Know that you're not alone

It couldn't last forever, could it?

Everything has been sailing along so smoothly in my life, until yesterday when life decided to test me again. It does that occasionally. I'm a very optimistic person. If there is something good in a person, thing, situation or thought, I'll spot it. I'm don't try to fool myself into thinking everything is wonderful. Occasionally, however, I have to remind myself not to get into a pity party because there are a lot of people worse off than me... in the Gaza strip, for instance, or on our very own Market Street where a 51-year-old restaurant burned up this past weekend and now the family has to start from scratch to rebuild.

Yesterday I lost it! My control, I mean. Found out some paperwork had gotten lost and free meds I normally receive would be my financial responsibility for at least two weeks. My doctor's nurse was pretty sure he wouldn't prescribe a generic version of this pricy med. The pharmacy said it was going to cost me $68 for the two weeks worth. I can afford it. No problem. It's only one time, and I'm on a careful budget and have a bit extra available.

It's just that I moved in October and have finally paid off all the moving costs, plus I didn't incur any big expenses for Christmas. Things are looking good. Well, they were. I've had my eye on a 17-inch computer monitor. Then along comes this extra cost.

I ranted and raved. My daughter happened to be in the line of fire, and bless her heart, she just turned in my direction and listened. Made me feel so safe. Good to have someone in my life who will listen.

I forgot my luck. The Read luck, I call it. (Read is my maiden name.) Whenever things have gone bad for our family, they seem to turn themselves around. Particularly in the area of finances.

I picked up the prescription this morning. Seems the doctor did prescribe the generic version, and it only cost me $7. Then I felt like crying -- with relief.

The other thing is that for the past couple of days, I've been going through a writing slump. I've done okay with the blog, but haven't been able to get a grip on my writing for Helium.com. Couldn't even work up an interest in reading, my other love. Spent a lot of time playing computer Solitaire. Yuck!

Yesterday I received an email from another Helium writer. I'd mention the many articles she'd recently posted to a Helium contest. She responded that sometimes she could put out lots of articles. Other times, she's totally stuck and can't write a thing. Along with reassuring me that what I'd been going through is quite normal, her words broke the dam for me. I'm writing again.

It's always good to know we're not alone. I mean, we know that, but just hearing it seems to make a difference. It's also good to know there's always someone listening to us.

Staying in style

I depend on the young people in my life to keep me in style. My 24-year old daughter loaned me Pantene sculpting wax. My 5-year old grandson (whose sculpting wax it is) showed me how to "spike" my hair. I spiked it for a family Christmas dinner. When I walked in my 23-year old nephew complimented me on my hairdo.

My pocketbooks are traditionally plain. Black, brown or beige. On a November trip to Payless, I bought an American Eagle cloth bag--brown with black straps and black and white polka dots. So unlike anything I've ever had. At another family Christmas gathering, my cousin's 11-year old daughter--stylish in her own right--complimented me on my bag.

These are the critics I intend to listen to, not other old farts like me. What do we know!

Thoughts from the past to the present

In the mid-1990s I bought The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron. Proof of it is in dozens of spiral notebooks in a closet. On occasion, I re-read those journals, pulling out little treasures and shredding the rest.

I used to get out of the bathtub, wrap a towel around myself and climb under the bed covers still dripping.

Better alone than with someone just for the sake of being with someone.

I’m not sure I can live with someone again without losing myself and without becoming fussier than I already am.

Everyone (especially me) should do something just because... something senseless, useless

As I looked in the mirror and pulled my robe aside, I realized how right my breasts look in their sagging.

Time comes strutting down that alley, but I will it to slow.

Shifting (seasons of) life. Subtle changes coincide with leaves changing colors on trees.

Gathered fallen, wet oak, sumac and maple leaves, I walk...

The trees in front are skeletal.

As much as I love the leafy trees outside our front windows, I’m glad the leaves are gone, the view is wide open again, and I can see all and control the view with the opening and closing of blinds.

Brown days with touches of green

Even with no one close (male species) in my life, I’m still contented, hopeful and only slightly regretful.

I’m on a reading frenzy, with books scatter here and there, partially read, some yet to be started.

Not the kind of weekend to rave about, only to be content in.

Mean moments, some meaner than others.

I’ve always wished I were a more clever person.

Who am I compared to who I was? How much of my previous self remains and is that such a bad thing.

Bubble under chimney wallpaper – 8-9” diameter. Poked with a needle and released a few drops of water. Stabbed with a paring knife and water gushed out. Loved calling the landlady and telling her I stabbed the wall!

I was in the best zone yesterday. In the NOW. Really absorbed in whatever I was doing, the entire day, rather than in what else needed to be done.

Women in the news

I was reading a short, straightforward news story this morning that began:

Katherine A. Asbeck, senior vice president of finance for Corning Inc., will retire at the end of March. Asbeck joined Corning in 1991...

It was then I remembered, there was a time when newspaper and magazine articles referred to men as Mr. Jones or Jones. At the same time, women were the beautiful Miss Smith or the lovely Mrs. Brown.

Times are achangin'. Women are now good for more than their beauty. Thank you very much.

Update on Avocado Tree (No longer simply a plant)

The photo of the avocado plant, above, was taken in May 2008. It was destroyed by a June hailstorm.



This avocado - planted after the hailstorm - continues to thrive. About a month ago, I cut out the top hoping to promote the growth of two branches. It didn't work. I also just removed three middle-of-the-tree leaves which were covered with dark purplish spots.

Check earlier 2008 blog entries for details on my avocado-growing efforts. Standing by the tree is my tall 5-year old grandson.

Telemarketers

If you've read my past entries, you know how I feel about clutter. Can't stand it. Love to get rid of it. And, you're wondering at this early point, what does that have to do with telemarketers?

Many, many years ago, young college students marketed their products door to door. I loved having the company so I invited them to sit and relax outside our country home, offered a glass of iced tea, and listened to their spiel, all the while knowing I would buy nothing.

Today we have telemarketers. Annoying, pesky (Am I being redundant?) callers who can be eliminated for the most part via "no call lists".

One company had been getting through, however, for several months. The call consisted of a recording in which a concerned female voice begins "Please don't be alarmed. Your warranty has expired (or is about to)..." Imagine that, a recording. No more live callers. I want to chat. Wait a minute, what warranty? I don't have any warranties.

After hanging up on the third or fourth call about a non-existent warranty, I think fast and stay on the phone. My options are... So, I press a number to get more details. As soon as a woman (yes, a live person at this point) answers, I blurt out: I want my name taken off your call list.

She slammed down the phone. Not so nice. On the other hand, I haven't received another call.

One more piece of clutter - gone.

Meeting a child's needs

There's a large picture frame in my dining room. It contains numerous individual photos. It's on the floor leaning against the wall until I decide where to hang it.

My one-year old grandson heads right for the frame every time he visits. He carefully checks each photo--relatives, living and deceased--reciting names to go with them.

Time to get the picture off the floor. I'm going to hang it to meet his need to see ~ not at normal adult level, but at his eye level.

I wonder what we think we need and what we really need, and are they the same or do they need rethinking, readjusting?


A couple of days later...

Find hidden clutter in your home and life

In the past five years, I've carefully removed all types of clutter from my life.

This morning I was down on the floor doing strengthening exercises. Looking around, I noticed two of my dining room chairs still have tennis balls on their "feet". Tennis balls are great for keeping wood and tile floors unmarked. (Note: inexpensive tennis balls are much easier to cut than the really good ones.)

I moved last month. The dining room is carpeted. The tennis balls are no longer needed.

One more housekeeping chore with dramatic results... find and remove hidden clutter in your home and life. Physical clutter, relationship clutter, thought clutter, scheduling clutter, etc.

Are you asking the right question?

We're told to avoid "closed" (Yes or No) questions. Instead, ask an "open" question which requires a more detailed response.

I waited at least a half hour past the arrival time for a bus. Then, I gave a women standing next to me the bus company phone number so she could call on her cell. She stated our location and asked when the bus would arrive. Ten minutes, the women on the phone responded.

Thirty minutes later, she called again. Gave them our location, again. Asked, when the bus would arrive, again. They'll leave the transportation center in your town at 1 PM, the bus company representative advised her. It was 1 PM. Oh, said the rep, so the bus should be there any minute. It's a less-than-five-minute drive from the transportation center.

Fifteen minutes later, I walked off. Frustrated. Had she asked the right question?

I would have asked, Would you please ask the bus driver his exact location at this moment?

What would you have asked?

Are you always asking the right question?

Follow your own path

One of the pledges I've made is to never again allow myself be pressured into doing what I don't truly feel led to do.

We all feel pressured to do what we don't want to do. To be someone we don't want to be. And from whom does the most pressure come? Ourselves.

This morning I cancelled a five-minute television appearance I'd said I would do later this month. Feeling way too much (self-induced) pressure and absolutely no desire to do it.

Why should we waste our lives giving in to pressure?