Why is it, after tossing left, right, front and back for 3 hours in the middle of the night, I always manage to be asleep when my alarm goes off?
At some point, those life and death problems I can’t seem to shake are tucked away long enough for me to drift off, only to be startled by the sound coming from my phone.
Saturday morning I was having some BIG emotions. I was deep in Woe-is-me-ville territory. It’s weird how it can hit me.
The day before was great with celebrating our son’s birthday. We went out to dinner and dessert….. and that started me thinking about what food I put into my body that day.
Breakfast might have been a spinach smoothie, ok that’s normal.
I was running late preparing for work, so I didn’t have time to pack a lunch. Hmmm. Husband came by the office and took me out and I had a grilled cheese sandwich and half his French fries. Not normal. I can’t tell you the last time I ate white bread, and since they didn’t ask what kind I wanted, I’ll assume that’s what it was.
I starved my way until dinner, where I had four super thin crust pieces of pizza, followed by a cup of hazelnut gelato, and, when we got home, the Italian Eclair topped with vanilla and chocolate cream that I purchased as a treat. I ate that around 7:30pm.
Hmmm. Lots of “bready” stuff, rich dessert past my dinner time followed by sitting on the couch. No alcohol though!
I’m beginning to understand the reason for my mood. It was a food hangover.
I snapped at my husband when he came to give me some comfort, accused him of patronizing me but I was quickly able to turn that around and just tell him I didn’t know what the he** was going on, and thanked him for being there for me.
We went out for a little retail therapy after lunch – book store (“The Calamity Club” for my book club), Marshalls (shower cap while looking for a water infuser), and Michael’s (some yarn for a scarf).
I’m now in the land of All’s-right-with-the-world and boy, it feels good!
It’s crazy how what I consume can affect my mood. Do you notice the same when you have too much of something you don’t normally eat?
Yesterday was my son’s 36th birthday. It feels so momentous to have a child that old. Of course it makes me think back to what I was doing when I was 36.
I was raising a 6 year old who had just finished up kindergarten. I was working a job I hated, at a company I loved. We had passed the one year anniversary of our move from California back to purchase my childhood home in Connecticut. My father lived with us for five years after that. My mother-in-law was diagnosed with cancer that April and in the next month, my husband would travel back to California to visit her one last time.
My son was loving life in 1996, oblivious, I hope, to the turmoil around him. He was spending days at the YMCA camp along with after camp care until one of us picked him up. He spent some Fridays with a friend’s family at a favorite Rhode Island beach. Most weekends were spent at my sister’s in-law’s pool with the rest of his cousins by marriage.
It was a time of trying to make everyone happy. Appease everyone. Get to work, don’t fuck up, don’t get sick because then someone had to do my job. Make sure no one felt slighted or offended by any choices I made. I didn’t have that living in California, but I had it in aces here.
It did smooth out and get better. I left that job and found another closer to home with better hours, and better pay. I adjusted to life in the family fold while creating my own life with my own family.
That’s a look at my summer at 36.
My husband and I wrote letters to each other from May until September in 1987. We met in early May, went home to our separate coasts, visited twice, and I moved to California five months after we left.
I don’t think I’ve ever re-read the letters, just carried them around from house to house, and took them on another cross country move.
I read them all again the other day. Wow. Talk about some in-depth thoughts and dreams. Mine, of course. His letters were sometimes a half of a page. But they talked of our visits, and our day to day lives.
I look at my husband now and I fall in love with him all over again.
I call myself a Realist which is defined as “someone who recognizes and accepts situations as they actually are, dealing with them in a practical and objective manner.” But what happens, when that Realist never looks at the good that happens? They’re always working in the next situation, “dealing with it in a practical and objective manner”? Like Sisyphus pushing that rock up a hill over and over. Did they get to stop and say “hey! Good job!”
The other day, a blog I look forward to reading every day, Waking Up on the Wrong Side of 50, celebrated her mini goals, big and small, and I know this is something I need to do for myself.
Though I don’t have any specific goals, her post made me realize, I need to reflect, recognize and celebrate the big and small events of the day.
I got through my day, recognizing and accepting situations, dealing with them in a practical and objective manner. Sometimes with a lot of loud, choice words, but I get through it. And then I get up and do it again, and again and again. Never stopping to think, “hey, that was a good thing that happened here”.
It’s time.
It’s not really my garden because my husband maintains all of it. I just walk through, admire, and take pictures.
I have hundreds of pictures. So many that I had to create a Garden album in my IPhone photos.
I love watching the bees on the lavender they’re my favorite to observe.
The lavender got pummeled by the rain and wind we had last night.
I could spend all day sitting in my garden.
I had a really amazing summer vacation in June. My husband and I drove to Nashville, Tennessee to meet up with cousins flying in from Washington State. We have visited with them many times and enjoy their company. The driving trip brought back memories of our trip across the country in 1995. I already talked about that here.
We spent four days driving there with three overnights in Hagerstown MD, Asheville NC, and Gatlinburg TN.
We stayed in an air bnb just a few blocks from Broadway and really got to see the city with the Hop On, Hop Off trolley, and a lot of walking! The food was amazing, and sunsets from the pedestrian bridge across the Cumberland River were so beautiful.
We parted ways with one couple on Wednesday and we and the other couple headed to Memphis to listen to the music and visit Graceland. Memphis is much different than Nashville but I enjoyed the atmosphere and the music. The food was very good there too!
We headed home on Friday and initially wondered if we’d be able to make it home by Saturday evening. It was no problem getting to Roanoke VA and pulling into our driveway on Saturday evening. It was no surprise that the only accident delay we encountered was at the very end about a half hour from home!
We enjoyed the trip and would like to get back down to the Maryland area to scout out more battlefields, and are thinking of other places to go that allow us to drive and sightsee.
This week’s mediation with Dennis Morton on Peloton is again, visualization. I think it’s all month actually!
He says to imagine a door – make it double doors – and as you breathe in bring yourself closer to the door. As you breathe out, the doors open and you go through them. Over and over again.
This is hard for me because I just want those doors to open and to come out on the other side, like to a babbling brook, not to another door!
My doors are big doors, with rivets framing the edges and a metal pad where you would put your hand to push it. Sometimes they are blue and remind me of the double doors leading out to the stairwell at my elementary school. There’s a rectangle window in each one so you can see if someone is on the other side.
Sometimes they are doors like in my mudroom, stained wood with rain glass in the window panes you can’t see the mess on the other side. Except they open out, and would crack me in the head.
What would your door look like if you wanted to bust through one while meditating?
I was sitting outside reading and noticed a pretty scent in the air. There were no flowers around me so I thought, “someone is doing laundry!” Then I thought, “I’m doing laundry”. But to have a scent would be impossible because I use All Free-Clear which is 100% free of perfumes & dyes.
But when I took my laundry out of the dryer, I inhaled the pillow case in my hand and sure enough, there was that scent! Each piece of laundry I took out of the dryer, I put to my nose to inhale the scent.
So evidently, something that is free of perfumes does not NOT have a scent?
My husband and I are taking a road trip this summer from Connecticut to Nashville to meet up with cousins from Washington State and then continuing on with one couple to Memphis for 2 nights and one full day.
I’ve taken similar road trips over the last 31 years with the most memorable one being our one way cross-country trip from California to Connecticut. We had some troubles in our California living, mainly that it was too expensive to live there in 1995. My dad, who had been alone for 8 years after my mother died, was reluctant to sell the family home to me in 1989 when I asked, but was convinced five years later by my sister to do it. We’re glad it all worked out.
We sold our home in a very short time, packed up our belongings, shipped the pickup truck ahead of us, watched the moving van people pack our boxes, and we headed out the door.
We drove south to say goodbye to family and then headed east. Our trip included stops at Hoover Dam and the Grand Canyon because who knew when we’d have the chance again? We planned a somewhat leisurely trip, planning also 2 days in Oklahoma to visit family, a stop in Washington DC, and Baltimore Maryland.
We stayed overnight in Kingman and Flagstaff Arizona, and Santa Rosa New Mexico. Once we hit Oklahoma, those plans flew out the window. We just wanted to get “Home”. That, and the moving van arrived sooner than expected and my father was freaking out! He kept saying, “there’s room in the garage”, and I kept replying, “I don’t know about that”. Unfortunately, I was right! So, we decided it was time to keep moving.
We cut our time short in Oklahoma by a day, made it to Memphis Tennessee, then Roanoke Virginia, and pulled into Connecticut on Saturday evening. 3,051 miles in eight days.
Our son, who was almost 5 at the time was such a trooper! There were no “no child in the front seat” or “children in car seats until a certain weight” back then so he and I took turns in the front seat, or sometimes I was in the back seat with him playing games, or very often, he entertained himself drawing or listening to music. I made sure that every Best Western we stayed at had a pool and that made him happy. He never complained about the hours in the car.
This time, we’re taking our time to Nashville (I swear!), and stopping in Maryland with a trip to Antietam Battle Grounds the next day, followed by Asheville North Carolina, Gatlinburg, and on to Nashville. Each stop includes some planned time to explore.
Driving back to Connecticut though will be reminiscent of the last days of our 1995 trip though since we want to push to get home by Saturday (again). Memphis to Roanoke to Connecticut.
Thoughts From The Passenger Seat 