Bandwagon

One of the nice things about November is that the elections are over.  In this case, my favorite causes won in the national election- Elizabeth Warren, Mazie Hirono, and Tulsi Gabbard all won historic spots in Congress, bringing women up to a record (and still not 50%) number of women representing all of We The People in Washington.  Tammy Baldwin became the first openly lesbian senator from Wisconsin.  It's not that I'm so "pro-woman" or "pro-LGBT" (ok, yes, I am, but I have a bigger purpose here) as I am adamant that our representatives reflect the demographics of who makes up our country.  I am glad that these people- Hindus, Buddhists, Christians, Atheists and women- have stepped up.  In many cases, in my opinion, it's just a matter of finding the right person with the courage and backing to go forth and put themselves out there.  I'm not sure I would have the wherewithal myself.

But enough of political talk.

November is also a month of gratitude for many of my friends.  They list all sorts of things they are thankful for, from books and warm houses to coffee, friends, family and even death. I thought about jumping on the bandwagon.  I am grateful for those things too, and would also add technology (hint to my in-laws: we'd love to skype with you!) my job, my amazing husband and boots and snow and a house that doesn't leak.

I love reading what people put up.  It's poignant and often insightful, whimsical and sometimes just sentimental. I guess I could make a short list..

I'm grateful for Eleanor, who is 16 and a cat, for waking me up every day around 6:30 to give her water from the faucet because such a grand dame cannot possibly drink out of a bowl.

I'm grateful for snow because it gives me a chance to stay inside and get fat over the winter.

I'm grateful for coffee for powering my life and uh, keeping things moving...

I'm grateful for my friends in Oklahoma who somehow have the courage to live in a state that not only preemptively banned Sharia law but also in the last 10 years finally banned cockfighting and allowed tattoos, and has only this month done away with Affirmative Action.  Mmmmm yeah...

I'm grateful for breath mints.  If anyone ever, EVER offers you one, you eat that motha and like it.  I don't care if it's not vegetarian.

I'm grateful for deodorant.  See above, you smelly hippie.

I'm grateful for underwear too.  Warm underwear.

And cheese graters.

And unemployment.  When we decided to move here, Grey sacrificed his job in Oklahoma and moved across the country so that I might follow my dream.  As it turns out, this is a very small town with not a lot of employment opportunities.  And it's taking some time to find something.  There are often over 100 applications for every job.  What this translates to is a very patient man who does a wonderful job of distracting his attention into positive energy.  He researches, plans and cooks amazing and nutritious dishes.  I eat like a queen and all I have to do is dishes.  So while I hope Grey finds what he is looking for, I benefit directly from that not working out quite yet.  Nom Nom Nom!

I'm grateful to my mom because she makes amazing and beautiful quilts.  She made me one for my graduation last December and it's currently on the bed, keeping us warm on these frozen nights.  Now if Eleanor would just stop farting on the bed...

I'm grateful for my brother-in-law.  There was a time not too many years ago- long enough that my nephew, his son, would not remember but not long enough for me to forget- that we were not friends.  In fact, there was this moment during an angry confrontation between he and my sister that I had out a knife and I was a few moments of terror and self-righteousness away from letting a little more light into his noggin.  It's no secret that my sisters and I grew up a little on the rough side, and that means quite often that we made choices in our dating and marriages that sometimes involved rough guys.  And my brother-in-law was a rough guy.  And I about stabbed him, straight up.  I'm not proud of that.  I had to go to years of counseling to work out those issues.  The really great thing is that when you flash forward to ten years later, I am glad to report that one of the cool things about visiting my sister is also seeing my brother-in-law.  He is sober and clean and involved with his son's life.  He is supportive of my sister.  He goes fishing and is an expert at smoking salmon.  I should know; it's the only meat I really eat unless my cousin makes duck.  If B-- is making deer jerky, smoked salmon, or anything with crab or shrimp, I'm there.  I feel sorry for everyone who isn't me when B-- cooks.  I eat the hell out of that food and the only stabbing going on is if someone gets in the way.  On second thought, they are much more likely to get bit.  Grey got to witness this phenomena on our last visit.  He wasn't horrified, but let's just say that the honeymoon is over. 

Classic rock is also on the list of things I am grateful for. ZZ Top, Led Zeppelin, Bob Marley, Jimi Hendrix, Bob Seger, The Eagles, Queen, The Doors, The Rolling Stones, Aerosmith, Rush, Sting (with and without The Police) Iron Butterfly and the plethora of music that I grew up with and still love. We didn't get to bring any stereo equipment when we moved, so I listen to Pandora and a favorite classic rock station in Oklahoma City.  Classic rock is the soundtrack of my life.  Ok, that and classical music.  Don't judge me. Because, seriously, if you were going to judge me, it should have been about the meat-eating or stabbing confession above.

There are a few less tangible things for which I am grateful.

Like perspective.  I had a rough week.  Things just did not go the way I wanted them to go and for the life of me, not everything is under my control. I also know that my dandelion had a rough week too, probably much rougher than mine.  A friend of mine finally got the news this week - after weeks of waiting- that her husband does not have lymphoma as originally thought.  How difficult to wait to exhale for two weeks, and how lovely to get such good news!  My other friend sent me a text this week too- her mom, who is only in her 60s, has been sent home with hospice care for renal failure.  Her diabetes has made it impossible to keep her on the kidney transplant list.  It is a matter of time, and when she goes, my friend will be an orphan.  Her dad died when she was 19 and that's a tough thing to lose both of your parents by the time you are 32.  When I put into perspective how lucky and blessed I am to live the life I do, I am on the whole a fortunate person. So I don't get everything I want- who does? This does not mean I cannot be happy.

Anger.  I am grateful for anger.  For the longest time, I had two feelings: extreme joy or burning hot anger. Over the years, I have been able to identify and feel lots of feelings in between, like indifference, annoyance, slightly okie-dokie, significantly non-plussed and bemused.  The toughest one is "little bit pissed but still reasonable", which is as far as I want to go towards anger.  The acronym I have for self-assessment is HALT.  If I am angry, I have to do a quick self-assessment: Am I Hungry? Angry? Lonely? Tired?  If I am any one or more of those, it means I need to do some self-care before approaching human beings.  I often just need a nap, a sandwich, a hug or a few minutes to reflect on my part in a situation so that I can refocus on making things better rather than worse.  That just leads to regret.

Regret. I am grateful for the stupid things I have often done.  I tend not to repeat those mistakes and since I'm not 39 and about halfway through my life, I think I have made about half of my mistakes.  I am fairly confident, however, that the mistakes I make from here on out are not the crazy, life-changing ones I made in the past.  Like that '78 Firebird I bought so that I could teach myself to power slide.  Or that time I moved to Denver on 24 hours notice.  Or how I was a bartender for about a year, and not a good one.  Or how I broke a few hearts. 

There are some things I never got to regret.  I had three older sisters I could watch grow up.  That saved me a lot, you know.  I never made their mistakes and they were protective of me.  So protective that on my first date, I was home by 9 with a quick peck on the cheek from a boy terrified that Yvette would beat him up.  She had a reputation for doing that- she beat the snot out of a kid for beating me up in sixth grade.  I'm pretty sure he went on to live a normal life.

Family.  I think this is my favorite intangible.  There is the family you get and the family that gets you.  I have both and I am lucky.  I wouldn't trade my family for anything, as crazy as we are.  My sisters are so funny, creative, laugh-inducing and heartful.  And like me, they each have a streak of iron through them.  We get each other as only siblings can.  Sometimes we tell the old stories, to reassure ourselves that these things really happened.  We used to tell them to someone draw out the poison.  Now we tell the new-old stories, of the younger years in my nieces and nephews' lives.  Of dance parties and grandparents and becoming women.  And now we plot new stories for our families.  And we connect on a deeper level than I can with anyone else.  I married someone who fits right in without even trying, and he is becoming part of those stories. The rest of my family is comprised of long time friends from Washington and Oklahoma. People who know the other parts of me, who have helped me become an adult and who saved me as much as I saved them. 




I guess I jumped on the bandwagon after all, in the style of oversharing and gratitude.  If you are reading this, I am grateful for you too, and hope you have a wonderful holiday season.  Stay warm, eat some turkey (or tofurky) and spend some time with people you love. 

Sculpture

That's not powdered sugar

Home

Grey

The Meantime

One year ago today, I talked Grey into coming to Norman to meet me.  It didn't take much, just a photograph of some blueberry pancakes up on Facebook. 

The rest is history. Happy history. And so happy anniversary, Grey.  It's been the best year of my life.

In the meantime, people struggle.  I have several friends and family members who are just having a hard time right now.  My mom is recovering after some surgery.  She is doing much better but this wans't a simple procedure.  My dandilion is having a rough time of it financially as it is impossible to pay the bills with only one full time job.  In Norman, it's also just about impossible to find a job that is full time anyway, so he is just doing the best he can.  His church and friends help, but he is also recovering from a bike/car collision a couple of months ago. Others are fighting the regular fight- not enough day at the end of the day and too many things to do just to stay afloat or get a bit ahead of the curve.  Some are in school, or home schooling or figuring out how long-term medical care for dependents.  One friend just had a hysterectomy.  Another is still undergoing a long recovery from a surgery this summer to allow him to walk much farther without his wheelchair.  Charlotte's asthma is more or less under control but she has some mysterious blood iron deficiency.  Cathy's mother-in-law is in the hospital.  Wildfires have been burning, even within 5 miles of town, for the last month outside of Ellensburg. Things are falling apart. I struggle too. It is terrifying to think that since we moved, neither of us will have significant paycheck for another 2 weeks. We planned well but we are being conservative until things even out. 

I am reminded of something I learned in Al-Anon.  I was totally broke, living alone in a small prison town.  No friends around and without any real support except for the huge amounts of phone calls and online chatting.  And I was lonely.  I went to the grocery store every day just to be around free people. I had Eleanor, who despite being a cat, helped me keep it together.  My Uncle Vernon died.  I went to work every day in a place that was designed to punish people.  I called a friend, neck-deep in pain, but I also regularly indulged in self-pity.

"I am sorry you have to go through this." she said. "Things will get better.  But in the meantime, you'll do mean time."

She advised me to go do something nice for someone else and to quit feeling so sorry for myself.  I also made a list of things for which I am grateful. I did do something nice for someone else and I felt a little better.

I am doing that today.  Because you know what? I could use a little gratitude. Here are five things I am grateful for.

1. Cool weather. I sleep so well in cold weather and am loving the slow ascent to autumn.  I'm sure that should be "descent", but I like to think we are ramping up for winter, not sliding into it.  I love to walk to work in the brisk morning air and walk home smelling the warm breeze.
2. Grey. I don't know what I would do without him catching my back, cheering me on and just being there the talk to.  What a great friend; what a wonderfu partner.
3. Friends.  I talk to my friends every other day and usually much more often through text message. 
4. Health. It's been very smokey here since there are wildfires almost completely out of control.  Yesterday, they were about 10% contained.  There are many days when people are advised to stay inside and not breathe the air.  Others walk around wtih face masks.  Desipte this, there are clear days when the wind blows and I can even go jogging.  Most days, Grey and I go for a walk.  It feels wonderful to have my health and to take deep breaths of air. We still haven't even used half a tank of gas in three weeks.
5. Water.  The water quality here is excellent.  I am willing to drink tap water, as it beats even the filtered water in Oklahoma.  On top of that, my office has a community drinking fountain with filtered water and a special part for water bottles.  I will never have to buy water as long as we live here. 

We all do mean time, I think.  It is a part of the human condition.  I have been leaning lately on others, and in some measure have been there for support. 

Once upon a time, my friend Charlotte was in the hospital pretty frequently.  Youself Kazemi, one of my beloved former employees, gently took her hand in his, encompassing all of her small hand in warmth.  He said "When you need me, just close your eyes and imagine I am holding your hand, and I will be."  It is one of her favorite gifts, and one we have shared many more times that I can even remember. So if you are having a hard time right now, know that I am thinking of you and holding your hand too. 

The New Plan

I woke up early this morning with my brain racing. It's been doing that a lot lately, clocking overtime while the rest of me really could just use a long nap.  It's tiring to wake up at 3:30 and not be able to get back to sleep.  I have had many bouts of insomnia in my life.  I have been to grad school. Actually I think those two statements are redundant.  Anyone who goes for post-baccalaureate education loses sleep.  So does every parent in the world and everyone who has a lot on their plate dealing with the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.

So this particular morning, I woke up promptly at 6.  Please don't think for a moment that 6 a.m. is a time for me.  Six in the morning is a concept, not a reality and I haven't seen that time in person for a couple of years.  Unless I am still awake from all night activities, in which case it's a totally different 6 a.m. than what normal folk would experience.  Last night when I went to sleep, I wrote out a list of all the things I had to do today.  This morning, I added even more things.

I can't help it; my brain spins like a tornado.  I think I have all the corners of sleep nailed down, smoothed over and in place like a blanket.  I have done everything I could the previous day and accomplished my tasks.  Yesterday, I went through most of my house on a purging tear and threw out eight trash bags of stuff we just don't need. Lots of it will be donated, have no fear.  I also had listed some items on Craigslist and sold both my lawnmower and futon couch.  My dear, dear Charlotte came over yesterday too, to help keep me on track.  I'd hold something questionable up, some item that I may or may not need or want. She'd say "Get rid of it!!" and off it would go. One of my friends took a bunch of items off my hands and I was able to give my beautiful dining room table to a sweet family with two little girls who will love it and take care of it. I even sold my car yesterday and will be catching a bus to Tulsa this afternoon to get home.  But my brain doesn't want rest, it wants everything to be in the correct place and in the right box.  It wants all decisions made, conversations had, bills paid and floors swept.  It wants to be creative, to write and sing and dance in the shadows.  It goes into overdrive whenever I have a lot to do and little time to do it.

This week's over-scheduling is because of a text conversation I had with my sister, Patti.  I was whining about how expensive the move is going to be because we decided to use a moving company.  She asked if a Uhaul might not be a better solution.  I said no, because my husband is uncomfortable with me following him in a truck and that he was even more uncomfortable with the idea of pulling his car behind a truck.  We figured out how to keep Eleanor happy- I have dosed her with medicine from the veterinarian which keeps her sufficiently loopy and quiet for about 8 hours.  On our nightly walk, I mentioned the text conversation to him, and he decided to reconsider.

No! I had it set in my mind. We had planned a course of action.  Granted, an expensive course of action, but still.  I had everything packed and the movers would come in three days. It was set in stone.

But like many things set in stone, we decided to etch out a new course.  "It's just stuff", he said.  "We'll get more stuff".

Ok.

New plan.

Because that's what you do when you suddenly and jarringly change course. You make a plan.  You stay nimble and courageous and don't panic.  This is not the end of the world. It's just the end of life here in Oklahoma.  A life that I won't be taking with me to Washington.  It's not the original plan, but it's a good compromise. And I married a man with a great sense of equanimity, and a nimble ability to adapt

We pared down our belongings to fit them into a little 4x8 Uhaul pull-along trailer.  I will send my books by media mail and we will sell what we can.  What we can't, Cathy and Chuck will dispose of either in a garage sale or by donation.  I'm going to ship Grey's records too.  It's a good plan.  We will take four days for travel and arrive at our destination like a turtle with our tiny home on our back. Ok, make that a two-person-one-kitty turtle.  You get the idea.

I have a lot of stuff to do and little time to do it.  So my tornado, I mean my brain, woke me up. And what am I doing? Writing.  Compromise.  Writing and making a list of things to do.  Grey and I are....sort of enjoying the whole move. I certainly have a greater appreciation for him, and he has learned about my elite packing skillz.  These lead to my elite "getting rid of stuff" skillz.

I no longer have a table, couch or place to sleep for the next week.  As my Grandma used to say "They don't have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of."  What I do have is support, love and understanding.  Everything I need that doesn't fit into a box.

Alright brain, let's kick this into gear.

Words Once Spoken Cannot Be Recalled

Et semel emissum volat irrocabile verbum. ~Horace


I wrote a number down on my hand today.  It was 038162.  I can still see it faintly.  I had a student who was suspended and I tried to enter a grade for her but she had been taken out of the system for the suspension and not put back in.  If you know your Goffman or Foucault, you'll know instantly that my student knew her number and repeated it for me without hesitation.  She identifies with that number and so do so many of my students.  It's how they pay for lunch.  It's how they see their grades and how they get into and out of trouble.  It dehumanizes them and quantifies their lives ala George W Bush and his No Child Left Behind.  It's also a convenient product of the technological age.  In some ways, the number affords my kids some anonymity and in others, it sanitizes their place in society.  You don't hug child number 44728.  You don't give a sweet valentines book mark to student #732914679.  But you do punish the heck out of the miscreant marked #16739428565.  Or was that "inmate"?  


Anyway, I emailed the counselor about the snafu and to get her put back in the system.  But the counselors are pretty busy right now, dealing with the emotional fallout of the death of one of our teachers on Monday.  


Yes, someone died.  No, it was not a natural or expected death.  No, I'm not going to come out and say it.  

Death is irrevocable, much like a word spoken in anger.  There is a saying in Arabic, or so I am told.  The word is "Talik" or "Tarik", and if you say it in quick succession three times, you are divorced from you spouse and it cannot be undone.  Some actions you cannot take back and some words, once they leave your mouth, will do the harm they will do of their own accord, with or without your apologies.  

So yes, today was a shitty day.  There was a bunch of crying in middle school.  More than usual for hormonal teenagers.  I hugged a lot of kids and dealt with difficult and quiet questions.  Sometimes, kids just wanted to come and sit in a safe place.  Four extra kids snuck into my 7th hour class and DID THE LESSON PLAN so that they could be there.  They weren't even my students.  Ah well. 

After ten hours of work, I got a text from a friend who asked me for a ride.  I've struggled with my feelings about even discussing him and don't do so very often.  He has not found sobriety, not stayed in a rehab.  But tonight he asked me for a ride and I haven't seen him in awhile.  So I went and picked him up. And we haven't spent more than ten minutes together in months, so I asked if I could buy him dinner.  Yes.  

So we had dinner and caught up.  He is not well. He is staying with a friend and doing the best he can.  I asked about him mom- the person in the world who he cares about more than anyone else.  Or so I thought.  She is not speaking to him. And neither is his family because of his sobriety. During dinner he casually said to me, "The thing is, that I annoy my family.  I just try to lay low. When I was in AA, it was the only time they ever liked me.  Funny thing is, that when I was in AA, yeah, that's the only time I've ever just hated myself."  

I thought about those words all the way back to the place where he was staying.  And I chose my next ones carefully. I just think there is enough suffering in the world without all of my judgments. My day was rough and I know that 90% of the world had a worse day than I did.  I said that if he was sober or if he was using or drunk or high, I did not care.  My friendship and love and care of him as a human is not dependent on factors such as what he chooses or needs to put in his body. I told him that I value him as a person, and I do truly enjoy his company. I'll be happy to visit or talk or hang out whenever possible, as long as he was straight during those times.  And I vow never to  make him feel like less than a person just because he has addiction issues.  

We are not a number. We are people. We are humans with emotions and needs and a desire for care and compassion. We should not be classified and sorted.  We should be seen. And heard. And when we need it, we should be comforted and spoken to with kindness.  

Because a word once spoken, a deed once done, cannot be recalled. 

You

I'm doing this 30 day challenge on Facebook.  Silly, really, but every day you put up different photos and comment on them.  Day one is a photo of yourself.  Another day was a picture of something you love, then something you hate and so on.  I'm enjoying it, and am exploring the interaction of image and word to make a point.  You get the idea.  I don't like to skip ahead. I don't want too much time to overthink these things, so I wake up in the morning and resolve to have the picture plus some text by bedtime.

I had a hard time with today's prompt: A picture of someone who inspires you.
I thought about it all day.  Who inspires me? Who inspires me the most? Who 'deserves' to have a picture and some sort of mention of how awesome they are? I don't know.  I wasn't really feeling inspired and really, on Valentine's day, I just want to go to bed and wait for tomorrow.  But I had to pick someone and some image. I wrestled with it and decided that there are just too many people who love and care for me and who inspire me and give me some sort of reason to get up in the morning. So here it is:

Day 16 - A picture of someone who inspires you.

This is a picture of you.
Who are you?
You are my friend.  You are my student and also my teacher.  You asked me for help the other day and feeling like I could make a difference made all the difference for me.  You were once the most important person in my life.  When everything went wrong, you looked me in the eye and said it would be alright, that I could do this.  You believe in me.  You turned in your essay late because the lights were turned off. You inspire me and make me want to make the world a better place for future generations.  You make me want to be a better person.  You make me embarrassed of my faults.  You make me smile when darkness creeps past my brow.  You once said that injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere and I believe you. You send me postcards.  When you ignore me, it hurts.  You have been in recovery for a long time and it suits you.  You brought your children over to make peace signs.  You were deployed to Afghanistan and came home in one piece.  You are my favorite cousin. You are my sister.  You are my niece who has to walk a rough road alone.  I wish to God I could help.  You offered me a place to stay.  You honked at me in the parking lot.  You taught me how to ride a scooter. You make me want to have children.  You never judge me for not being able to sing.  You are my world.

Honestly, I just don't know what I would do without you.