Lists

“The palest ink is better than the best memory”

This is a Chinese Proverb and my mom reinforced it. She had lists everywhere, so needless to say, I am also a list maker. But not just your occasional list maker. Nope, I will admit that I am a certifiable, compulsive list maker!

I make lists for everything, and I do mean everything!

I not only make the normal grocery list, and the ever popular” to do” list, (lists for beginners in my opinion) but I also make the “to do” list for work” to dos”, project lists, including, but not limited to, spring, summer, fall and winter, short term as well as long term “to do” list. Items that need to be completed today, this week, this month and finally, this season.

I make lists of items that I need to remember to share with my kids. (And I think in turn, adding to their lists. Sorry kids!) Lists of places where I want to go, list of must reads, must download to my iPod, and must make foods for my next gathering.

I combine lists, and then break some of them down by category. I have also been known to put my “to do” lists in order of importance, and will even map out my errand list in order to save time and gas. So, depending on what is on my list, and where the location is of each place that I need to stop at, my list can be broken down like so:  1-Pick up dry cleaning, 2- Put gas in car, 3- Drop off donations at Goodwill, 4-Grocery shop.

I can drive myself crazy with all of my lists, but will almost have a panic attack if I find myself somewhere without my lists.

I know that this probably sounds quite crazy to many, as now that I am writing about it, it kind of does to me too, but I am actually a very organized person, and I have to attribute at least some of this to my compulsive list making, while the rest is most likely due to my need to keep things moving and on target. As a matter of fact, writing this article about my list making actually made it to my things to write about list! Sad to say, that’s not a joke!

Wow, reading all of this really makes me think that maybe I should try to scale back on my list making a bit.

Yes, I am definitely going to put that on a list of things that I need to change... 

 Oh well, maybe not. After all, who am I to challenge a proven Chinese Proverb?

Saying goodbye to Kiki

Sick to my stomach.

That is the only way that I know how to describe how I feel right now. My cat Kiki has been in failing health for a while now and the time has come that I have to let her go.

This is one of the most difficult decisions that I have ever had to make in my life. I know the logical side of it. She is blind, deaf, incontinent, confused and losing weight, so I know that the humane thing to do is give her back to God, but she still purrs when I hold her, and she still tries to eat, so the little girl in me that has tried to save every animal that has come my way, still thinks that maybe I can save her too.

I know that it must not be a fun existence for her just sleeping and wandering around trying to find her food, litter box and me, but she seems so content when I do hold her and that is the part that is tearing me up.

I know that there is no chance of her getting better as she is over 18 years old, but who am I to play God and decide when her last day on this earth should be?

I know that she had a great, long life, and that in human years, she would be 126, but who is going to sit on my lap and purr so sweetly when she is gone?

I have talked to God and Kiki about this, and don’t feel any better about my decision, but I know that my heart is speaking louder than the logical side on my brain which is probably why I am not getting any real peace about this.

So, in these last couple of hours, I try to keep busy, and I hold her as much as I can. I know that she must still feel how much I love her and how much she has meant to me for all of these years.

I thank God for giving her to me for this time, and I reluctantly now give her back to him.

So, Kiki, until I see you again, I will miss you desperately, but I know that God will take good care of you!

Beauty and the Thief

“Don’t complain about getting older, it’s a privilege denied to many”

 

I understand this quote in my head, but am having a hard time with it in my heart right now. If you have ever watched anyone go through the aging process and all that can happen during this time, you will see how it can rob you of precious gifts such as your hearing, sight, memory, and so many other things. I watched this happen to my sweet grandmother, my wonderful mother, and now my beautiful cat “Kiki”. 

 Kiki is approaching her 18^th birthday, and has been showing signs of aging for the past couple of years. She has lost her hearing, has been slowing down, and even her eyes have been cloudy for a while now, which I expected to occur in an aging cat, but what I was not prepared for was the sudden blindness that happened last week. One day she could see, and the next she was completely blind!

Walking into furniture and walls has been an extremely painful thing to watch. To see this beautiful cat suddenly look so confused and scared has broken my heart. To also see her bravery when she gingerly reaches out for the edge of a chair to jump down to the floor, not knowing how far the jump is going to be, is almost unfathomable to me. I can’t even imagine that kind of fear and bravery!

 What the aging process is robbing her of seems so unfair and yet, I am so grateful for all of the years that I have been able to share with her.

If she could hear, I might feel a little better as she could hear my voice telling her that I am here and she is not alone, but since she can’t, I just hold her close to me so that she knows she is not alone. I help guide her to her litter box and food, and hope that she can learn her way to these spots using her sense of smell.

I wait for the results of her blood tests that were run yesterday. Because of her age, the probability that she may be going into renal failure are fairly good, so I am trying to prepare myself for that news, but am hoping that this isn’t the end of her life and whatever is causing her issues are still treatable.

I keep trying to focus on a positive outcome, while thinking about these past 18 years that she has been with our family.

Kiki was a kitten of a stray cat that we took care of 18 years ago. “Jones”, “Kiki’s Mother, was named after “Indiana Jones”, because she wandered everywhere. We fed her and gave her a place in our garage to have her kittens once we realized that she was pregnant. She gave birth to 6 kittens, 2 didn’t survive but the other 4 did and were left to us to bottle feed and take care of as Jones didn’t stick around long enough to take care of them. We took turns nursing the 4 kittens to health. When the time came to make a decision on what to do with Jones and her kittens, we knew that we could only keep one of them, so we spent a great deal of time with each of the kittens to determine which of their personalities most closely matched our own.

 First there was “Big mouth” who was named this for obvious reasons, then “Chelsea” who looked a lot like Kiki, “Amy”, who was small and frail, and finally “Stripe” who later became to be called Kiki.

All of the kittens were sweet and cute, but there was something special about Kiki. She just had the perfect personality for us, so we found homes for the other cats and welcomed Kiki into our family.

As all pet lovers will attest to of their own pets, she has been a wonderful, warm, loving, fluffy member of our family, and as with anyone you love, you want them to stay with you forever, but you know that this is not possible.

So, until I absolutely have to say goodbye to our beloved Kiki, I will continue to love her and take care of her the best way I can, and when I do have to let her go, I will not let my memories of her be of the these last few days that have been about what aging has robbed her of, but rather, of the last 18 years and the wonderful times and joy that her life has brought to our family.

Ancestors

 

While carefully dusting the pictures on my shelves in my front room, I suddenly find myself looking at the photos of my ancestors in a way that I had never seen them before.

 Over 20 years ago, my mother had given me many pictures of not only herself, but also pictures of my ancestors. I have cherished these photos over the years, but for some reason, this time, the pictures beckoned to me to stop and take a closer look at them, so I laid my dust cloth aside and began to study the details in each picture as I had never done in the past.

I studied their faces, some smiling, some somber.

 I studied their clothing and tried to determine the colors and textures of the fabrics, but being that the photos were in black and white, I could not determine what colors that they actually were.

 I looked at the wedding picture of my grandparents, sitting next to each other in separate chairs, not holding hands or even looking as though it was a special occasion. It had an eerie sadness about it. My grandmother wearing what appears to be a black fur collar dress suit, with tall lace up boots (which would be very much in style today), is holding a large spray of flowers on her lap. My grandfather wearing a dark suit with a corsage on his lapel looks expressionless.  

Moving onto may own parents wedding photo I see my mother wearing an ivory knee length skirt and matching jacket. The only reason that I know for sure that it was ivory is the fact that she kept this suit, and I was able to wear it to school when I was in the 8^th grade. I loved it and was so happy that she kept it in good shape over the years. Neither her nor my father have smiles on their faces, not even the slightest upturn of their lips. She is not holding any flowers, but rather she and my father are wearing corsages.

I continue onto pictures of my grandmother before she got married, smiling with a friend of hers as they pose for a picture dressed in men’s suits. The story goes that my grandmother and her friend were quite “gutsy” as my mother put it, to walk through the town streets dressed in men’s suits. I love this picture and like to think that some of that “gutsiness” was passed onto me. Next is a great aunt who was always known for her laughter, smiling beautifully in this picture and wearing a very large hat. Finally, I look at a family photo of my grandmother and her family taken on the front step of her childhood home. Only two of my great uncles have even the slightest smiles on their faces.

As I stared deeper into each photo, I wondered what dreams they may have all have had throughout their lives and at the time of each picture. Were they all that different than the dreams that we all have today?

Did they aspire to be someone who makes a difference in this world, or were they just trying to survive?

Did they have hopes and dreams for their marriages? I hoped that they looked at their wedding day as a special occasion, but by looking at these wedding pictures, wondered if they put as much emphasis and planning on that actual day as has become the norm today. I have to think that they did not. I think a wedding was just a means to get married, which was and should still be the main focus of a wedding day.

Because my mother had shared many of their lives stories with me, I know some of the answers to how their lives actually turned out, but what I will never know is if it was how they envisioned their lives would be.

If I could ask my ancestors about their lives, what would they say? Maybe that yes, they had dreams and hopes, and some of them came true, and some did not. We all have dreams and hopes and sometimes what we think we want does happen how we envisioned it, and sometimes it doesn’t. Sometimes, life sends you in another direction. A direction that you had never even thought of, and that turns out to be good or even better than you had dreamed of.

 The main thing though is that they lived their lives, good and bad, while they were here, and that is really all that each of us can do too.

So, what would I want my great, great, grandchildren and beyond to know about me when they are going through the pictures of my life?

Well, that I too dreamed, hoped, loved, succeeded and failed. I lived in a way that I felt would make God and others proud of me. I was passionate about many things and I tried my best, and then I passed the life’s baton onto the next generation to continue on with their own lives, dreams and hopes.

Daydreamer

From as early on as I can remember, I have always been a daydreamer. Pretty much, no matter where I am, I usually end up in some sort of a daydream. This has gotten me into trouble more than a few times in my life as teachers would ask to speak to my mom about my “issue”.

I couldn’t help it, I really couldn’t. Sitting in a boring classroom listening, or truthfully, only half listening, to the teacher go on and on about this or that, could not come close to the excitement of the thoughts swirling around in my head. I would gaze out the window to watch the beautiful snow or leaves falling, the squirrels and birds scurrying around, or just watching cars go by. That was all much more interesting to me, and I was convinced that it was a much more valuable lesson than anything that the teacher could have been trying to teach me.

Watching the snow fall, I would wonder if it was really true that no two snowflakes were alike. I made a mental note to start comparing them on my walk home from school. Oh, how I wished that walk home would be so much sooner than the 4 hours away that it was!

Watching the squirrels gather nuts, I had to wonder how they were going to remember where they stashed them once winter came and they were hungry. Hmmmm...

My mind moved on. Watching cars go by the school, I wondered where the people in those cars were going. Some place exciting, I just knew it!

My mother was actually pretty understanding of my daydreaming” issue”, but urged me to please try to pay more attention to what was going on inside the classroom, rather than what was going on outside the classroom. I tried, but found it almost impossible to do. I am sure that she thought that this was just something that I would outgrow, but as I eventually found out, it wasn’t.

Years later, when I got out into the work force, I quickly realized that I could not sit next to, or even in eye shot of a window, if I was going to be productive at all. So, without giving reasons why, I would volunteer to sit away from windows. I was more productive that way since it kept the outside world away from my view and my thoughts. Even now, I can’t walk by a window, no matter where I am, without looking out and quickly taking a mental walk.

When I first started business travel, a colleague had advised me to not sit next to the windows on a plane, or if I did, I shouldn’t stare out them as it looked like I was a novice and I needed to have a more professional demeanor. What?? No way!

 I purposely book all of my flights with window seats for just that reason. I love to look down at the world going by and wonder what all of those people are doing with their lives. I know that I probably make their lives more interesting than they actually are, because I also think that if someone like me was doing the same thing from their flight, looking down at me in my house, they would be imagining a much more interesting life than what I actually live.

 While daydreaming can be an “issue” in some circumstances, it has also led me to solutions to some problems that I might not have come up with otherwise, and some pretty creative thinking, which serves me well in my professional and personal life, so I guess it’s a good thing that I never outgrew my daydreaming “issue”.

A Helping Hand...or two

I was awakened at 6:30 this morning by my phone ringing. It was my husband who had just recently left for work, asking me to come and get him down the road, as his truck quit running. Ugh. I was so cozy in my bed, but I got up and threw on some yoga capris, a shirt, and hoodie, grabbed my purse and crocs, and backed out of the garage to go and bring him home. I didn’t feel that I needed anything else since it was just a short trip there and back. Once home, he could take my car to work while someone else towed his broken down truck to a service department to be fixed.

 Luckily, it’s a Monday, and I work from home on Mondays, so it was fine if he had to use my car for this one day.

Driving, only half awake, I see him standing by his broken down truck. I look at my temperature gauge and it reads 14 degrees. Brrrr, good thing I am just bringing him back home because I am clearly not dressed to be out in this weather. He didn’t look like he was either, so it’s a good thing that he broke down so close to home.

As I pull off to the side of the road, I see that his truck is at a stop sign, but still not in a great spot to be sitting for very long, so, I wonder what his plan of attack is going to be. He walks up to my window with a tow rope in hand, and then after assessing my car, advises that I don’t have any of the towing “thingy’s” (my word, not his) that one would need to tow a truck, so he tells me that I would just have to help him push his truck back off of the road a bit to get it out of the way. What? I have to get out of my car and help push a very heavy truck off of the road? I am not dressed for this, and it’s freezing out!

He tells me that I will be fine. Famous last words…

 Luckily, I was a girl scout, so I reached into my emergency bag that I keep in my back seat, and pulled out a pair of gloves. There is nothing in my bag to cover my exposed shins, so I will just have to live with my decision to wear yoga capris in January in Indiana.

I was happy that it was still dark out as I was sure that I looked like a vision in my “outfit”. Just then a car rolls up next to him to ask if we needed help. YES! I yell out in my head, but he thanks the driver and tells him that we have it handled.  Brother…

I walk to the front of his truck and get into position to push, while he has one foot in the truck, one foot on the road, and a hand on the steering wheel to help guide.  I was thankful that I have been lifting weights for the last couple of years and was hoping that all of that sweat was about to pay off.

PUSH!! The truck barely budges. PUSH AGAIN, HARDER! This time it moved about an inch. Another person stops to see if we need help, and my husband waives them on.  NOOOOOO!! Come back!!  I yell out again in my head, but he too is gone. I try to muster up that super strength that you hear about in extreme situations, but after a few more futile pushes, I curse my muscles and lack of upper body strength then suddenly realize that my lower body is really cold. My husband jumps out of the truck and walks up to me to discuss plan B, when yet another good soul drives up to ask if we are okay. This time, I take over and encourage my husband to accept this kind strangers help as I climb back into my warm car.

I start to thaw out as I watch these two men try to push the truck out of the way. They pushed and pushed but didn’t really get any further in their attempt than I did, so I apologized to my muscles for the previous curse, and I continued to watch them from the warmth of my car.

 Another person stops to ask if we need help. If I haven’t said it enough before, let me reiterate it again, I love living in the country! I love everything about it. Here it is, Monday morning, around 6:45am, 14 degrees with snow flurries, and people are stopping on their way to work or wherever, to help us. I don’t know if you would get this kind of selflessness in the city, but I do know that you get it in the country!

Finally, my husband and the other man decide that they can’t push it out, so I move my car out of the way so that they can tow my husband’s truck off of the road with the other guy’s truck.

10 minutes later, the truck is out of the way, the kind man is on his way to continue with his day, and I am back at home making coffee to start my day. I never really doubt why I love living in the country, and today is just another reminder of why I love it and the people so much!

Ignorance is Bliss?

Someone help me here please. Is it just me, or does it seems like there are more women having miscarriages now days than ever before?

In the past few years, I have known of so many women miscarrying, and I am trying to figure out why this seems to be.

Most of them seem to be miscarrying within the first 12 weeks of pregnancy, so that part doesn’t seem out of the ordinary, as that has always been the critical phase of pregnancy, but it just seems like there are so many of them occurring now.

The really odd thing that I have noticed with these miscarriages is that the women don’t seem to be actually losing the babies when they do miscarry, so they are left to carry them in their bodies and wait for the fetus to come out on its own. That sounds so cruel to me that these women have to go on with their lives and wait, knowing that their baby is no longer alive, and then if it doesn’t come out on its own, the woman has to have a procedure called a D and C (Dilation and Curettage) to remove the fetus.

 The emotional pain that they go through just seems so horrible to me. I have seen this with not only my daughter in law and friends, but also my nieces, including my one niece who openly writes about her experience in her blog, www.lyndsayslastbite.blogspot.com. It’s so sad to hear and read about her and all of these women on what they have gone through.

As I wondered what was going on with this, I remembered seeing a commercial for an early pregnancy test, where you could find out if you were pregnant in as early as 6 days after conceiving!  6 days!!

That seems amazing, considering that years ago, you usually didn’t find out that you were pregnant until you had missed your first, and sometimes your second period, meaning that by the time you thought that you might be pregnant and went to buy the over the counter pregnancy test, you were probably already about 6-8 weeks along, certainly not 6 days!

The pregnancy tests back then were like an actual science project as well. You didn’t pee on a stick and within minutes looked for a line or plus sign. Nope, our test were an actual test tube that you put urine in, shook it up, kept it in a dark place, OVERNIGHT, and then the next morning, looked for a circle at the bottom of the test tube. If you saw that, then you could call your doctor (if you had one, which sometimes you didn’t if you hadn’t planned on getting pregnant, so add another week to that timeframe to find a doctor to call) to have your blood drawn and confirm or deny the pregnancy. All of that process took you to about the 9-10 week mark, so you were then left with only a couple of weeks in that critical first 12 week phase of the pregnancy.

In talking with my sisters about this, we concluded that we may have also miscarried when we were having babies, but since technology was not as “advanced” as it is now, we may just not have known that we were pregnant and just thought that we were having a really bad period when in fact, we may have been miscarrying. I think that I would rather have not known that I was pregnant and miscarried, than to have to go through what the women today are going through by knowing so early on.

 I do understand, to a point, the need for finding out early if you are pregnant, so that you can start making healthy choices for you and the baby. But, I think that you have to determine if learning so early and possibly having to go through what these women have gone through outweighs the benefits of knowing early so that you can start make healthy choices. I can’t answer that, but I think that in many cases, the body is still going to miscarry if a fetus is not healthy enough to make it full term, regardless of when you find out that you are pregnant.

So, if the above is true, and there aren’t really any more miscarriages now than in the past, just the knowledge earlier on, then I would say, in my opinion, that just perhaps, knowledge may not be power in this instance, but rather ignorance was bliss for those of us that didn’t have to go through all that today’s women may go through by having this knowledge so early on.