Beatitudes of Mine

Even though I've been on a hiatus, I haven't been uninspired. I finally realized that with my short term memory loss, I'd better put pen to paper (fingers to keyboard) or I will lose all such inspiration forevermore. I DID have the foresight to make notes occasionally, but forgot where I put them.

 I've decided that it's time for me to take inventory. My blessings are many and varied. I am forever appreciative, and know that these gifts deserve recognition. I can begin with my most recent reminder.

 I live in Michigan and we are in the middle of a heat wave. I love Michigan, but no one ever moves here for the climate. Our winters are usually long and brutal, our summers hot, hot, hot and humid. Springtime here is lovely, as it is everywhere, and autumn is glorious. 

Today, to accommodate my heat exhaustion, I cranked up the central air to 'Arctic.' I then donned sweater and socks, and reveled in my luxury. Conversely, in the midst of one of our seemingly endless winters, I push the heat up to 'Hell' and open the windows. I know this is ridiculous, but I am fortunate enough to have been blessed with a life that has afforded me such wasteful luxury. Summer or winter, I sleep enveloped in a lush, down comforter, well aware as I nestle in for the night that I am in the minority, and I know not why.

 I'm overweight. That means I have too MUCH to eat. Even at my advanced age, I still eat like an unsupervised six year old. I consider chocolate a staple,and yes, I eat it every day. If there is none in the pantry, there soon will be.

 I live in a beautiful condo, tastefully done and adorned with my collections, hobbies and keepsakes, to which I am continually adding. It is my sanctuary, not that I'm in need of one, per se, because my life is mostly stress free and definitely happy.

 I have a designer dog who eats better than people in third world countries. She is pampered and spoiled and greatly loved. In fact, as it is with most dogs and their owners, we have a mutual admiration society.

I've enjoyed wonderful vacations, here and abroad and my idea of camping is the Holiday Inn instead of the Ritz Carleton . I've feasted on lobster and caviar and the the best of the best. I love a hot dog as much as a chilled bottle of Dom Perignon.

 I am so blessed in knowing that I am loved and respected by family and friends. Their presence in my life is especially fortuitous and I don't know what I would do without them.

 So, when my time comes, and I enter heaven (and I will) the first thing I will ask my Maker is why. Why is there so much wealth in the world and the ratio so wrong? Why are there Trumps and sheiks and places like Dubai? Why are there homeless and lost and broken and sick? Where is the middle ground? Why didn't God practice socialism?

 Why me? Why did You bless me in this way, so perfectly, so sumptuously and some, not at all?

 I'm healthy and wealthy and not very wise.

Back (with a vengence)

I did it. I managed to keep quiet for two months. That's not to say I haven't been running a monologue in my head. I realize now that if I don't put it in writing I'll self destruct. Mission Impossible. I'm about to choke on my own words,I'm that angry.

 It's this: (Evidently, I'm old enough to be cantankerous, and no longer a good sport.) I saw a picture,one I was surely not meant to see, of a ten year old,who happens to be related to me. Somehow, this ten year old has a Facebook page. While it is marked "private," a profile picture is there for all the world to see. One in which this pretty little girl looks like a pedophile's dream.She is in full makeup,wearing a cobalt blue, sequined costume, in a provocative pose.

 Facebook, to which I am addicted, admittedly, has some guidelines, but who is there to police them? Members should be at least thirteen years old and have a 'friend' base of mostly relatives. I have two nephews,aged thirteen and sixteen, whom I know are being policed. Their pages are funny, informative and wholesome.

 The girls frighten me. These kids,not even 'tweens' yet are getting routine manicures, go to Justin Beiber concerts,see Taylor Swift, travel on their own and, seemingly, have skipped puberty altogether. REALLY ???? It scares me, it does. Can't we keep them children, and free from harm a little bit longer? Maybe not, since everybody's doin' it. Peer pressure rules the senses.

 There is a reality show called "Dance Moms" in which little girls, clearly being exploited by their mothers, are showcased in unbelievable costumes,'flesh toned' skin tight, sequined numbers, gyrating to sexually explicit lyrics. Seems to me their moms are living vicariously through them and are reinventing the attention whores they, themselves have become. Jon Benet? Doesn't anyone remember her? I saw her father recently on a talk show and he will never be able to kiss her goodnight again and completely regrets ever condoning her competitions.

 People, get a clue. It goes so fast, so quickly, please don't rush them. Remember Brownies and lemonade stands?

 Remember too, that you don't get a do-over.

Speechless, for Once...

I, for one, have never been at a loss for words. Until now.

This is, evidently, a good thing.  Facebook friends, including my own daughter, have 'hidden' me from their news feeds. Evidently, I am omnipresent, therefore, a nuisance. Granted, I certainly have time on my hands & my IPhone ever ready, so yes, I would say I update my status frequently, but so do others. I have regulars who, when they're offline, are missed. At least by me.

Perhaps I would be better on Twitter, or at least more welcome. Twitter, in my opinion, is vapid and banal. Updates there are so trivial that people are posting the color of their socks. Facebook, on the other hand, with it's capacity for  photos,links to interesting articles, music and games is much more resourseful. I'm an addict, I admit it.

Especially since retired, it makes me feel less out of the loop, so to speak. When you're out there in the working world, you're inundated with stimulae. While I hardly feel isolated, it's nice to have my finger on the pulse and Facebook does that for me.


I was given the gift of gab, but absolutely no sense of direction. I'm so chatty that my brother has a letter our mother sent him while he was in Viet Nam. I swear he keeps it to hold over my head. Mom's letters to him were always newsy, with a paragraph or two about each of us still at home. The one he loves to taunt me with says this : "Molly remains ebbuliant,to the point of nausea, and tedium."  (Thanks, Mom) Doesn't matter, I know she loved me (most of all, haha)


At any rate, as mentioned in a previous post, I'm running out of things to blog about. When I started this, almost a year ago, I vowed not to become like Andy Rooney (RIP) who made a great career out of kvetching. So far, I've written about things that matter to me, important things, trivial things and a modicum of complaints. My columns are getting more and more infrequent. Even I am getting bored with me.

So, until the next chapter of my life, the next great adventure, I'll be posting even less. Right now, the next big goal is to move overseas with my daughter and her family. I have been invited, they have goals for themselves and plans for me. BIG plans. I hope this comes to pass.

I'm grateful for the people who've followed this, and a little surprised. I've learned a lot about blogging, more than I ever thought was out there, in the blogosphere. I've loved it, I will continue to read my favorite bloggers and hope I get inspired.


For now, though, I'm at a loss for words.



Thy Will be Done

I'm one of those cafeteria catholics. The faith is ingrained, the rules, not so much. I'm not just giving lip service to the changes so desperately needed, I'm a bit of an activist, too. But this entry is not about the politics or policies or changes that need to be made. This one is about an other worldly experience I recently had. One that filled me with peace and wonder when all was said and done.


Most catholics I know have stopped going to mass, at least regularly. This is a big transgression, It's one of the rules, dontchaknow.  I'd been pretty good about it for the last twenty years, involved, here and there, with my parish, my community. Then I got 'fed up with the set up.' I got pissed, so I quit going, to that particular church. Money grubbers and for all the wrong reasons. So I shopped. I tried a few new places, and I revisited old favorites. I got discouraged, and I fell off the bandwagon.


I skipped mass for almost two years, prayed for forgiveness, but didn't return. I missed it, though, I've always loved the mass.


Then, after a move, I started researching churches in my new 'hood.' Online, drive-bys, stop ins.  I found one I liked. A LOT. I stepped up my attendance and became familiar and comforted. Now I know why.


I have a friend, a very good friend, and I am close to her entire family. I love these people, I know them well. They too, are Irish catholics and we go way back. They stopped being compliant back when we all did, too many changes. The matriarch, however, missed her church, but was outnumbered and stopped driving years ago, after her husband died.



I had a great relationship with Helen, one of the few people in my life who truly 'got' me. We could talk forever, singing old songs, telling stories, eating chocolate and laughing til we cried. Helen was in her late 80's when we really connected. She was great company. What a wit !


Anyway, Helen thought I was a good catholic, she asked me to take her to mass "sometime." She missed the mass, she loved it too,back when it was sacred to all of us. I never did take her, I was church shopping at the time, but assured her I would come through when I found one I thought she'd like.


 I finally found that church. It is charming, it is small, but regal, it is filled with a congregation of all peoples. A true melting pot in an idyllic setting. A pastor who is a character in and of himself, much like Helen.


After months of keeping this secret to myself (now I know why) I finally invited Helen and her daughter to join me for a noon mass one summer Sunday. They accepted. I was so looking forward to sharing my treasure.


On the day, I was waiting to be picked up by Helen and her daughter, my 'sistah-friend' (Mary) and was mildly surprised when only Mary showed up. Helen (now 92) didn't feel well enough but strongly urged Mary and I to go anyway. We did. Mary was enchanted by the mass, the priest, the setting, the community.


And then, in the middle of mass, she cried. And I knew why.


She cried because she knew that we had found the place that would comfort her mother enough to let go, to let go and join her family in heaven. When I saw her tears, a part of me knew, too, what had just happened.


A week later, Mary took Helen to mass. Helen was duly dazzled, and, evidently, greatly relieved. They joined the parish on the spot.


Two weeks after that, Helen had a stroke, severe enough to get her admitted to the hospital. Then, shortly after that, another one, severe enough to bring in Hospice. 



You know what comes next. Helen did let go, having lived out her life in good health, all faculties and dignity intact. Her children arranged a wonderful funeral, in that perfect setting. I was pushy enough to suggest the music, aprapo and beautiful, if a little schmaltzy. I knew she'd love it and was so tickled when her children went with my suggestions.


So, I never went back. I didn't feel the need , I didn't have the inclination. I know I need to, but I have a myriad of excuses, all valid. It's almost as if  my mission was accomplished. I feel validated, I feel wonderful. I know that God again, has used me in His way.


It's magical, it's mystical and I believe it with all my heart. My God has used me in many ways,and that fills me with happiness.


I've got a lot of energy still left in the ol' chassis, Lord.


Reporting for duty.

and so it goes...

retirement. That's the way God planned it. I never thought I'd be so busy ! Sometimes, I wonder how I ever had time to work.  I lie awake at night, (a bad habit, another column,) and think of the next day's schedule. I cannot believe, that much like when I was working, I long for a down day. But at this stage, early in my retirement, it's not to be - I have a lot of unfinished/new business to attend to.


It's all important, it's all noteworthy, at least in my book. But it runs like a litany ~ it's all timed, fercrissake ! 


Of course, my top priority are my kids. That hasn't changed, but their needs have. They no longer have papers due, they have 'meetings.' So I must be there for child care. My pleasure, no doubt. But I have to plan my own activities accordingly. Mundane things, but vital...Dr's app'ts, license renewal, flu shot, mass, fercrissake (literally!)


But to get back to the way God plans it - a very important person in my life once shared her theory with me. Interesting, because it has to do with God's plan, and she is not in the least bit spiritual. She said that there's a reason for menopause and there's a reason for timelines. I believe her, and I am spiritual. In the 'Word according to Deb,' our children leave for college at exactly the time they are getting on our last nerves. We are annoyed, fed up and heartsick all at the same time, the time to let go. So true !


Another of her reasons for menopause: (I buy into this one, too, big time-) just at the age our grandkids come along, we're too tired to be a full time parent. We can love and adore them and be ready for them to leave, just in time, just when we've expended our energies.


Menopause, as they say, has the prefix 'men' and the root word, 'pause' which is fitting, at our age. I'm too tired and not interested in anything but the occasional cuddle. As a clinician, I know the guys are in the same place we are. You know you're really old when your drug of choice is...Viagra.


                                     "Man plans; God laughs"



 

The Life of Riley; Update

Riley gives new meaning to the term "lucky dog."

She's like Barbie-the bitch has everything !

Until yesterday, she had never seen another dog up close since her litter-mates. Yesterday was probably the greatest stressor of her life so far.(she has yet to be neutered, so until next month, the bar is set pretty low, admittedly.)

Yesterday, she had her first grooming appointment. As with everything in her life so far, she went charging in full throttle. All new faces, up close and personal, all new sounds and smells. I dropped her off with the experts, not without some trepidation. I'm used to lengthy appointments and planned my day accordingly, In ninety minutes I got the call to come and pick her up. I wondered why, what could've gone wrong....but nothing had gone awry, I had a different groomer this time, one who managed time more effectively. I came back to find a full grown dog where a puppy had been. Granted, a ten pound dog is never going to look all that adult, but the change was startling, albeit beautifully done.

She seemed lost, confused,totally without confidence (and without fur, to be sure) she seemed completely indifferent to me and not in the least bit relieved that I was even there.

I had hoped to relieve some of the tension for her by issuing strong orders that my dog was not to be decorated in any way. No bows, bandanas or nail polish. It's a pet peeve of mine (pun intended)

I corralled her into her carrier, a nylon/mesh number she's used to traveling in. I tossed in a treat and spoke soothingly to her on the way home. When we arrived, she wouldn't be coaxed out. It was all I could do not to dump the carrier upside down to get her out. Finally, I reached in to pull her out and my hands landed in Godknowswhat.

I pulled out the darlin' only to rush her to the tub tuit suite. She was so upset, she had puked all the way home. I had paid $35.00 + tip only to take her home & rebathe her in an oatmeal wash.

Not for her, the ubiquitous grooming salon to which her breed is accustomed.. From now on, it's clippers and bath tub and air drying at home.

My little princess has made her personality known to me. She is a tomboy through and through, just like her owner.

I'm so proud ~



Love Hurts

I'll never understand it. I guess I never had it. Oh, I thought I did, too many times, but I was always wrong, sadly mistaken. My relationships always ended by me, there was never any "til death do us part" in my experience.


Which is fine! I was never devastated by these romances, always relieved in the end. Invariably, there were messes to be cleaned up and handled, Drama, to be sure,tears to be shed, but fortunately (for me) I walked away unscathed, for the most part. At least I recovered, pretty quickly, each time.


So now I'm at a point in my life, and have been for years, where I've become too set in my ways to ever compromise with anyone. I'm used to my solitude,I prefer it. I've come to realize I'd rather be alone than wish I were. It's all good.


In my experience, it turned out to be permanent children and temporary marriages.  (a phrase I borrowed from a close friend who was referring to me.) and while I may have been sidetracked while seeking validation, my kids always came first. Sometimes, they were the deal breaker. They were always worth it. The point is, you have to love yourself first. Until you do,you are seeking validation from others. Until you do, you will never reach fulfillment.


Right now, I'm reliving my experiences through a friend who has not yet realized that her priorities are screwed up. Someone, at some point, damaged her so much that she thinks she needs someone to validate her. She can't see that her children do. She's caught up in the day to day annoyances of homework and schedules and bullshit that drive us all nuts at times. She's not looking into those big brown eyes who adore her so much and look to her for everything from safety and meals to fun. Even the dog is a pain in the ass.

I have memorized, and can recite more platitudes than you knew existed, but I'll spare you (you're welcome)

When she sees it for herself, she will be happier than she ever dreamed she could be. I am, platitudes be damned. It was life's experiences that got me here.

"Grow old along with me, the best is yet to be."  How's that for a platitude?

I am growing older and I cherish every moment. I never dreamt it could be so perfect. I'm happier than I ever could imagine.

I get it, God, and it was worth waiting for ~