Carolyn's First Law of Traveling...

 ...appears to be, if it can go wrong it will.  (see previous post).  

So, for reference, I made my travel reservations back in January through my Capital One Travel, for my daughter's wedding in Waterford Ireland.  I had points for a premium economy upgrade and had done tons of research on getting the longest leg of my flight as the premium.  Do I fly out of Vancouver, or Seattle.  Was also looking for the best deal without sacrificing quality.  I ended up with a Vancouver to Seattle (???), Seattle to London (Heathrow) and London to Dublin. Going.  Coming back it is just Dublin to London, London to Vancouver.  And don't ask me why Seattle to London wasn't an option when I booked.  At any rate, not that big of a deal.

So Wednesday at 5pm I did my check-in with no problems.  I knew I had to still check-in to drop my checked bag.  I was also working Thursday morning until noon, when I would leave for Vancouver (side bar:  The Nexus card I applied to last September was finally conditionally approved in June and the first interview appointment I could get was November 8, so would be of little help getting across the border) to account for possible border issues.  I was fully packed, just needing to throw my laptop into my backpack and go.

As is typical for me when traveling, I don't sleep well the night before.  Anxious I guess.  And as an aside, I have taken to putting my phone across the room to keep me from being on it too late at night before going to sleep and/or picking it up if I happen to wake up in the middle of the night.  When I woke around 2am Thursday morning, I laid in bed for about 15 minutes before I knew I wasn't going back to sleep.  I went to the bathroom and grabbed my phone before crawling back in bed.  I am calling it divine providence as the first thing I saw was a message from Capital One that my itinerary had changed.  I pulled it up on Capital one and the message was there but the flights were all the same.  I went to British Airways website where I found that apparently they cancelled my Seattle to London leg, so they put me on the next BA flight out, which was 18 hours later.  Yes, that means I hang out int he Seattle airport for 18 hours AND forfeit the prepaid hotel room I have in Dublin for Friday as I would no longer be arriving on Friday but Saturday instead. This was not acceptable.

I figured the best bet was to contact Capital One Travel first.  And this is where the first snag comes in.  They literally HIDE the customer service phone number on the website.  No, I do not want to chat with an automated service on line, but I want to talk with a PERSON.  I finally got connected and after an hour  I got, the best we can do is refund your ticket and you can rebook.  UMMMM, I purposefully booked in advance while watching the price of the flights.  There is NO WAY I would get a flight with the times (IF there was any space available) for what I booked my ticket at.  This after an hour on the phone with them.  I said I"d call BA first and asked for their direct number (because they too have it hidden on their website).  So while Capital One was attempting to find a better solution, I also checked BA website and lo and behold they have a Seattle to London flight leaving at 130pm  and will get me into Dublin ( I'd be keeping my same flight from London to Dublin but have a longer layover in London).  AND they had premium economy seats left.

So here is where the snag came in.  They wouldn't let me drop the Vancouver to Seattle flight, allowing me to get to Seattle as they assumed because I made the reservations for Vancouver, that I lived in Canada and if I lived in Canada I would have to cross the border into the states and they couldn't guarantee the flight if there was a problem at the border.  After explaining that I was NOT in Canada, just planning to cross the border for the Vancouver flight, I was in the states and Seattle while being a little further away is still OK and I wouldn't have to cross the border.  Finally, at 530am this morning I had my flight switched to the 130pm Seattle to London flight. and at 8am I was headed to Seattle.  

I didn't think about it until on the car ride down, but going out of Seattle, I now had SEA Spot option available, if there were still appointment times available.  Luckily there were so I saved maybe 30 minutes waiting in line to go through security (only to get to my gate and find my flight pushed back an hour, then another half hour...which just ate into my long layover at Heathrow)

Positive notes.  I'm alive (see previous post 😛). I'm still on schedule (although...every flight heading to Dublin has been delayed).  I have an air tag in my checked suitcase and it DID make it to Heathrow, so at least my wedding attire is on the right side of the pond).  I'll call these all wins and continue to pray that the wins outpace the suck.

A Flight to Remember

I know, it has been a while but, life happens.  This, however, is too good of a story NOT to share.  I will do my best not to embellish but I don't make any promises.

So, for those of you who have removed yourself from Carolyn's universe, or, you know, just don't follow me religiously (and I gotta ask, why not?), well sit back and enjoy...A flight to remember (at least *I* will).

My oldest daughter is getting married in Ireland (not really pertinent to the post, but I'm going to be in Ireland for it in September so good that you know in advance...or that you make everything important to me important to you.  Either is fine with me.) and I am in Minnesota for her shower.  But it is HOW I got to Minnesota that's the story.

For those of you THAT far out of the loop, I am currently residing in Washington state and to see my girls I'm flying to Minnesota at least a couple times a year.  For wedding activities, like wedding dress shopping, or bridal showers.  Or occasional Billy Joel concerts.  So yesterday I flew back to Minnesota  for her bridal shower and, well it was an experience I'm not caring to experience again anytime soon.  Or ever.

The flight had 2 legs.  Short from Bellingham to Seattle, long from Seattle to Minneapolis.  On the first leg as we were hurdling down the runway on take off, right before the wheels left the ground, I heard this ...crunching sound.  Then we were air born.  When we didn't turn around I figured it was fine.  25 minutes later we get the announcement that we are approaching Seattle.  What came next was really weird.  In a window seat, I swear I kept seeing the same "landmarks" as if we maybe were circling.  Now I've done that before when like a certain ex-president was leaving his golf game in FL and all civilian airplanes were put in standby mode for landing until he cleared airspace.  Then came the voice you dread..."this is your captain speaking.We seem to have a problem with our landing gear (DID I CALL IT OR WHAT?).  We can't get confirmation that our landing gear is down so we are going to do a fly by the tower to verify that it is down." I fired out a quick text to my kids that our landing gear had issues and if they don't hear from me within the hour to please check the status of my flight.   So we do yet another circle followed by a Top Gun style buzz  of the tower maneuver then ascended again.  My gut was nope...gear isn't down.  But the captain comes in and says it is down, but not sure if it's locked.  But, they're gonna cross their fingers and give'er a go.  In between circles the flight attendant had us already opening our safety card...in the event of a crash we will need you go get in the brace position.  Luckily there were several options.  So I choose one best suited to my height and the neck pillow I was holding (UM...yeah, I'm gonna protect what ever I can), listen to the attendant say "brace...brace...brace" every 10 seconds,  all the while alternating between prayers were thoughts of...do the kids know where my documents are? All of my retirement accounts? Will someone be able to contact my sister somewhere in the Bering Sea (I think)?, you know...all the questions that flood your mind when the very real possibility of 10 minutes from now, might not exist, until we heard the wheels hit the ground....and not collapse.  No sound of metal grinding on tarmac. When you realize you've been holding your breath for the past 10 minutes and you let it out with a giant sigh.  You're on the ground.  And a battalion of fire engines are following you down the runway.

The landing gear, obviously held.  However somewhere along the line SOME cable was cut which meant the hydraulics were out and the pilot was unable to steer the plane.  So we needed to wait for a tow back to the terminal.  But first the fire department had to assess the situation and ensure  there isn't a risk to the terminal.  Once that was done, and got into our gate and deplaned so many people had to bolt to get to their connection.  Luckily, I had a decent layover (never thought I'd be grateful for having 4 hours between flights to kill) and intended on finding a bar.  Yeah...I deserved it.

So, down to 2 hours to pass, I grab a beer (it was a big one...no judgement), 

and a wrap and cut the time own to an hour before boarding my next flight thinking positively right?  I mean, after that, I should be safe as a kitten on my next flight right?  Lightening striking twice right?  So, I head to my gate and wait for the last hour until I hear the  announcement over the intercom that my flight...well maintenance has found an issue they are dealing with and they will let us know when it is resolved.  An hour later the same voice let us know that they were still working on switching out the light bulb (not sure exactly HOW many people it takes to change a light bulb but it appears to be more than one.) but hang tight.  We'll board soon.  Then, an hour after we were supposed to board, they said that the bulb was in a small space and difficult to get to but be patient.  THEN, came the announcement that one of the pilots had timed out but they had another pilot at the airport.  They just were waiting to find out how long before he could get to the gate. So my 7pm flight didn't start boarding until 830.  So my midnight arrival was now 130am, which after I got my bag and to my daughter's apt it was 2am.  

But I'm alive.  Never thought I'd say those words un-ironically. 

Hiatases Come and Hiatases Go

Does it count if it was an unintentional hiatus?  

It's been a busy 6 months.  I'll recap.

In May, my son got married. And because nothing in my life is ever easy, I contracted COVID the week of the wedding.  The wedding where I was making the wedding cake. Then transporting it 200 miles away to the wedding location and decorating it and 6 dozen cupcakes.  For me, it was a slightly worse than a cold, not as bad as the flu.  2 nights of body aches and a follow up sore throat.  I volunteered not to attend the wedding but that wasn't an option for my son.  So I wore an N95 mask for the ceremony and took it off when around people who didn't care.  No one got it.  There was more drama involved but suffice to say, we all survived.

I tried to sell my house.  Initially on my own, then I got a realtor.  I had tried to time it such that I could be out by September, and since the market in the spring was still pretty hot, I waited until jut after the wedding to list it.  Which coincided with interest rates taking a big jump.  With all the work and improvements I had put into the house, I had it priced such that I wasn't losing any  money...but neither was I making money.  Still, it didn't sell.  So I contracted with a property  management company to mange it as a rental.

Well...THAT was a 9.9 on the clusterfu@k scale.  I won't get into all of the things that the company did (except...maybe...turning the switch on my furnace off in order to be able to call a repair service in which I'm fairly certain they get a kickback AND they charge me an additional 18% of the service fee so that THEY can supervise).  I do have a renter in the house now who is thrilled with the house and will treat it as her own.  I've requested a release from the contract with the property management company and am forging onward.

I put everything I have of value to me into a 5x10 storage, sold everything else and I drove halfway across the country pulling a small U-haul trailer and a pitbull as my co-pilot.  It was challenging only in as much as I couldn't leave him anywhere(not the car for fear he would tear it up...not the hotels, didn't want him  barking).  I did remember my dad had a friend in Idaho who I called and met on the way, which was lovely.

I got to Washington state and was able to experience a completely out of the norm fall where there was very little rain in Oct (to be fair there had been very little rain all summer) and lots of sun.  I arrived Oct 1, the day that Canada opened the border to the non-vaccinated so what I had written off as not going to be able to do while here, has not become an option.

 I just got back from a week in South Carolina, having spent Thanksgiving with my son and daughter-in-law and I fell in love with South Carolina. I even got to spend 24 hours on the beach (which ALWAYS brings me inner peace) and came back with a titch of color.   It was a strange feeling though being a guest in your child's house.Not bad...just strange.

My sister and her husband leave 3 weeks from Monday for an around the world cruise, which is why I am here, house/pet watching while they traipse the globe for the next 6 months.  I'm not sure how you top that on the vacation scale though.

The day after they leave my two youngest will join me here for Christmas.  It will be almost 3 months since I've seen them and it appears they are doing just fine without me, which I am going to put in my win column.  I have so much planned I'm not sure how I will fit it all in in 6 days.  Watch me.

Thinking Out Loud aka...LOTS of Random but Linkable Thoughts

We are living in interesting times. I'm trying really hard not to panic but I feel like I'm failing.  And when I attempt to verbalize my fears, I'm thought to be crazy, but not in a good way.

So, I'm going to think this out loud and ask for thoughts and direction to where my thinking has come to the wrong conclusion.  Feel free to comment.  But also, bookmark this page.

We are in a time where gas prices are higher that EVER.  Highest it was ever was $3.50 during GWB's administration. As of now, we are at $5/gal where I am. Eggs have more than doubled in price from 2 years ago. Don't even get me started on beef.  Pretty much everything costs more.

Now, as I understand it we have 2 situations that are related but aren't yet apparent, but will be.  One...farming fertilizer, with the main ingredient of urea/ammonia, comes from Russia (and China and the number 1 and 2 exporters). Know what else has urea/ammonia as a prime ingredient?  DEF, which is injected into the exhaust stream of diesel engines and is required for all medium to  heavy-duty vehicles to reduce engine emissions.

Are you putting 2 and 2 together?  So farmers who can't get fertilizer for their crops ALSO can't get DEF that is required for the equipment they operate in order to...well, feed the country. Let's look at what the impact of this can/could be.  First, imagine the harvest this fall, IF there is a harvest. Let's take a somewhat fatalistic (devils advocate) look at this.  No food to be harvested.  No food goes to processing plants.  No food on the shelves. So if you work at the processing plant, or are involved with moving food through the supply chain process, you no longer have a job.  Then, look at the stores who receive the product.  Nothing to stock, no workers required.  You have a restaurant? How do you obtain products to sell?  No food, no workers.  This is going to have GIANT ripple effects throughout all walks of life. Maybe it won't be this bad, or maybe it will.

Then...let's add into the equation 98 (as of June 11/2022) food processing plants that have experienced fires (large enough to be news worthy) OR had (massive quantities of) animals put down/die since January of 2021.  It's so coincidental, it would be considered crazy to put all this together. 

Now, let me switch gears.  Everyone has seen real estate skyrocket.  In so many places you simply cannot find something to buy.  I know there are several reasons for that. 1. mortgage interest rates have started the climb.  Real estate itself has appreciated 6%/year for the last 2 years, so people think their house is worth more.  Reality:  Your house is worth only as much as someone is willing to pay, which I am learning.  With so many young adults looking to buy, and being unable to find anything, one has to resort to what they end up doing.  Renting.  Owning nothing.

So, on the heels of a world wide pandemic, rising real estate coupled with interest rates, gas prices and what is looking like an economic collapse and now the talk (no longer a whisper) of food shortages, I simply can't shake the feeling that all of this is by design. 

The WEF has an agenda.  An it is not just this country but it is to a world they wish to control.  Read that again.  THEY WILL CONTROL.  From THEIR website (and so you know WEF is WORLD economic forum..they're including the US in their plans):

 This  is another video, not really on the same topic but it does relate to how people will live  and speaks to equity vs equality.  @COTR introduced me to it and it leaves an impression.  Kurt Vonnegut short story of Harrison Bergeron  was adapted to film in 2081 and gives an idea of what happens when you stifle excellence in the name of making people "equal".

(listen to the audio version of the reading of the book for more clarity)

I'm too old to be an idealist.  I've seen where it leads. And while I don't/can't hide my pessimist tendencies, I STILL want the world to be a better place.  But not like that.  Not where someone else controls every aspects of my life even to the point where they control my emotions or making everyone equal in all ways.  "I will be happy"?   They think they know what is going to make me happy?  And what if it doesn't?  What is my recourse?  Well, nothing.  Because it's all for the greater good. 

AH....but do you really think that those controlling the world will be living the same as you and I?  If you do then I have a slightly used bridge in Brooklyn I can sell to you REALLY cheap.  The EU  has already given an exemption of the EU green aviation tax of the to "executive jets" .  Rules for thee SUCKAS.  You simply need to educate yourself on the agenda that they have put out there.  AND who is in control (I suggest starting with "Conspirators Hierarchy" by John Coleman). Remember, it's only a conspiracy theory until it actually happens.  Then it becomes a piece of history where people will Monday morning quarterback and say..."how could they not see all the signs that this was happening?"

Now, I'm going to switch gears again and talk politics.  I am beholden to no political party but my values lie more on the right (conservative) than the left.  I think (95%) people have the ability to lift themselves up if they really want to but there's nothing wrong with a little help getting there. But it shouldn't be a way of life.   I also think personal responsibility  is completely lacking in today's society. I am convinced our whole political system (D and R) is corrupt from top to bottom.  Politicians should NOT be getting rich while the citizens pay their salaries.  They should not be making political decisions over which companies will succeed or fail and THEN making money off the succeeding ones.  That is a MAJOR conflict of interest.  You want to go into public service?  Awesome.  You will not be allowed to enter any business or stock dealings while you serve, nor can any member of your family. All stocks you have leading up to your service are put in a type of escrow account or you dump them before entering office.  This means you are not working the system for your financial gain while putting other business at risk. That ensures that your goal is the people you serve, not your financial best interests. And yet...that's not how it happens.  WE pay their salaries and THEY work for the people. You would never know that in the current political atmosphere.

Add to that our ill-informed electorate.  If I were to hazard a guess I'd say 70% of people do not understand their basic rights.  That the Bill of Rights does not convey the rights government gives to us.  Our rights are innate.  We are born with them and as such  the Bill of Rights does NOT define what we can do, but what our government CAN'T do.  It is a negative rights document.  That means that if it is not specifically spelled out what our federal government CAN'T do, then it is for the states to decide.  That my friends is spelled out in the 10th Amendment.  I don't think the majority of the electorate can tell you what the 3 branches of government are and what purpose they serve.  For example...it is NOT the job of the Supreme Court to codify anything into law.   It is to strictly interpret the law.  The responsibility to codify is with the legislative branch and left to Congress.  But we currently have a government that spends their time on optics instead of doing the job of the American people and an American people getting their history from social media.  And I'll bet you a million dollars most people still so not understand that the US is NOT a democracy.   It is a Constitutional Republic. A Republic differs from a Democracy. A Republic exists only when the system [framework] of government holds both the people AND THEIR RULERS subject to law. It is a government of laws and not of men. Man becomes free when he recognizes that he is subject to law. "Democracy" does not appear anywhere in either the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution or in ANY of the 50 states' Constitutions.  For a reason.  The fathers knew what they were doing.

What makes be so disheartened is that we are at that place where our civilization as we know it is going to fall.  We have already hit the 240 year mark of the downfall of all great civilizations   and you can see it.  I'll illustrate two ways.  I found this and thought it was a good representation of how civilizations tend to progress:

• Bondage to spiritual faith
• Spiritual faith to feeling embolden
• Embolden to liberty
• Liberty to abundance
• Abundance to selfishness
• Selfishness to complacent
• Complacent to apathy
• Apathy to dependency
• Dependency back to bondage again

Or another way which has been widely distributed lately is the Camels on the Horizon (note, I am NOT getting my history from here but using social media to illustrate):

Where am I going with all of this?  Not sure.  For me, it's like being on a train and watching it wreck in slow motion.  You saw what led up to it, you can see it happening in real time and you have absolutely no way of stopping it.  You're afraid to look but you're also afraid not to look. So I'm bracing myself and doing what I can to minimize that impact as much as I am able.  Rubberneckers won't know what hit them.

Just Do It

I spent most of my marriage putting other people first.  And I don't really regret it.  When my life is REALLY over I will be able to look back and say, I did the right thing.  Even if it meant that I suffered, or did without.  I think that is really what love is about.  Not being the focus of everything being about you.

Now, however, I am in a different place.  So I'm gonna tell a story.

I was a Tetracycline child...having been given it as a child with a high fever and it led to my front tooth being pretty discolored.  I didn't smile with my teeth until I was in around 8th grade and my mom found a dentist to do this "paint" thing to the tooth.  It was painted with something and then hit with an ultraviolet light and voila.  The tooth was no longer discolored (as bad...this would have been the 70s so keep that in mind).  Later, the same tooth was crowned, which made the tooth better, but the crown apparently irritated the gum around it to the point where I had a gingivectomy and I think the dentist went pretty ham with the cutting away of gum.  Over the years I continued to have issues with that area.  Always a little too pink and swollen, no matter what I did.

Then, one NYE morning, I was getting ready for work (Gymboree) and I pulled out a new pair of socks still wrapped in plastic and I did what I always do:  I used my teeth to start the tear in the plastic/paper.  When it didn't tear I looked at it and lo and behold my tooth was tucked under the paper.  Before majorly panicking, I checked to see if the crown had come off of the stub.  No, it hadn't.  It snapped off leaving a very small piece of visible tooth at the gum line.  NOW I panicked.   I managed to get into the dentist who attempted to cement it back in place (remember, this is Dec 31), which lasted all of maybe an hour before it fell off.  So, I spent NYE front toothless (which we spent at a hotel with family), not really in the mood to socialize.  Go figure

When I got back into the dentist I had a decision to make.  Do I get a partial plate, a bridge (and destroy two perfectly good teeth in the process) or an implant.  The partial wasn't really an option.  The bridge was the cost of 3 crowns and the implant was one, takes longer and is more expensive.  I went with door number 3.

So.  First step.  Make a flipper (a temporary partial).  Next step, pull the existing root.  Once that was done I had to wait about 4 months for the hole to heal and for the bone to start filling in the empty space.  Then the implant was installed.  So, that is usually a metal screw only, but in my case they put the metal screw in with the abutment (that is the piece that screws into the screw think of the implant as like a metal molly bolt)  with the crown attached. Normally this is a two step process.  They put in the implant, let the gum heal and the bone attach to the implant, then the abutment, which means cutting the gums and allowing the gum to  heal around the abutment, but in my case they put the implant and abutment in together.  I still had to heal for another 4 months before getting the crown.

When you live without a permanent front tooth, getting ANYTHING into place is a relief.  And like most things I do, I accepted substandard because I didn't want to make waves.  The crown was installed but I was never really happy with it.  It was sorta close to my natural tooth color but still a bit off.  The shape never felt right...much bulkier than my other teeth but again, I accepted it because I didn't know better.

As the years went on , I had my teeth professionally whitened a couple times and it never seemed to help with the comparison against the crown.  I mean my teeth looked positively gray in comparison, and yet I know they aren't. These past maybe 7-8 years it has become more and more readily apparent.  Then I switched dentists and I asked her what can we do.  I REALLY don't want to destroy my other front tooth to make them closer in color by crowning it too.  She said...let's redo the old crown.

So, it has been about 8 weeks since I started the process and I'm still not done BUT, HOLY CRAP...the difference.  I have spent a lot of time at the lab trying to get the color right.  And for once I have someone ELSE looking out for my best interests.  Saying, nope that's not good enough.  We want this right, which is so completely foreign to me. And that's not just the lab but my dentist as well.  Her take is if we do this, we do it right.  I currently have crown #2 which is made from zirconium temporary glued in place, mostly because I had my son's wedding and wanted to be sure I actually HAD a tooth for the wedding.  They wanted me to take it for a test run and see what I thought.

The problem is that they can't get the opacity of the crown because of the placement of the existing abutment which is too close to the surface of the tooth.  So no matter how they color the tooth, it will always be too bright to hide the abutment and that brightness against my other teeth makes them look bad.  "Comparison is the thief of Joy".  I'm looking at the artwork my daughter did and it fits.

So, I am going back in to have crown #3 made with a new abutment that will be better placed within the implant allowing for greater opacity of the crown.  The lab that does the color has a sign on the wall saying the best restoration is the one you can't tell is a restoration.

And I don't have to settle anymore.

*UPDATE*  yeah, that abutment was going to cost me another $1200 in which insurance won't cover.  So we're stepping up the bleach hoping to bring the others to the same brightness.  Sigh...

 

Humble Beginnings

 I have some fairly humble origins.  I was not born a poor black child.  Neither was I born with a silver spoon in my mouth.  I came into this world at a time when my family would have been considered low to middle of the road middle class.

My dad's parents lived in Staten Island.  His mom was off the boat for Ireland so I have that going for me. They raised 3 children in a house that by today's standard would probably be considered section 8 but because location, location, location...that 948 sq ft house has a Zillow estimate of $648K.  No, you didn't read that wrong.

My mom's family was a bit different.  My grandpa died 3 months before she was born, my grandma died when she was around 2 so she and her older sister was raised by my great aunt (my grandma's sister, here-to-forth known as grandma).  At one point in history, my mom's family were farmers and owned most of middle Indiana.  My great-grandfather lost it gambling (there's a whole lot of back stories but that's the gist).  But mom was raised in a craftsman style home in Logansport.  Decent sized for the most part (2200 sq ft).  She sold it in 1978 when my grandma had some health issues and moved her in with my parents.  Zillow has that house at $76K now.   Location, location, location.  Apparently Logansport does not fall into the realm of a good one.

With the money from the sale of my grandma's house, my parents bought a house in upstate NY.  Large enough for my parents, my grandma and brother to be on one floor, and my sister and I to live in a partially finished basement. LOTS of wood paneling (to be fair...it was mostly solid knotty pine). We were also within about 50 yards with community access to Lake Champlain, so that was an added bonus for resale.

Neither of my parents were college educated. My dad was in the Air Force for 28 years and earned his associates degree after he retired.  Mom worked as an office manager for various industries once we were all on school full time.  Because we were involved in busing in DC we ended up in private schools (FYI...we DID the busing, and it didn't work out well), so an added expense to my dad's enlisted salary.  When we moved to NY, the schools were on split sessions which meant my mom had kids coming and going JUST to and from school (so not including before school/after school activities) from 5am-7pm at night and she said no.  So back into private schools we went.  My brother was in 5th grade, my sister 11th and I was in 8th.  So that's 14 years of private school tuition.

Still, they made it work.

We didn't have fancy clothes.  Mostly purchased either from Sears or Pennys or the BX (Bobby Brooks was BIG in the BX). Except the one year in catholic schools in DC.  We wore uniforms.  The transition to the catholic school in NY was much different because they had a dress code and most parents had the money to dress their kids expensively while meeting the dress code.  Mine didn't.  Hell...I remember wearing my box pleated uniform skirt to school in NY, that was the level of desperation.  Still, I knew my parents were putting their income into something more tangible with paying for our education than clothes.  So, I didn't complain...much.

We also didn't have "vacations".  Our vacations were driving 12 hours to Indiana to see my grandma (when she was still there) or 4-6 hours to Staten Island.  One year, my parents took my younger brother to Texas to visit friends and left my sister and I with my grandma in Indiana for the summer.  Our last year in DC, the owners of the company my mom worked for  (there were 2) each had condos in Ocean City.  My dad ran a paint business on the side (side bar...while in the Air Force, in addition to painting and wallpapering, he also laid carpet) and they offered my dad a week at their condos in exchange for him painting them.  So we did get 2 weeks out to Ocean City.

Those were my fairly humble beginnings.  I think they left a good impression.  My goal was to raise my children the same.  And I failed miserably.  Which I own.

Let's start with clothes.  Once I discovered Gymboree with  my very first child, I was a lost cause.  I could dress my children similarly without being matchy-matchy and without my girls looking like prosti-tots.  And I spent WAY too much money on clothes for them, mostly girls.  By 2-3rd grade they figured out that most of their friends weren't dressed like...well...little girls, having their wardrobe obtained from Limited-Too/Justice, and we were off in running with the wardrobe battles.  I relented with each kid a little more but when you're paying that much for a pair of jeans for a child who will out grow them in 2-3 months, you become more careful about where you're willing to put your cash.  I stupidly didn't purchase second hand (unless it was off of ebay and I happened to be obsessed with a certain Gymboree line that allowed me to collect certain items in every size...yeah....I did that) which I also regret.  When they got old enough to want more of a say, I tried to be more flexible but I had a couple pretty hard and strict rules.  One...No verbiage written across the butt (note...I have had to stop using the word fanny having been educated to the British slang definition).   If you wanna know why, read about it here. I wasn't going to buy them Uggs because 1. they are very expensive and 2. they weren't ones to treat expensive items with the respect they deserved (nothing like looking into your laundry room and seeing boots covered with salt and water stains)  But I tried to accommodate by finding decent knock-offs.  Yeah...from China.  Yeah...they sucked (side bar 2:  my daughter had a friend, while in a group of friends, examined her Fuggs, fake uggs, thoroughly and proclaim them fake.  In front of everyone.  THIS is what kids do these days).  So the real upshot here is that, through their peers, kids learn there are brands you wear and brands you don't and where you are on the social hierarchy will depend on the brands you wear. As a parent...do you feed the beast?  It's a difficult line and one I simply do not remember my parents walking.  OR if they did, it was a time in history where we simply did not argue with them.

Now let's look at "entertainment".  We took the kids to restaurants (the kind where table manners are imperative, bu tnot at an Emily Post level),  State Fairs, Renaissance Festivals, concerts (or they went with friends), skiing, theater,  games (all the pro games) and those aren't inexpensive endeavors, EVEN IF you happen to get free/cheap tickets, the parking, food, drinks (we will definitely be needing drinks) come at a much steeper price then cracking a cold one while watching a game on TV.

Then there's vacations.  When the kids were young they spent LOTS of weekends at the cabin or driving down to my family in Indiana. Neither really "vacations" but events that I didn't experience.  When the youngest was 3 we took our first family vacation to South Dakota.  We drove and it was a long drive but it was fun.  I think I planned it well. With mostly cabin set ups in various locations.  2 years later we took the kids to DC, then out to Ocean City for a few days then back to Baltimore for a baseball game (Twins!!!) it was a longer drive but still fun.  Then in 2008 my ILs decided to celebrate their 50 year anniversary a year early and took the whole family (21 of us) to Mexico.  That was the kids' first airplane trip.  And aside from the sunburn, they did really well.  In 2009 we introduced them to the Boundary Waters without "camping" by renting a cabin.  You get your feet wet before you dive in.  Trust me.  2010 and 2012 we took the kids to Mexico again (the other coast).  As the kids got older, each trip was prefaced by...this is a gift, NOT an entitlement. Any guesses what the impact of those words were?  Precisely ZERO.

So that is the back story to my post.  A kind of me vs them.  Because I feel like I created a monster.  Or 4.  As parents we are excited to have kids experience that which I may not have had the opportunity to, and be grateful for the experience, however, no matter how you frame it, it always seems to become an entitlement.  Something they somehow believe they should either expect or are owed.  OH, you don't hear it at the time, they are uber appreciative.  But let next year roll around and the inevitable...where are you taking us this year?  question comes up. And you throw a divorce in there and WHOO BOY...you've also got the guilt card, the comparison card...basically you have yourself a losing hand of bullshit cards.  

Then there is college.  When did it become the rigueur du jour for college students to:  not be expected to share a room (either dorm or apartment)? To frequent every restaurant on campus? To NOT have to live on ramen noodles, mac-n-cheese or Totino's pizza? To live as if you had a job and weren't just spending your loan money? To get new bedroom linens each year, and expect actual linen ones? To expect a spring break vacation every year?  When did this happen?  Are there other parents out there looking at their kids' loans and wondering if maybe they had lived as COLLEGE STUDENTS, they wouldn't be as high. I was at Purdue for 3 years (with living expense loans for each year) and I can tell you I probably ate at 4 different places in all that time.  I also spent spring break in Oak Ridge TN, training for crew at a cost of $150 for the week. All 3 years.  So when did it become less about getting an education and more about the "experience" of living on your own but using your loan money to thoroughly enjoy yourself? Did I miss the memo?

I feel like there was a time when I was the parent of no and it really didn't make a difference.  ESPECIALLY post divorce.  One of my kids took several trips (while working...I'll give them that) while I was supplementing their income so the could pay their rent.  My thoughts were if you have enough money for extra trips (which at the time I had no job and no money) then you don't need my money so I stopped.  And daddy stepped in.  It's lessons like these that kids need to learn and don't/can't when divorced parents are not on the same page.  No one wants to be the bad guy and there is a need to weigh, are you doing more harm than good by kicking these lessons down the road?  I do admit to that, but I was also, on occasion  willing to don the title. 

I want to be a safety net for my kids, even as the adults they are.  But instead of doing the adulting job and making decisions based on what you can afford, which has never been a requirement and I think is the crux of the issue, they seem to want to continue spending without the understanding that *I* am paying your rent, utilities, phone, medical/dental, and mostly food while watching your dad pump money into you account (without seeming to look and see what you are spending money on) and then watch you jump on planes to warmer climes, or adding new skin art/piercings.  Some of this will be resolved by the end of the year, when I am no longer here, but that doesn't mean I will worry less.  My goal was for them to learn how to live within their means while I WAS the safety net and I've said this out loud to them repeatedly.  And they're not doing it.  Is this my failure or theirs?

 It's both.  I own my failings.  They have yet to fully experience theirs and unfortunately, when they do, it's going to be painful because they are from a generation that expects immediate gratification.  I'm hoping I have the testicular fortitude to do what I should have done and let them land how they will and not attempt to soften it.  I've offered enough warnings of what is to come.  I hope they heeded some.  Welcome to adulting.

Twisted Knickers

Did ya ever have one of those days when you felt like your knickers were perpetually twisted?  And then there is one thing that pushes you over the edge.  Well, I think I'm there.  And ironically, it's not something I SHOULD allow myself to be all twisted over because in the grand scheme of things, it really isn't important.  But do we ever get to choose that which is the last straw?  At least for any given day?

I won't get into specifics, because it really isn't important.  What is important is feeling marginalized.  Like efforts you  make don't matter.  That you don't count.  Yeah.  I'm there.   That thought process that says, "what is it going to take to matter?" or even questioning...DO I make a difference?  Maybe what it important to you isn't AS important to others.  Makes you stop and think.

Again, in the grand scheme of things, it's not something that will rule my life.  But it has been an eye opener and something that I need to give deeper consideration than I have in the past.  Like many things in my life I'm trying to listen to an inner voice and heed the warnings.  I think part of my problem is that when I give of myself, I'm all in.  And maybe others have a different definition of "all in" than I do.  Am I to blame?  Are others?  Clearly it's an expectation issue.  And this tends to fall to me for setting my expectations too high.

So that begs the question...ARE my expectations set too high?  Is common courtesy now a high expectation?  Like holding a door with someone with full hands (or even not)?  Like pausing to let someone cross in front of you?  I can name a whole list of these and in this day and age, I think the answer is yes.  Common courtesy has become too high of an expectation.  And how and when did that happen?  Probably when I was too busy giving too much of myself and didn't notice (OR...did I/have I?)

What does one do?  I think I need to take a (couple) giant step(s) back an gain a different perspective.  The obvious one is the visual one.  Up close, my "problem" seems bigger but maybe my issue isn't as big as I perceive it.  The next less obvious one is that perhaps this is what I need for prioritizing.

And it should start with me.  Because, as I've learned, if I don't prioritize me, who will?

 

PS...I found this in my draft folder (dated Jan 17, 2013) which I think is hilarious that our issues never really go away.  You just tuck them out of sight.  And it seemed to be a perfect prelude to my next post.  So stay tuned.

THAT Child

 

 

 

She came into my bedroom at o'dark thirty to show me this hat.

 

Which got me thinking.  When I restarted this blog I did so with the intent that this wasn't going to be about my kids and how parenting them was HARD.  Well, since it's my blog I'm going to take a moment of personal privilege. NO, it's not a birthday where all praises are the order of the day.  It's just your yearly St. Patrick's Day.  And no, the day, in and of itself, doesn't really call for one child to be singled out, but that's what I'm gonna do.

First (and there's always a preface), with 4 kids, they are constantly reminding me of how I love one of my children more than the rest.  Which is patently false.  I love each of my children DIFFERENTLY from their siblings.  But they don't see that.  They see only that I don't get mad at one as often...or that one "gets away" with more shit than they do.  They see my love through the prism of their experience and I can't change that.  But it isn't QUANTITY...it's QUALITY.  And quality looks different to different people.

So that said let's talk about life with Red.  Because, I am living with the adult version and it is challenging.  She is SO VERY OPINIONATED and I know she gets that from my side of the family.  I have it a little (those who know me, you just shut up), but OMG...my sister and my aunt (my mom's sister) had it in SPADES.  My mom used the phrase that "they went to the beat of their own drum" (and mom passed when I was 4 months pregnant with Red...she would have laughed SOOOO hard at me now) and this is accurate. They are/were all CRAZY (as in, so much that their pores ooze it) intelligent, and draw conclusions on what they know, not necessarily on what is/was fact.  Both can exist at the same time (as in, there are facts out there that they might not necessarily know).  But you can't convince them of this.  If they don't know it, it is not fact.  So...you see the challenge. And in all cases, they rarely own up to their mistakes.  They don't project or deflect.  They just ignore.  And you should too (or so they think).

 

From day one, this child was NOTHING like my other two (at the time). Again...why they don't get treated the same.  She didn't take a binky, choosing instead her index and middle finger as her paci, and if you were holding her, the other hand went directly to your earlobe.  No passing go, not collecting $200.  It didn't matter who was holding her, friend, foe, Jack the Ripper, this is what she did.  The earlobe thing she grew out of in her toddler years, but the fingers took much longer.  She was probably around 8 when SHE decided she was done and SHE was going to solve the problem.  So she wrapped tissue around her fingers and taped it there.  This was more of a nightly thing because it was done in her sleep. With a week she was done.  All on her own.

All through her school years she did not give ONE RIP about what people thought of her(I'm guessing she did, but she never let anyone see it)  Case in point: the green fuzzy hat(see above pic).  So her older sister went with friends to Mall of America and she won (I think) this lime green fuzzy bucket hat.  Red absconded with it wore it EVERYWHERE.  Probably for a good year.  When she graduated HS, I found the hat, I washed it up and sent it out with all of her close friends, to take picture of themselves wearing it at all of her favorite places around town.  Then a scrapbook of all the pictures was created.  I think that scrapbook was probably one of her favorite graduation gifts.

Once she turned 18 (her senior year), I knew my influence over her was done, but I hoped lessons in restraint (at least) were learned.  And I knew this when she decided to get her nose pierced.  I SO did not want this, but for my own reasons.  BUT...I knew she was going to do it so I tried to be as supportive as possible.  While this isn't MY thing, for her, it very much suits her personality.  And of course, as I expected once she realized she was on the road to "self realization", the tattoos came.  Now, I CAN'T get my panties in a twist over this having one myself (for myself), but as in real estate...Location, Location, Location.  She has mostly small tattoos but they hold meaning for her (R for Remy, Golden for Gophers, her Virgo sign, 444, etc)  Again, she is an adult and I'm just thankful she doesn't have giant flames shooting out of her ass, so you look for the positive.  And the reality is they suit her, the woman she has become.

 

She's my thrifter.  Now, I'm not a thrifter in the sense that she is, but I LOVE me a good bargain.  She is my treasure hunter in a world others consider trash and is able to find some of the most amazing deals and transform them into something that takes an imagination I simply do not have.  Clothes, collectables, ordinary things...she touches and POOF, they are now extraordinary.

 

The one area where she zagged where I though she would remain zigged was hair color.  She has gradually lightened her beautiful titian colored hair to a very pretty strawberry blonde, which fit her and was very attractive, but it just seemed so opposite to what I have come to know her actions to be.  She was never one to follow a trend and look like everyone else and her having this stunning hair color that set her apart and was who she was, was part of the package. In essence, her zagging baffled me.  One of those times with her that I've just had to say (mostly to myself), she'll figure it out. *see post script

With Red being a new college graduate, she is finding herself.  Her degree is in Psychology and she hopes to one day continue with her education eventually in the forensics world, "but that takes tools(money)...that takes time" and she needs to get her feet under her in this world of adulting.  So she obtained her first post college full time employment:  she is managing a Boxing Gym.

Because...WHAT ELSE WOULD THIS CHILD DO????

She has already made such amazing growth strides that I am certain this is a great fit for her.  In addition to typical office type manager duties, she is learning how to manage people, to be tactful, she gets to party plan (getting paid to do what she loves to do), and she is teaching boxing classes (as a beginner) to Parkinsons patients (for muscle control.  Side bar: my grandmother had Parkinsons, and her tremors were REALLY bad so this just makes my heart swell).

This woman...she OOZES self confidence in a way I simply cannot fathom.  Now I get a huge part of this is my conservative nature.  She would call it prude which to be honest makes me a little sad.  I don't think I am TOO propriety oriented, but I do think there is a level of decorum that society on a whole should adhere to, whether it's your clothing, your actions or your language. I don't want them codified but I also would expect people would use good sense.  Those aren't high expectations (which I readily admit I have).  I am in the "just because you can doesn't mean you should" camp, and she's in the "do it and see what happens" camp although I do try to look at her approach positively, admiring her bravado, while wishing she thought (she doesn't) that mine is ALSO ok.

So let me recap.  Red is very much her own person.  She is strong, opinionated and self confident.  She has the will to find a way (if SHE chooses).  She has a giving heart and tries to look for the best in people, sometimes to a fault (you can't and shouldn't always ignore the ugly). She is my Lucy in a world of Kardashians and I am so grateful I got to parent her and hopefully be part of who she has become.  Even if it was just a little.

*PS...for those who have seen her recent pictures, know she is pretty blonde now.  She has decided to my everlasting delight to return to her natural roots.  Lucy indeed.

 

 

 

 

Reading is Fundamental

 I was never much of a reader.  I wasn't.  I had no interest, so I struggled in elementary school because somethings REQUIRED reading.  Spelling for example.  I have a distinct memory of cheating on a 2nd grade spelling test with a book with the word violin in it because I could not for the life of me figure out  how to spell it . (SEE...that whole chicken...egg...argument in SO many different ways.  Yes, I was caught, no I didn't ever cheat on another test.

It wasn't until I was around 11 that my sister gave me my first Harlequin Romance.  OH YES I DID.  Now to be fair, it was what sparked my interest in reading, I didn't just head right down the road to smut (not then anyhow).  After I figured out that I could read something and enjoy it, I was able to go back and read some of the books I skipped over.  The Little House series.   The All of a Kind Family series .  I was still fairly particular as the topic had to spark my interest.  My sister did the Bobbsey Twins and Nancy Drew books, but I wasn't interested.

By 8th grade I had discovered such (chick-lit at that time) authors as Taylor Caldwell, Helen Van Slyke and yes Danielle Steele (WAY back in the day)  I was still reading the occasional Harlequin but I felt like I had grown as a reader (yeah...I can say that).  I remember in 9th grade, when the Thornbirds hit the shelves, staying up until 3am of the morning I had to go in and take a Geometry Regents (a NY state version of a final exam) exam just to finish it. I had also become a fan of Kathleen E Woodiwiss (whose prose tends to run a little purpley). I had come a long way.

My reading tastes expanded a bit over the years. But I struggle with two things: the classics and being told what to read.  This might harken to my high school days when I was forced to read the classics for English.  Freshman year was Red Badge of Courage (and I'm saddened to say I probably relied more on cliff notes).  Sophomore year was Ethan Frome.  I thank GOD Mrs Robinson read most of it in class because...no, just no.  And Junior and Senior year I have completely blanked out on what the required reading was.  But it was classic related.  Oddly enough, when I moved out on my own, I decided I needed to create my own library so I started purchasing the classic books (leather covers, gold foil lettering and page edging) from the Franklin Mint.  I have in my possession:  Moby Dick, Pride and Prejudice, David Copperfield, Vanity Fair, Huckleberry Finn, Candide, Plutarch- Selected Lives, Treasure Island...there may be a few more.  Wanna take a guess at which I've read?  Not one.  Maybe someday, when no one tells me I have to.

I moved through Dean Koontz and John Saul (creepy) books with regularity. Never a fan of Stephen King although I did read Thinner (he wrote it under a pseudonym).  I read all of the Harry Potter (have the first editions in hard cover..WOOT WOOT).  I read some Tom Clancy and Joel C Rosenberg. I became a huge fan of Vince Flynn but I haven't read anything by the writer who has taken over his Mitch Rapp series.  About 15 years ago I turned to Christian literature, having read all of the Left Behind series, and most of Karen Kingsbury.  I remember turning my oldest daughter onto Karen Kingsbury when she was a sophomore.  She read her voraciously that year and ended up with like a 1400 on her SAT reading scores. I made it through the first 3 of Diana Gabaldon Outlander series before I lost interest.  That could have been too much too fast.

And I have a problem with too much too fast of specific authors.  I discovered Jodi Picoult who I LOVED.  At first.  But her books do have a dark shadow in almost all of them and if you read them in succession that darkness tends to linger.  I had to break up reading them, choosing other authors in between,  and was fine.  Until I read Sing You Home.  She lost me there.  Never, in all my years of reading, did I flip to the back to see how  a book ended before that one and I did and threw it against the wall.  Not because I didn't know the ending, but because this time I did.  Her endings ALWAYS have a twist, which I rarely see coming in a book, until that book and she telegraphed how she would end it. There was definitely an agenda there.

Maybe 15 years ago, I made a hard left and started reading Historical Romance little knowing that in some cases it was soft porn.  Yeah.  I said it.  Bertrice Small was a favorite (and not I might add for the faint hearted).   And Stephanie Laurens. Both of them go through whole families and I liked that, eagerly awaiting the next book.  Other authors like Hannah Howell, had a couple different genres within the Historical Romance arena. She does mostly Highland romances but also adds a touch of paranormal into her books.  Linsay Sands is similar but dips into the occult. Lynn Kurland has 2 fun series, the Macleod and DiPaget, where she moves characters through time.  Karen Marie Moning also mixed Highlander Series (it must be the area) with some paranormal, THEN went straight up soft porn with her Fever Series (this was all about the fae, keep a fan handy).

My routine was to read at night in bed before turning out the light, or if I was sitting in the sun or bored.   Anyway, you get the picture.  A non reader turned reader.  Right up until the early days of the divorce when my ex told his girlfriend who relayed to her (now ex) husband who told me that I spent all of our marriage reading and he raised our kids pretty much on his own.  (just so you know, there is no way he could have had information regarding my reading...it had to come from somewhere).  At any rate, it was during that time that I literally stopped reading.  All together (yeah...I know the root cause). Oh here and there throughout the past 6 years I've managed to get through a new book (Kristen Hannah's Nightengale), but I haven't read with the same voracity as I used to.  I would have (actually I still do) have a stack of books on my nightstand to work my way through at night, but I have forgone that in favor of my phone or the TV (yes...I KNOW how bad that is).  As a result, I don't sleep well.  I spent the first 2 years on Trazodone, just to get a couple hours of sleep.  Then I tried melatonin which really didn't help.  Then exercise which calmed the body but not the brain.  It has only been in the last 2 years that I've been able to get some fairly decent sleep.  Ironically, in the heart of the city.  I could hear a train in my old house go through town 4 miles away, but in my 100 year old house, I hear only faint outside noise.

Last night I went to bed and I decided I was going to just read. No phone, no TV.  I picked up a new book I had and made it around 20 pages before the book started dropping...my tell that I am ready to turn out the light. I never even looked at what time it was.  Light off and I was out cold.  For a good 7 hours.  That just doesn't happen.  So I am now in experiment mode.  Will it work again tonight?  We'll see.  And if it doesn't, that doesn't mean I'm going to stop reading.  I've really missed it.

#WhereInTheWorldIsCarolyn???

Hello From a very sunny, breezy Meerufenfushi.  Meeru for short. A Maldivian island about an hour boat ride from Male.  I am...FINALLY...in the place I will call home for the next 2 weeks.  It's a little surreal and I'm not fully convinced that the past 3 days haven't been a dream, and if so...let me sleep...never wake a happy momma.

All this happened because I have an extremely generous sister and brother in law who invited me along .(I kinda think the BIL is gonna have fun with the whole "sister wives" thing.)  I need to back up a little.  They discovered the joys of cruising about 4 years ago and have taken to it like...well like a sister/sister-in-law to business class?   They have gradually booked longer and longer trips until my sister finally pulled the trigger on an around the world cruise.  They leave from Florida Dec of 2022 and end in London May of 2023.  And while they typically kennel their animals, this was too long of a time frame so they asked me if I would come out to Washington state and pet sit.  Since the pandemic has given the the opportunity to prove my effectiveness at working from home, I've been approved to work from Washington.  So sometime next fall I will take up temporary residence in Bellingham. (And to be clear NOT being in Minnesota for a winter made the decision much easier). As "compensation" for the inconvenience, and to a degree to help keep Michelle company for part of the 3 weeks that Bruce will be diving, they graciously offered me this opportunity.  And when opportunity knocks.  A LOT of flaming hoops had to be jumped through to make this happen, but...LOOK WHERE I AM! 

The Maldives are a group of islands (over 1000) of which around 190 are habitable.  It is almost exactly on the equator just south west of India in the Indian Ocean.  Meerufenfushi is in the N Atoll basically the most eastern most of the islands. Michelle and Bruce have one of those amazing rooms (this is after all their 5 year anniversary) over the water, the top red dot, while I am "making due" with a villa on the beach the other red dot).  

The entire island is a resort.   It's about 2 miles from end to end.  I walked a little of it yesterday but I'll be honest...the jet lag hit like a truck around 3 pm yesterday and the inevitable headache followed.  So I took a short nap, headed to dinner and returned to my room where I crashed.  Hard.

But not before catching my first sunset.

Where's that cool Dating Game music when you want it?

Way back when the divorce was in the final throes, I broke down and joined Match (followed by  Zoosk).  I'm no longer on either although my profile is.  Let's just call it a teaser. I'll throw some more money at it when someone interesting comes along.  Oh, mind you there have been interesting fella's there, but I am also realistic and when I see they're wanting kids, I'm fairly certain anyone in my age range is looking for Barbie.  Actually, I think what they are really looking for is someone in their late 30s who managed to survive motherhood and still look hot.  Yeah at 39 I did too.  At 58, not so much.  Which is why men my age date younger.  And younger women know that 15 year age gap might give them the payoff they want (oh c'mon...you know it's true).

I have a litany of stories to tell from online dating but today I'm going to talk simply about the profile.  Take your pick of platforms and away we go.

Both platforms (and I'm sure most) allow you to use a pseudonym although I think Match encourages you to use your real name (or a real-ish sounding one).  What I want to know is WHO EXACTLY told these guys when you make up you're nom d'amour, that you use and adverb and an adjective?  No seriously.  I wanna know and I want to have them flogged with a wet noodle.  Just scrolling through the notifications I found these (seriously...these are REAL pseudonyms):

• Gently Funny
• Creatively Tough
  
• Obviously Fierce
• Definitely Friendly
• Monstrously Genuine
• Positively Happy
• Creatively Handsome
  
• Casually Adventurous 
• Gently Caring

I mean...c'mon.  So if you want me to be the first to contact you I'm going to address you as...???  Quit trying to be cute.  It's not.

Next.  The pictures.  Most of my pics were taken post divorce and with my kids and I'm ok with that.  At least they're not at ridiculous angles or bathroom selfies.  FYI guys...there's a selfie feature* on your phone (unless you're still using a Fisher Price phone) that flips the camera so you do not have to take a pic in front of a bathroom mirror.  There's also an editing app that will allow you to crop out the fact that you're in the bathroom.  But my favorite is the pics themselves.  First.  Keep your freaking shirt on.  I know, I know...you're SUPER PROUD of your pecs and your guns but let me ask this...would you want to meet any woman shirtless in person?  What does that say about you?  Just keep your shirt on. We'll get there.  Maybe.  Next, and I'm sure I'll get a lot of flack over this one, but keep the fish out of the picture.  Our eyes go right to the fish, NOT to you and if that's your goal then DAMN, time for some self esteem building exercises.  And last...but most certainly NOT least (and you KNOW it's coming right?), the motorcycle.  Yeah...I know.  My ex had one in our pre-divorce timeline.  I think women/wives recognize the signs of a midlife crisis and typically say...well, it's either the motorcycle or the girlfriend (mine apparently didn't realize the very reluctant ok for the motorcycle was NOT an ok for the girlfriend too.  If I were to think about it, I was informed of both after the fact so he remained true to form).  So yeah, you have a motorcycle and you LOVE your motorcycle and it's now an extension of you.  Pro-tip...we don't need to see all your extensions right off the bat.(SWIDT? 😉)

And  the "my friends say I'm..."  Honestly?  I don't care what your friends say you are.  They could think you're a douche-canoe but they'll still sing your praises which doesn't really tell me anything does it?. YOU are the best person to describe you.   Yeah, sure you're friends are gonna paint you in a glowing light and yeah, you might do that too but I can figure it out soon enough and I'll want my ire directed accordingly.  

Lastly...what's with y'all and camping?  Is that a gene thing?  I've been camping...hell, I've done Boundary Waters 3 times.  And not once did I LOVE it.  I had fun (not as much fun as I would have had had we figured out how to bring powdered alcohol) but mostly because of my fellow campers (pretty sure all of our BW stories start with, "Remember when Tim...").  But I don't sleep well on hard rocky surfaces (actually, I'm fairly confident that I am a rock magnet...if there are any within 12 inches of my lower back they will work their way to the surface and make a nest directly on the spot surest to cause the most pain) , I don't do well without a regular shower and the local mosquitoes were able to start their own Bank of Carolyn, thanks to me.  But it seems like every guy on these sites loves to camp.  I will return to when my dad used to tell me his idea of camping was staying at a hotel that didn't have HBO.  Amen.

I'm sure if someone wanted to critique my profile, they could find a plethora of items to mock.  My faith. I wrestled with what level I wanted to express my faith, and I decided that was a non-negotiable so it should be included.  Just like those who put their religious status as agnostic/atheist, I'd rather know up front and swipe left then become involved and realize too late that I have set myself up for failure. So, I'm sure there are plenty of non-believers who aren't interested in a "bible thumper".  Different strokes.

And before everyone jumps on the "you're too picky" bandwagon, I'm not.  Really.  I wouldn't say no to going out with some of these men (not all...OH HELL TO THE NO not all).  I think the best way to put it is your profile shouldn't be a fishing net.  But neither should it be a coffee filter.

 *On reflection, I am going to say, unless you are a narcissist who has mastered the art of selfies (as most of the under 30 crowd have done), just don't do a selfie.  There's a whole angle thing that has to be perfected...too low and we're looking at your brains through your nostrils, too high and we can let you know the status of your implants, so just don't.  Have your kid (or a friend) do it.  Kids are best.  They've perfected pictures of themselves so they'll know how to get the best one of you.  Trust me.

Divorce Shoes

 Yup.  I said it. Outloud.

Two of my favorite people in the world went through it and I'll be honest, I didn't get it.  And I don't think anyone ever does until they're standing in the divorce shoes.  They're not your size.    They're not your style. They hurt.  You can't imagine going anywhere in them because they are NOT YOU.

But divorce is different than shoes.  Shoes you get to take off and if you REALLY want to, you can toss them.  But divorce...you don't have that option.  It's like they're the ONLY shoes that are available for you and if you want to move forward, ya gotta put them on.

So, you do.  Because you don't have a choice.  If you're smart, you find a way to break them in S-L-O-W-L-Y, when every fiber in your being tells you to run , to get as far away from where you are because being where you are hurts.  The thing is, it's not where you are that hurts.  It's the damned shoes.  It's the proverbial rock/hard place, damned if you do/damned if you don't scenario.   But standing still is not an option. 

I technically wasn't divorced when I started moving and that was probably good, given the divorce took over a year.  I decided to take my oldest daughter to northern Wisconsin for a "girls get away".  Weirdly, it was something I never considered, because any time during my marriage I attempted to do anything outside of my ex, he nixed it. (You eventually learn what this is and how to deal with what it has done to you...another post).  So we went to Madeline Island/Bayfield.  We went shopping in Bayfield where I found the prettiest wall arrangement of flowers outside of an antique store.  So I took a picture of them.  It wasn't just the colors, which were so vibrant, but it was also the texture.  The chipped brick wall, the painted peeling wooden boxes, the bright blue door frame. It wasn't one thing but all of it.

See where this is going?  We aren't one dimensional.  We have so many facets that can't be pigeon holed into one picture.  It's everything as a whole that makes us who we are.  For too long I had myself tied up in what I wasn't. I wasn't wanted. I wasn't enough.  I wasn't young. I wasn't skinny. I wasn't wealthy. I wasn't worthy.  I wasn't welcome.  The list of wasn'ts was pretty long. And I forgot that for each of those things I wasn't, I was/am something else.  I AM a great mom.  I AM a good friend.  I AM worthy of being something other than a doormat. I AM clever.  I AM resourceful.  I AM capable.  I AM courageous.  I AM adventurous.  And want to know the dirty little secret?  I always have been those things.  It just took a while to find me buried under all I was made to believe I wasn't.

I still have the divorce shoes.  Apparently, they're like a scar that you can't just slough off even though I would love to.  But as I've had to readjust my thinking so much, it shouldn't be a surprise that I've had to  with this as well.  Because sometimes...if you're honest, when you look at those shoes, ugly and painful as they are, you can see how far you've come in them and find that though the journey was exhausting, both mentally and physically, you're in a much better place. 

Here are those flowers.  They still make me smile.  Maybe you too?

Launched

Know what happens when you launch a rocket?  It's gone.  Oh, you might get pieces of it back...maybe, but it won't be the same.  I think this is what they mean when we launch our children. We prepare them for a life where they make their own decisions and reap the benefits AND the consequences.  Hopefully.

When the boy joined the ANG I got a little taste of this.  I wrote about it here.  And then when my oldest daughter moved out the year after she finished school, there it was again.  But she was local. So, again, it didn't feel "real". (to be clear, it was real, but I still get to see her...well, whenever I want)  Well, now it's reality time and it really hit.  The boy, after finishing his Masters degree in Hospital Administration has joined the USAF.  Now, don't get me wrong.  I LOVE that he has done this, this serving his country through the same branch of the military as my dad did.  And I LOVE that he has so many adventures  and opportunities in his future.  The part I don't love, is once again,  watching the glow of the tail lights.

Saturday morning, he left for 8 weeks at OTS in Alabama <here is where I comment that this poor guy has done every "training" in the dead of summer in the south:  Basic was San Antonio, Tech school was Biloxi, and now OTS is Montgomery.>  From there he goes directly to his first PCS: Charleston SC.  This is not a new chapter.  This is a new book.

We spent most of May and June getting him ready.  The movers (MOVERS!!! Not friends and family who require payment in the form of free beer and pizza...real live MOVERS) will be here early Aug to pick up his belongings and move them to SC.  He has an apartment on hold where he will make his temporary home until his girlfriend moves out next year and they figure out where exactly they want to be.

In so much of this process I have expressed my concerns only to have him let me know that he's already worked that out.  Which is my tell that he is ready.   Him wanting me to let go and my willingness to do so are mutually exclusive, however much I try and kid myself that they are not.  BUT, knowing that this is what we prepare them for made it a LITTLE easier.

This son of mine.  He is an amazing young man.  He helped me through probably the darkest time in my life.  He was a sounding board with so much wisdom I sometimes questioned if he was mine.(he is...we have the same head circumference).  He has so much integrity  and empathy.  I saw that in him when he was just a boy. When you think you have him figured out, he zags when you were positive he would zig and the end results always exceed what you expected. Character.  Faith.  Honor. Intelligence  Courage. Service. Determination.  He is like a walking billboard of what the military would want in their leaders. They are lucky to have him.

So, Saturday morning after packing everything he needed for OTS in his truck and plotting his course, he said good-bye.  as we hugged, he said he hoped he could make me proud.  THAT, my sweet child, you have already done.  It has no bounds.

Be Your Own Advocate

 For so long we are our children's advocate, and if you are fortunate to have a supportive spouse, you might have someone in your corner (I didn't).  So how do we be that "physican who heals themself" person when you have to be your own advocate?

Last month I celebrated my 2nd year at my new job.  Oddly my first year was still somewhat fraught with post divorce/child rearing/house selling issues.  Then throw in a pandemic where I was "forced"* to work from home, let's just say I had a bit of a rocky start.

Then...my life outside of work stabilized and I was in a better place.  I started asking questions, getting answers, volunteering, basically stepping out of my comfort zone.  Sometimes, you can't figure things out on your own and that's OK.

We have bi monthly checkins with our manager and the past year working from home, I've felt good.  Oh, I've had stressful meetings, usually dealing with pushed deadlines, but on the whole, I believe I've made great strides professionally.  It was at the last check-in, that coincided with a self/peer/management assessment that I decided now was the time to be my own advocate.  While I believe that my employer does value my work, I didn't think it was translating...financially.  OH, I got the same merit increases and bonuses as my co-workers, but I was still stuck at the lowest position with the organization and I wasn't quite sure why.  So on my self assessment I said that "I sometimes feel valued".  This caught my manager's attention and during our check in, where I was given a glowing review both from her and my peers, I was asked about it.  

I decided to be as honest as I could be.  I knew I had a rough first year, but given working from home I was exceeding expectations, I wasn't sure why I wasn't progressing within the organization.  I phrased it in such a way as I would like to now how I wasn't progressing so that I could fix it to get to the next level.

3 days later, I was at the next level in my profession.  It is a bit of a catch-22, though not knowing if it was done because I brought attention to it or if it was done because it was deserved.  I'm going to go with the second because I'm working on being more positive.  But I will encourage you to be your own advocate.  If not you, then who?

So, Yay me.

Someone Has to be First

 When you are mid-separation, you're out of a job, your friends have abandoned you, you become lonely...craving adult interaction.  Church helps but it's once a week.  Women's  groups help but they're also as damaged and  usually by the same situation.  So while sympathy does love company, sometimes what's called for is fun.  You want to feel some sense of normalcy.  Whatever that is.  You want someone to make you feel wanted.  Needed.  Cherished.

With limited options, I decided to give Match a try.  So here goes the first story of Match.  There'll be more to come, but you have to start somewhere.  First off, I'm gonna say, don't do it until you have the paperwork in hand.  By that I mean your divorced papers.  Just don't.  There's too much angst, too much unresolved.  It just isn't a good idea.  At the time you think "this is how I move on".  But can you?  Are you ready to?  That answer is probably no.  Tie up those lose ends.

I'll say my first foray into Match was not at all what I expected.  I met this guy, also separated, who SAID he was in a similar situation (not sure if there was adultery involved but she supposedly wanted out of a 23 year marriage too).  He had one less child but the ones he had were WEIRDLY similar to mine.  We had the same phone.  We ordered the same drink at Starbucks.  It was very strange.  Seriously, the first horse out of the gate?  Does that ever happen?

We had several pretty fun dates.  We went to a brewery and dinner.  We had bloodies on a rainy day and watched a movie.  We went to the horse races.  It was...fun.  Fun I had been missing.  Someone thought of me.  Wanted to see me smile, me happy.  I really can't remember a time I had that kind of attention.  And I'll share this as well.  There was nothing physical involved.

Then, the "last" time we met, we did kiss.  OMG...did we kiss.  It was what I hadn't had and craved.  It was just a kiss but it was a KISS.  My toes curled and cramped.  It was that good.  Later that night the flirty text about said toes curling. Then...dun, da, dun dun.DUUUNNNN...the inevitable text about needing to stand down.  Not sure of himself or what he wants.  So...deep breath.  We're wading...just wading.  We're knee deep, and can easily wander back to ankle...maybe calf deep.  We aren't underwater.

About 6 months later, I get the out-of-the-blue text while waiting for the playoff game.  Like that kiss happened the day before.   It was so very weird.  And if I was a smart girl I'd have taken a hard pass, but...what can I say?  I'm weak.  So, THIS is my punishment for not getting the first time around that when guys show you who they are BELIEVE THEM.  More of the same.  Hoping the lesson took this time.  No 6 month postmortem, so I think I'm good.  The lesson had been learned.

Never fear my brave Boudiccas (yes, I'm gonna make you look that one up), I will soldier on and I DO have more stories to share.  And some, well...damn.  Stay tuned.

Defining Trauma

My dad was big on vocabulary.  He didn't go to college until after he had done 27 years in the Air Force, but he spent those years finding ways to better himself.  One was the Reader's Digest vocabulary quiz and find ways to incorporate those words into conversations.  So, to this day, and maybe in his honor, I attempt to use words that are appropriate but just outside the expected.

Trauma though...trauma is a word that hits you.  Maybe because you've experienced it or maybe because you've watched it, but it's definitely a gut punch.  If you google it, you'll find that now days trauma is defined as the psychological distress following any terrible or life threatening event.  Of course Merriam defines it from the physical aspect; an injury to tissue.  But for the purpose of this I'm going to concentrate on the psychological one.

My divorce traumatized me.  Not in the same way as being part of or watching a horrific event, but for me, it sorta was.  Both.  I never imagined being divorced.  Ever.  And after 24 years of marriage, why would I?  But apparently a grey divorce is a thing.  The trauma I experienced was on so many different levels I'm not sure where I would start.

I guess let's start with betrayal.  Followed by a deep sense of rejection.  Then the sacrifice of my family so that we could be near his and of my career so our kids would have the stability of one parent being home.  The dysfunction of a broken home that will follow not only me but my children. The betrayal (this time friends and "family")...UGH...the list is long and really if you want to read all about it, this kinda covers it.  So yeah, it was pretty traumatic.  And I'm dealing.  Doing better.  GETTING better each day, each week...so there is that.  My life will never be the same.  But maybe that's not a bad thing.  The things that made my marriage not work are no longer a factor.  And would I have gotten here without the divorce?  Maybe although I doubt it.  You have to want to fix what's broken and you can't alone.  And maybe I will eventually be in a better place NOT in spite of it but because of it. 

But here's the thing...

Trauma always leaves a scar

It follows us home...

It changes our lives...

Trauma messes everybody up.

But maybe that's the point.

All the pain and the fear and the crap

Maybe going through all of that is what keeps us moving forward

It's what pushes us

Maybe we have to get a little messed up

Before we can step up. ~ Alex Karev

I added that for 2 reasons.  First, it's appropriate.  Second Karev said it and I've maintained that I have miss named my rescue dog.  He should be named Karev.  Because he's kind of a dick, but to the right person (well, me) he is actually pretty sweet.

Make Your Bed

 There is a great Commencement Speech given by US Navy Admiral William McRaven entitled, If you Want to Change the World, Start off my Making your Bed

I didn't need Admiral McRaven to tell me this, but I'll be honest, I don't remember exactly when I put this into practice.  I know I've been making my bed religiously (unless of course I've plans to wash it or I'm in it) daily at least for the past 20 years.  And I don't remember why but I think it might hearken back to his comment that even if my day was shit(my word not his, because...inappropriate)....and believe me, I've had may share of shit days,  I will have started my day with one small task accomplished. 

One.Small.Accomplishment.  Sometimes that is all it takes to spur you on to you're next small accomplishment.  Then your next.  And before you know it, your day if full of that which you didn't think you could accomplish at all, let alone in one day.

But no, worlds don't change from making your bed.  It takes more than that but it STARTS with that.  The world changes from the power of one person.  I'm one person.  You're one person.  What can I do to change my little corner of the world?  I can make my bed, NOT because it's messy, but because it sets me on a path to do the right thing.  You start that by a single success.  Just one.  Which gives you the push to maybe get another success on the books.  Then another.  It's getting to that point where "nothing matters but your will to succeed".  And that has to start somewhere.

I've tried this with my kids over the years.  Trying to help them see that there needs to be a will to succeed and it has to start with THEM.  I can't force that on them, as much as I want to.  It has to come FROM them.  And too often what is really required is that first success.  So when you start out, keep your goals attainable.  Make a list of three accomplishments you want for the day.  It can start with something as simple as make your bed and if that is all that is done then great.  It's a first step to hopefully attaining your goals for the next day, which might be the same goals.  The power of hope starts small until you see it in action.  Once you see hope attained you set your goals a little higher...a little loftier.  And you set about making those goals happen.  With hope.

He's right.  We have to set about getting those little things right, so that you can approach the big things with the same fortitude.  I'm not perfect.  And I still fail, WAY more than I care to admit.  But I really do try to embody many of the characteristics Admiral McRaven speaks of.  Respect for everyone.  This is a tough one especially in light of today's cancel culture.  We can no longer have philosophical difference of opinion.  Now people must be cancelled for not  adhering to group think.  I still have the ability to disagree with you and allow you your opinion regardless of who is right.  But I am now in the minority of that thought process and I find that disheartening.  Life is not fair.  NO...it isn't.  But as he says one's will to succeed is a great equalizer.  I also believe that it needs to be coupled with  perseverance because sometimes there will be setbacks.  What's the saying, something worth having is worth fighting for.  You not only have to fight to succeed, but you have to keep on fighting, especially when the going gets tough.

Face bullies. Stand your ground. Bullies come in all shapes and sizes.   Look in the mirror and remind yourself of that when you see what you think is an injustice, if you have ever contributed to an injustice. And it doesn't have to be THAT injustice. Have you ever treated people without respect because of what you THINK they believe?.  Because of where they are from?  Because of what they do for a living?  Because if you have, you are a bully and part of the problem.  The solution comes when you accept people can be different from you, think different from you, live different from you and still be worthy of respect. We judge people on the content of their character.  Nothing more.  Nothing less.  Character, I think speaks volumes about who we are as an individual.   Ascribing people to one of your "unworthy" boxes, not because of anything they've done, but because they think differently than you makes you a bully.  Now, what are you going to do about it? Open your mind not to what you think but what you KNOW.

Never give up.  SO.MANY.TIMES. I have wanted to give up.  Sometimes, just making my bed in the morning has given me what I need to move forward.   There will be days, and there have been, when I've thought, well, that was a bust, and trod upstairs to my room only to find my made bed and thought, well, it wasn't a complete bust.