Family Cycles...

Brent and I were grocery shopping on Saturday picking up the bulk of what we will need for Thanksgiving. Katie is coming home and bringing her girlfriend and their roommate with her. Five for dinner instead of our usual three. 

And because I have so many dietary restrictions and they have a few allergies as well we've been trying to make sure that there is food for everyone. One of the things we've been trying to figure out is the gluten free aspects. We've gotten really used to eating gluten free and Katie hasn't been bothered by it when she's been home but I know it's different. Especially where breads and such are concerned. We also wanted to make sure that we had things they wanted to drink in the house. 

So we are picking up those things that we normally don't have. Some gluten filled wonders. Some drinks. And weighing the options on other things. Should we get this? Should we get that? What do you think? And basically trying to be good hosts for Katie's girlfriend and friend. 

And I had to stop and tell Brent how I really appreciated how hard his mother tried with me. I've talked before about the challenges we had in our relationship but I can see how hard she tried to make sure I was thought about and taken care of. 

For instance I was really sick when Brent and I got married. I had been for a very long time. Just couldn't shake it. And one of the things that came with that particular illness was a wrenching cough. I would cough so hard it would make me vomit. Just awful. Liquid cough syrups are the best for that sort of cough. Or at least they were at the time. But I hate liquid cough syrup. It's almost impossible for me to choke it down. (quick aside, learned very late in life that that is actually a normal thing for people on the autism spectrum, that if there is a food texture or taste that you don't like you literally cannot swallow it. Your throat constricts and game over. Which actually makes me wonder if what we think of as autism is actually a remnant of a survival skill from our ancestors, can't swallow poisonous plants. Anyway, back to our story...) So Ann went to the pharmacy and made them crack open bottle after bottle of liquid cough medicine until she found one that had the mildest flavor for me to take. 

How amazing is that? 

She was challenging in a lot of ways but she really tried hard to make sure we had a positive relationship. 

As I stood in that grocery store trying to decide if a woman I don't really know would like vanilla ice cream over french vanilla ice cream I understood on a deeper level than I had before. 

I mean, I understood, logically, that both Jack and Ann had strained to zero relationships with their parents and they understood that if they wanted any sort of relationship with Brent that path was going to go through me as soon as we decided to get married. I got it. I knew what they were doing. 

But Saturday I felt it. 

That feeling of how important it was. 

Katie has a girlfriend. They've been together for over a year now. I don't know if they will be together forever but as for right now they are planning a future together. All decisions are made together. Katie bases things she does around Slushy's wellbeing. 

And because of that it's important for me to make our relationship a decent one as well. For it to feel comfortable in my house. 

I understood before what Ann was doing. Now I feel it. 

You Have to Believe...

She had always believed in magic. 

It was hard to hold on to that belief as she got older. 

Not because she lost her belief but because others tried their best to take it from her.

They were constantly trying to educate away the small everyday magics in her life.

Dew drops on plants first thing in the morning when there had been no rain. Lightning flashing across in the sky in patterns that looked like letters if she could only remember the letters she had seen before. The different patterns of clouds in the sky. Some fluffy and high like cotton candy, some flat and scattered like they had been painted by a giant brush. 

Every class she had, worked to explain the phenomena that she saw. And the answer was never magic. 

And it wasn't okay with them that she didn't want to know. You couldn't clap your hands over your ears and say NO SPOILERS! and make them stop. You had to know this thing and that thing for the test. And if you failed the test they didn't let you keep your belief they made you take even more classes where they spent even more time explaining away everything that was beautiful. She couldn't find any way to get out of it.

When she was in middle school one of her classmates was allowed to leave class during certain science lessons. He was excused due to his family's religious beliefs. They couldn't make him learn something he didn't believe in and he had a note saying so. 

Her classmate hated that he had to leave. He hated that he was singled out and made to feel different. He hated that the kids teased him and called him a fundy. Even though they didn't really know what a fundy was. 

She actually thought being a fundy sounded kind of nice. Fun was right there in the word. And it meant that you didn't have to learn certain things. Though he was never dismissed during the classes she would want to be dismissed during. He mostly skipped evolution and sex education. Which evolution was kind of magic even when they tried to explain it away so she didn't mind that one. He also was rarely allowed to watch the movies the class got as special treats. Which seemed really unfair but he didn't want to make them watch the only movies his parents would have approved. Which when she asked him one day what those movies were he said he didn't want to talk about it. Not fun at all.  

By the time she was in high school she had learned that religious people did not like their beliefs compared to magic. Even though a lot of it was magical thinking and she never could figure out what the difference was between a miracle and magic. But somehow they knew, and it was important to them that it was different. 

She worked her way through various clubs and organizations. Most of the time when people talked about magic they meant tricks. And they wanted to teach her how to do them too. Which was worse than not having anyone else who loved magic around her. Those people were as bad as her teachers in school. They took something that was magic and made it a trick. And then told people it was magic even though it was a trick and could be taught. It made her head and her heart hurt. 

She tried a group of wiccans but they got mad at her when she asked about magic. We DON'T do that! That's insulting! Well, yeah, it was insulting. How could they call themselves witches when what they really were was just a group of women who liked to camp? Even the ones who did things like charge crystals by the full moon made up pseudosciencey sounding things to explain away what they were clearly hoping was magic. 

Sometimes there would be someone who seemed like they believed as well. They did things like building fairy doors in their gardens. But usually when she talked to them about it they just claimed it was art. Nobody believed fairies really lived in your garden after all. 

It was almost impossible to hold on to the magic that seemed so easy when she was younger. 

Thank goodness she had Clyde. He believed as well. And she trusted him when he spoke to her. When he would tell her that she was right. That there was magic in the world. That the dew drops were really left from the fairies who played on the roses in the night. That the lightning did make letters and sometimes whole words but so quickly that most people couldn't read their secrets. That giants did paint the clouds in the sky. Even though some of them just called it art and pretended there weren't humans there to appreciate the patterns. She trusted Clyde. 

Even though people tried and tried to say dogs were more trustworthy than cats. 

And Go!

Easing my way back into my routines. Which of course would all be blown up this week because of the holiday anyway. But starting to ease back in. 

It's interesting because I really wasn't that sick with Covid. Not like you think of being sick. I had a fever for basically a day. I had a little dry cough that would come and go but it was like *cough, cough* done for another 8 hours. I was really congested for two days. I had a random headache but nothing that was bad. Like a head unpleasant. I've been much sicker with colds for sure. But the fatigue...oh my goodness the fatigue. 

And that's still here. We went to a hockey game on Friday (I tested negative on Thursday) and I only made it through two periods before we headed home. I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open. At a HOCKEY game. And today we are going to go see a musical but it was supposed to be go to the musical then go to the hockey game and we are skipping the hockey game because I cannot imagine I would be able to stay perky enough for that long to enjoy it. 

And my lungs are finally, I want to say clearing, but it's not like when you have a phlegmy cough or that sort of lung congestion. They've just felt heavy. Like breathing was a little harder than normal. Diminished capacity for sure. But that is finally starting to lift. Which I have to think is tied to the exhaustion. Not getting enough oxygen makes you tired.

So now I'm ready to start facing the world again. I mean I still have a bum arm so it's still going to be light work until I can get the procedure done and go through rehab, but pre Covid routine anyway. 

Which means sitting down to write (aren't you lucky that you are getting a health update/planning document to start?) and tomorrow I am going to try and workout. 

I haven't been on the treadmill, which is what I was reduced to since I can't lift weights right now, in two weeks. I told Brent I can't decide if I'm feeling so sluggish because I'm still recovering or if I'm feeling so sluggish because I haven't been able to work out. He said yes. Which is most likely true. 

Now, I do not believe I will be able to go at the pace or the length I was doing before I got sick. I don't feel like I have that level of energy or lung capacity yet. But at least I'll try and do SOMETHING. And start building back up. 

Because I need to move to be able to continue moving. And that's my biggest priority. I want to live to be 100 but a healthy 100 not a husk of my former self 100. So that means getting moving again. 

So here we are. At the end of my personal pandemic (now endemic) saga and ready to start back on daily life. 

And I'm really thankful for that. Even though we are past the part where people were dying by the thousands from this. Even though it's become just part of life that people get Covid and are home sick for a bit. Even though it's not that big of a deal anymore...Even though.  Ann still died from Covid and I still get a little bit of panic each time someone I know tests positive. Including me. 

I think a lot of us are still suffering from a little Covid induced PTSD and it's okay. It was a huge trauma we all went through together. I think it would be weird if we weren't a little shell shocked over it. 

But now the trick is to get moving again. 

Listening...

 “I think someone’s listening.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“Why don’t I know?”

“No, why do you think someone’s listening?”

“Because it’s very quiet when we aren’t speaking.”

“Okay…”

“Like too quiet.”

“Or just that’s what happens when you stop speaking, it’s quiet.”

“But not like this. This is like really quiet. Listen.”

 

“Okay…”

“No, really listen. Like just sit still and wait a little bit.”

“How long?”

“Don’t set a timer, then you’ll be listening for that. Just sit and don’t listen for anything in particular. Just listen.”

“Won’t I be listening for the silence no matter what I’m doing?”

“Stop making it difficult. Just listen. It’s a heavy silence.”

 

 

 

“See?”

“No. It just seemed like we stopped talking. That’s all.”

“Fine. But just keep in mind that I think someone’s listening and be careful what you say.”

“I’m always careful what I say.”

Later when she was cleaning up the room, she found a note. “I know they are listening. Stop talking about them listening. They are ALWAYS listening.”

She knew it was too quiet.

Talismans...

Eight years ago a car manufacturer issued a recall for one of their brands. 

It was Kia, it was on Friday the 13th and it was for the Soul. Kia is Recalling Souls was the headline and it amused me so much that I made it my status update. 

Dana turned it into a writing prompt and posted that as the first comment. 

I was in the middle of a NaNo stint where I was writing fiction every day. Either working on my long story WIP (that I've never finished and probably never will, totally fell out of love with it) or writing a short piece for the blog. I ended up writing 21 different short stories that November. Which is pretty darn good, if I do say so myself. 

So anyway, when Dana wrote that sentence I heard the bell in my head but was busy with another story that day so I made a quick note to come back to that post, that line, and that story. The note was "Dana's Defective Soul." 

Once that notebook was full and I needed to start another one I did my usual routine of paging through to see if there was anything that I wanted to copy from the old pages to the new. A quote I liked. A story idea I had never gone back to. And there is was: Dana's Defective Soul. It made me laugh out loud. If you didn't know what it was about it was a great non sequitur. And if you knew Dana, and specifically the fact that Brent and I often call her some variation on the daughter of my black soul, it would make you laugh too. 

So even though I wrote the story right away and didn't technically need the note I copied it over anyway.

And 8 years later it's still on the front page of my notebook. It's become a talisman of sorts. Something that makes me laugh and also something that reminds me that I can write. I do have moments of raging creativity that can be sparked by something as simple as a headline on a fortuitous date. And that I have people around me who are also crazy creative who I can lean on when I feel I need some creative help. Dana writes. Like capital W writes. I love everything she does. I feel sorry for all of you who don't get to read her stuff and I am her biggest cheerleader for getting published. 

She also sends me writing prompts when she sees ones that are in my wheelhouse. We have similar tastes but her writing is more grounded than mine. (And more technically proficient, I don't think I've ever read a piece of hers where she switched perspective in the middle and then claimed it as a style choice instead of a mistake, hypothetically of course...I mean I would never...) And most of the time when she sends me a prompt it does cause that bell to ring and I'm off to the races.

I love that bell ring moment. When I hear something or see something and it resonates in my head. THIS WILL BE A STORY. It starts the gears turning. The dialog, the scene, the feeling. Whatever it is about that moment that spins out into a story. Depending on if I can sit and write right away or if there is enough there yet to sit and write right away I start working it out in my head. Often I've "written" a scene or a piece of dialog multiple times while cleaning a bathroom, or washing dishes, or going for a walk. I know that I've written really great stories that became sort of okay when trying to remember them to write them down. Or at least that's what I tell myself...

I think that's what I'm looking for in 2024. More of those bell ring moments. Not just with writing but with life in general. Those moments where you know that this is the right path. This is what you should be working on right now. This is your story. 

And speaking of stories, here is the link to the story I'm talking about. The opening line is what Dana wrote in response to my post, without the "and go!" part. 

Help Yourself #11....

Now I feel sort of badly that I went ahead and switched my combo bio and self help book to December because this one would have been a great one to go out on. 

Radiant Rebellion: Reclaim Aging, Practice Joy, and Raise a Little Hell by Karen Walrond

I know right? 

And it totally lived up to the title. It was more of a book about her journey, when she hit 55 and realized that she needed to really evaluate what her next steps looked like. A lot of good stuff in there. Including a whole section on internalized ageism. Even those of us who aren't really afraid of getting older, or who try our best to embrace it harbor some of that feeling and it was interesting to have that mirror held up.

Basically a lot of times what we think of as problems with being old aren't really due to age at all. Like when you think to yourself, I am old, what are you really thinking about right then? I am tired. I am stressed. I am not in the shape I used to be. I don't feel sexy. I don't feel seen. What is it really and is it something you can fix? 

What do we mean when we talk about being young? Do we mean vibrant? Sexy? Full of potential? What do we really mean by young and old? 

I am older. There are things that go along with that. But also there are things that are in my control. When you age you lose muscle tone. People don't really know why. (Isn't that a kicker?) Possibly hormonal changes, possibly some function in the cells related to time, possibly a biological throwback to needing less protein resources so the members of your tribe that were still having kids could have more and you could exist on fewer. BUT I can help negate that loss by making sure I'm doing weight bearing exercise to keep the muscles I have in good shape so I can be independent and pain free. 

My hormones are shifting and that comes with a host of other side effects but I can change the way I eat, or take supplements to help balance that. 

None of that is a problem. It's a difference in life time periods, but it's not a pathology. 

She talked about finding a guiding purpose, a spark statement, a cause, ways that you like to play and making sure you do it. Keeping your own style in mind, if you want to go gray, go gray. Don't dress a certain way because you're "supposed" to but dress in a way that when you look in the mirror you say Oh there I am!

I know, a lot of this sounds like stuff I've been talking about for awhile and I know that's why I liked it so much. But it's always nice to find people that agree with you. And she doesn't just write about what she thinks, she talks to people who are working on those things. It's a self help book full of self help books.

Here is another funny aside to the book...

She talks a lot throughout that she has her notebook; where she writes things down, where she ponders her life questions and sets intentions, works out ideas. At the end of the book she has a section on how you can set up your own notebook to follow what she did that year. The things she asked herself about what she wanted to do and how she wanted to live. Sectioned out like the book, the questions you could write out. The Radiant Rebellion manifesto to put in the front. 

So as I was reading that the American Consumer Former Marketer in me thought...she should have published a workbook to go with her book. People would buy a ready made version of this with blank spaces to fill in their own writing. So I went and looked to see if she had. 

There are two workbooks to go with the book on Amazon. Someone else has made them. More American Capitalist than me, I just thought she should have, they figured out a way to make money on her work. 

I won't be setting up my own version of her notebook. I sort of already have a place where I write out my thoughts on all of those subjects... but I do recommend the book. Her book, not the knockoff notebooks.

Hopefully next month's book will be a good one because this one was one of the best of lot. 

Letter...

When the letter showed up, I wasn’t even curious. Not really. I mean, okay, I was a little curious. Just in a vague “who would just drop a letter on the porch” sort of way. But not like overly curious.

I just brought it inside and set it on the kitchen counter where we put all of the unopened mail. Because really it was just mail, right? I mean if it had come in the mailbox, I wouldn’t have paid any attention to it at all. Just dropped it on the counter with any other mail for the day that wasn’t addressed to me.

Because this wasn’t addressed to me, it wasn’t any of my business at all. No reason to be curious. If it had been addressed to me then of course I would have wondered “who dropped a letter off to me like this?” before I opened it and found out.

Not that I was going to open this letter. Because I wasn’t. Because I wasn’t really curious about it.

Not really. I mean I did pick it up and look at it a few times. I might have even held it up to the light a little to see if I could see what was in the envelope. I wasn’t like really curious as to what a letter might say, but what if it wasn’t a letter? What if it was like powder or something that I shouldn’t keep on the counter where the cats could knock it off or the kids could get into it accidentally? I mean, there was that big anthrax scare like 30 years ago, so it wasn’t out of the realm of possibilities.

But I wasn’t like super curious about it.

It was a letter. It had just been dropped off on the porch without anyone even tripping the Ring camera. I mean, sure I looked at that footage to see if I could find out who dropped it off, but that was more about concern that I didn’t get a notification that someone came that close to the door. What good is a doorbell camera if it doesn’t record people coming close to the doorbell? So, I watched the footage. A few times. Nothing.

But that’s not that big of a deal. Sometimes it just doesn’t catch everything. It doesn’t mean that someone was really careful to come up to the door at the exact right angle to not trip the cameras. Doing it purposefully so I, I mean we, wouldn’t be able to see who dropped it off. I’m sure it was just a coincidence.

It was just a letter. Dropped off on the porch by some mystery person. Not addressed to me. It’s not a big deal. Nothing to be curious about at all.

And even if I was really curious all I would have had to do was text him that a letter came for him, and did he want me to open it and he would say sure. Because why wouldn’t he? So, I didn’t have a reason to worry about anything which meant I didn’t have to be curious.

And since I knew exactly what he would say did I really even need to bother him with a text?

Not that I was going to open the letter.

That was until he sent me a text asking if anyone had dropped something off for him. And when I asked what he was expecting he suddenly had to go into a meeting and would talk to me later.

Now that was a little curious right? Why would you text me and then not have time to answer a question? Like a simple question too. Nothing that needed a lot of time. Just a quick, so and so was going to drop off a letter. That’s all. Easy.

I looked back over the Ring footage one more time and yeah, there was no time where you saw the letter get dropped off or saw it on the mat because it was too close to the door for the camera angle, and I picked it up when I brought in the UPS package that was delivered later, that was on the camera. But not the letter. There was no sign that the letter was delivered at all. Or that it was picked up.

If someone else got curious about it, they wouldn’t be able to tell it had come. If I said there was nothing delivered for him, the only thing that came today was the UPS package of things I had ordered from Amazon. See? Here’s the box…

That would be all there was.

I’m sure he would be curious as to why someone told him they dropped off a letter and there was no letter but…

When the letter showed up, I wasn’t even curious. Not really.