Waves

   When I was a child, I lived on the beach several times. No matter the ocean, there is something completely comforting about the sound of the waves rolling into the beach.  That WHOOoooSH,.... WHOOooSH... My favorite feeling is not the hot tropical beaches, but the salty moist wet air combined with that sound on a 60 degree day.

    It is perfection to me.

    If that sound were to ever frighten me; if it were to every become uncomfortable, it would be pointless to try to stop the waves. They keep coming. Over and over.

    I'm trying to remind myself of this right now.  If the water does not go out, if it does not wash away, it cannot come back. It cannot roll in with that lovely white cap and wash over my feet.  If I try to chase the water, it will be above my head when the next wave washes in...

    It's like that right now.  I so desperately want a feeling that compares to that cool water running across my bare feet.  I want that sense of soothing.

   Instead, I am feeling the scorching hot sand with no relief. Or so it seems.

   Yesterday, I was simply overwhelmed. Overwhelmed with the financial responsibility, overwhelmed with the sheer number of things that are going on, and overwhelmed by waves of loneliness.  I cried off and on all day. I would find comfort and peace, only to see somthing else that reminded me of the absolute enormity of our situation.

    Yesterday, in addition to my husband being in the hospital, he had an episode of internal bleeding, my water heater broke, my crock pot cracked and he had another episode of bleeding.

   Yesterday was one of those uphill both ways type of days.

   Today, I feel a little better. I am still absolutely terrified. I have made arrangements for the children to stay with someone else for the day, just in case the surgeon comes out early, or way too late. 

    Tomorrow is the day. Tomorrow, the surgeons are expecting him to be in surgery for five hours.

    I am preparing my house as if he is going to come home on schedule. I am preparing my finances and my heart in case he is never coming home at all. I am preparing words to say to my children either way.

    I can prepare all day long. I can prepare into the wee hours of the night. It's a little like chasing the waves out into the ocean at this point. It is more a way to wear myself out and leaves me vulnerable to drowning when the wave comes back in.

    As I mentioned, yesterday was awful.  My head was pounding when I woke up. I have a medical condition that causes this and had not picked up my medicine due to all of the "preparing" I have been doing.  I said a prayer and asked God to please give me a way to take away the pain without leaving me unable to drive....

    Two hours later, I was doing laundry and a bottle of muscle relaxers fell onto my feet.  Very funny, I thought to myself. This bottle was OLD.  I had maybe taken one or two after a car accident years ago. I tossed the bottle into the trash. I don't know where they came from.

    It's not as if there are random prescription bottles roaming loose in our home.

    It was funny though.  It reminded me that I made peace with God a LONG time ago.  I am not afraid that God will let him die because he is so.... (whatever).  I am not afraid that God will let him die to punish me.  I am not afraid of God.  God 'gets' my need to prepare and understands.. God also understands my sense of humor. God also knows that I will be just fine either way. I'm the one that doesn't catch on as quickly.

    That bottle of pills made me smile.

    Later, we stopped at the Jack in the Box drive through to order drinks.  It is soooo hot now. I was still crying off and on and I ordered our drinks and heard, "Why don't you pull up here and give me $7.00 at this second window?" in the best Wanda Sykes voice ever.

    I smiled. It was the first real smile I had felt since the bottle of pills had landed on my foot.

     I did as she asked, pulled up and paid, and touched her hand. I told her I LOVED her voice and that just by speaking, she had brightened my day.

    She was gracious and smiled. She thanked me and told me sometimes people tell her that she sounds like Wanda Sykes. I laughed, "That is exactly what I thought!" I smiled at her again.

    She will never know.  She will never know that my puffy eyes and smeared make up needed her to tell me to give her $7.00.

    I hope someone makes her smile today.

    Thankfully, I was not so filled with tears and self pity that I missed out on this moment. That opportunity to thank someone else was exactly what I needed. I needed to step back closer to the beach...I was drowing while chasing the waves. I needed her unexpected funny voice right then. 

    What does Wanda Sykes have to do with anything? Exactly. That is probably why I was able to stop crying for the rest of the day. The first wave and reminder to step back was the pill bottle... Apparently that was not enough.

    It all comes in waves.

   

The Meandering Path in a Right Angle Mind....

    My father is not just military, he is militant in everything he does.  I am the proverbial "apple".

    If my father wanted to learn to build a table, he read numerous books, then purchased the lumber and tools, and then did it. If he wanted to join a band, he practiced twice as many hours as recommended.

    My father expects the same from everyone else.

    I mentioned that I am the "apple" though, right?

    Yes, I can remember my father getting a phone call from my music instructor saying that he believed I was forging my time sheets for practice. (I will never know why he made this call, as I was first chair and at that time was a year younger than anyone who had ever held first chair before. Obviously, I was practicing.) To be fair, I was a preteen in a teen world. All of the other students were older than me and I was probably pretty mouthy in my effort to hold my own ground...

    Back on track... So, my father asked the music instructor how much time I had logged. He didn't remember what he had signed for me.

     My music instructor told him the number of hours and my father shouted something to the effect that any idiot could tell I practiced that much every week as I played the same pieces over and over until I perfected them.

    I also had a science teacher accuse me of cheating. Again, I will never understand why. It was material that is printed on a poster in almost every science classroom in the world.

    It was a test. The only question was, "Write down the first ten elements from the periodic table."

    My previous science teacher had taught our class a cool mnemonic, so I quickly jotted down the answers and flipped my paper over.

    Needless to say, my father wasn't impressed with her intelligence either. My father was of course, like many other fathers, and was certain that his child was simply an unrecognized genius. (Sigh)

    So, my point is, that I have always worked hard when I am supposed to. I love to learn. I may have a funny attitude, but inside I am secretly as serious and as militant as my father. I joke around, I can be rather flippant, but only in the comfort of careful planning and preparation.

    When my daughters complain that something is not easy to learn, I simply remind them of some other task that they believed was once insurmountable. Then I remind them of how ridiculously easy it is now. I tell them to practice, learn and do and it all gets easier.

   I had renter's insurance in college when none of my friends did. I had graph paper on my fridge that calculated how I would spend every hour of each day.

   Things have not changed. I am learning how to grow more and more vegetables. To date, I believe I have read more than fifty books on subject ranging from companion planting to compost to extended seasons... and so much more.

     I have a secret though. The more I read, the more questions I have. The more questions I have, the more books and internet sites I will search through. The more notes I take, the more I feel compelled to try to do.

    I have a friend who literally just plants a few things and just waits to see what will come up.  I am fairly sure that she does not stay up late at night scouring the internet looking for a solution to her vegetable woes.  She has not calculated the approximate yield from each plant using weather as a variable. She simply plants a few things and then when she notices that something is ready, she picks it.

    That's it.

     She gives me quirky looks sometimes, and I reciprocate. Secretly I am jealous.

     I have imagined myself with an acreage that is planted rather randomly with a nice cobblestone path that meanders. When I try to draw something like that for my own back yard, I am gifted only with right angles and symmetry.

     Ha! I found a book that explains in great detail how to plant randomly and create a meandering path. It speaks to me as it uses specific details. Use the odd numbers only. 3's, 5's, etc to decide how many of something to plant. Ha! This book bridges the gap for me. I crave that life. I crave the simple, the meandering path. Yet I also am compelled to work and keep order. Perhaps with a little more research, I can merge the two processes.

    I can create a meandering path with my right angle mind. I wonder if my dad every feels this way.....

The Greatest.....

    I don't know.

    That is a big statement. I like to think that writing things on my calendar means something. I like to believe that of course we will be at an annual family get together.

    I like to write classes on my calendar and believe that my daughters will be able to go to them.

    Let's face it.

    A calendar item is a luxury item right now.  I open my calendar and look at it. I have never ever had such a blank calendar. I have never seen such empty space.

    Just seeing the empty space is a reminder that I am afraid. Yes, I know that no matter what happens, that we will get through this. Sometimes I actually believe this also.

    I read and re read my favorite passage of the bible. It is simple. It is the greatest commandment. It usually gives me such comfort. Nothing else matters.

    It doesn't really matter that I can only accomplish a limited amount of tasks while running back and forth to the hospital, fielding phone calls and answering the questions of my children.

    It really does not matter that there were three dirty dishes left in the sink right after the dishwasher was started.

    I like to believe that almost everything has a purpose.  We have been through such tragedies and have found the joy and humor later.

    And then that nagging darkness enters. What about my youngest daughter?  Why did she have to suffer so?  When we were waiting to see if she would live, I told myself that someday I would be able to comfort another mom in that situation.

    Yet again, I know nothing.

    I have spoken to moms who have admitted their child to the hospital with meningitis. I immediately flash back to my daughter. She was six months old and was admitted with meningitis, encephalitis and days later was diagnosed with pertussis.  The hospital created an isolation room for us on the surgical floor and every day an army of doctors paraded in to check her. Every day I asked the same question, "When will my baby wake up?" and every day their reply, "Mrs. P, we do not know IF your daughter will wake up."

    It's still chilling.

    I know that another six month old baby can be admitted to the hospital today with any one of those conditions and not survive. They could give the next child the exact same medications and it might not work.

    Sometimes, there is no comfort to be given. I also remember when they told me, "We don't think she is in pain right now."

    They didn't know.

    The darkness in my mind reminds me: We never really know.

    I lived unaware of a very serious congenital heart condition because of one simple fact. I had no idea that what I was feeling was different than what any of you feel. I have never been inside of your body.

     This is where I have difficulty. I actually believe that if I try to imagine myself in another person's position, that I will be more understanding.

    And then I remember my husband.

     My husband and I often give each other the look. The look that says, "I have no idea what planet you are from."

     I can no more imagine eating bar b que and bacon every day than he can imagine being vegetarian. 

     If he looks at my calendar, you can see the anxiety rise in his eyes. He likes to only look at one day. Looking ahead overwhelms him.  Consequently, he does not find any joy in preparing ahead.  He is the guy who always shows up without something he needed. He is okay with that; I am not.

     I look at my normal calendar and it gives me comfort. Yes, I have the cooler ready for the weekend trip to ______.  Oh, I need to pick up a pork roast for the dinner with ______.   I think all of the supplies were included for this class, but I will call ahead to be sure. I should double check the emergency kit, it looks like we have storms coming in this week. We have a lot going on this week, I think I will have soup and salads ready for quick meals.

     I feel a sense of accomplishment with each preparation. I feel relaxed. I feel safe.

    I look at my empty calendar and it simply reminds me that I don't know what to do.

     I don't know what to buy at the grocery store tomorrow. I don't know which day we will go to the library, or even if we will go to the library.

    I have closed the calendar for now. I still do not know what to write on my grocery list. 

    This not knowing is going to go on for more than a week. This triple bypass is consuming me and I do not know how to take my life back. The nasty darkness reminds me that I am weak because I find so much comfort in my calendar.

     The greatest commandment. It's about love. Really, when you have no poverty, no wealth, no greed, no video games, no television and no internet, what do you have?  If you take everything away, what is left?

     On my deathbed, when I am unable to eat, speak or breathe, what do you suppose will matter? Do you think I will be bothered by the price of gas? Will it really matter who wants my china?  No... Love.  That is all that really matters.

     Tonight, as we continue to prepare for this surgery, I am trying so hard to move away from the fears and walk towards the love.

    

        

Self Sustaining?

    I have read dozens of articles and books about small homesteads and organic gardening. I have been inspired and have learned more than I could have imagined this year about both subjects. I have also learned that there is so much more to learn.

    Again I am faced with the realization that there is more to this generation gap than I could have known before.

    I am no spring chicken and I was raised by two career oriented parents. Part of the reason the homesteading books fascinate me is they tend to contain everything imaginable. There are almost always sections on repairing plumbing, building furniture, repairing walls as well as farming and gardening. 

    I was given a fantastic education. I was challenged academically in almost all areas. I was involved in sports, music and other outside activities, but as far as learning anything about how to care for and maintain a home, I was shown the phone book and a checkbook.

     It's not that my parents did a terrible thing. They were very busy. Why on earth would they repair the shower themselves or build a shed if they could make a phone call? These things did not interest them. They had done them when they were younger. My mother had even helped to build the home she grew up in.

    How foreign my childhood is to my mothers. My mother had the best of both worlds. She lived just on the edge of a city, so had all of the conveniences, but occasionally had a cow or pig until it was time to butcher. She also had an acre of vegetable garden. She was hammering away at framing and roofing shingles in elementary school. My mom learned everything.

    I have always lived in suburban neighborhoods. These neighborhoods do not allow for livestock and have rules about how many domesticated pets you may keep.

     So here I am. I am reading voraciously, taking notes and trying to learn. My mistakes have made me laugh and shake my head. Previously, grandparents or parents would have taught by having children right beside them every step of the way. Children would have heard the phrases, "spank the tomatoes" or "peppers like to hold hands" as often as they heard nursery rhymes.

     Those phrases would have meant something. As they were working, the grandparents or parents would have eventually explained what these phrases meant.

     I have decided that although my parents and grandparents groan about their endless chores, this must be a better way to learn everything.

    Several of my friends from high school are already grandparents. What on earth are we teaching our children and grandchildren? Are we teaching them to write a check? Do we tell them that we will just go to the big grocery store to get our food?

     Oh, wait. I may have lost some of you.

     I know that I will never be able to grow all of our food. I know that I am not 100%, live off of the land homestead material. I would starve and freeze to death if I had to try to live "off of the grid". 

     I am too dependent.  However, with the multitude of concerns I have with food sources and the issues with mass production of chemically enhanced products, never mind the nastiness of the chicken factories... I am compelled to try to do a little more.

    Here are some things I have learned:

    Corn is a mistake. It takes up too much space in the garden and does not provide nearly enough nutrition to be worthy. There, I said it. I know that corn is as American as apple pie, but I have always considered corn to be in the same category as potato chips and now that I have grown it, I really detest it.  Fair enough. No more corn.

    Tomato plants and Oklahoma is insane. Yes, I have grown tomatoes every summer for years, and I do love them, but Oklahoma weather, storms and wind make growing them a very frustrating experience.  This year, I have picked up my tomato cages 4 times in less that two weeks. The plants get large and the winds just topple them. However, there is just no comparison between the flavor of fresh tomatoes from the garden. The grocery store cannot produce that flavor, so I will continue. Perhaps I will invent some amazing new tomato cage that is Oklahoma wind proof.  (sigh... as if no one has tried before)

     Broccoli.  Hmmm.. I am actually still undecided. It is lovely to have fresh broccoli, but I think I will try to master succession planting next year. Nobody at my house really likes to eat cooked broccoli and I planted six of them. The were all ready to pick the same week.  We love fresh broccoli for snacks and in salads, but nobody likes broccoli enough to eat six heads in one week.  There is more work to be done here.

    Pumpkins.  Pumpkins really do not serve a purpose at our house. I am the only one who likes pumpkin pie, so I only grow one plant, but they are just entertaining. In fact, watching them grow and the excitement of seeing how large they get in such a short span of time still makes them worthy in my book. We will do them again.

    Peas.  Oh, I wish I had something to say other than I must plant more of the sugar snap variety next year. I only planted ten of them this year and my youngest daughter has eaten all of the pods before anyone else has a chance. In an ideal world, and a larger yard, I would plant a few dozen plants just so that the rest of us can enjoy them also.

    Wax beans/green beans. I don't know if I did something wrong, but I have eight plants and never enough to make an actual side dish. They are lovely and I have chopped them fresh into our salads, so perhaps I will need to plant a lot more of these also.

    Cucumbers.  Oh my. These are my heaven. I planted a different variety this year. They are they shape and color of lemons and they are absolutely divine. The only improvement I can think of is that next year I will need to create a taller, stronger trellis for them. The one I am using now has been completely taken over.

    Squash.  Blossom end rot and squash bugs. While others are complaining that they have too many zucchini and squash, I am occasionally getting one.  I have already worked a new bed to try a different soil composition to see if this help with the winter squash.  

    Potatoes.  Potatoes are not nutritionally worthy either, but since we occasionally love a potato and onion soup, I planted them. I have them planted in a large bag and they are pretty interesting. You are just not sure if they are done or rotted or whatever until you dig. Odd.  I will plant them again next year.

   Onions.  I don't know what happened this year. I plant onions every year and always wish I had planted more. We use a lot of onions in cooking and salads and soups, so we love them.  This year, it looks like I will only have five or six. They rest died. I don't know why.

    Peanuts. Yes. You heard me. We added peanuts this year. Oh, we didn't plant enough to start making our own peanut butter. It was more of an experiment and learning experience. Peanuts grow flowers and then the flowers drop to the ground, bury themselves and become a peanut.  They are pretty fascinating and if I had more space, I might grow more of them. We should end up with a quart size bag of shelled peanuts. We can either roast them and eat them as snacks or add them to the sunflower seeds that will go to the birds. Either way, we may plant them again next year if we have space.

    Peppers.  We love them. We have four different varieties growing. There is just nothing like picking a pepper, washing it, and adding it to a recipe or salad. It is pure loveliness.

    This fall we are adding swiss chard, spinach and several varieties of lettuce outside.

    Okay, maybe some of you do not like fresh vegetables as much as we do. I get more excited by seeing lovely produce than I do going to a new movie. The flavors are better and the entire meal is better with really fresh foods.

    I learned something else valuable this year. I have never kept a gardening journal. I have previously just grown tomatoes, peppers and onions with the occasional "experiment" added. This year, as I have added more and more each month, I now understand why people keep gardening journals. Rain, weather, dates, locations, drawings of future ideas. I need a place for all of these. So, I have started a journal and have doodled, added pictures, made notes and jotted down thoughts for next year.  Perhaps this will keep me from my annual, "Why aren't my tomatoes ripe now?".

    Perhaps. 

    Yes, I am going to experiment with building my own trellises. I built my own raised beds this year and it was pretty easy. Until there is a greenhouse made of bulletproof glass that is anchored four or more feed underground, I am pretty sure that Oklahoma weather will drive me insane. My wonderful cucumber plant has leaves that look like swiss cheese. It's not from insect damage. It is from hail damage. Thankfully, it was not damaged too much, and is still giving me lovely cucumbers.

   Every day, I go out to my garden and pick a few things to add to our dinner.  Every day, I am aware that I am fair from self sustaining. Every day, I am thinking of ways to do this better.

    I hope I continue to do a little more each year. It is more than satisfying to have my family that this is the best spaghetti sauce or the best soup they have ever had. It makes me happy. Not only do they notice the difference in the flavors, but they are also getting a little more foods that are chemical free.  Maybe I am not able to teach them how to build a home, but I do believe that processed food simply does not taste as good to them either.

   Each day is a gift. We have chances to make small changes every day and I am grateful for every opportunity to make changes for the better.

Perhaps We Should Play

    I like to eat my veggies first. I like to get chores done before I go on an outing. I like to tackle the hardest problems first at work. I enjoy myself more when I know the right things are done.
     However, I must say that I am the worst at taking time off to play. That list of tasks to do is never ending. There is always going to be a few things left on that TO-DO list. Always. I forget to schedule time to play.
    This last few weeks has been very stressful. I cannot recall feeling this much stress since September of 2011 when I was not only working for an airline and every day was questionable, but I was also pregnant. It was a high risk pregnancy so I was having a very difficult time managing my work stress when I was having pre term labor... (Yes, another story for another day.)
     These last few weeks, I have felt that turmoil building inside of me. I would lay in bed just shaking with anxiety and stress.
     I knew I could not continue "as normal" for much longer. I knew I was a mere human with a breaking point. I knew I needed some relief.
       I must say, that I initially went to visit a few friends at the airline and that was a fantastic reminder of how good my life is. I was welcomed and hugged. It was glorious to be so well received. It was good to chat, catch up on new systems and policies and joke around like old times.
     More importantly, I was reminded that I left on such good terms. I left with respect, dignity and love. I know that not everyone gets to feel so at peace when leaving a position.
     I also went to see friends another night. Oh my! There are so many things we filter when we are around our children! Perhaps some of you are more saintly and do not have non PG thoughts, but I apparently had a LOT to say!  It was so relieving to say things and be not to feel so terribly guilty or worry that I had altered my child's psyche forever.
     Ooooh, and the things we talked about! From the completely mundane of coupons, savings and laundry detergent, right up to the nitty gritty of how un-romantic marriage can be. Remember when you thought that it would always be hearts and flowers? Remember?
     Speaking of, today is my anniversary. My idea of romance now is very different than my ideas were in my 20's.  Forget flowers honey. I want the _______ done.  No, this is not a non-PG blank.  It is a fill in the blank chore.  Lawn mowed, shingle fixed, disposal repaired, oven cleaned... You name it.  Those are the things that get my heart to go pitter patter now.
    We laughed. Times do change.
     I don't know about "most couples", but I do know that in our marriage, there have been times that we weren't so sure we could stay married. I know there have also been times where we have looked back and wondered how we made it through THAT. 
     Maybe you know.
     I will not lie. I will not tell you that we have always loved each other through things. Forget it. Sometimes it has been like white knuckling the steering wheel in an ice storm. If you live with another human being for long enough, something will get on your last nerve. If you are not careful, a lot of things will.
     I looked through some old pictures today. My how time flies. It seems that just yesterday I was 17. It seems that just yesterday I was wearing cocktail dresses and heels regularly on the weekends.  I look at pictures of my husband from when we were younger and I barely recognize him.
     We have changed. We are older now. Somewhere along the way, we picked up a few pounds, gray hair, wrinkles and a couple of heart conditions.
    It happens.  I still smile when he tells me I look beautiful.  He still smiles when I bring him a jar to open. 
    Soon he and I will go out on a date.  Soon, we will attempt to have a conversation without mentioning the children. We will fail miserably. Those children are 90% of what we have in common. Most of the things that we enjoyed together when we were younger have changed... 
    I would like to think that we have gotten the "hard part" of marriage out of the way. I know that probably isn't true. It is a little like that TO DO list. There is always something irritating one of us. There is always something that needs improvement. Since there is a never ending list, perhaps we should play.