9:23am Writing Practice 49° Boise
Windy and chilly out today after a pure perfect day yesterday. But at least it's sunny. I've got work to do in my front yard but there's no way I'm likely to go out there in the cold wind, I don't care how sunny it is. I went with Janna to Lowe's yesterday to look at plants and I was inspired enough to come home afterward and weed a whole flower bed, the one out by Stephen's tree. It took me about an hour. So now I have two beds cleared, one front one left to weed and then the one bed that I left untouched last fall is overgrown and a monster out there. I can split up some of those plants and use them around in the other beds and fill in with some of the pretty things I saw yesterday and that should be good. At least that's a plan to get me started on something springish and get me outside and off my ass in this chair. But as I cast my gaze out to Stephen's tree and watch the wind whip it around, I know I won't have to do anything about any of my plans until later. Later today, later tomorrow, later this week for sure. I'm a big fan of Later!
Well, I have to say that I'm finally feeling better, lighter, less prone to bleak prose and tragic analogies. And not a minute too soon, I don't know how much longer I could have taken that. A few days ago I began listening to our Love and Gratitude track on the Practice Happiness CD first thing in the morning and I had the third session with it today. It's certainly true that gratitude heals. I really do love my life here in this little house. I must, I'm still here and there are no packing boxes in sight, no plans to move or sell.
However, I will admit that it's the cats who keep me here, mostly. I think, left to my own ideas, I would have moved to the Oregon Coast last year, bought a 5th wheel trailer and left all this behind with a renter. But these cats kept me here and so I'll stay until I think I can manage a move that includes them. However, this is their home, this is my home, we all know what to do here on a daily basis. I just need a few days away and I think I'll get that next week when I go to Baker. I'll stay the night with Jodie and Keith and then drive up to Sumpter and maybe stay a night up there. I just want to be someplace else for a while and I need to find a place to donate something for our reunion raffle anyway, so that's my excuse.
As I go along in my days, thoughts of Stephen and memories come unbidden but always clumped into specific locations. My memories are all pre-grouped into the houses where we lived and I think that would be a good title --- The Houses Where We Lived --- don't know the subtitle yet. But I did just get the line, Suicide ends a life, not a story. And in the end, all lives end, but stories can live on, if it's a good story and well told.
I dreamed of Stephen this morning, in the early hours before waking. He was young, maybe 3rd or 4th grade, 9 years old, just poised to bud out into a teen and outgrowing his chubby, adorable stage. Although he was never really chubby, not by today's standards. He had a mouth full of snaggle teeth but he wasn't old enough for braces yet. That would come a few years later and alter the very shape of his face, creating the handsome young man he became and forever erasing the weak and receding chin that would have been gawkish with the strong nose he was bound to possess. I have a video of him singing with his music teacher at age 9, That's What Friends Are For. I really should figure out how to get that on digital and uploaded to YouTube or saved to share somehow. At the time, I thought it was an odd choice for him, it didn't fit somehow, but he loved it. Maybe it's because he didn't have any friends and the very idea of a life where friends love and encourage each other, stand by each other, trusting that they can count on each other, was so appealing that it inspired him to sing it.
I wonder what he would be been like had we not moved from Florida. Would he have made friends, found a niche for himself in that grade school where he went Kindergarten and 1st grade? Being in the same grade school K-5th hadn't helped me at all, I was still weird and mostly friendless by the time we moved to Baker in time for 6th grade. In that case, staying in Florida probably wouldn't have made a difference. His best friend was Kim Kline, a very sweet, mentally challenged girl who thought he hung the moon. I'll bet I have a photo of them somewhere --- or maybe John has it. Kim fully accepted him and he did the same with her and that must have been the attraction. They were both too different for the mainstream and so they stuck together. He never found another friend like her, she was the one and only in his young life.
I enjoyed seeing Stephen in my dream but it was just a dream, not a visit. I would certainly welcome a visit and maybe I'll get them more often if I can start feeling better and stop blocking him. I'm working on it, Stephen! Don't give up on me, please!
Not long ago I had an idea that there is no time where Stephen is and so I don't have to worry about a time factor. He's not judging me or worrying about anything at all. That vision I had where he showed up to take me to the airport but I wasn't packed yet, was in fact surrounded by so much stuff that I couldn't find what belonged to me and I was too confused to get packed. But he was patient, not hurrying my along at all, waiting for me while watching TV, cool as can be. When I'm ready, we will leave but I have time to get myself together, find my things, sort my priorities and then walk away from that too-stuffed house with Stephen to guide the way. He's waiting for me. How soothing.
Monday, May 9, 2016
Tuesday, May 3, 2016
Forgiveness and Goodbye Donna
9:53am Writing Practice 58° Boise
Up and ready. It's a fine day out, no wind and brilliant sunshine, the promise of a perfect spring day and probably hot this afternoon. This would be an ideal day to go for a long hike, I can imagine Stephen saying. This is the kind of day that summer dreams are made of, and boy, didn't that kid love summer!
I have successfully stopped looking for a new car. Yay. Yesterday I spent the late afternoon at my studio getting Donna's photos uploaded to the folder she sent me. I hope never to hear of them again. I have two prints to send to her parents and I'll get them ready and mailed out today with a little note. After today I will be done with them all. I feel that the harm they all caused me is now healed, it's over and there's no need to continue with them. There is no new closeness to draw me in, no connection has been made .... there is nothing for me there and truth be known, there never was. She never did like me. There was no respect for me in our friendship, it was all me liking her and chasing her. I was used to living without respect all my life, I saw nothing wrong with it. Not so anymore. This photo session attitude has shown me that there is still no respect and there never will be.
So, at long last, Goodbye Donna Warden. I forgive you for leaving me behind all those years ago and for breaking my heart to the core. I see now that you didn't even know you did it, I didn't register on your radar at all, I was invisible to you. I'm ready to admit that you didn't care for me, not in any meaningful way. We were day and night to each other and we still are. Only now it's OK. I can move on knowing that I'll be fine without you, something I didn't know at all last time we broke up. You were my first true heartbreak and I will never forget you but now I can forgive you and let you go.
OK, moving on. I weighed myself this morning and it seems that I've put on 4 lbs in the past 6 months, almost a whole pound in just the past month. Horror! If I'm going to fit into my summer clothes, I have to do something about this starting today! I've already cut out sodas, milk, tortillas, and my dinners are much smaller. I have cookies at the studio, I just bought them yesterday. They need to go! And the chips, too. I need to slow down on the carbs and increase the protein. I laso need to increase my activity level. I need to get to the gym 2 or 3 times a week with or without James and then stretch at home more. I would like to lose 6 lbs by the reunion in July. As of today, that would put me at 136.6 and that would actually be ideal. Low carb will also give me a flat tummy and I like the sound of that. I hate this pudge! I can tap on that, it's a tappable issue.
I also need to continue on the process of forgiving myself for Stephen's death. Just typing that sentence made tears stir behind my eyes, I know that this is a huge issue for me. My chest has constricted, breathing has altered. Small changes in my body and I noticed them as soon as I typed that sentence. My manta has been, "While I prepare to forgive myself, I ask to be forgiven." By that I mean forgiven for the horrible things I did to Stephen when he was little. The attack on the stairs comes readily to mind. The yelling at him on the way to school, telling him what a fuck up he was. I didn't use those words and I only did it that once, but I sure do remember it. The time I came downstairs at 10am after he had been up for hours and seeing the cookbook open on the counter. He was watching TV and I asked what the cookbook as doing open on the counter and he came bouncing over and leaned into it, saying, "Doesn't that look good?" pointing to a picture that went with a recipe. I like to think I reached over and petted his head and said out loud, "My baby is hungry! Let's get you some food." I know I thought it but did he hear me say it, hear me feel guilty about neglecting my child? I swore to do better after that and I think I did for the most part. He was not 5 years old at the time and I don't know if that was before of after the tumble down the stairs.
I need to forgive myself if I'm going to find a way to tell our story. I can't continue to be plagued by guilt and shame and have a hope of getting anything meaningful written.Seems to me, if I can forgive Donna Warden, I can forgive myself. At least I know I loved him and I know how hard I worked at becoming a better mother. I worked on it for many years, many more years then I actually abused or neglected him. Because of Stephen, I changed my entire life around, I read books that tore me up with the truth of my actions and I wrote daily. I gave up alcohol and became sober, began to recover a sense of my real self so that I could share that with him. He was the reason I tried, he was the reason I did so much of what I did but I never told him that. Did I? Did I tell you how much you meant to me? How I would have laid down my life for you, Stephen? How if I couldn't have stopped you from jumping, I would have jumped too? Do you know that? And what a failure I feel like now, that after over 20 years of life-changing effort, I still ended up in this spot, alone, with my child dead. Who's the big fuck up now?
So now I need to lose weight and forgive myself for my part in Stephen's death. Funny. I wonder if those two are connected somehow? I'm creeping up on it. As I prepare to forgive myself, I ask to be forgiven. That mantra is paving the way for me to begin. I'll get there. Forgiveness is a practice, not an event. I know this. So I'm preparing to practice.
On another note, I was at the bank yesterday and I asked my loan guy about the proposed payment on a 15 yr loan refinance for my house. His initial numbers were stunning! I need to talk to a loan expert and see if he was close because he figured $400 a month for principle and interest and then about $100 for escrow. Are you kidding me?! I could get a $500 a month house payment and be done with it in 15 years?! I know! I'll call Mark Onen, the guy who helped me get this loan. I'll ask him and see how close Pasqual was with his numbers. Because if it's true, I'm going to refinance!
I got in touch with Mark through Facebook and we'll see what happens next .... stand by.
OK, talked to Mark and my guy was all wrong. So, I have to pursue an appraisal and get the PMI taken off my loan. Somehow.
Up and ready. It's a fine day out, no wind and brilliant sunshine, the promise of a perfect spring day and probably hot this afternoon. This would be an ideal day to go for a long hike, I can imagine Stephen saying. This is the kind of day that summer dreams are made of, and boy, didn't that kid love summer!
I have successfully stopped looking for a new car. Yay. Yesterday I spent the late afternoon at my studio getting Donna's photos uploaded to the folder she sent me. I hope never to hear of them again. I have two prints to send to her parents and I'll get them ready and mailed out today with a little note. After today I will be done with them all. I feel that the harm they all caused me is now healed, it's over and there's no need to continue with them. There is no new closeness to draw me in, no connection has been made .... there is nothing for me there and truth be known, there never was. She never did like me. There was no respect for me in our friendship, it was all me liking her and chasing her. I was used to living without respect all my life, I saw nothing wrong with it. Not so anymore. This photo session attitude has shown me that there is still no respect and there never will be.
So, at long last, Goodbye Donna Warden. I forgive you for leaving me behind all those years ago and for breaking my heart to the core. I see now that you didn't even know you did it, I didn't register on your radar at all, I was invisible to you. I'm ready to admit that you didn't care for me, not in any meaningful way. We were day and night to each other and we still are. Only now it's OK. I can move on knowing that I'll be fine without you, something I didn't know at all last time we broke up. You were my first true heartbreak and I will never forget you but now I can forgive you and let you go.
OK, moving on. I weighed myself this morning and it seems that I've put on 4 lbs in the past 6 months, almost a whole pound in just the past month. Horror! If I'm going to fit into my summer clothes, I have to do something about this starting today! I've already cut out sodas, milk, tortillas, and my dinners are much smaller. I have cookies at the studio, I just bought them yesterday. They need to go! And the chips, too. I need to slow down on the carbs and increase the protein. I laso need to increase my activity level. I need to get to the gym 2 or 3 times a week with or without James and then stretch at home more. I would like to lose 6 lbs by the reunion in July. As of today, that would put me at 136.6 and that would actually be ideal. Low carb will also give me a flat tummy and I like the sound of that. I hate this pudge! I can tap on that, it's a tappable issue.
I also need to continue on the process of forgiving myself for Stephen's death. Just typing that sentence made tears stir behind my eyes, I know that this is a huge issue for me. My chest has constricted, breathing has altered. Small changes in my body and I noticed them as soon as I typed that sentence. My manta has been, "While I prepare to forgive myself, I ask to be forgiven." By that I mean forgiven for the horrible things I did to Stephen when he was little. The attack on the stairs comes readily to mind. The yelling at him on the way to school, telling him what a fuck up he was. I didn't use those words and I only did it that once, but I sure do remember it. The time I came downstairs at 10am after he had been up for hours and seeing the cookbook open on the counter. He was watching TV and I asked what the cookbook as doing open on the counter and he came bouncing over and leaned into it, saying, "Doesn't that look good?" pointing to a picture that went with a recipe. I like to think I reached over and petted his head and said out loud, "My baby is hungry! Let's get you some food." I know I thought it but did he hear me say it, hear me feel guilty about neglecting my child? I swore to do better after that and I think I did for the most part. He was not 5 years old at the time and I don't know if that was before of after the tumble down the stairs.
I need to forgive myself if I'm going to find a way to tell our story. I can't continue to be plagued by guilt and shame and have a hope of getting anything meaningful written.Seems to me, if I can forgive Donna Warden, I can forgive myself. At least I know I loved him and I know how hard I worked at becoming a better mother. I worked on it for many years, many more years then I actually abused or neglected him. Because of Stephen, I changed my entire life around, I read books that tore me up with the truth of my actions and I wrote daily. I gave up alcohol and became sober, began to recover a sense of my real self so that I could share that with him. He was the reason I tried, he was the reason I did so much of what I did but I never told him that. Did I? Did I tell you how much you meant to me? How I would have laid down my life for you, Stephen? How if I couldn't have stopped you from jumping, I would have jumped too? Do you know that? And what a failure I feel like now, that after over 20 years of life-changing effort, I still ended up in this spot, alone, with my child dead. Who's the big fuck up now?
So now I need to lose weight and forgive myself for my part in Stephen's death. Funny. I wonder if those two are connected somehow? I'm creeping up on it. As I prepare to forgive myself, I ask to be forgiven. That mantra is paving the way for me to begin. I'll get there. Forgiveness is a practice, not an event. I know this. So I'm preparing to practice.
On another note, I was at the bank yesterday and I asked my loan guy about the proposed payment on a 15 yr loan refinance for my house. His initial numbers were stunning! I need to talk to a loan expert and see if he was close because he figured $400 a month for principle and interest and then about $100 for escrow. Are you kidding me?! I could get a $500 a month house payment and be done with it in 15 years?! I know! I'll call Mark Onen, the guy who helped me get this loan. I'll ask him and see how close Pasqual was with his numbers. Because if it's true, I'm going to refinance!
I got in touch with Mark through Facebook and we'll see what happens next .... stand by.
OK, talked to Mark and my guy was all wrong. So, I have to pursue an appraisal and get the PMI taken off my loan. Somehow.
Monday, May 2, 2016
Donna and the Photo Session
9:57am Writing Practice 58° Boise
I've been writing in my notebook by hand lately. It's soothing the write with a pen on paper when I feel empty and lost like I've been for the past few months. I'm not at all sure where this stage is coming from but it's beginning to feel like a transition and I'm ready for it.
I want to move. I want to pack up half my stuff, ditch the other half and store what's left while I take off in my car. I spent weeks shopping for a new car only to put over $700 into Sybil for a new fuel pump, yet again. This one ought to work though. But still, she's no match for the ambitions I'm feeling for travel ... or maybe it's running away that I want to do. I've been here in this house for way longer than I ever believed possible and still I haven't created anything solid. Although I've had a stable place to hole up while the tempest rages around me and that's a blessing I want to acknowledge. In a way, I feel that I'm about to shed my skin and what will emerge is still unknown.
I'm unraveling. Thread by thread my life is loosening and fraying at the edges. I'm slowly falling apart, slow enough for me to watch it all with very little interest. Rather than try to stop it, I wonder if I should embrace it and step into it, see what will happen next? I have an online writing class I've signed up for, Pam is doing it with me. I'll use that and see where it takes me. Whatever comes, I'm cool with it. I'll begin the first lesson later today. Maybe I'll go to the studio and write. I haven't been over there hardly at all in a month.
Besides, I need to put all of Donna's photos on a CD and mail it to her. I've hardly heard a word from her since I did that session. None of them have thanked me in any way or even acknowledged my efforts at all. Last night Donna and I had a few messages back and forth about it and I said I could tell that none of them liked the pictures and she protested, asked how I knew. What had happened, she wanted to know. I said nothing had happened and that was the point. None of them had liked or commented on any of the photos I had posted of their session. Not one. She sent a message this morning saying she wasn't surprised, that was just how they all are. Like that's acceptable. What it is is rude. When someone goes out of their way to give a gift that big and asks for nothing in return but a donation, the least they can give back is some appreciation. Unless they didn't like the pictures, in which case, silence is at least understandable.
But hey, I'll fix it. I'll put those edited photos on a CD and mail it off and that will be that for Donna and her stuffy family. I'm ready to let her go again, we have nothing in common and our personalities don't mesh at all. But then, I don't mesh with anyone these days so I know it's not her fault. But still, I'm ready to back off. We've been reacquainted for over a year and nothing is coming of it. What little past we had has been hashed over and I'm ready to be finished with it. There's nothing there to go forward with. Just as well leave it and move on. With love, of course. As much love as I can muster these days, anyway.
So off to the studio today. I'll pay my bills and go to the bank after breakfast and then go to the studio and see how that feels. I can leave the back door open for the cats or get Rocky in and let Milo stay out. I'll let them both out this evening so they can play and be free. Poor Rocky, I just can't stand to leave him out alone when I'm gone. He's the one thing I can actually feel love for right now. I want him to be safe.
OK, well that's it for this Monday Monday ... 131 weeks and still counting. I got an idea in a dream last week that I would be 89½ when I died. That would be October 2042, 26½ years from now. That's a long time to be sad and lost, so I hope this transition works to get me right side up again in some form. I've got work to do, if I can ever get to it.
I've been writing in my notebook by hand lately. It's soothing the write with a pen on paper when I feel empty and lost like I've been for the past few months. I'm not at all sure where this stage is coming from but it's beginning to feel like a transition and I'm ready for it.
I want to move. I want to pack up half my stuff, ditch the other half and store what's left while I take off in my car. I spent weeks shopping for a new car only to put over $700 into Sybil for a new fuel pump, yet again. This one ought to work though. But still, she's no match for the ambitions I'm feeling for travel ... or maybe it's running away that I want to do. I've been here in this house for way longer than I ever believed possible and still I haven't created anything solid. Although I've had a stable place to hole up while the tempest rages around me and that's a blessing I want to acknowledge. In a way, I feel that I'm about to shed my skin and what will emerge is still unknown.
I'm unraveling. Thread by thread my life is loosening and fraying at the edges. I'm slowly falling apart, slow enough for me to watch it all with very little interest. Rather than try to stop it, I wonder if I should embrace it and step into it, see what will happen next? I have an online writing class I've signed up for, Pam is doing it with me. I'll use that and see where it takes me. Whatever comes, I'm cool with it. I'll begin the first lesson later today. Maybe I'll go to the studio and write. I haven't been over there hardly at all in a month.
Besides, I need to put all of Donna's photos on a CD and mail it to her. I've hardly heard a word from her since I did that session. None of them have thanked me in any way or even acknowledged my efforts at all. Last night Donna and I had a few messages back and forth about it and I said I could tell that none of them liked the pictures and she protested, asked how I knew. What had happened, she wanted to know. I said nothing had happened and that was the point. None of them had liked or commented on any of the photos I had posted of their session. Not one. She sent a message this morning saying she wasn't surprised, that was just how they all are. Like that's acceptable. What it is is rude. When someone goes out of their way to give a gift that big and asks for nothing in return but a donation, the least they can give back is some appreciation. Unless they didn't like the pictures, in which case, silence is at least understandable.
But hey, I'll fix it. I'll put those edited photos on a CD and mail it off and that will be that for Donna and her stuffy family. I'm ready to let her go again, we have nothing in common and our personalities don't mesh at all. But then, I don't mesh with anyone these days so I know it's not her fault. But still, I'm ready to back off. We've been reacquainted for over a year and nothing is coming of it. What little past we had has been hashed over and I'm ready to be finished with it. There's nothing there to go forward with. Just as well leave it and move on. With love, of course. As much love as I can muster these days, anyway.
So off to the studio today. I'll pay my bills and go to the bank after breakfast and then go to the studio and see how that feels. I can leave the back door open for the cats or get Rocky in and let Milo stay out. I'll let them both out this evening so they can play and be free. Poor Rocky, I just can't stand to leave him out alone when I'm gone. He's the one thing I can actually feel love for right now. I want him to be safe.
OK, well that's it for this Monday Monday ... 131 weeks and still counting. I got an idea in a dream last week that I would be 89½ when I died. That would be October 2042, 26½ years from now. That's a long time to be sad and lost, so I hope this transition works to get me right side up again in some form. I've got work to do, if I can ever get to it.
Thursday, April 21, 2016
Reunion Bio
10:32am Writing Practice 56° Boise
Yesterday I did writing practice on the Rocky Pestorini story and it was fun. I would do that again today except I have to write my bio for the reunion booklet. Yesterday was 3 months until reunion and I really wish I could get into it. This is a volatile election year with strong opinions on both sides of a clearly drawn line --- part of me wishes we had considered the election year when we set the date. For me, it will be good practice in rising above and I'll encourage everyone else to do the same. There are so many wonderful things to talk about besides politics, after all. For most everyone, that is.
Yesterday I got on Craig's List and checked out Carson City as a possible option for a move. It's a terrific location, high desert, near mountains. Population of under 60,000, pretty good weather most of the year and plenty of affordable housing. I found several mobile homes for sale that I could buy outright and pay just the space rent. I also found a share rental in the country on a half acre where I could have a horse if I wanted. Or a goat! I read it over twice and sent an e-mail to the owner, an older dad, he described himself. I assume he's around mid-40s. He has a teen daughter who stays a few times a week. Now I ask, does this sound ideal or what?! I could have a semblance of family without having to sleep with anyone. I'm waiting to hear back before I start planning my trip over to check it out.
I also found out what to do about getting rid of my PMI insurance. Then I could put $112 a mo toward my mortgage instead of down the drain. Or I could save it to buy a new car in the fall. Actually, I could lease a car, a Chevy, for about $125 mo. I'll check that out on Monday. A 27 month lease. That would take care of any vehicle issues I'm having right now, I'll bet. And I'd get a brand new car.
And one last update --- the same guy who advised me about the PMI business also told me that when the equity in my house is at 50%, he can do a reverse mortgage and I won't have to make a house payment ever again, only taxes and insurance at under $200 a month. So if I stay put and keep working on it, my home situation will be secure into my old age even after John dies. I don't have to pay off my house to get the benefit of no mortgage payment. That could be as close as ten years from now! Or maybe even less. When John dies, my income will go down considerably, probably to around $2000 a month or less. (And that's if the Social Security system is still in place. If it's not, there will be a whole lot of old people sitting on the streets. Many millions of us. It would be ugly, so I'll not project that out into the future.) When it's time for assisted living, I'll have someone move in here and assist me. This could truly be my last address. I could actually live here for the rest of my life. How weird is that idea?! I could watch Stephen's tree grow big and tall and I wouldn't mind that a bit.
But what about my idea to buy an RV and travel after the cats are gone? I have to be able to get up and go when I want, I really hate sitting here day in and day out with no trips planned. It's like I'm sitting here waiting to die. And in a way, I am. But I may as well do something while I wait.
So anyway --- my bio.
It's only been 5 years since the last reunion and yet things have changed so much for me. I wonder if it's our ages, if now is the time of life when so many of our loved ones depart the scene for whatever reason. Both of my parents are now gone, along with all the other relatives who went before them. One of my brothers died of cancer last year and the other brother is still fighting his cancer. While sad, certainly, these losses can be rationalized as a part of life. But I lost one of my children in 2013 to suicide. That loss still haunts me and probably always will.
On a lighter note, my health is terrific and it looks like I'll be around for another 30 years. I've lived in the same house for over 8 years; that's a record by far and there's no packing boxes in sight. My other son, Nathan, is preparing to retire from the Air Force next year and will go back to school for a master's degree in art to fulfill his lifelong dream. I have no grandchildren and there will be none if the current plan doesn't change.
Just before the last reunion, I bought my first digital camera and have since upgraded and taken my photography seriously. I retired from working for others last year and have been enjoying my freedom. I write daily and have outlined at least 8 books, non-fiction and memoir, enough to keep me busy for the rest of my life. All in all, I'm all set for the golden phase. My hair is white and thinning but I'm strong and active, go to the gym, ride my bike, hike, travel and have no complaints. I've got good eyesight, great hearing and I still have my own teeth. I really do feel blessed and grateful and I hope the same for you.
Yesterday I did writing practice on the Rocky Pestorini story and it was fun. I would do that again today except I have to write my bio for the reunion booklet. Yesterday was 3 months until reunion and I really wish I could get into it. This is a volatile election year with strong opinions on both sides of a clearly drawn line --- part of me wishes we had considered the election year when we set the date. For me, it will be good practice in rising above and I'll encourage everyone else to do the same. There are so many wonderful things to talk about besides politics, after all. For most everyone, that is.
Yesterday I got on Craig's List and checked out Carson City as a possible option for a move. It's a terrific location, high desert, near mountains. Population of under 60,000, pretty good weather most of the year and plenty of affordable housing. I found several mobile homes for sale that I could buy outright and pay just the space rent. I also found a share rental in the country on a half acre where I could have a horse if I wanted. Or a goat! I read it over twice and sent an e-mail to the owner, an older dad, he described himself. I assume he's around mid-40s. He has a teen daughter who stays a few times a week. Now I ask, does this sound ideal or what?! I could have a semblance of family without having to sleep with anyone. I'm waiting to hear back before I start planning my trip over to check it out.
I also found out what to do about getting rid of my PMI insurance. Then I could put $112 a mo toward my mortgage instead of down the drain. Or I could save it to buy a new car in the fall. Actually, I could lease a car, a Chevy, for about $125 mo. I'll check that out on Monday. A 27 month lease. That would take care of any vehicle issues I'm having right now, I'll bet. And I'd get a brand new car.
And one last update --- the same guy who advised me about the PMI business also told me that when the equity in my house is at 50%, he can do a reverse mortgage and I won't have to make a house payment ever again, only taxes and insurance at under $200 a month. So if I stay put and keep working on it, my home situation will be secure into my old age even after John dies. I don't have to pay off my house to get the benefit of no mortgage payment. That could be as close as ten years from now! Or maybe even less. When John dies, my income will go down considerably, probably to around $2000 a month or less. (And that's if the Social Security system is still in place. If it's not, there will be a whole lot of old people sitting on the streets. Many millions of us. It would be ugly, so I'll not project that out into the future.) When it's time for assisted living, I'll have someone move in here and assist me. This could truly be my last address. I could actually live here for the rest of my life. How weird is that idea?! I could watch Stephen's tree grow big and tall and I wouldn't mind that a bit.
But what about my idea to buy an RV and travel after the cats are gone? I have to be able to get up and go when I want, I really hate sitting here day in and day out with no trips planned. It's like I'm sitting here waiting to die. And in a way, I am. But I may as well do something while I wait.
So anyway --- my bio.
It's only been 5 years since the last reunion and yet things have changed so much for me. I wonder if it's our ages, if now is the time of life when so many of our loved ones depart the scene for whatever reason. Both of my parents are now gone, along with all the other relatives who went before them. One of my brothers died of cancer last year and the other brother is still fighting his cancer. While sad, certainly, these losses can be rationalized as a part of life. But I lost one of my children in 2013 to suicide. That loss still haunts me and probably always will.
On a lighter note, my health is terrific and it looks like I'll be around for another 30 years. I've lived in the same house for over 8 years; that's a record by far and there's no packing boxes in sight. My other son, Nathan, is preparing to retire from the Air Force next year and will go back to school for a master's degree in art to fulfill his lifelong dream. I have no grandchildren and there will be none if the current plan doesn't change.
Just before the last reunion, I bought my first digital camera and have since upgraded and taken my photography seriously. I retired from working for others last year and have been enjoying my freedom. I write daily and have outlined at least 8 books, non-fiction and memoir, enough to keep me busy for the rest of my life. All in all, I'm all set for the golden phase. My hair is white and thinning but I'm strong and active, go to the gym, ride my bike, hike, travel and have no complaints. I've got good eyesight, great hearing and I still have my own teeth. I really do feel blessed and grateful and I hope the same for you.
Car Options
10:05am Writing Practice 59° Boise
Wow, this month buzzed by at the speed of light! I spent several weeks in the pits, weeping and napping and not leaving my house. I haven't been to my studio except a few times all month. When I do go out, it's to run errands and car shop. I've tried to tell myself to stop looking for a new car but so far, I haven't been able to mind me. And so today I'll hash it out again and see if I can make sense of the options.
Option One: Don't buy a new car at all right now. Get Sybil's horn fixed, get her detailed, have Robert give it a look-see about any leaks or radiator issues, and drive her for another six months to a few more years. She strong and healthy, no reason she won't last another 20,000 to 50,000 miles. That's another three to eight years the way I drive!
Option Two: Try to buy the 2011 Subaru Forester that I drove and fell in love with yesterday. It's above my budget by several thousand dollars and I'd have to put all my cash down to make it happen and then still have a $250 car payment for six years. Yikes! I could call USAA and find out what the insurance would be for that vehicle, that might help with this decision. It's such a nice ride, AWD, great condition, I could go to the mountains again, go camping and still take trips to Portland or California. Down side is, it's used and five years old, the potential for repairs is real and it has huge tires that will cost a fortune to replace when the time comes.
Option Three: Lease a new Chevy Cruze for $119 mo for 27 months. I was surprised by how much I liked it when I saw it yesterday, it's really a beauty that I would appreciate for trips and such. Plus it gets great gas mileage. But it's not a mountain car, it's a actual car, not an SUV. It's just like the car I have, the back seat lays down. My car has served me well for 22 yrs and I really don't need an SUV type vehicle. The kind of camping I want to do can be done with a car. Plus it's got a total warranty bumper to bumper for the life of the lease and that includes oil changes and maintenance, so no out-of-pocket expenses except gas and car washes. I could save money while enjoying a brand new car again. Then when the lease is over I could keep it or get another one with the money I've saved.
After typing all of this out, it appears to make sense to try to lease that Cruze. It's white and very classy and comfy. It's a much nicer car than I thought it would be. Again, I need to ask about the cost of insurance before I finally decide. So I'll do that next. As much as I want the Forester, I don't need it and it's too much money and uses too much gas. It may turn into a money-pit vehicle and then I would hate it. The best deal for the buck is the Chevy. And if not that, I'll keep my car and wait for fall. Sybil doesn't like the heat of summers but she's still good on the freeway, loves a nice drive where she can stretch out and go fast. I just won't get into much camping but then I probably wouldn't go anyway, not alone. But trips alone are certainly doable, I enjoy those a lot.
Now, there is the possibility that I'm using this car business to distract me from my primary goal of writing books. Distracting myself is my best thing, I'm very good at it. However, my car is 22 years old this year and it quite possibly might be time to make a change in that regard. Or maybe I just want a change in something and because I can't move house, I'm focusing on a car to provide the change. And yet I don't want to get rid of my car, all my memories of Stephen are tied up in that car and this house ... so many memories.
My birthday is this coming Sunday and that may be causing all this confusion about wanting change. I'll be 63 yrs old, not bad and I'm very healthy and strong. I have a lot of miles left on me and a lot of things I want to do.
But for right this minute, I think I'll go fix my breakfast and call it a morning. No writing is being done lately, I'm certainly not productive at all. But I do need to go to the studio and print some things for Stephanie and a photo for Jodie. I'll be going to Baker next week and I'll pay the vet bill I owe for Sue's dog and I'll meet with my reunion committee at noon. That will be nice!
Wow, this month buzzed by at the speed of light! I spent several weeks in the pits, weeping and napping and not leaving my house. I haven't been to my studio except a few times all month. When I do go out, it's to run errands and car shop. I've tried to tell myself to stop looking for a new car but so far, I haven't been able to mind me. And so today I'll hash it out again and see if I can make sense of the options.
Option One: Don't buy a new car at all right now. Get Sybil's horn fixed, get her detailed, have Robert give it a look-see about any leaks or radiator issues, and drive her for another six months to a few more years. She strong and healthy, no reason she won't last another 20,000 to 50,000 miles. That's another three to eight years the way I drive!
Option Two: Try to buy the 2011 Subaru Forester that I drove and fell in love with yesterday. It's above my budget by several thousand dollars and I'd have to put all my cash down to make it happen and then still have a $250 car payment for six years. Yikes! I could call USAA and find out what the insurance would be for that vehicle, that might help with this decision. It's such a nice ride, AWD, great condition, I could go to the mountains again, go camping and still take trips to Portland or California. Down side is, it's used and five years old, the potential for repairs is real and it has huge tires that will cost a fortune to replace when the time comes.
Option Three: Lease a new Chevy Cruze for $119 mo for 27 months. I was surprised by how much I liked it when I saw it yesterday, it's really a beauty that I would appreciate for trips and such. Plus it gets great gas mileage. But it's not a mountain car, it's a actual car, not an SUV. It's just like the car I have, the back seat lays down. My car has served me well for 22 yrs and I really don't need an SUV type vehicle. The kind of camping I want to do can be done with a car. Plus it's got a total warranty bumper to bumper for the life of the lease and that includes oil changes and maintenance, so no out-of-pocket expenses except gas and car washes. I could save money while enjoying a brand new car again. Then when the lease is over I could keep it or get another one with the money I've saved.
After typing all of this out, it appears to make sense to try to lease that Cruze. It's white and very classy and comfy. It's a much nicer car than I thought it would be. Again, I need to ask about the cost of insurance before I finally decide. So I'll do that next. As much as I want the Forester, I don't need it and it's too much money and uses too much gas. It may turn into a money-pit vehicle and then I would hate it. The best deal for the buck is the Chevy. And if not that, I'll keep my car and wait for fall. Sybil doesn't like the heat of summers but she's still good on the freeway, loves a nice drive where she can stretch out and go fast. I just won't get into much camping but then I probably wouldn't go anyway, not alone. But trips alone are certainly doable, I enjoy those a lot.
Now, there is the possibility that I'm using this car business to distract me from my primary goal of writing books. Distracting myself is my best thing, I'm very good at it. However, my car is 22 years old this year and it quite possibly might be time to make a change in that regard. Or maybe I just want a change in something and because I can't move house, I'm focusing on a car to provide the change. And yet I don't want to get rid of my car, all my memories of Stephen are tied up in that car and this house ... so many memories.
My birthday is this coming Sunday and that may be causing all this confusion about wanting change. I'll be 63 yrs old, not bad and I'm very healthy and strong. I have a lot of miles left on me and a lot of things I want to do.
But for right this minute, I think I'll go fix my breakfast and call it a morning. No writing is being done lately, I'm certainly not productive at all. But I do need to go to the studio and print some things for Stephanie and a photo for Jodie. I'll be going to Baker next week and I'll pay the vet bill I owe for Sue's dog and I'll meet with my reunion committee at noon. That will be nice!
Friday, April 15, 2016
Hiding Out
11am Writing Practice 48° Boise
Sunny, windy and chilly out there today. The cats are out in it, I think they found a sunny spot to sit and pretend that everything is OK. I got up late for no good reason except I had to take a little extra bit of sleep aid in order to get to sleep after the brownies I ate at the meeting of the Compassionate Friends last night. I made a plate of cookies and brownies, all from scratch, and they were well received. Those meetings are only once a month, I should go every month, it would probably be good for me.
I realize that I'm hiding out the past few weeks, not making any efforts at all to have a life or be in this world. I'm very bored with it all. I don't want to buy a new car yet, it's too cold for yard work, I don't feel like bothering with it yet, and I don't feel inspired to write any of the projects I've got lined up. I've been reading in the back bedroom. That's my hide out. It's like a little cave back there, warm and snug, perfect for escaping from anyone and everyone. I've been turning the ringer off on the phone and I spend very little time on FB. Turns out I simply don't care about anyone, nothing interests me, I'm tired of it all and there's simply no reason to put forth any effort on anything. I've decided to go with this for a bit. All my life I've had to get out, go to school, go to work, make the dinner, run the errands, keep life organized for people. There are no people now. It's only me. Just me. I have stepped outside the river of the world and have let it rush by without me and I'm OK with that for now. I've never really done this before, never had the opportunity before. Now I do and so I shall avail myself.
My birthday is a week from Sunday. I may drive over the Sumpter and spend the night at the motel there. I'd love a cabin but they have gotten too stinking expensive. If I leave here at around noon, I would arrive by 3pm ready to check in somewhere. There are trails for walking all around up there. I could take some ashes to scatter out by the cemetery if I wanted to. I could invite someone to go with me but I don't want anyone to go with me. I want to be alone. I don't want to go to dinner with people, I don't want to be out in public. Sumpter seems like a great place for how I'm feeling. If I still feel like this, then.
Emotions come and go like the waves of the ocean and can be just as infinite and just as deep. I'm down in that silent world under that water, holding my breath, barely moving my limbs to conserve oxygen .... sunlight is slanting through the water from way above and below is utter darkness, a blue so deep that it's almost but not quite black. The immensity of this space is frightening and I sometimes feel my heart flutter in a flash of fear but then I remember that I'm here of my own free will. I want to feel this, all of this, all of life in all it's aspects. I've been afraid of these depths all my life and now here I am, hungering for it, ready to be engulfed by it all. For this is where Stephen is, where the best part of him remains and I yearn to connect with him in this place of emotion so deep that there is no air to breath and no sound to hear expect the beating of my own heart. I can stay in this space as long as I want, for it's only a flicker of time and yet it feels like eternity. I won't be harmed here, this is the place, the source of all life --- I'm safe and relaxed now, just waiting for Stephen to arrive and take my hand and show me where he is now, let me feel what he's feeling and get a peek at life from his new perspective.
I'll stay here for as long as it takes, Stephen. Mama is waiting for you, honey.
Sunny, windy and chilly out there today. The cats are out in it, I think they found a sunny spot to sit and pretend that everything is OK. I got up late for no good reason except I had to take a little extra bit of sleep aid in order to get to sleep after the brownies I ate at the meeting of the Compassionate Friends last night. I made a plate of cookies and brownies, all from scratch, and they were well received. Those meetings are only once a month, I should go every month, it would probably be good for me.
I realize that I'm hiding out the past few weeks, not making any efforts at all to have a life or be in this world. I'm very bored with it all. I don't want to buy a new car yet, it's too cold for yard work, I don't feel like bothering with it yet, and I don't feel inspired to write any of the projects I've got lined up. I've been reading in the back bedroom. That's my hide out. It's like a little cave back there, warm and snug, perfect for escaping from anyone and everyone. I've been turning the ringer off on the phone and I spend very little time on FB. Turns out I simply don't care about anyone, nothing interests me, I'm tired of it all and there's simply no reason to put forth any effort on anything. I've decided to go with this for a bit. All my life I've had to get out, go to school, go to work, make the dinner, run the errands, keep life organized for people. There are no people now. It's only me. Just me. I have stepped outside the river of the world and have let it rush by without me and I'm OK with that for now. I've never really done this before, never had the opportunity before. Now I do and so I shall avail myself.
My birthday is a week from Sunday. I may drive over the Sumpter and spend the night at the motel there. I'd love a cabin but they have gotten too stinking expensive. If I leave here at around noon, I would arrive by 3pm ready to check in somewhere. There are trails for walking all around up there. I could take some ashes to scatter out by the cemetery if I wanted to. I could invite someone to go with me but I don't want anyone to go with me. I want to be alone. I don't want to go to dinner with people, I don't want to be out in public. Sumpter seems like a great place for how I'm feeling. If I still feel like this, then.
Emotions come and go like the waves of the ocean and can be just as infinite and just as deep. I'm down in that silent world under that water, holding my breath, barely moving my limbs to conserve oxygen .... sunlight is slanting through the water from way above and below is utter darkness, a blue so deep that it's almost but not quite black. The immensity of this space is frightening and I sometimes feel my heart flutter in a flash of fear but then I remember that I'm here of my own free will. I want to feel this, all of this, all of life in all it's aspects. I've been afraid of these depths all my life and now here I am, hungering for it, ready to be engulfed by it all. For this is where Stephen is, where the best part of him remains and I yearn to connect with him in this place of emotion so deep that there is no air to breath and no sound to hear expect the beating of my own heart. I can stay in this space as long as I want, for it's only a flicker of time and yet it feels like eternity. I won't be harmed here, this is the place, the source of all life --- I'm safe and relaxed now, just waiting for Stephen to arrive and take my hand and show me where he is now, let me feel what he's feeling and get a peek at life from his new perspective.
I'll stay here for as long as it takes, Stephen. Mama is waiting for you, honey.
Thursday, April 14, 2016
Rocky Pestorini
9:04am Writing Practice 45° Boise
Two days in a row, up and at 'em early after weeks of late nights and late mornings and nothing productive happening in my writing life. I just read over some of my last blog posts and I can sure see how moody I've been and how likely I am to stay that way if I don't find a way to stop thinking about Stephen. And yet I don't want to stop thinking about Stephen.
A few days ago on Sunday I spent the entire day weeping. When I wasn't actually crying and sobbing, my eyes were wet. All day long! I stayed home and spent the day in the back bedroom, his old room, reading the first of a five book series from the creators of The Dragonriders of Pern. When the going gets tough, the tough hop a dragon and fly to Pern until the trouble blows over. I'm also watching the TV series, Downton Abbey, from the beginning. Another great place to escape to.
Then Sue Stubbe's puppy got sick on Monday and she kept me up all night with her worries. I asked Keith to take her to the vet and he did, bless his heart. That bill is $174 and I'll have to pay it. Sue may or may not ever pay me back, but I assume she'll at least make payments. I would feel bad for her but I happen to know that she's an impulse spender, buying clothes that cost too much and then she can't wear them. So after keeping me up all night and texting me constant updates early Tuesday morning, I spent another whole day in the back bedroom reading and napping.
I've taken to turning the ringer off on my phone. Mostly when it rings, it's a marketing recording so I don't answer it anyway. My friends know to leave a message or I can see I missed them with the caller ID and call them back. I simply don't want to talk on the phone anymore these days. I'm spending less time on Facebook and I'm withdrawing more and more into my own little world. This is really a first for me --- always before, I've had a job to go to or family to take care of that has kept me engaged with life outside myself. The only thing that takes me out is the fact that my studio is a few miles away and since I pay for it, I feel like I should go over there sometimes. And it really is lovely over there, very comfortable. Not as comfortable as here at home but then I at least have a reason to get out of here sometimes. Or I invent reasons. If I want to.
I've been listening to a memoir by Billy Crystal, Still Foolin' 'Em, and it's organized by age. Which makes perfect sense in Billy's life, since he's talking about his career and how it developed. It's a nice memoir, funny and detailed, nothing horrible happens to him, his kids are happy and well adjusted, none of them take to drugs or jump off buildings. They go to college and get married. They have babies and he gets to be a Grandpa. He and his wife love each other and support each other and they stay married. How very nice for him. All of that, even without the great career, makes him a mensch in my eyes. He feels like a real person and I've always liked that about him.
As for me, I'm still browsing through time trying to find out what it all means. I write stuff down but still haven't found a thread to hang on to. I will though, I intend to keep at it for as long as it takes. there's no race here, only time and memories. Yesterday I started a little project that seems kind of fun --- the story of Rocky, my little cat. He's such a character and I have so many photos of him and his story is interesting, what with his rocky start in life and all those birth defects. Who knows, if I can get it written up and put on Amazon, he could inspire others to rise above their challenges. Maybe even me.
Two days in a row, up and at 'em early after weeks of late nights and late mornings and nothing productive happening in my writing life. I just read over some of my last blog posts and I can sure see how moody I've been and how likely I am to stay that way if I don't find a way to stop thinking about Stephen. And yet I don't want to stop thinking about Stephen.
A few days ago on Sunday I spent the entire day weeping. When I wasn't actually crying and sobbing, my eyes were wet. All day long! I stayed home and spent the day in the back bedroom, his old room, reading the first of a five book series from the creators of The Dragonriders of Pern. When the going gets tough, the tough hop a dragon and fly to Pern until the trouble blows over. I'm also watching the TV series, Downton Abbey, from the beginning. Another great place to escape to.
Then Sue Stubbe's puppy got sick on Monday and she kept me up all night with her worries. I asked Keith to take her to the vet and he did, bless his heart. That bill is $174 and I'll have to pay it. Sue may or may not ever pay me back, but I assume she'll at least make payments. I would feel bad for her but I happen to know that she's an impulse spender, buying clothes that cost too much and then she can't wear them. So after keeping me up all night and texting me constant updates early Tuesday morning, I spent another whole day in the back bedroom reading and napping.
I've taken to turning the ringer off on my phone. Mostly when it rings, it's a marketing recording so I don't answer it anyway. My friends know to leave a message or I can see I missed them with the caller ID and call them back. I simply don't want to talk on the phone anymore these days. I'm spending less time on Facebook and I'm withdrawing more and more into my own little world. This is really a first for me --- always before, I've had a job to go to or family to take care of that has kept me engaged with life outside myself. The only thing that takes me out is the fact that my studio is a few miles away and since I pay for it, I feel like I should go over there sometimes. And it really is lovely over there, very comfortable. Not as comfortable as here at home but then I at least have a reason to get out of here sometimes. Or I invent reasons. If I want to.
I've been listening to a memoir by Billy Crystal, Still Foolin' 'Em, and it's organized by age. Which makes perfect sense in Billy's life, since he's talking about his career and how it developed. It's a nice memoir, funny and detailed, nothing horrible happens to him, his kids are happy and well adjusted, none of them take to drugs or jump off buildings. They go to college and get married. They have babies and he gets to be a Grandpa. He and his wife love each other and support each other and they stay married. How very nice for him. All of that, even without the great career, makes him a mensch in my eyes. He feels like a real person and I've always liked that about him.
As for me, I'm still browsing through time trying to find out what it all means. I write stuff down but still haven't found a thread to hang on to. I will though, I intend to keep at it for as long as it takes. there's no race here, only time and memories. Yesterday I started a little project that seems kind of fun --- the story of Rocky, my little cat. He's such a character and I have so many photos of him and his story is interesting, what with his rocky start in life and all those birth defects. Who knows, if I can get it written up and put on Amazon, he could inspire others to rise above their challenges. Maybe even me.
The Lives and Loves of
Rocky Pestorini
The Miracle Cat from Idaho
I started calling him Mr Pestorini when he began trying to stop me from putting on my shoes. He also follows me around begging for attention sometimes and I can't figure out what in the world he really wants, so I pick him up and cradle him like a baby and sometimes he likes it, most times not. He's very involved with me and loves to be near. He was a great vocabulary. The other day I stuck my head out the back door and saw him curled up on one of the metal chairs by the fence and I told him I was going to take a nap and asked him if he wanted to take a nap with me. He looked at me for a few seconds, then got up, stretched and sauntered across the yard and into the house. I ring the tuna bell in the evenings and that never fails to bring him and my other cat, Milo, in for the night. I like to think I have the smartest, most well-trained cats on the block. They are certainly the funniest.
So my idea is to write Rocky's story to the best of my ability as a way to weasel into writing memoir before I have to write the really painful stuff. I can practice with his story and it will be fine, no crying or depression. He is, after all, still alive and pestering me daily. No heartbreak there yet.
OK, that's it for today for the blog journaling. I've been writing in the spirals the last few weeks instead of in here but only because the laptop was on the desk in my room and that spot is so not a comfortable place to write. As much as I want to write at the studio, it's not as comfortable as here in this chair at home with my vid-fire and my soft music on YouTube and my cats curled up nearby, content to have me here with them. I am their life and you know what? They are my life, too.
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