General wondering

I have a right to …

/ paigepugmom / 2 Comments

Fill in the blank.  I have a right to go to the beach, to get a haircut, to attend church … Well, I have a right to be sick of hearing about what you have a right to!  Yes, we all have rights and suddenly everyone seems to be an expert on yelling about their first amendment rights.  It’s true, and in a nutshell the first amendment does indeed guarantee freedom of religion, freedom of speech, freedom of the press, the right to assemble, and the right to petition the government.  Like Matthew 5:45 who wrote “The rain falls on the just and the unjust” … the first amendment falls on the intelligent and the ignorant.  Yes, you have a right to free speech but you do NOT have the right to yell fire in a theater.  You have the right to free speech, but you do not have the right to incite hatred and violence (racism, discrimination, etc).  They are called “hate crimes” not “free speech” crimes.  Freedom of speech does not mean you can say any old thing that comes into your head, and once upon a time, people knew the difference.

This nation has been permeated with this toxic “me first” mentality.  If the fish rots from the head down, then this nation has gone petulant from the president down.  He espouses true rights with false logic, and on the subject of religion, obviously knows not of what he speaks.  Another Matthew quote (18:20) “When two are three are gathered together in My name, I am there…”.  Church may technically be building, but spiritually, church is anywhere and everywhere.  I have felt closer to God, alone, kayaking, with only the sounds of the water and the birds.  Church can allow us to worship as a physical, tangible group … but restriction from being inside the physical structure does not prevent us from being with God and with modern technology, we can worship virtually.

Opening churches has become political.  Wearing a mask has become political.  Why?  It seems that in the advent of the “make me great again” mentality, it’s all about MY rights.  Keeping me from working, from going to the beach, from hitting the bar is somehow infringing on those rights.  Being unable to work is truly causing suffering for a great many people, and there doesn’t seem to be any way around it. It’s not fair and we, as a nation, as a government need to do all we can to help those affected.  Slowly some business are working out plans to use the social distancing guidelines to be able to reopen.  But, let me emphasis this … if you are sick or dead … whether or not you have a job is going to be a moot point.  You may be willing to risk your own life, but do you stop to consider the lives of those around you?  All those people that holler “Give me liberty or give me death” might just have to amend that placard to say “Give me liberty and give me death” and I really hope they don’t get their wish.  For all those people who claim this whole pandemic is some kind of liberal media hoax … visit 96,000 graves.  Talk to 96,000 families.  Tell the doctors and nurses it’s a hoax.  Go on, I dare you.  But know this, as much as you yell and scream about the health care system being part of some conspiracy theory … those same doctors and nurses will take care of you if you were to become ill.  Think about that for a minute.

It’s this simple.  Wearing a mask is protecting other people.  Social distancing is protecting other people.  Since when did looking out for other people become political?  Since when did denying yourself in protect others become political?  I don’t know, but I have a strong feeling it started on a Tuesday back in November, 2016.

My year in review …

/ paigepugmom / Leave a comment

Writing is hard work … the muse doesn’t necessarily strike every day, and in my case, the muse has been missing since early November.  What to write about when nothing comes to mind?  Pros have discipline, and probably a few tricks to get them past the blank page.  I have ADD and too many TV channels.

So, going with the flow of “Looking back at 2018” as the media is wont to do this time of year … I thought I’d take a look back at how the year went for me, sort of do a little inventory of things.

January: Intermittent fasting … bust.  Partridge family obsession still going strong.  Crypto-currency experiment … expensive (and not in a good way).

February – March:  apparently nothing of note occurred.  Or nothing worth writing about.

April: Marched on Washington for sensible gun control.  Broke shoulder and tore rotator cuff falling off bike at speed.  Bike, however, not a scratch. 

May: Railed on cyclist who don’t obey the rules of the road.  Started rehab on broken shoulder.  Impatient for results.

June: Tried Grubhub … not an overwhelming success.  Burger never left the restaurant.  Ended up with cereal for dinner.  Again.  Pondered visit to Haiti vs being a blood donor.  

July:  Actually took a vacation.  Tried to get the most out of every moment while also relaxing and getting some rest.  It’s the windmill I tilt at.

August: Gave in to impulse and bought e-bike.  Joined the ranks of the cyclist commuter.  Realized how little cars pay attention to cyclist.

September: Accused of being a traitor by co-worker for daring to express a dissenting opinion of our idiot president.  All things being equal, I considered it a great compliment.

October:  Art projects took a decidedly abstract path.  Generally unsettled and unreasonably annoyed.  Pondered getting in touch with former brother-in-law as a means to spy on ex.  Wisely decided against it.

November: Chatted up on Instagram by what seemed like a very nice guy.  Flattered but wary.  Then he claimed to be a three star general.  Really?  A three star general hanging out on Instagram?  Alarm bells ring … pressed him for a video chat which he avoided.  Blocked the account.  

Which brings us to December.  So, what have I learned this year?  Ordering clothing on the internet is a tricky thing at best.  There are all kinds of fakers hanging out in e-space.  Broken bones take way too long to heal.  Electric bikes are way cool.  I’m happy being single.  The joy of cake-in-a-cup … desert in 90 seconds!  Discipline, like patience, is a virtue which I will always struggle with.  And, meal kits are great!  

2019 will start with rotator cuff surgery … but, hey, things are bound to improve from there!

Cheers from 2018, see you in the New Year!

To date or not to date …

/ paigepugmom / Leave a comment

That is indeed the question.  I’ve recently met someone online and we’ve struck up quite a friendship.  It came out of nowhere and took me completely by surprise, mostly by the speed and intensity.  I’m a fairly cautious creature, never one to dive into the pool instead I creep in inch by inch.  Evaluate, analyze, observe, those are the words I live by.  It can take months or years to make a major decision such as buying a new car or even ordering a new sofa.  Is this the absolute best choice, I ask myself.  Do I really need this thing?  Do I deserve it?  Is it worth the change?

That is the ultimate question, is it worth the change.  Every new thing or person we bring into our lives means change.  Most change is minor, barely a ripple on life’s pond while other changes reverberate.  Like a stone skipping across the water, the changes keep coming, echoing the one before until finally dying out.

Life may be change but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.  After years of upset and upheaval, of moving house and changing jobs, of being married and then being divorced, I’ve reached a plateau.  The highs and lows have leveled out and, for the first time in a long time, I’m pleasantly bored.  I work, come home, play with the dog, fix dinner, perhaps work in a nap, watch tv, go to bed and start the cycle over the next day.  Some people may find the isolation constraining and urge to break through, but I revel in it.  I am, like the title of Caroline Knapp’s last book, “A Merry Recluse”.

Cue change.

I get to chatting with a nice man online and before I know it, we’re striking up quite the conversation.  Talking about dreams and goals, what we like to do, what kind of music we listen to, what we do in our spare time … it’s all innocent and at a nice safe distance as this man is located elsewhere.

But,

He’s close to retiring and, from the tone and content of his emails, interested in more than just casual conversation.  This guy sounds like a girl’s dream come true, happily ever after material.  Trouble is, I don’t know what my dream come true looks like.  When I daydream about my happily ever after, I never picture anyone else in it.  Does this mean I’m destined to single-hood or simply that I haven’t met the right guy yet.  And is this guy the right guy?  Why do I feel like life is trying to fix something that isn’t broken?  Did I just answer my own question or should I keep this door open a little while?

Should I or shouldn’t I …

/ paigepugmom / 3 Comments

The other day while wandering around Facebook, idly searching for names of past or former friends, I came across my former brother-in-law.  Boy has he changed!  He went from slim to body builder … a 180 degree difference … I almost fell out of my chair.  Only his face was familiar.  

Wow, did a lot of memories come flooding back.  Recently I wrote about things I’d like to tell me ex and … is this a sign that I should?  Or should I send an innocent “oh, hi” message to my brother-in-law?  What would I say?  It’s not like we have any Facebook friends in common that I would naturally stumble across his profile.  The only way I would is if I’d purposefully been looking.

Some backstory … my brother-in-law, let’s call him Steve, has quite a colorful and storied past.  He was an addict, cocaine and alcohol (that I know of), had been through rehab (? times) but seems to have traded drugs for body-building.  A much healthier path, to be sure.  While in the midst of the drug years, we had a tense relationship.  I liked him a great deal but loathed his behavior.  His family seemed to accept his drug use and subsequent actions as “that’s Steve, what can we do?” while I silently seethed with anger and disbelief.  Once he wrapped a brand new truck around a telephone pole, after which when the police arrived, the search was on for a body … the crash was that severe.  I either don’t know or don’t remember if Steve said how he got home that night but I do remember the truck was a gift from his grandfather and owned barely 6 months before it’s embrace with the telephone pole.  Again, the reaction from the family was limited to “at least you’re okay” with not a thought or mention of the fact he could have easily killed or injured an innocent stranger.  Not a word about being so drunk the police were looking for a fatality.  Nothing about wrecking a very expensive gift.  Not one single utterance.  I was outraged and held myself apart from the family, sitting very quiet and not speaking to anyone, let alone joining in the “thank God you’re okay” talk.  And guess who got chewed out later on for “being rude to Steve” … yes, me.  Talk about insult added to injury.  Of course, the admonishment came from my former husband making it all the more cutting.  I have not and will not be a quiet witness to abuse, of drugs, alcohol, to oneself or another … I certainly won’t be complicit by refusing to take a stand.   By accepting his behavior, his family condoned his actions and enabled his lifestyle.  I refused to be a party to this attitude and for that I was chastised.  

Addiction ran in the family as both parents were alcoholics, as (it turned out) so was the eldest son (my erstwhile ex).  It was status quo for them but inconceivable for me.  Admittedly patience is not a virtue I’ll ever be known for, so I might have been on the harsh side of judgmental.  However, if my choices were cooperation or condemnation, I chose the latter.  There was a grey area of compassion I couldn’t quite manage.

So, switch to present day and the discovery of Steve on Facebook … and the question de jour … do I reach out to him?  What would I say?  Or should I let past rest in peace.

…squirrel!

/ paigepugmom / Leave a comment

IMG_7081

Inside the mind of someone with ADD … or, as we used to call it before its fancy medical term came along, BSO or bright shiny object disease.  Here’s how a typical unstructured day goes for me:

Get up, eventually … after rising at 5:30 during the week sleeping in is my first treat of the weekend.  Figure out what sweats/yoga wear to lounge around in, go downstairs and it’s like a dog distracted by a squirrel … I clean up any “presents” my geriatric pug might have left during the night which leads me to decide the rug needs cleaning which leads to vacuuming the whole room and while I’ve got the vacuum out might as well do the whole house.  While downstairs, I see some boxes that need collapsing before being recycled which I start to do, but in looking for my box cutter I come across my heat gun which I recently used to do some melted crayon art (see above).  So I put the heat gun away, forgetting the boxes as I look around at my studio, I decide I need to tidy up my mess and that leads to going through boxes of goose clothes (more about that later).  It’s fall, so I need to change my gooses outfit.  She’s now dressed like a scarecrow and the FSU cheerleading outfit she was wearing needs washing so I toss it in the wash, realizing that I have a spare FSU cheerleading outfit but the FSU patch has come off … so it’s back upstairs where I trip over the vacuum cleaner … oh, right, I was going to vacuum downstairs, but first I need to iron the patch back on.  That task done, I return the ironing board to the closet and head back downstairs to return the goose outfit to her dresser of outfits.  As I sort through various art projects, I manage to actually throw a couple out which means a trip to the garbage cans and the boxes to be recycled get stomped flat instead of neatly cut and collapsed but they make it to the recycle bin.  All this is going through my mind and I’m thinking, maybe I ought to blog about it.  Going back upstairs, moving the vacuum cleaner upstairs (my townhouse is three floors) in the vain hope I’ll get that chore done eventually.  I sit down at the computer desk which has some sheet music printed out, and I decide to hole punch it and put the music away in my book, but looking at one of the tunes – I realize it’s a Christmas tune and wonder if I can play it on my violin.  So I get out my violin, where I discover one of the strings has come almost undone so I have to tighten that peg and retune the violin, then I try and play the tune which I can almost do.  That stupid torn rotator cuff is still inhibiting proper violin playing posture.  I’m aware I’m hungry so I go into the kitchen and make myself a meal replacement shake but notice the dishes in the sink so I stop to wash them but first I have to empty the clean dishes from the dishwasher.  Eventually I end up with the dishes put away, and make my shake and now … several hours later I’ve gone from cleaning the rug to … oh, darn, I never did finish vacuuming did I?

That’s kind of what it’s like to have ADD … you barely start one task when … oh, look! Bright shiny object … and you’re drawn to something else, and something else, and the original task is likely to fade into the mists of time.  It’s a variation of “what did I come into this room for?”.

Partly it’s the way my mind works, and partly it’s an inability to deal with unstructured time.  As much as I complain about work and how much I’d rather be retired … it does force a certain structure to my day.  Left alone, with no deadlines or other requirements, I’m (to quote Carrie Fisher) like a hamster in search of a wheel.

About the geese.  All the women in my family own these big cement lawn geese.  They have a variety of clothes and are often dressed to match the season.  My goose has about 30 outfits.  I’m known in the neighborhood as “the goose lady”.

What was I talking about?  oh … was that a squirrel?

Guilty as charged …

/ paigepugmom / Leave a comment

Because of a couple of bumper stickers on my car, a co-worker all but called me treasonous.  These are the times in which we live, that daring to voice an opinion contrary to the current administration is considered treasonous.  Sorry … but I thought we lived in a democracy … at least we were when I got up this morning.

Where I work, it’s mostly male, mostly white, mostly prior military, and decidedly republican.  Liberal democrats are tolerated as long as we keep our mouths shut and our opinions to ourselves.  It’s a quiet truce, but emotions simmer just under the surface.

So what happened this morning to elicit the accusation of “treason”?  A couple of the old guard came in, bemoaning the bumper stickers on my car.  A pink revolution bumper sticker from the woman’s march, and another bumper sticker suggesting the GOP ought to be replaced from their attempt to destroy the ACA.

Treasonous?  Seriously?  A land where dissenting opinions aren’t tolerated is a dictatorship … rather like the ones trump seems to be such a fan of judging by the admiration he lavishes on their leaders.  And as long as we do live in a democracy, it’s our right … no, our duty to speak up, to question, to challenge.  You want to call me treasonous for that?  Then I’m proudly guilty.

Things I’d like to tell my ex …

/ paigepugmom / 1 Comment

IMG_3971 - Version 3If you have an ex … likely there are things you’d like him or her to know … without actually talking to them face to face.  It’s like, you want to tell an intermediate friend who you know will tell your ex.  That way, the ex will find out how fabulous your life is without you having to actually talk to them.

What I have is a predicament … on one hand I want my ex to know how well I’m doing but at the same time I don’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing I want him to know.  Wait, what?

We were a good match on the surface, but as that sort of thing goes, reality is a different situation.  He turned out, over time, to be a bully.  He was the king of passive/aggressive, a master of the sly insult.  He was the child of two alcoholic parents, an air force brat, demanding as hell and impossible to please.  We stayed married for almost 12 years because I took “in good times and bad … forsaking all others … until death do you part” seriously.  It never dawned on me to seek solace from anyone but my partner … to bad my partner didn’t share my monogamous ideas.

That was then and this is now.  I’ve been divorced for more years than I was married and, for the most part, don’t give my ex much thought.  Still, every now and then, like an unwanted ghost from the past, his shadow falls across my thoughts.  Living well is supposed to the best revenge, but knowing the other person knows you’re living well feels even better.  It falls under the category of karma … while you may understand that karma will get a person back eventually, it’s icing on the cake if you get to see it happen.

In the grand scheme of my life since, he is a ghost with no power.  As Carly Simon sang in “You’re so Vain” … “you gave away thing things you loved and one of them was me”

Your loss.

 

Weekends

/ paigepugmom / Leave a comment

DSC_5938Ah, weekends … and the dilemma therein … two days in which to (a) catch up on all those chores or (b) catch up on all that relaxing.  It’s a push-pull routine I find myself in every weekend.  There are things I need to do, but don’t want to do … many of them involve leaving the house which, in this hot late July weather, I am loath to do.  All week long, it’s one rat race after another, so – come the weekend – I’m often torn between wanting to be uber productive with my time or be exceptionally lazy and actually relax.  Yes, I’m aware that both are (theoretically) possible – one day for catching up and one day for relaxing, but I’m terribly easy on myself.  It doesn’t take long to talk myself out of a trip to one of those big box stores for a single item – which, for a change, is more expensive to buy on-line than in person.  I’m so lazy.  The effort to get in the car, make the 15 minute drive, find a parking spot, fight the crowded checkout lines, work through the cryptic parking lot to escape and make my way back home seems so much more than I feel like taking on.  Of course, just look at the way I’ve phrased the task.  Who would want to do that?  Basically, it comes down to not knowing what to do with myself.  There isn’t anything really pressing … laundry’s caught up, vacuuming is done, dishes are in the dishwasher, bathrooms are cleaned … on the flip side, there are book waiting to be read, art projects waiting to be tackled … the missing ingredient seems to be motivation.  I’m reminded of summer vacation, late in the season, when all the camps have been attended, swim club at the Y finished, the result being nothing much to do.

“I’m bored”, my inner child complains.  None of the activities my inner adults suggests seem appealing. I’m still recovering from that broken shoulder which, as it turns out, was actually broken in two places and there is some tearing of the rotator cuff.  Playing the violin is out … I can’t quite manage twisting my left arm to hold the violin properly.  I could study some French, could start an art project, could could could.  It’s not starting that’s the problem … it’s continuing and finishing.  Even writing, I can feel my thoughts wandering like a sluggish river.

Barely one impulse forms before another takes it place … no wonder I can’t manage completing a task … another thought takes over and I go from returning tools to the garage to separating the clumps of iris bulbs.  How did I end up here?  Drenched in sweat and covered in dirt?  It took all my willpower to finish separating and replanting the bulbs, the sense of accomplishment didn’t feel quite as satisfying as I’d have hoped.  I started an art project, but my ability to stay focused on it is being tested and so far, I’m failing the test.  It gets back to the struggle between spending my time truly resting and relaxing, or checking off chores and enjoying that feeling of accomplishment.  What happens is I end up trying to do both and succeeding at neither.

 

The destination or the journey?

/ paigepugmom / 1 Comment

05E5F8DE-0005-472A-B2F7-A84343302AFD

Sometimes, when on vacation, the lines tend to blur and I’m not sure which one is supposed to be the point. When speaking of life, one often hears that saying “it’s the journey not the destination” … the creepy implication of death being the destination … or the afterlife if that is your belief. And since so much our lives are consumed by work, taking a vacation is like stepping away from our journey for a side trip. In that case, the journey can become as much a part of the experience as the destination.  Unless, you’re like me and tend to pack your vacations so full that it becomes a mirage of rest, and the journey less a stroll and more a marathon. I checked off 10,000 steps before lunch! I get lost in the journey so that only the thought of my destination keeps me plodding along, blind to the surroundings of the journey. I tend to turn a vacation from work into working at my vacation, the only difference being not chained to a desk and I get to sleep in. That’s the downside of traveling solo … no one to stop you from trotting off to yet another museum, no one to grab your arm and say, “Slow down, let’s get something to eat” or “how about a rest?”  So, this time I’m going to try something new and actually vacation, slow down, be in the moment instead of always planning ahead to the next one … and enjoy both the journey and the destination.

The price of helping …

/ paigepugmom / Leave a comment

It’s a good thing to help someone, right?  I think so … but have you ever encountered a situation where, by helping one group – you’re hurting another?  This happened to me, quite by accident, and now I’m in a real quandary as to what to do.

For ages, I’ve been a blood donor … not the most regular donor, but I hit the one gallon mark years ago.  It’s important, for me, to donate blood.  I know someone who, because of her particular type of cancer, depends on occasional blood transfusions.  And it’s not just putting a face on the need for blood donations – it’s the fact I’m very popular with the Red Cross.  They call me, email me, text me … it’s somewhat akin to being stalked by a jealous ex-lover.  In defense of the Red Cross, it’s not them – it’s me.  I’m O negative, the universal blood donor type.  Anyone can receive O- but, here’s the rub, O- can only receive O- … how unfair is that?!  Anyway, because it doesn’t hurt (except the part where they stab your finger for a tiny drop of blood for iron levels testing) and I like adding to my growing collection of Red Cross t-shirts, it’s a very small and super easy task.  You just  sit there (or lay there) and read a magazine or cruise facebook for about 20 minutes.  According to The Red Cross website, one pint of blood can save potentially 3 lives, and every day (yes, every day!) 56,000 pints of blood are needed.

Here’s the unfortunate pickle in which I find myself.

Last year, I went to Haiti with the mission team from St.Timothy’s Episcopal Church.  We support 25 children in Chapeteau … a village which, well, is barely a village.  There are no roads, the shacks have no electricity and no running water.  They are the poorest of the poor.  We support local industry, we don’t go in and -shazam- build for them, we help with resources to help them build.  We go to maintain that physical connection, to show them by action rather than just words, that someone cares.  Someone out there in the big world knows and cares.  You are not alone.  That is why we go.  Last year was my first trip to Haiti and every day since, I feel changed by the experience and can’t wait for the next trip.

And that’s the problem.  That is where the crossroad of help one and hurt another meet.  As long as I go to Haiti, I cannot donate blood.  According to the Red Cross, one must wait a year after traveling to certain countries in order to donate blood.  If I go to Haiti every year, I’ll never have that one year buffer, and I’ll never be able to donate blood.

Haiti is very important to me, for many reasons – but so is being a blood donor.  I cannot do both.  I have to choose.  But how?  And who?