00 overdraft. Yes, that is one million dollars. Monday is a holiday, so Tuesday is the earliest that they can try to straighten this out.

The one good thing that has come out of my whole hormonal imbalance, is that I have just been too tired to be super mom. I have been pulling back from the boys over the past year. My resources and my energy have not been able to stretch far enough to cover both my needs and theirs. I admit that I have not completely cut them off, but they have learned to be much more independent. Of course, where the grandchildren are concerned, I still put them ahead of myself. I just have too hard a time seeing my grandchildren go without. I also have decided that it is easier and cheaper to help out sometimes, than to face the possibility of having everyone move in here, should they lose their house.

I have to keep reminding myself of what I was doing at their ages. I also never called my parents for help, unless it was a dire emergency. (Of course, their fathers have no problem saying no...actually their fathers are not above asking them for help.) It is sometimes hard to find a balance as a parent, but I am finding my way.

The good news is, I am going to give you my recipe for Blueberry Coffee Cake. I adapted this from Cooking Light, no this is not the light version. I was able to buy blueberries for $1 per pint, everything else I had on hand. Bear with me, this is my first recipe post. Also feel free to ask for clarification if I leave anything out.

Ingredients

1 and 1/2 cup of all purpose flour

1 tsp. baking powder

1/4 tsp. baking soda

1/4 tsp. salt

1 cup granulated sugar

1 stick (8 Tblsp.) of butter, softened...real butter NOT margarine

1 tsp. vanilla extract

2 large eggs

1 and 1/3 cups of buttermilk

2 cups (one pint is close enough) fresh blueberries

1/4 cup of turbinado sugar (or brown sugar will work just fine)

Preparation

Preheat oven to 350 degrees

In medium bowl combine flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt, stir with whisk.

Cream together butter and granulated sugar. Add in vanilla and eggs, mix well. Alternately add in flour mixture and buttermilk (about a third each time) mixing each time after adding.

Grease and flour a 9 inch deep dish pie pan (or other deep 9 inch baking pan), or use a baking spray.

Coat blueberries with a few tablespoons of flour, this will keep them from sinking to the bottom.

Spread half of the batter in the pan. Evenly place half of the blueberries over the batter. Cover with other half of the batter. Place the rest of the blueberries on top. Sprinkle the turbinado (or brown) sugar over the top.

Bake at 350 degrees for one hour, or until a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean.

Cut into wedges and serve warm. Yum.

So...it's not just because I'm getting old

I received the results of my lab work in the mail today. I have been recovering from being sick, but slowly. I have also been feeling pretty terrible, which I thought was from being so worn down due to being sick. The letter from my doctor showed that all of my lab work was good, except my TSH results. The high end of the normal range is between 3 and 4.5, my level is 12.9.

TSH stands for thyroid stimulating hormone, it is released by the pituitary gland. Its purpose is to stimulate the thyroid to make hormones which control your metabolism. I do not have a thyroid, but my pituitary gland doesn't know that. When my medication levels are too low, more TSH is released to try and stimulate my absent thyroid. Obviously, my body is trying very hard to correct the problem (which it can't). The bottom line is that I presently have an extremely low metabolism. Symptoms include: extreme tiredness, swelling in extremities, dry skin, brittle nails, difficulties concentrating, memory loss, joint pain, cold intolerance, weight gain, and decreased resistance. I have all of these symptoms and a few more. Tomorrow, I will get my new (higher dosage) prescription filled and, hopefully, correct the problem.

I will admit to not feeling quite this bad since I initially went through my cancer treatment. I am also a bit relieved to discover the reason for all of my symptoms. I had suspected (as did my doctor) that my levels were off, but I had no idea they were so far off. After being on the medication for this long, I only have my lab work done once a year. Some of my symptoms started in November. I am ready to begin feeling better.

I know I have been writing less frequently. That has been greatly due to not being able to concentrate. Not being able to think clearly has been the worst symptom to deal with. I absolutely hate not being able to remember things or think well. I am hoping that will be the first thing to clear up. For right now, I am going to bed.