8:35am Writing Practice 49° Boise
Bad couple of days around here. I got all my stuff moved from the studio and the room totally cleaned, repaired and ready to rent again. Horace won't have to do a thing to it --- yes, I'm that good! However, I got it all brought home and then had to stuff most of it into my shed because I ran out of energy to deal with any of it. In a few days I'll drag it all out to the end of the driveway and have a sale. I'll do that on Friday or Saturday. I'll spend tomorrow and Thursday preparing and sorting. I want to move things along in here, I don't want to live in clutter or feel too crowded for the winter.
After that, I have painting to do. I have to clean and paint the bench Kurt made for me and sometime next week Richard Fabian is coming back to finish updating the paint on the house. Also, I need to get the heat gun out and see if I can strip the front porch --- that peeling paint is the pits! But before I can do that, I have to tear down the last of the sunflowers and get them cut up and put in the garbage by Sunday afternoon. I've already done some of that so it should be doable.
Lamar is in town for the entire day, I'm going to pick him up at Hotel 43 downtown and we're going for a drive to Idaho City. He's never been and it's going to be a beautiful day, so it should be fun. I had a horrible day yesterday, not enough sleep the night before and then thinking myself into a funk. What happened with James and Bryce last month is still kicking my ass and I'm tempted to be angry. Those kinds of thoughts lead to Nathan and how he's abandoned me this past year and how so many others have done the same thing over the years and then I start feeling weird and icky like there's something wrong with me and then I don't want to go anywhere or see anyone and all I can do is lay in on my bed and worry and fret and be upset. Now today, after tapping yesterday evening and after getting a good night's sleep, I'm feeling more normal, less weird and icky and maybe, just maybe, I'll be OK today for Lamar. I hope.
After I get the shed cleared out, I'm going to bring Granny's box into the house and find the stories about Rachael Riley McDaniel and her big move to Spokane from Indiana on the train with her two youngest children after her husband, Had McDaniel, died. I may use that story to start off my Home book. It's such an interesting story and might be just the ticket to set the tone for the stories of all my moves in life and what we're all looking for and dreaming of when we move.
In the meantime, I'm not moving. Two more months and I'll have been in this house for 9 years. Considering the fact that I've never lived so long anywhere, things are in pretty good shape around here. When I cleaned good a few weeks ago, I couldn't help but notice that it wasn't that dirty. Besides dust in a few places, no one would ever know that I've lived here for so long. Mom lived in her duplex in Hermiston for two months shy of 10 years and both she and Dad died in that place. They, too, were lifelong movers and yet managed to stay put at the end. They moved into that place July 2002. Dad died January 2009 and mom died May 2012.
I wonder if I'll die in this house? Mom turned 66 a few weeks after they moved in, just a few years older than I am now. I was 54 when I moved in here. Now I'm 63 and my dreams of buying an RV and traveling seem very far off. But unlike my mother, my health is good (even if my attitude sucks sometimes) and I could still get there from here.
Well, I need to get a shower and wash my hair. I'll pick up Lamar at 11:30 and there's much to do between now and then. So off I go. I'll try a little more tapping and see if I can lift a little more of this funk. That reminds me, Sept 20, 1973 I married Bob Willems. 43 years ago today. I sent a text to Nathan telling him the it was worth it because of him but I haven't heard back. He may or may not respond. Yep, I better tap some more.
Tuesday, September 20, 2016
Wednesday, September 14, 2016
A Sense of Place
8:15am Writing Practice 55° Boise
Kinda dark and cloudy today. Not sure if it's going to try to rain today or what ... nope, just a dark, cool, cloudy day. High will be 69° and no sun at all. The rest of the week will be beautiful though, sunny and perfect temps. I have much to do again today but lately I've been very slow to get anything done. It's like I've been asleep for a very long time and now have to wake myself and start shuffling around again. That's what life feels like after a long illness ... although 8 days is not that long. But still, it's enough to have ones life grind to a halt and mine sure did.
Yesterday I went to the studio for a bit, took things off the cork board and brought the board home. I got a few more boxes when I dropped some items off at the Youth Ranch. Today I'll go back with box tape and begin loading up and start bringing stuff home. It's going to be crowded and uncomfortable here for a while until I can sell some things. But first I'll get the little things I'm going to keep carted out of there. Then when Gigi and Tony come get the little fridge, I'll see if they will help me get a few big things moved --- like my desk and the printer table. Everything else I can manage on my own. I'll take some photos of the items I want to sell and post them on Facebook. All those frames! The folding bookcase. The drop leaf table and two chairs. That may be it. Oh yes, the coffee table where the fridge and microwave sit. It will be so good to get all that stuff dispersed and/or brought home. I was thinking of using the coffee table here, putting the chest under the window in my bedroom and putting the bench in the back bedroom. I think I will. Nice to get a change of pace.
Woke up this morning thinking about my writing projects. I have at least three, maybe four. Learning to Live Far From Home, The Trip Toward the Fall, Self-Empowered Health: A Guide to Everyday Health and Healing, and maybe The Art of Kindness. Yes, that's four books. Wow. Then there's I AM; still here: Surviving Suicide. That's five books! I have enough stories to write five books! Astonishing.
Randy Sandknop, author of five books including the best selling memoir, Learning to Live Far From Home.
Doesn't that sound official and good? I've got my plan and a deadline. 1000 words a day is what I'll write and I'll have a first draft (at least) by March 25th.
As I was making the bed this morning, I was thinking of the sense of place and how each place I've lived feels so different in my memory. As I was smoothing the bedspread, I imagined myself making my bed in Baker City, being there with the the same belongings that I have here but with Baker outside the door. It shouldn't matter, really, Baker has all one needs to live and I hardly avail myself of all that this area has to offer, why would it feel so different? When I close my eyes right now and picture Baker out the front door, I feel restricted, limited somehow. I feel like a plant in a pot too small, no room to stretch. And yet there's plenty there, wide open outdoors, mountains, streams, fresh air! How could that be restrictive? Like there's really no place to go and no one to connect with. When I think of Hannibal, Missouri (ten years ago this month, Stephen and I arrived in Hannibal with our stuff in a huge moving truck that I had driven from California), I feel off balance and adrift, it's too far away! It always felt too far away but I had trouble defining what it was too far away from. I came to understand that it was too far away from my parents, who lived in Hermiston, Oregon at the time and too far away from here. Boise. But that didn't make any sense. Maybe it was the general high dessert area that I missed, the Pacific Northwest region. Because I was born here, did that make it home? And how could I live on the East Coast for so many years without longing for here?
I think the sense of place and the feeling of home changes over time and with altered circumstances. I was fine in Florida for over four years because that's where my family was. But then, I think back and I know I wasn't fine ... I was drunk. I was miserable. I was marking time until John retired and we could start our real life. I was waiting for my real life to begin. I was holding down the fort as best I could while weathering the storms of unhappiness and feeling misplaced by not being entirely sober, especially the last few years. And when John announced that he was not going to retire, that we were moving to Alameda and join ship's company on the USS Lincoln, well, that was it for me. I melted into a hot mess and didn't begin to recover until I stopped drinking a few years later.
I have distinct memories of things that happened in every place I ever lived, what the rooms looked like, the streets, the towns, what we did and what cars we drove. I have an incredible memory and I'd love to write all this down, each location with a strong sense of place.
Yesterday I made the statement that it was the desire for "home" that drove my relationship decisions all my life and until I wrote that down, I did not know it. Since then, I've pondered the truth of it and it stuns me. I tried to make homes with Bob, I moved us around and around all over the place until I realized that I couldn't make a home with him. Rick had a house in Beaverton and while it wasn't a very good house, he owned it (or was buying it), and I liked that feeling of owning a home. I wanted in there with him but he wouldn't allow it. I spent countless hours visualizing my ideal home during the years I spent with Rick. I doubt that I would have stayed with him had he not had that house. Then I met John and he offered me a home in California, a house with a pool in the back yard. In California. Did I mention that it was in California?! Where I was yanked away at age 11 and always yearned to get back to ever since? I was a California dreamer well before the song came out. My first yearnings for home began as we drove away from there and headed north to Baker County in 1964. So there was no way I was going to decline that offer from John Sandknop --- it was a dream-come-true on a soul level. He had no idea (and neither did I) that he was offering me my heart's desire. So even though I wasn't in love with him and I had no interest in a military lifestyle, I was very attracted to him and he made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Little did I know that when I married him, I actually married that house on Lemmon Way and I would never be happy again without it.
Well, so many interesting realizations about home. I managed to shift myself around all those years ago until I finally got what I wanted ... a home of my own in the location of my choice, along with plenty of freedom and no one else to please. All the choices I made over the years were leading me here and I was blind to it until just now. I wanted a sense of home but I also wanted Stephen to have a sense of home as well and he never did. He was just as lost by the whole idea as I was, so he hitched himself to Mike and created a home with cats and when that fell apart, he didn't have the tools to cope with the loss. He lost Mike and the cats but he lost his sense of home, of connection, of belonging, and he withered away and died. I know just what that feels like! My poor baby. Oh Stephen, I'm so sorry!
Kinda dark and cloudy today. Not sure if it's going to try to rain today or what ... nope, just a dark, cool, cloudy day. High will be 69° and no sun at all. The rest of the week will be beautiful though, sunny and perfect temps. I have much to do again today but lately I've been very slow to get anything done. It's like I've been asleep for a very long time and now have to wake myself and start shuffling around again. That's what life feels like after a long illness ... although 8 days is not that long. But still, it's enough to have ones life grind to a halt and mine sure did.
Yesterday I went to the studio for a bit, took things off the cork board and brought the board home. I got a few more boxes when I dropped some items off at the Youth Ranch. Today I'll go back with box tape and begin loading up and start bringing stuff home. It's going to be crowded and uncomfortable here for a while until I can sell some things. But first I'll get the little things I'm going to keep carted out of there. Then when Gigi and Tony come get the little fridge, I'll see if they will help me get a few big things moved --- like my desk and the printer table. Everything else I can manage on my own. I'll take some photos of the items I want to sell and post them on Facebook. All those frames! The folding bookcase. The drop leaf table and two chairs. That may be it. Oh yes, the coffee table where the fridge and microwave sit. It will be so good to get all that stuff dispersed and/or brought home. I was thinking of using the coffee table here, putting the chest under the window in my bedroom and putting the bench in the back bedroom. I think I will. Nice to get a change of pace.
Woke up this morning thinking about my writing projects. I have at least three, maybe four. Learning to Live Far From Home, The Trip Toward the Fall, Self-Empowered Health: A Guide to Everyday Health and Healing, and maybe The Art of Kindness. Yes, that's four books. Wow. Then there's I AM; still here: Surviving Suicide. That's five books! I have enough stories to write five books! Astonishing.
Randy Sandknop, author of five books including the best selling memoir, Learning to Live Far From Home.
Doesn't that sound official and good? I've got my plan and a deadline. 1000 words a day is what I'll write and I'll have a first draft (at least) by March 25th.
As I was making the bed this morning, I was thinking of the sense of place and how each place I've lived feels so different in my memory. As I was smoothing the bedspread, I imagined myself making my bed in Baker City, being there with the the same belongings that I have here but with Baker outside the door. It shouldn't matter, really, Baker has all one needs to live and I hardly avail myself of all that this area has to offer, why would it feel so different? When I close my eyes right now and picture Baker out the front door, I feel restricted, limited somehow. I feel like a plant in a pot too small, no room to stretch. And yet there's plenty there, wide open outdoors, mountains, streams, fresh air! How could that be restrictive? Like there's really no place to go and no one to connect with. When I think of Hannibal, Missouri (ten years ago this month, Stephen and I arrived in Hannibal with our stuff in a huge moving truck that I had driven from California), I feel off balance and adrift, it's too far away! It always felt too far away but I had trouble defining what it was too far away from. I came to understand that it was too far away from my parents, who lived in Hermiston, Oregon at the time and too far away from here. Boise. But that didn't make any sense. Maybe it was the general high dessert area that I missed, the Pacific Northwest region. Because I was born here, did that make it home? And how could I live on the East Coast for so many years without longing for here?
I think the sense of place and the feeling of home changes over time and with altered circumstances. I was fine in Florida for over four years because that's where my family was. But then, I think back and I know I wasn't fine ... I was drunk. I was miserable. I was marking time until John retired and we could start our real life. I was waiting for my real life to begin. I was holding down the fort as best I could while weathering the storms of unhappiness and feeling misplaced by not being entirely sober, especially the last few years. And when John announced that he was not going to retire, that we were moving to Alameda and join ship's company on the USS Lincoln, well, that was it for me. I melted into a hot mess and didn't begin to recover until I stopped drinking a few years later.
I have distinct memories of things that happened in every place I ever lived, what the rooms looked like, the streets, the towns, what we did and what cars we drove. I have an incredible memory and I'd love to write all this down, each location with a strong sense of place.
Yesterday I made the statement that it was the desire for "home" that drove my relationship decisions all my life and until I wrote that down, I did not know it. Since then, I've pondered the truth of it and it stuns me. I tried to make homes with Bob, I moved us around and around all over the place until I realized that I couldn't make a home with him. Rick had a house in Beaverton and while it wasn't a very good house, he owned it (or was buying it), and I liked that feeling of owning a home. I wanted in there with him but he wouldn't allow it. I spent countless hours visualizing my ideal home during the years I spent with Rick. I doubt that I would have stayed with him had he not had that house. Then I met John and he offered me a home in California, a house with a pool in the back yard. In California. Did I mention that it was in California?! Where I was yanked away at age 11 and always yearned to get back to ever since? I was a California dreamer well before the song came out. My first yearnings for home began as we drove away from there and headed north to Baker County in 1964. So there was no way I was going to decline that offer from John Sandknop --- it was a dream-come-true on a soul level. He had no idea (and neither did I) that he was offering me my heart's desire. So even though I wasn't in love with him and I had no interest in a military lifestyle, I was very attracted to him and he made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Little did I know that when I married him, I actually married that house on Lemmon Way and I would never be happy again without it.
Well, so many interesting realizations about home. I managed to shift myself around all those years ago until I finally got what I wanted ... a home of my own in the location of my choice, along with plenty of freedom and no one else to please. All the choices I made over the years were leading me here and I was blind to it until just now. I wanted a sense of home but I also wanted Stephen to have a sense of home as well and he never did. He was just as lost by the whole idea as I was, so he hitched himself to Mike and created a home with cats and when that fell apart, he didn't have the tools to cope with the loss. He lost Mike and the cats but he lost his sense of home, of connection, of belonging, and he withered away and died. I know just what that feels like! My poor baby. Oh Stephen, I'm so sorry!
Tuesday, September 13, 2016
Blurting The-Truth-As-I-See-It
9:32am Writing Practice 50° Boise
It's been weeks since I wrote in this blog journal. I've been hand-writing in the spiral instead. I moved the laptop to my room while cleaning for my party on Aug 28th and tried to use it from there, but it's just too uncomfortable! It gave me terrible headaches and hurt my back. So I'm back to the living room in my comfy chair. laptop on my lap table. And it's good, it feels good here.
That last time I posted, a Sunday where I had gotten up too early, I met James and Bryce for breakfast at Quinn's and drank real coffee and ended up telling Bryce he was in denial about an overdose/suicide attempt he had years ago and I've been in trouble ever since. From now on I must learn to stay at home and be by myself when I don't get enough sleep and for crying out loud, don't ever drink real coffee in public when tired like that! I seem to enter an altered reality zone and blurt shit out. I've alienated so many people in my life ... I woke up thinking of them this morning. Laura Thayer. Lynette Harris. Reggie Hunter. Lois in Quincy. RubyAnn. Maybe even Mark and Nathan. Am I really that awful? Not worthy of forgiveness? Or was I just talking to the wrong people, ones who have no business in my life and so they left. Hurts about Mark and Nathan, though.
However, I just remembered a rule of relationship: All I can do is take responsibility for what I say, I can't control how others respond. It's just that everyone is so touchy these days! Everyone wants to get offended and then hold a grudge. What's up with that? Are people really wanting to be that strong, that they can stand there and hold a grudge for a few misspoken sentences not said in anger or malice? A grudge can get mighty heavy in just a few years, it can actually stunt growth.
My mother was a famous grudge-holder. She held on to anger at Hub for her whole life and I just wonder if that trait contributed to her sad demise. There was no logic to it and no talking her out of it. I know. I tried. Is Bryce that same kind of grudge-holder? He very well could be, he had some of the same brainwashing with religion that my mother had. Righteousness can be used in so many ways. "The quality of being morally right or justifiable." My mothered loved the feeling of being righteous. It's the very next step to feeling superior --- most people like that feeling, too.
I've decided to write to Bryce and ask for a get-out-of-jail-free card for my willingness to help his friend Linday last year. And remind him that I really do love him, that he and James mean the world to me. If I can get him to open up and begin to forgive this time, it may help with his ongoing maturity. And perhaps mine as well. You never know, I could stop blurting the truth-as-I-see-it at inappropriate moments. It could happen.
I've just finished breakfast and now have to get ready to run errands. I have grocery shopping to do. I've been down sick for over a week and supplies are getting low. Also, I need to begin to pack up my studio but for some reason I don't even want to go over there. I've only got a little over two weeks to get out of there or risk paying for another month's rent, which I don't want to do. I must get my act together and get on it! Motivation! Focus!
It's been weeks since I wrote in this blog journal. I've been hand-writing in the spiral instead. I moved the laptop to my room while cleaning for my party on Aug 28th and tried to use it from there, but it's just too uncomfortable! It gave me terrible headaches and hurt my back. So I'm back to the living room in my comfy chair. laptop on my lap table. And it's good, it feels good here.
That last time I posted, a Sunday where I had gotten up too early, I met James and Bryce for breakfast at Quinn's and drank real coffee and ended up telling Bryce he was in denial about an overdose/suicide attempt he had years ago and I've been in trouble ever since. From now on I must learn to stay at home and be by myself when I don't get enough sleep and for crying out loud, don't ever drink real coffee in public when tired like that! I seem to enter an altered reality zone and blurt shit out. I've alienated so many people in my life ... I woke up thinking of them this morning. Laura Thayer. Lynette Harris. Reggie Hunter. Lois in Quincy. RubyAnn. Maybe even Mark and Nathan. Am I really that awful? Not worthy of forgiveness? Or was I just talking to the wrong people, ones who have no business in my life and so they left. Hurts about Mark and Nathan, though.
However, I just remembered a rule of relationship: All I can do is take responsibility for what I say, I can't control how others respond. It's just that everyone is so touchy these days! Everyone wants to get offended and then hold a grudge. What's up with that? Are people really wanting to be that strong, that they can stand there and hold a grudge for a few misspoken sentences not said in anger or malice? A grudge can get mighty heavy in just a few years, it can actually stunt growth.
My mother was a famous grudge-holder. She held on to anger at Hub for her whole life and I just wonder if that trait contributed to her sad demise. There was no logic to it and no talking her out of it. I know. I tried. Is Bryce that same kind of grudge-holder? He very well could be, he had some of the same brainwashing with religion that my mother had. Righteousness can be used in so many ways. "The quality of being morally right or justifiable." My mothered loved the feeling of being righteous. It's the very next step to feeling superior --- most people like that feeling, too.
I've decided to write to Bryce and ask for a get-out-of-jail-free card for my willingness to help his friend Linday last year. And remind him that I really do love him, that he and James mean the world to me.
I've just finished breakfast and now have to get ready to run errands. I have grocery shopping to do. I've been down sick for over a week and supplies are getting low. Also, I need to begin to pack up my studio but for some reason I don't even want to go over there. I've only got a little over two weeks to get out of there or risk paying for another month's rent, which I don't want to do. I must get my act together and get on it! Motivation! Focus!
Sunday, August 21, 2016
Moving Home
6:53am Writing Practice 55° Boise
Yep, that's right, it's that early and I'm up. I've been up since 4am, or at least awake since 4am. I didn't actually rise until 5:30, at which point Rocky sat up on the bed blinking at the light I had just turned on, wondering what the heck was going on. It's just now light enough to let the cats go out but it's still chilly.
The whole month of August I've been lazy as can be. My house is so dusty I can hardly stand it and yet I do. Stand it, I mean. I've done outside work, renovating the back yard and the deck, getting it all cleaned up, the new deck sealed, the house painted where the old deck used to be. It's almost finished out there but now the inside needs attention and I'm about to rip into it. But back to the lazy part ... it's been so hot in the afternoons, I get Rocky in and then he and I lay on my bed napping and reading under the ceiling fan for several hours. It's been wonderful. Probably the most relaxing time I've ever had. However, I think I may be rested up now and that's why I'm waking up so early. This is the second time in a week that I've woken up predawn and not been able to go back to sleep.
I've been writing in my other journal and I only have enough pages left for one more entry. Then I'll have to start another notebook. Or I can give up the handwritten pages for a while and only do these typed pages. That's probably the best idea right now while I'm working on writing a book. I'll need to type stuff. I can always go back to handwritten pages if I need to at some point ... So I'll finish up the last entry over there and put all that away for a while.
I'm thinking of starting a new blog for Self-Empowered Health and then blog my way into that book. I have plenty of notes and info already done up to start. I don't have to advertise it, I can just start in and do that every day instead of these random pages. Although there's nothing wrong with random, it's just that it won't get me a book. But random writing for a half hour each day for a warm up is a fine idea and I can still do that right here. So when I finish here, I'll set up a new blog site. That will make blog number six, I think. There's
1) Practice Happiness.blogspot
2) RandySandknop.blogspot
3) FunnySighted.blog.com .... except that site seems to be down permanently
4) Grief Space.blogspot
5) The Art of Kindness.blogspot
And now Self-Empowered Health.someblog.com
Do I need a 6th blog?! I've been working on bloging or trying to blog for years --- at least 8 years! And I have yet to take off with one. Should I just keep creating stuff until something finally sticks?
Another decision was made this morning before I got up. I'm going to give notice on my studio and move it all home. I'll have a driveway sale in September and sell everything I no longer need, which means I have to go through everything and figure out what to keep and what to move along. I'm tired of all this stuff plugging up my life, I want simplicity. I was space. I want to feel renewed here without having to move. So now that I've rested up fully and gotten the back yard almost finished, I can set about cleaning and clearing and refreshing my inside space. I'll take the bed out of the back bedroom and make it into an office only. I don't need a guest room and as long as I have these cats, I can't have a roommate. Plus, in the summer, that door sticks and doesn't close all the way. Between the cats and the door issues, there's just no way to use that room for another person.
So I've had my studio for a year and I've used it very little. Sad but true. I gave it a shot and now it's time to make a change again and move it all home. I'm taking a break from photography while I write my book and I do my writing sitting right here in my own living room. I bought a new desk top computer and have yet to actually use it. I may use it here. But I just remembered, I bought it to use mainly for photography. OK, that's fine. No loss there. I'll downsize again and save that $154 a month. I'm glad I got to try it, I always love the idea of an office or studio away from home, but it's a waste of space.
Well, this will be exciting. I'll email Horace today and give him my notice. Then I'll start cleaning and sorting. I'm having a party a week from today, my 24 year Sober Day party. I'll need the house clean for that anyway. And then I'll begin creating space for the move back home. I'll need to sell stuff and I have no place to store things while I prepare for a yard sale. I hope an idea comes while I'm taking action.
When I look back on all my writing, I hope I don't come off as an idiot. A ditherer. But I'm afraid I will. Oh well ... we're all just doing the best we can on a daily basis, it's just that I write about it all on a daily basis. I have proof that I suffer from indecision and uncertainty. What I don't say on a daily basis is that I cry every day, some days more than others. So in a way, the very fact that I'm still here trying is amazing. I'm amazing. Every day that I stay alive after Stephen died is a testament to the power of my will. I may be a ditherer but I'm still here.
Yep, that's right, it's that early and I'm up. I've been up since 4am, or at least awake since 4am. I didn't actually rise until 5:30, at which point Rocky sat up on the bed blinking at the light I had just turned on, wondering what the heck was going on. It's just now light enough to let the cats go out but it's still chilly.
The whole month of August I've been lazy as can be. My house is so dusty I can hardly stand it and yet I do. Stand it, I mean. I've done outside work, renovating the back yard and the deck, getting it all cleaned up, the new deck sealed, the house painted where the old deck used to be. It's almost finished out there but now the inside needs attention and I'm about to rip into it. But back to the lazy part ... it's been so hot in the afternoons, I get Rocky in and then he and I lay on my bed napping and reading under the ceiling fan for several hours. It's been wonderful. Probably the most relaxing time I've ever had. However, I think I may be rested up now and that's why I'm waking up so early. This is the second time in a week that I've woken up predawn and not been able to go back to sleep.
I've been writing in my other journal and I only have enough pages left for one more entry. Then I'll have to start another notebook. Or I can give up the handwritten pages for a while and only do these typed pages. That's probably the best idea right now while I'm working on writing a book. I'll need to type stuff. I can always go back to handwritten pages if I need to at some point ... So I'll finish up the last entry over there and put all that away for a while.
I'm thinking of starting a new blog for Self-Empowered Health and then blog my way into that book. I have plenty of notes and info already done up to start. I don't have to advertise it, I can just start in and do that every day instead of these random pages. Although there's nothing wrong with random, it's just that it won't get me a book. But random writing for a half hour each day for a warm up is a fine idea and I can still do that right here. So when I finish here, I'll set up a new blog site. That will make blog number six, I think. There's
1) Practice Happiness.blogspot
2) RandySandknop.blogspot
3) FunnySighted.blog.com .... except that site seems to be down permanently
4) Grief Space.blogspot
5) The Art of Kindness.blogspot
And now Self-Empowered Health.someblog.com
Do I need a 6th blog?! I've been working on bloging or trying to blog for years --- at least 8 years! And I have yet to take off with one. Should I just keep creating stuff until something finally sticks?
Another decision was made this morning before I got up. I'm going to give notice on my studio and move it all home. I'll have a driveway sale in September and sell everything I no longer need, which means I have to go through everything and figure out what to keep and what to move along. I'm tired of all this stuff plugging up my life, I want simplicity. I was space. I want to feel renewed here without having to move. So now that I've rested up fully and gotten the back yard almost finished, I can set about cleaning and clearing and refreshing my inside space. I'll take the bed out of the back bedroom and make it into an office only. I don't need a guest room and as long as I have these cats, I can't have a roommate. Plus, in the summer, that door sticks and doesn't close all the way. Between the cats and the door issues, there's just no way to use that room for another person.
So I've had my studio for a year and I've used it very little. Sad but true. I gave it a shot and now it's time to make a change again and move it all home. I'm taking a break from photography while I write my book and I do my writing sitting right here in my own living room. I bought a new desk top computer and have yet to actually use it. I may use it here. But I just remembered, I bought it to use mainly for photography. OK, that's fine. No loss there. I'll downsize again and save that $154 a month. I'm glad I got to try it, I always love the idea of an office or studio away from home, but it's a waste of space.
Well, this will be exciting. I'll email Horace today and give him my notice. Then I'll start cleaning and sorting. I'm having a party a week from today, my 24 year Sober Day party. I'll need the house clean for that anyway. And then I'll begin creating space for the move back home. I'll need to sell stuff and I have no place to store things while I prepare for a yard sale. I hope an idea comes while I'm taking action.
When I look back on all my writing, I hope I don't come off as an idiot. A ditherer. But I'm afraid I will. Oh well ... we're all just doing the best we can on a daily basis, it's just that I write about it all on a daily basis. I have proof that I suffer from indecision and uncertainty. What I don't say on a daily basis is that I cry every day, some days more than others. So in a way, the very fact that I'm still here trying is amazing. I'm amazing. Every day that I stay alive after Stephen died is a testament to the power of my will. I may be a ditherer but I'm still here.
Sunday, August 14, 2016
Sunday
9:51am Writing Warm-ups 70° Boise
Boy, is it smoky today! There's been a fire up by Idaho City for over a week and they still haven't got it under control. You can practically see the smoke roiling through the streets when you look out the window.
Random thoughts today: My house is dirty. I need to clean and dust but I'm having a party in two weeks and I don't want to do it twice. So I'll give myself permission to put up with it or clean in spots until it's time to begin the real cleaning. It will take two days to really get after it around here, everything is so dusty. Tomorrow I take my four photos to enter at the fair but today I have to print and add the labels to each one. Then on Wednesday they will be judged and I'll find out Friday if any of them won a ribbon. I have high hopes of getting a big ribbon this time with my new strategy. And my photo, Eye of the Horse, is a contender for the winner-takes-all competition as an abstract. Wouldn't that just be too fun to win a big something this year?
Tuesday the gravel for the back yard is being delivered and I'd like to get out there and clean up the side lot and get it all ready to have two yards of gravel dumped on it. I'd also like to really blow and clean all the gravel areas around the house where new gravel will be added. Of course, it may be Wednesday before the gravel is delivered and so I can't really plan for Rio until Thursday. I need to send him a message to let him know what's going on.
Summer is almost over and I'm cool with it. I'm ready for another fall and the cooler weather, the leaves turning, the season turning. Stephen will be gone three years in October and I'm still here, which is a miracle. In fact, I'm actually doing pretty OK these days. I'm getting things done to my house and I'm writing and taking notes for the book I'm working on. The cats are still around, still healthy, still my little buddies. I cry a little each day at least once but it's not heavy grief anymore. Just so you know, I never stop missing him, never stop thinking about him and remembering his life and what happened to him --- I can still hear his voice and imagine him walking in the door or imagine him coming out of the back bedroom and rummaging around, getting his coffee started. He's still here with me and he always will be. However, I'm getting used to this new reality. Just like I got used to having him around after he was born, I'm now getting used to him only being around in my imagination. Too bad he's not here to help me clean this house. He was a great helper kid! For the most part, I loved living with him and I hope he knows that.
OK, that's it for the random thoughts. Now I can move on to the writing that needs to be done toward completing a book. I talked to an editor yesterday, she didn't like the idea of combining a memoir with a self-help book. She says they're two different audiences and it will be tricky to market. As usual, I have come up with a non-standard idea just like the Practice Happiness CD and the expert is telling me to do it differently. Karie warned me to produce the CD as separate tracks, not all on one CD, and I didn't listen. I'm not finished with that CD, it will be included in this book with a whole chapter on its creation and then how to use it.
Dang, I just remembered that I have to do something about my website. It's old and doesn't work anymore but I don't have the money at this time to create a new one. I'll wait. Surely an idea will come to me about what to do next and it will be set up to market my services, workshops and to sell books. I don't know what's to become of Practice Happiness. I'll probably always keep it and just point it at the new website, whatever it will be called. It may be randysandknop.com.
Boy, is it smoky today! There's been a fire up by Idaho City for over a week and they still haven't got it under control. You can practically see the smoke roiling through the streets when you look out the window.
Random thoughts today: My house is dirty. I need to clean and dust but I'm having a party in two weeks and I don't want to do it twice. So I'll give myself permission to put up with it or clean in spots until it's time to begin the real cleaning. It will take two days to really get after it around here, everything is so dusty. Tomorrow I take my four photos to enter at the fair but today I have to print and add the labels to each one. Then on Wednesday they will be judged and I'll find out Friday if any of them won a ribbon. I have high hopes of getting a big ribbon this time with my new strategy. And my photo, Eye of the Horse, is a contender for the winner-takes-all competition as an abstract. Wouldn't that just be too fun to win a big something this year?
Tuesday the gravel for the back yard is being delivered and I'd like to get out there and clean up the side lot and get it all ready to have two yards of gravel dumped on it. I'd also like to really blow and clean all the gravel areas around the house where new gravel will be added. Of course, it may be Wednesday before the gravel is delivered and so I can't really plan for Rio until Thursday. I need to send him a message to let him know what's going on.
Summer is almost over and I'm cool with it. I'm ready for another fall and the cooler weather, the leaves turning, the season turning. Stephen will be gone three years in October and I'm still here, which is a miracle. In fact, I'm actually doing pretty OK these days. I'm getting things done to my house and I'm writing and taking notes for the book I'm working on. The cats are still around, still healthy, still my little buddies. I cry a little each day at least once but it's not heavy grief anymore. Just so you know, I never stop missing him, never stop thinking about him and remembering his life and what happened to him --- I can still hear his voice and imagine him walking in the door or imagine him coming out of the back bedroom and rummaging around, getting his coffee started. He's still here with me and he always will be. However, I'm getting used to this new reality. Just like I got used to having him around after he was born, I'm now getting used to him only being around in my imagination. Too bad he's not here to help me clean this house. He was a great helper kid! For the most part, I loved living with him and I hope he knows that.
OK, that's it for the random thoughts. Now I can move on to the writing that needs to be done toward completing a book. I talked to an editor yesterday, she didn't like the idea of combining a memoir with a self-help book. She says they're two different audiences and it will be tricky to market. As usual, I have come up with a non-standard idea just like the Practice Happiness CD and the expert is telling me to do it differently. Karie warned me to produce the CD as separate tracks, not all on one CD, and I didn't listen. I'm not finished with that CD, it will be included in this book with a whole chapter on its creation and then how to use it.
Dang, I just remembered that I have to do something about my website. It's old and doesn't work anymore but I don't have the money at this time to create a new one. I'll wait. Surely an idea will come to me about what to do next and it will be set up to market my services, workshops and to sell books. I don't know what's to become of Practice Happiness. I'll probably always keep it and just point it at the new website, whatever it will be called. It may be randysandknop.com.
Saturday, August 13, 2016
Self-Empowered Health Story Ideas
8:50am Writing Practice 61° Boise
I've been hand-writing in my spiral journal. Very enjoyable but today feels like a typing-it-out day and so I'm here. The busy summer continues. My backyard renovation is almost complete. I have to go find gravel as soon as I finish my morning chores. I have to take a handful of what I've got with me and try to match it. I think it's granite gravel and common, so that's good. And also cheap. I should be able to get two yards of gravel delivered for under $100. Then Rio will spread it all for me for under $100. So for less than $200, my backyard will be completely redone and ready for pots and a glider bench and that won't happen until next spring.
I'm having a party on the 28th to celebrate 24 years of sober living. My new deck will be the star and I'd love to hang some white fairy lights out there but the party will be over before dark. But I'll see about doing that anyway. So may details to take care of still. Plus I'll have to clean my house. Pretty bad in here, it will take two days of concerted effort but then it will all be really clean and ready for fall. I'll even wash the windows. I still have some paint to repair before I can schedule an appraisal. That's the goal of all this work ... get an appraisal for $160k and then get the mortgage insurance taken off my monthly payments, thereby saving me $112 a month. In 9 years, I've already paid over $12,000 for mortgage insurance and what does that get me? Nothing, that's what! I want to get rid of that and have a total house payment of $701 a month. Then I can put that extra hundred toward my principle and it will do some good!
OK, off I went dithering around on Facebook and talking on the phone. It's now 10:20am I have little to show for my writing efforts today except some posts for my suicide group on Facebook. Those are always valuable and never a waste of time.
The writing project, Self-Empowered Health, is still in the works. I keep getting ideas about what to write, what stories to add, how to format the information. For instance, the book will have two parts. Part One will be memoir, Part Two will be information and instructions, all easy to access. I've already written the prologue and have started the introduction for Part One but since it's a memoir, I may have to just begin writing the stories. Early life stories to start with, like the ones I put in the prologue which my not actually be a prologue at all, but a beginning. I don't have to get it right, I just have to get it written. Time is a factor. If I took 1-2 hours a day to write my stories, I'd have Part One finished in no time. And Part Two is already outlined and well begun as the Healing Sampler Class. When I write it out and look at it like this, the book starts to take shape in my mind and it even makes sense.
The personal stories include:
1) My sugar addiction at an early age, all the cavities I had, why I was motivated to work to get candy money, how I started my first business at age 11.
2) How my mother was so good at some parts of mothering and so bad at others. She was a hypochondriac and I was well on my way to being one, too, and why (seeking attention and approval from Mom).
3) My first experience with a muscle spasm in my neck, what caused it and how it affected my life. (8th grade tumbling class in PE, Leotta Nelson reaching over to crack my neck as I sat next to her on Donna Warden's stairs, years worth of chiropractic care, exams and visits all to hold off the degeneration of my spine caused by the injury.
4) Mental illness and depression set in at puberty, escalating into a suicide attempt at age 18. I already have that story written, although it's not finished. How I left Baker with strangers and began the uphill climb to sanity in a whole new life in Portland.
5) Then as an adult trying to deal with depression and loss with no help or guidance. Met and married Bob, moved to LaGrande, had a baby, got back into the JW religion and all was pretty good for a while. Then we moved to Hermiston and within a year, my life fell apart again. Turns out religion is no substitute for a solid mental health practice.
That takes me up to 1977 --- the first 24 years.
I've been hand-writing in my spiral journal. Very enjoyable but today feels like a typing-it-out day and so I'm here. The busy summer continues. My backyard renovation is almost complete. I have to go find gravel as soon as I finish my morning chores. I have to take a handful of what I've got with me and try to match it. I think it's granite gravel and common, so that's good. And also cheap. I should be able to get two yards of gravel delivered for under $100. Then Rio will spread it all for me for under $100. So for less than $200, my backyard will be completely redone and ready for pots and a glider bench and that won't happen until next spring.
I'm having a party on the 28th to celebrate 24 years of sober living. My new deck will be the star and I'd love to hang some white fairy lights out there but the party will be over before dark. But I'll see about doing that anyway. So may details to take care of still. Plus I'll have to clean my house. Pretty bad in here, it will take two days of concerted effort but then it will all be really clean and ready for fall. I'll even wash the windows. I still have some paint to repair before I can schedule an appraisal. That's the goal of all this work ... get an appraisal for $160k and then get the mortgage insurance taken off my monthly payments, thereby saving me $112 a month. In 9 years, I've already paid over $12,000 for mortgage insurance and what does that get me? Nothing, that's what! I want to get rid of that and have a total house payment of $701 a month. Then I can put that extra hundred toward my principle and it will do some good!
OK, off I went dithering around on Facebook and talking on the phone. It's now 10:20am I have little to show for my writing efforts today except some posts for my suicide group on Facebook. Those are always valuable and never a waste of time.
The writing project, Self-Empowered Health, is still in the works. I keep getting ideas about what to write, what stories to add, how to format the information. For instance, the book will have two parts. Part One will be memoir, Part Two will be information and instructions, all easy to access. I've already written the prologue and have started the introduction for Part One but since it's a memoir, I may have to just begin writing the stories. Early life stories to start with, like the ones I put in the prologue which my not actually be a prologue at all, but a beginning. I don't have to get it right, I just have to get it written. Time is a factor. If I took 1-2 hours a day to write my stories, I'd have Part One finished in no time. And Part Two is already outlined and well begun as the Healing Sampler Class. When I write it out and look at it like this, the book starts to take shape in my mind and it even makes sense.
The personal stories include:
1) My sugar addiction at an early age, all the cavities I had, why I was motivated to work to get candy money, how I started my first business at age 11.
2) How my mother was so good at some parts of mothering and so bad at others. She was a hypochondriac and I was well on my way to being one, too, and why (seeking attention and approval from Mom).
3) My first experience with a muscle spasm in my neck, what caused it and how it affected my life. (8th grade tumbling class in PE, Leotta Nelson reaching over to crack my neck as I sat next to her on Donna Warden's stairs, years worth of chiropractic care, exams and visits all to hold off the degeneration of my spine caused by the injury.
4) Mental illness and depression set in at puberty, escalating into a suicide attempt at age 18. I already have that story written, although it's not finished. How I left Baker with strangers and began the uphill climb to sanity in a whole new life in Portland.
5) Then as an adult trying to deal with depression and loss with no help or guidance. Met and married Bob, moved to LaGrande, had a baby, got back into the JW religion and all was pretty good for a while. Then we moved to Hermiston and within a year, my life fell apart again. Turns out religion is no substitute for a solid mental health practice.
That takes me up to 1977 --- the first 24 years.
Thursday, August 4, 2016
Thursday
9:25am Writing Practice 64° Boise
I sat down here to write days ago and then got sideswiped by life and left it all sitting here blank. In the past few days, more work has been done on my back yard: the deck is now sealed and beautiful, the paint has been repaired from where the old deck was attached to the house and the pergola is rebuilt and solid again. The only things left to do are rearranging the flag stones and maybe adding some more and then doing a thorough clean up before adding more pebbles back there and all around the house. A few more hundred dollars and the back yard renovation will be complete! And then I'll have a party on the 28th to celebrate 24 years of sober living --- the first Sober Day party in many years.
Wow, I got bored and wandered off again. Sheesh. Time for breakfast!
I sat down here to write days ago and then got sideswiped by life and left it all sitting here blank. In the past few days, more work has been done on my back yard: the deck is now sealed and beautiful, the paint has been repaired from where the old deck was attached to the house and the pergola is rebuilt and solid again. The only things left to do are rearranging the flag stones and maybe adding some more and then doing a thorough clean up before adding more pebbles back there and all around the house. A few more hundred dollars and the back yard renovation will be complete! And then I'll have a party on the 28th to celebrate 24 years of sober living --- the first Sober Day party in many years.
Wow, I got bored and wandered off again. Sheesh. Time for breakfast!
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