Mortality

This week I've been confronted with mortality by the deaths of three people that were familiar to me. 

None of these people were family members or close friends.  One man was my former boss, another man was a respected member of the church my husband and I attended in the early years of our marriage, and the lone woman was the driving force behind the artistic elements that facilitate worship at the church my family has called home for the past sixteen years.  Even though I wasn't especially close to any of these people, and in the case of the men, hadn't seen them in years, each one of definitely influenced my life.   

When is enough enough?

My husband and I are in the midst of a never-ending project.  Seriously, it feels like we will be working on this project forever.

We are attempting to clean out my husband's great-aunt's house so we can list it with a real estate agent.  (Did you know that realtor is a trademarked word?  Neither did I.)

Our task would have been made only slightly easier if GAI (Great-Aunt I) hadn't been the ultimate shopper.  If something was on sale, GAI would buy it.  No matter if she already had four boxes of Zip-loc bags in her pantry, if they were on sale, she would buy more.

Unfortunately her shopping obsession wasn't limited to Zip-loc bags or toothpaste or laundry detergent.  She bought/collected/hoarded practically everything.  During her last hospitalization, GAI instructed us to take whatever we wanted and then to sell, give away or throw away what was left.

Most Saturdays I go with my husband to GAI's house to sort through the cupboards and closets.  As much as possible we are trying to donate usable items to a resale shop run by our church, but not everything is appropriate for donation.  The OCD part of me has a hard time throwing away things that I think someone might be able to use, but today I sorted through a box filled with multiples of one item that I had no problem consigning to the trash.

I was absolutely flabbergasted when I lifted the lid off of this box and was confronted with a neatly folded pile of longline girdles.  White, beige, light yellow.  Most with garters, but some without.  All of the girdles were long leg, to at least mid thigh, although some appeared to be knee length..

In all there were 27 girdles.  Twenty-seven.  Seriously, how many girdles does one woman need?  Granted they don't last forever, but perhaps seven might be enough or ten more than ample, but twenty-seven?  It's not as if they were shoes that needed to be paired by color or heel height or style to a variety of outfits.  As these unmentionables were hidden from view, I would imagine one girdle was just as good as another for smoothing out lumps and bumps and keeping stockings firmly fastened.

If I've learned one thing from this experience it's to buy only what I need and to keep only what I use and treasure.  I seriously hope I can get my act together so that one day my kids won't have to sort through my stuff and wonder why I squirreled away nineteen boxes of  pipe cleaners.    

What's in a name? -- Hurricane Edition

The name Irene means "peace" in Greek.  But the Irene that's barreling up the eastern seaboard is anything but peaceful.

When I saw the hurricane names for this year, Irene jumped out at me.  I was really hoping when this hurricane arrived it would be a non-event, ideally not even progressing beyond a tropical storm.

But no.  While Irene doesn't seem to be a monster storm along the lines of Katrina, like Katrina it appears that Irene's greatest damage will come from storm surge and flooding. 

Not quite two years ago my husband's great-aunt, Irene, died just short of her 87th birthday.  I'm not sure how Irene would feel about her namesake storm.  Other members of our family, who were estranged from Irene and were not above speaking about her in a less than respectful manner, are no doubt having a field day comparing this destructive hurricane to our deceased relative.

Irene didn't always sow peace with her words and actions, but she deserved to be treated with respect, especially because she was incredibly generous, even to those family members who disparaged her.  As much as my husband and children miss Irene, I'm glad she's not here to witness the storm with which she shares her name.   

Thankful Thursday

I tend to zone out in the shower.  In a previous post I mentioned that a lot of the time I get great ideas for blog posts while I'm in the shower.

Today I did both -- zoned out and came up with an idea for a post.

When I take a shower, the first thing I do is shampoo and condition my hair.  Today after I shampooed my hair, I moved on to washing my face.  Normally I would use a tiny little dab of conditioner on the ends of my super-fine hair, but today I decided to skip the conditioner.  Since I wasn't going to blow dry or flat iron my hair, I thought "why bother."

I proceeded to squirt some face wash into the palm of my left hand.  Without thinking, I almost rubbed my palms together in preparation to work the liquid into my hair.  Yikes!  That would have been a mess, especially since I use a face wash that has tiny exfoliating beads -- not that they do all that good of a job of exfoliating; I would probably need to use sandpaper to effectively exfoliate my bad skin.  : /

As I contemplated my near-miss, I was reminded of another time I experienced a similar brush with disaster.  It was December of 2006 and I was preparing to meet my daughter's future in-laws for the first time.  I had checked into my hotel room and had a few hours to kill before dinner at the D's home.  My hair looked a little flat and oily, so I decided to wash it.  Not wanting to bother with a full shower, I figured I could easily wash my hair in the sink. 

Everything was going great until it was time to use the conditioner.  The hotel had provided complimentary toiletries and I thought I grabbed the bottle of conditioner.  As I poured it out into the palm of my hand, the white color and creamy consistency of the liquid looked and smelled like conditioner.  But when I worked the stuff into my hair, it just didn't feel right.  Trying to not drip water and conditioner (?) all over the floor, I squinted at the tiny print on the tiny bottle.  Without my glasses, I couldn't make out much, but I could see that instead of one long word on the bottle -- Conditioner -- there were two words.  Body Lotion?  Hand Lotion?  I wasn't sure, but one thing I did know: my hair was not coated in conditioner.

Crap.  Here I wanted to make a good impression and instead I had lubed up my hair with body lotion!  I ended up washing my hair several times in a mostly unsuccessful attempt to get rid of the heavy lotion.  On the way to meet N's family I told E, N, and K what I had done and we all had a good laugh.  N's parents are polite people and, even if they noticed something odd about my hair, they were nice enough to not mention it.

At this point you're probably wondering what I'm thankful for on this Thankful Thursday . . . spaciness or maybe poor eyesight?  Actually I am thankful for E's in-laws/N's parents, Dr. D and P.

Dr. D and P have been great in-laws to E.  They genuinely love her as if she were their own daughter.  Having had a awkward relationship with my in-laws, I am thrilled that E has such a comfortable relationship with hers.  I think E is a remarkable young woman and I am glad that Dr. D and P see the same outstanding qualities in her that I do; I'm glad that they truly like her for who she is and not just because she is N's wife.

Marriage is more than just the union of one man and one woman in the covenant of holy matrimony.  It is also the union of two families.  I am thankful that E has been so warmly welcomed into her new family by her in-laws. 

Further proof that I'm losing it

I was talking to my 26-year old daughter on the phone tonight.  E asked me if I had talked with my mom/her grandmother to see if the chiropractor was able to give her some relief from the hip pain she had been experiencing.

I had actually talked to my mom this afternoon and I did ask her how she was feeling, but most of our conversation centered on my dad who had just had surgery a few days ago.

I told E that her grandmother was doing pretty well, and that sometimes I thought there was sort of a placebo effect connected with seeing the chiropractor. 

Except I didn't say placebo.  I said libido.

BIG difference.

If there truly was a libido effect that correlated with a chiropractic visit, I'm sure chiropractors would have way more clients than they could possible handle.   : )

Sooo good

I wish I could drink more often.  Unfortunately alcohol is way too expensive and it's also not good for my esophageal ulcers.  Bummer.

Parrot Bay flavored rum is sooo good.  So far I've had pineapple (LOVE!) and lime (not bad).  I would really like to try mango, but Meijer doesn't carry it and I refuse to pay $15.99 for it on sale at Valli's.  : /

Last week I bought a bottle of Monin coconut syrup at T.J. Maxx.  The syrup is great with lime flavored rum and club soda.  Once the bottle of Parrot Bay lime is finished, I'll try the coconut syrup with my bottle of Parrot Bay pineapple.  I bet both flavors would taste great as a slushy drink blended with ice, but the blender is too noisy to use at 1:00 a.m.  : /  

Enjoyable

Today was a special anniversary for my husband.

Thirty years ago today, 8/21/81, he started working for IBM.

I remember when he decided that he didn't want to continue teaching high school math.  We had only been married for six months and I had just started working at Marshall Field's.  I wasn't exactly bringing home a big buck paycheck and I was concerned about how we would be able to pay our bills (and eat!) if he didn't find a job right away.  I will also admit that I was not happy about how his proposed career change was shaking up my self-image.  Ever since I fell in love with G, I had always envisioned myself as the wife of a high school teacher.  I wasn't quite sure what it would be like to be the wife of a business/computer/whatever guy.

In a huge leap of faith and confidence, G tendered his resignation at the Catholic high school where he had taught for the past two years.  He did not have a job lined up.  Truth be told, he didn't even know exactly what he wanted to do, but he did know that he wanted to work with computers.

School ended and G embarked on his job search.  Every Sunday he would pour over the Chicago Tribune help wanted ads and then he would spend the week typing and mailing out cover letters to prospective employers.  (In the age of job searches that are conducted almost exclusively online, the typewriter and snail mail approach seems positively ancient!)

Weeks passed and the end of the paychecks from Immaculate Conception drew closer -- thank heavens G had elected to be paid on a 12-month schedule.  He had had several interviews, but we were still waiting for a job offer, G more patiently than I.

In mid-August, IBM asked G back for another interview.  One of the interviewers asked him to describe himself in one word.  His answer?  Enjoyable.              

Really???  Enjoyable?

When I heard his response, I was flabbergasted.  Why did he choose the word enjoyable?  Why didn't he say driven or hard-working or determined or creative or dedicated or any of a hundred words that I felt would have seemed more impressive to someone who had been in IBM's employ for several years?

No matter, enjoyable must have resonated with someone associated with the hiring process because G was offered and accepted a position as a customer service rep at the IBM Help Center in Chicago.

Over the ensuing thirty years, G has worked for numerous managers in a variety of environments.  He has had the opportunity to travel to China, Singapore, Mexico, Canada, England, Germany, the Netherlands, and Russia, as well as most of the United States.  Most importantly, he truly likes what he does.  His job is stressful and frustrating at times, but he has never regretted making the decision to leave teaching.

Today it is rare to find someone who has worked for the same company for more than ten years, let alone thirty.  In the new millennium, neither employers nor employees feel the type of loyalty to one another that was more common in the mid 20th century.

But I think my husband has found part of the secret to job satisfaction and longevity . . . enjoyment.  Not only does he genuinely enjoy what he does, but his superiors and peers find him to be enjoyable to work with.

Enjoyable -- I guess G did have it right all along.    

Thankful Thursday

Is it Thursday again?  So soon?

Sometimes I have a hard time thinking of something to write about on Thankful Thursday.  It's not so much that I'm not thankful; it's more that the things I do think of aren't easy to adequately describe.  Sometimes the issue is that I'm thankful for something that seems totally trivial and I feel silly saying that I'm thankful for fresh tomatoes or raspberries, blueberries, and cherries . . . even though I am.  Very thankful.  : )

Over the past few months, one thing that I have been thankful for is the medication Dr. Z prescribed for my heartburn and reflux.  Omeprazole has made a dramatic difference in my quality of life.  Before I started taking the drug I would experience heartburn several times a week.  It seemed like most of the foods that I enjoy -- chocolate, coffee, red meat, citrus and other acidic fruits -- would trigger heartburn and/or reflux.  It was really annoying.  I learned to always make sure I had Tums with me.  Another annoyance was the heartburn often made me feel like I needed to cough.  Even though I knew coughing wouldn't help, I coughed anyway and then people would ask if I was coming down with a cold.  No, I just have yucky heartburn.  : /   

Within the first week of taking Omeprazole I noticed a huge difference.  There was only one time early on where I felt like I needed to take a Tums.  I resisted the urge because I wasn't sure if I should use Tums with the medication.  Additionally I have only had serious reflux once.

I am thrilled that I'm feeling so good and I really hope that this prescription is also achieving the second goal -- healing the ulcers at the base of my esophagus.  Dr. Z said that area of my esophagus was so ulcerated that he was unable to take any tissue samples. 

I'm supposed to have a throat scope in a few months and if the ulcers have cleared up, it will indicate that they were caused by excess stomach acid and responded well to the medication  If they are still present, they could be indicative of Barrett's esophagus, a potential precursor to esophageal cancer.  My grandfather died of esophageal cancer and my sister-in-law's father had Barrett's.  Both of these men suffered greatly and I would definitely like to avoid the trials they endured.

So until I know more, I am very thankful that Omeprazole is helping to control my acid reflux and heartburn.       

Alone again

I went shopping tonight -- T.J. Maxx and Target.

This time last week, M would have gone shopping with me.  A shopping trip with her would have cost me way more money than what I spent tonight.  But I would have gladly paid the extra money if I could have had her there with me.

It's only been one day since I saw her, but I really miss her.

I texted her -- "Drinking a frozen mocha, shopping at Target, missing you."

M texted back -- "Aw : (  I miss you."

I love you and miss you M.

Sad

This blog post title doesn't even begin to describe how I feel right now.

I am physically exhausted.

I'm bankrupt -- financially and emotionally.

The last three days have been extremely challenging.  At times I didn't know whether to cry or to scream, and sometimes I wanted to do both at the same time.

At this particular moment, I am mostly sad.

On Saturday we took M back to Purdue to move into her first apartment.  My husband returned home late Saturday evening (drove through a wicked, scary thunderstorm), but I stayed Saturday and Sunday night in order to help M settle into her new home.

As of 4:00 this afternoon, I thought I would stay one more night in West Lafayette.  But by 4:15 p.m., I was on my way back to Chicago.  I didn't have any business driving home; I hadn't slept well the previous night and I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open -- yet I knew that staying wasn't an option.

What makes me the saddest is how I said (or more accurately, didn't say) goodbye to M.  She was in a rush and she was with her boyfriend (who doesn't exactly like me) and I thought I would see her Tuesday morning, so I just told her goodbye and to have a good time this evening at a Crew event.  And then I got in my car and drove off.

I didn't hug her and I didn't tell her I love her.  I didn't even wave as I drove away.  : (   

I don't know when I will see M again -- maybe Labor Day, but maybe not until sometime in October.  I'll probably talk with her almost every day, but I won't be able to see her and I won't be able to hug her and feel her hug me back . . . and just thinking of that makes me want to cry.

Thankful Thursday

What does every parent want for their child?

Happiness?  Success?  Security?

It would be hard to pinpoint only one or two goals that a parent would love to see their child achieve.  Most likely if a parent were to keep such a list, the items on it would fluctuate depending on the age of the child and their stage in life.

Our daughter recently graduated from the University of Chicago with a MA in humanities/philosophy.  She was naturally concerned about finding a job and beginning to pay down her student loans.  Even before she graduated, K started looking for a job and interviewed for several positions.  She networked with business people that she knew through her position as a baker at a cafe.  She also poured over job postings on the internet.  In addition to finishing up her masters thesis and working full-time at the cafe, she made it her "job" to find a job.

I am so thankful that all of K's concerted efforts payed off when she accepted a position as a customer service representative at WyzAnt.  K has been working at WyzAnt for three weeks now and she really likes her job, coworkers, and the company's philanthropic direction.  It sounds like the work atmosphere is very collaborative and there is room for advancement within the company.  K has already made a suggestion that could increase WyzAnt's tutor base.  I am glad that, in addition to a good hourly wage, K will also have medical and dental insurance through a PPO.

I hope that K continues to enjoy her job.  Chances are this is not the job she will work at for the rest of her career, but it definitely is a great start.  Considering the dismal state of the economy and reduced employment opportunities, I am very thankful that K was able to find a good job.

Down to the wire

In two days, M goes back to school.

Where did the summer go?  I know we lost a fair amount of time to illness and recovery, but still . . . it seems like three months flew by.

The past few days we have rushed around getting stuff for her bedroom and the common areas of the apartment.  We've also shopped for personal supplies, running shoes, and squeezed in a few last minute eye and dentist appointments.

About an hour ago M came into the family room and showed me her retainer.  She said it had fallen out of her mouth while she was sleeping one night this week.  Apparently she rolled over and slept on it for most of the night.  The retainer isn't broken, but it is bent enough that it doesn't fit properly.

I want to scream!  When M first came home I told her it was her responsibility to schedule appointments with the orthodontist and gynecologist.  She's old enough to make her own appointments and I wanted her to take ownership of this aspect of her health care.  I encouraged her to complete everything before she started work so she wouldn't have to juggle appointments with her unpredictable hours at JoAnn's.

But did she?  NO. NO. NO.

So now she has a wonky retainer and her only hope of seeing the orthodontist is if he can squeeze her in somehow tomorrow --  his office is closed on Fridays.  Good luck with that.

I hate to be a nag.  I reminded M several times that she needed to call for an appointment.  She actually was supposed to have seen the orthodontist at Christmas, but again, she didn't schedule an appointment.  If she isn't able to be seen tomorrow, her next chance might be at Thanksgiving, but maybe not until Christmas.  A year is a long time to go between appointments, even in the maintenance phase, but by the time the holidays roll around, it will be 18 months since her last appointment. 

I am so angry.  M had plenty of time to go shopping and spend time with friends, work and sleep 12 hours a day, but she didn't have enough time to see the orthodontist.  We spent a lot of money to give her straight teeth and a smile she could feel good about, but if she doesn't do her part, it will be money wasted.  : /

Like so many things, I guess it's my fault.

I should have nagged more.

Humbled

I'm not a little woman.  To be honest, I'm fat.  Some people might attempt to sugarcoat that assessment, but there just isn't any way of getting around the reality.  Fat is fat.

Because I'm not a trim size 6 or even an average size 12, I've always felt as if I need to try a little harder -- dress a little sharper, take more care with my overall appearance -- so people won't see me as a fat slob who not only lacks self control but has also given up in every area of her life.  I also want to make an effort with my appearance so I don't embarrass my kids any more than I do already because of my weight.

So this Sunday I took the effort to completely blow dry my hair before M and I left for church.  Most of the time I do a pretty good job of styling the front and sides, but I slack off on the back.  I can't see the back of my head so I'm not especially concerned if it's totally dry when I leave the house.  After all, it'll dry eventually.  But for church, I decided to do the job right.

When M and I left the house it was beginning to sprinkle.  As we drove south on Gary Ave. towards Wheaton, it began to rain harder.  By the time we pulled into the library parking lot a block away from the church, it was raining steadily.

The rain wouldn't have been that much of a problem if we had had an umbrella in the car, but we didn't.  We had taken the umbrella out over a week ago during the storm when the trees came crashing down in our backyard, and instead of putting it back in the car, we left it on the porch.  : /   So now it was raining and we had a block long walk, uphill, to church and no umbrella.

Meredith didn't think that no umbrella was that big of a deal, but I was grumbling.  As we headed towards the church, I sarcastically said, "Thank you Jesus" and in reply the sky rumbled with thunder, as if to say "You're welcome."  I was not feeling very worshipful at that point and I felt even less so when, a few steps later, the steady rain turned into a heavy downpour.

By the time M and I got to the front steps of the church we were pretty thoroughly soaked.  My once dry hair was now wet enough that it was plastered to my head: I was pretty sure it was about as wet as it usually is when I step out of the shower.  There were plenty of other wet people hurrying inside, but I felt like I was the only one who was dripping and disheveled -- a feeling that was reinforced as M and I walked into the sanctuary and were confronted with rows of dry and dignified worshipers.

I wasn't just wet, I was soaking wet and I was also irritated.  In my mind, everyone was staring at me, judging me for not being smart enough to carry an umbrella or organized enough to get to church earlier, before it started to rain.  I wasn't in the mood to worship, but the prelude was starting and I didn't want to embarrass myself even more by getting up and leaving.  Besides M had expressly said that she wanted to come to church and this would be our last Sunday to worship together.

Happy Birthday!

Last Friday was my birthday.  This Friday is my daughter's birthday.

Happy Birthday E!

I wish I could see you and wish you happy birthday in person.  We were together for every one of your birthdays until 2007, your first birthday as a married woman.

I hope that you are enjoying celebrating this birthday, your 26th, with N, camping on an island in Lake Michigan.

I love you and wish you many more birthday celebrations! 

Thankful Thursday -- Decatur edition

Today I'm observing Thankful Thursday in my hometown, Decatur, IL.

M and I drove down this afternoon to spend a few days with my mom and dad.  My knuckles are slowly regaining some of their color.  Just kidding.  M is a good driver; it's just hard for me to relax and relinquish control.  I wouldn't say that I'm a backseat driver, but I'm not above offering the odd suggestion or trying to "help" brake from the passenger seat.

My mom had a delicious meal planned for dinner -- chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, and tomatoes -- and M and I arrived in time to help her fix everything.  After dinner we had layer cake (white cake with white frosting) and homemade vanilla ice cream.  There is a reason why I don't live in Decatur.  If I did, I think I would probably weigh even more than I do now.  : /

So as you've read this, you might think I'm going to say that on this Thankful Thursday I am thankful for delicious food, but I am thankful for so much more.

I am thankful for the opportunity to spend time with my mom and dad, even if it's just for a few days.  I'm all too aware that the time I have with my parents is growing shorter and I want to take advantage of every moment.  The Lord has blessed me with a great mom and dad and I love them so much!

You let her do what?!?

At one time or another, all of our kids have said that to me or my husband.  Our children definitely love their siblings, but I know they also keep a mental (or maybe even an actual physical) scorecard of the privileges each one has received.

We probably have to take responsibility for some of the score keeping.  Our children would decide they wanted something, either a possession or permission to do something, and we would decide if it was appropriate (usually we considered if it was age appropriate).  E, being the firstborn, normally was the one who paved the way for her siblings.  Consequently, the decisions we made with her carried through to the rest of the kids.  If we agreed that E could have pierced ears at 13, contacts at 14, a cell phone when she began to drive, or date after she turned 16, then that held true for everyone else. 

But there were exceptions.  K went on a date a little before her 16th birthday.  M had a cell phone well in advance of getting her license, and, unbeknown to us, she was "dating" for almost two years before she was 16.

Probably the biggest hullabaloo erupted when we gave M her own key to the Civic.  Both E and K were incredulous.  Why had they never had a car key of their own?  They totally understood that the car that was available for them to drive, a '97 Malibu, didn't come with extra keys.  But they still felt that M was enjoying a special privilege that had been denied them.

I can only imagine how E will feel when she learns that we let M drive the Civic to Chicago today.  Even though E would never have wanted to drive to the city, and in fact rarely wanted to drive anywhere, she knows that had she asked to take the Malibu downtown, our answer would have been an immediate "NO."

On the other hand, K would have jumped at the chance to drive in the city.  Now that she is a city dweller with a car of her own, she reminds us on a regular basis that we never let her drive on the highway, the expressway or downtown.  She feels that we sheltered her too much and should have trusted her more.

Yet seeing that M drove downtown in order to fix the entree for a dinner party K was hosting for some friends, I don't think she is going to make much of a stink over the fact that M was allowed to do something that she wasn't. 

In our defense, M is 20 years old.  If K had still been living at home, even just for the summer, when she was 20, we probably would have allowed her to take the car downtown for a specific event.

Being a parent isn't easy.  The road we guide our children along, from infancy to adulthood, is filled with potholes, lane closures, and speed traps  As we travel down the road, it's important to listen to our kids, to take their ability and individuality into account when making decisions about situations and activities. 

But there are times when it doesn't hurt to employ a little bit of selective deafness, especially when they wail, "You let her do what?!?"