Old Dog, New Trick

We don't do Valentine's Day, not really. Anniversaries, yes. Valentines Day, Sweetest Day, Hallmark Holidays, No.  So imagine my surprise coming home to this:

My husband of 25 years had to go out of town unexpectedly last week, during the Valentine's Day hoopla. I didn't mind, because, like I said, we don't do this holiday, plus I had to work until 9 anyway. I had to work late the next night too, and he got home before me and left me this very big box of candy on the counter, so it was the first thing I saw when I walked in the door.

Of course I cried. Because, it was unexpected, and I didn't reciprocate, because, like I said, we don't do this holiday, and mostly because, I have a major thing for DeBrand chocolates, hand made with love in Fort Wayne, Indiana. I almost asked him to bring me home some, because I covet them and it's been years since I splurged, but I didn't, mostly because I don't need candy at all in my life right now. I need salad. And a treadmill.

But these candies. Oh my. The PB and J or the strawberry rhubarb cream, the maple cream, or the caramel apple, I can't decide which one is my favorite. They are indescribably unique and yummy.

Of course, it was the day after Valentine's when he was there, so they were buy one get one. This is what's left of the second box. I forgive him, I have to, right? Especially since he bought the ones that nobody really likes but me, so guess who's eaten way too much chocolate this week?

It's nice to be surprised after all these years, and to realize the guy still has some tricks up his sleeve. Sad to learn I can be had for a box or two of chocolates, but hey, at least they were expensive ones, right?

Hope yours was surprisingly sweet too.

Unbroken is Unbelievable

I can't come up with enough superlatives to  describe how much I love this book, it's subject, Louie Zamperini, and the author, Laura Hillenbrand.  Here's the review I posted on Amazon and Librarything, which doesn't begin to do justice. If you've read Unbroken, you know what I mean. If you haven't, trust me, you should.

Unbroken is an amazing work of narrative fiction, and Louis Zamperini's life story is phenomenal and inspirational. From his misspent youth to his Olympic feats, from his World War II service to his survival against all odds adrift at sea, then enslaved and brutalized in POW camps, Louie's spirit, endurance and courage embody the Greatest Generation at its finest. I raced through this book in two days and was amazed that I had never heard of this wonderful man, whose life deserves acknowledgement and celebration.

Laura Hillenbrand writes extremely well, deftly weaving historical facts and figures into the carefully researched and compelling narrative. It is not just the story of one man's journey and survival, it is a fascinating overview of the War effort on the home front and the Pacific theater, as well as a sobering look at the unimaginable plight of prisoners of war. I was moved to chills, tears and cheers repeatedly throughout this book, which I consider one of the best I have read in years. Very highly recommended.

A Small Curse to the Universe

So.

This is my cousin Lee, a photo from childhood that captures everything amazing about her, especially her love of the water. She's pretty amazing in every way and her accomplishments humble me - she's smart, wicked funny, well traveled, bilingual, she's a boat captain, a harbor master, restaurant owner, swimming instructor, women's fire arms safety instructor, a wife, mom, and grandmom. She's 54.

She has early onset Alzheimer's.

Just like our Grandmother. Only sooner.

So.

I said some awful things to the Universe when I got the news yesterday, cursed a little, cried a little. I'm going to be pissed for a very long time, quite likely forever. I'm not going to handle this with the grace Lee has, I just don't have it in me. It's just so fucking unfair.

So.

.

You try, you try, you try ....

This post comes with a sound track. A bad recording, but the only one I could find of one of my favorite songs, and my theme song for this year. Play Bain Mattox's You Try, and read, if you will.



Well, better late than never as New Year's posts go. This one languished as a draft for three weeks.
I was inspired by retrospective posts I've enjoyed on other blogs and thought I'd try a photo retrospective, but failed miserably. It's no small task to find 12 highlights from 11,052 photos from last year. I got a little freaked out when I added them up. So I gave up on that notion. But here I am, reflecting anyway. It's good to look back and take stock, to make plans for the coming year.

When I reflect back on 2011, I have issues with relativity and perspective, so I'm glad I have my photo archives to remind me of the muchness of the past year. 2011 runs into a puddle that started around 2000, no thanks to chronic neck and joint pain and menopausal exhaustion, with a sprinkle of periodic depression.  I've done my best to hang on and be the parent, the wife and the daughter I needed to be, but if I had a do-over, I'd try to smile and laugh and relax more. It's been a year of drama and I've tried to keep a calm center on the home front, tried not to wallow in pity or midlife existential crisis, to think long term. Again, not been easy. I've often felt like I was slogging through deep mud, that I was doing everything wrong, or worse than I intended, and I've tried very hard to shut down my inner critic and just do my best. What else can a person do?

You live your life

You try, you try, you try

To come to life

You try, you try, you try

To walk the earth

You try, you try, you try

You die from birth

You try, you try, you try

So here's to 2012, a fresh start. I have high hopes. First, 12 is my favorite number, has been since I was nine, when I put my quarter on number 12 at the carnival and won my giant pink cat. I'm hoping that 2012 will be kind to me. It's the year of the dragon, a symbol of power, and I like that. Also, my doctor told me five years ago that most menopause symptoms are gone by the 9th year. 2012 will be my 9th year of debilitating hot flashes, night sweats, bad dreams, disturbed sleep and insomnia, and I'm hoping for a reprieve, because I'm worn out. And since the doomsdayers are predicting yet another apocalypse in 2012, I'm hoping for a good year just to make a point. Lastly, I'm finally wise enough to begin to understand that the only thing I can control or change is me, and I've been reading some things about aging gracefully and spiritually, and using some Zen and Buddhist mojo to reorient my thought processes, and that alone has given me a sense of calm and hope going into this year like no other.

Philosophically, I'll be working on being in the now, the vertical timeline, and not obsessing on the horizontal timeline. I'll be visualizing my monkey brain riding a purposeful elephant, maybe in a wonderful parade of tigers and dragons. When things get scary or stressful or too hard, I'm going to visualize my calm lake with a storm passing by, and I'm going to think the wind and the clouds away and make the calm happen until the sun comes out again. Or sail away from the storm. Whatever works.

Practically, I'll be working on incremental improvements. I'm going to fight being crabby when the mood strikes me, especially around my kids. I'm going to be as kind as I can for as long as I can. I'm going to start getting rid of the things that don't make our lives better - the clutter, the things that don't work, the things that take up too much space. I'm going to spend as much time outside as I can. I'm going to start planning a better garden this winter, and have my seeds started on time for once. I'm going to eat healthier and continue to shop locally. Maybe even exercise a bit. Maybe. Or maybe just walk the dog more often.

Pie in the sky wise, I'm going to finish those baby scrapbooks and  convert all those mini-VHS to DVD's to give to my almost grown children so they can know who they are and who they were and where they came from. I know how important it is to know those things, even though they might not care for a few more decades. They will someday, and I'll hopefully have it done by then.

Time sure does fly.

This year, every time I breathe in, I'm going to be grateful and breathe out real slow, and be glad to inhale the next time. I'll be glad to see and share the world through the eyes and hearts of my blogger friends, and I resolve to keep reading here in the magical internet, and writing when I have something to say.

I wish for a kind year for all of us, as we try, we try, we try.

Thoughts from this week

Oh, the ring around the moon last weekend. I tried every trick on the camera and these were the best I could get. Pale comparison, but I had to try.

 I caught these berries against the rising sun on one of our strange 50 degree January days.

We spent the weekend in the Wisconsin Dells, inside a cold, drafty inflatable stadium filled with volleyball courts. It was all good, especially the fireplace in our hotel room.

The ride home gave us a glorious sunset. I soaked it in.

Our week ended with a winter storm and blowing snow. It made for a dreary and slow commute to work for Thursday and Friday.

Tonight is cold and clear, with small sparkly snowflakes drifting about. I'm cozy inside, relieved to be home, not driving to anywhere, especially work.

I haven't had much to say about work. It's hard reentering the workforce after a 14 year hiatus. Harder still to shift career paths - not that this qualifies as a path - more like a missed turn - and hardest of all to adjust to an inflexible schedule that doesn't allow me time with my family when it suits me.

Add in the long commute, the politics, the bureaucratic inefficiencies, the regional disparities between campuses, the depressing socio-economic demographic we serve and the cranky personalities of some of the staff and I think a lot about how much I really need this paycheck.

So I tell myself to quit my bitching, count my blessings and keep my eye on the college fund account, to spend my spare time doing things that make me happy, even if it's as simple as snapping a picture out the car window when I'm on the go, or making sure to walk in the woods on the sunny days with the big furry happy dog. And on the really crappy days, I think about the tiny, quiet girl who hugged me after she passed her final test for her GED, and countless other moments of relief and celebration and tears as students test into the classes they need, or pass the reading test for financial aid, or take that first step toward something better, and I remind myself that I'm privileged to witness these hard earned moments of accomplishment. They keep me going until the next one, and balance out the bad most days.

I hope to have time for proper visits to your blogs this weekend. I've been too absent.

Ciao for now.