Thursday, July 31, 2008
Tuesday, July 29, 2008
Monday, July 28, 2008
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
I've never been very creative or very "good" at things like sewing, baking, crafting. I enjoy it, but am not very good at it. I don't have a lot of "vision." I took a jewelry making class last fall and each piece I fashioned looked as if it had been made by a first grader. I don't feel as if I have very much vision. Even planting my garden, I say a secret prayer that it will all turn out right.
Someone who seems to be ever so good at everything she does is Alicia Paulson (of Posie Gets Cozy). I'm in love with her. I've spent hours reading her blog and I have to say - I want her life. She lives in Oregon with hubby Andy. She is so cute the way that she refers to him as "Andy Paulson." She knits, she sews, she cooks, she takes great photos. AND, she has the most adorable new Cardigan Welsh Corgi that she named "Clover Meadow." Is that adorable or what? She absolutely loves life and delights in every detail, including her goofs. So, sorry Doug, I'm off to Oregon to live with the Paulsons.
Friday, July 11, 2008
When I first moved to Bloomington, someone said
"Welcome to the land of one way streets."
And, until today, I had never driven the wrong way on any of the many one way streets. I headed south on College. As soon as I did it, I realized the error of my way and turned into a bank parking lot and headed in the correct direction. I'd just gotten off of the phone with dug so I had to call him back and tell him what I'd done and that it was his fault. Walnut goes south and College goes north and I don't know how many times I've heard locals (including dug) say
"I don't know how many years I've lived here, but I couldn't tell you which way College and Walnut runs."
I have been having frequent headaches. Yesterday, I had a pressure headache, to the point that tears were overflowing out of my eyes. Despite feeling nauseous, I went to Panera to eat dinner. Bradley met me and while he sat and talked to me, I had a salad. A young Asian family- mother, father and son, sat to our right. The father and son had met the mother and I'd watched the son run to hug her. When I went to leave, my car was parked next to the mother's. I looked before I began to back out and then (as Emeril says) "BAM." I pulled forward and got out. The Asian father had stopped behind both of our cars. He had a black Honda CRV and the mother and father were both frowning and speaking a language that I didn't understand. I had noted that she had an I.U. parking hang tag on her car (yes, I note things like that), so I figured they were faculty or PhD students and surely could speak English. The panel near the bumper was popped out ever so slightly, maybe an eighth of an inch. I walked around to look at the other side of the vehicle and it was popped out, too - quite a bit.
"That is old injury." the mother said to me.
When I walked back around, without even thinking, I just reached out and hit the side of the vehicle with the palm of my hand and the place popped back in. I said
"There you go, maybe the other side will pop back into place as well."
For a few minutes, they continued to speak to one another- then suddenly he gave a slight bow and held out his hand.
"It is o.k."
As I shook his hand, I said
"My apologies. I am so sorry."
It was so upsetting. To bump into his car, to stand there while they spoke in a language I didn't understand, not knowing if they were talking about how much they could get out of me or what...I drive a 2003 Honda Civic EX - I don't think it looks as if I'm wealthy. I don't even wash it or wax it very often anymore. With a sigh of relief, I pulled away.
Then, I went home and watered flowers, cleaned the kitchen, took a brief nap, talked to Laura upon her return to the USA, and Stefanie called. Then to the Y for a workout. All the while, the headache continued on. At some point, I'm certain I took Tylenol.
At 4:30 a.m., I awoke, my head splitting with a migraine. I took my Relpax 40 mg. and went back to sleep. Because I had a fasting blood draw this a.m., I slept a little later and couldn't eat. I felt like crap.
When the woman went to do the venipuncture, it seemed as if she were training her colleague and she told her what to write down
"Full lipid and two thyroid."
"And, liver." I added.
"No liver." she responded.
"That is the point, isn't it?" I snapped back.
Instantly, I began to back-peddle
"I'm sorry I snapped at you. I thought I was having a liver profile as well."
She told me she would look into it and if the doctor decided it was desired, she would add it.
I think I'm overly concerned because of my brother's liver issues.
Then, I drove the wrong way down College. It seems as if it has been going that way. The wrong way.
I'm glad it is Friday and I don't have any plans. Maybe I can get back on course and headed in the right direction.
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
I've been spending a lot of time reading this blog:
While I feel sad about the loss of Matt's wife and Madeline's mother, what I feel most is immeasurable admiration for this man. He writes from his heart about his grief, his fears, his loneliness, and how he might break or mess up his daughter. (Which we all worry about, Matt.) (I sometimes feel my children have survived and thrived in spite of me and the upbringing I gave them.) He pours out his heart in an unapologetic manner, even telling his readers "if you don't like the words I use, don't read it," which is how I feel as well.
At times, I had tears running down my face reading his blog. He wears his wedding band and his wife's rings on his pinkie finger. It makes me think about how I put Grandma's wedding band onto my finger, just as the mortician had taken it off of her finger, and we were about to drive to the cemetery. I think about how many married men won't wear a ring at all - which is an outward, tangible sign in our society of love, devotion and commitment between two people. He writes that he wears them to keep her near and I know what he means by that. The love that he feels for Liz is nearly unfathomable to me. He writes of how he was with her for something like twelve years and 59 days, how he doesn't want to be without her longer than he was with her, and how at some point in time, it will happen. I don't know if any man has ever loved me the way he loves her. Photos show not only her outward beauty, but the love she had for life, her vivaciousness.
I wore Grandma's ring until it caused me more pain than comfort to have it on my finger. As I write this, her picture is here beside me.
He longs to talk to Liz and he talks to Madeline instead. I have always spoken to those who have gone on before me- Benny, Papaw, Grandma Lindsey, Grandma Minnie, and now, Grandma Doris. I like to believe that they can somehow hear us. I also believe they are looking down upon us and the love continues to flow upon our lives.
Matt writes about how he wants to grieve but Madeline needs him to feed her, change her diaper, hold her. I remember how many times Laura and Bradley kept me going, kept me hanging in there, kept me alive. I would have dried up without them. Or, I would have ended up laying in some gutter somewhere. Laura and Bradley believed in me, loved me and forgave me more than I ever, ever deserved. There were so many times that I was afraid, but they were always there, looking to me, believing that I would take care of them. Matt will find that children are wonderful, resilient creatures.
This man is beautiful. You can see the pain he has experienced in his eyes. You can also see what a solid person he is. His story is a real life Sleepless in Seattle. His blog is a testimony of the goodness in most people. There has been an outpouring of love for he and his daughter. Operating it seems, on the "it takes a village" philosophy of raising Madeline, he shares her generously with everyone. There are as many photos on his blog of others holding her as there are of him holding her.
He spews it all - the pain, the loneliness, the fear. Many entries end in "I hate this day." But he also expresses gratefulness and recognition of a good day or laughter or friendship. He appreciates what he has and often entries end in the goodness of having his daughter.
It sounds trite, but I for one know "that which doesn't kill you only makes you stronger." I know I can survive anything and if Matt doesn't know it already, he will. There is a sort of comfort in the awfulness of what life deals out, in the surviving, in the wisdom of the strength that one acquires through adversity. I don't know this man, but I admire him intensely for his tenacity, his strength, his honesty, his spirit. He will, in time, be o.k. and will bask in the love that Madeline will shower upon his life. My heart goes out to them.
Monday, July 7, 2008
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