When the Cranes Fly South by Lisa Ridzén

I heard about When the Cranes Fly South by Lisa Ridzén, translated from the Swedish by Alice Menzie, on an episode of Sarah's Bookshelves. 

So, there was recently a discussion about the last book that made you cry in my corner of the blogosphere and I couldn't remember. I just don't cry much at books. So along comes When the Cranes Fly South which seemed to accept this as a personal challenge. 

My parents both died young. They died before we had to have discussions about whether or not it was safe for them to drive, it was appropriate for them to live alone, or if they could care for their pets. And I frequently wish I had more time with them, but I'm forever grateful that those were conversations I got to duck out of. 

My mom loved her dog more than she loved me. I knew that in the pecking order of my mom's affections, it was her dog, my sister, her younger brother, and then me. That's fine. I actually think Dusty and Red deserved more love than I did, so she wasn't wrong in that aspect of the pecking order (the others...I might have some beef). But the idea of having to tell my mom that she was not capable of caring for her beloved pet and having to have the responsibility of removing her dog from her house? That seems impossible to me and I don't know if I would have ever done it. My mom would have preferred to die slipping on the ice taking the dog for a walk than in a home alone without her dog. (YOU GUYS. I'm crying just typing this.)

Bo is a retired mill worker. His wife has dementia, the mean kind, and she is in a home where she doesn't remember Bo and reacts violently when he visits her. Bo still lives at the house he lived with his wife with his dog Sixten and carers come in multiple times a day to check on Bo and help him get dressed, shower, eat, and let the dog out. Bo's son Hans is dealing with a lot - he has a high-stress job, his mom is in a home, and his dad refuses to acknowledge that Sixten is too much for him to handle.

How's all this going to play out?

With lots of tears on my part, friends. Lots of tears.

It was a beautiful book. But, I swear to all that's holy, if you are in a sensitive place right now, do not read this book. 5/5 stars

Line of note:

I feel the urge to get up, to hit the table and tell him I'll do whatever the hell I want. That I'm the captain of this ship.

But I don't, because I'm not a captain. I'm a bundle that's been lashed to the mast in a storm. (page 160)

Hat mentions (why hats?):

wearing a big hat with a ribbon (page 102)

who clams up at the drop of a hat (page 151)

big black hat (page 285)

He picks up his hat (page 286)

holds the hat close to his stomach (page 286)

puts his hat on (page 286)

I've only ever seen people wearing hats like that on TV. (page 286)l

man in the hat (page 289 x2)

About My Mom

The things you should know about my mom is that she loved Dusty the Lhasa apso and Red the Pomeranian more she loved her daughters, watched television shows on aliens and Bigfoot on constant repeat, hated men, loved doing craft projects that ended up looking like a fifth grader had completed them, and had a stash of trashy romance novels under her bed the day she died.

 

In her defense, Red was an amazing dog. I loved him more than most people, too.

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One day I was having an allergic reaction to a medication and I had to leave high school early because the hives were freaking out everyone. My mom, sister, and I piled into the car and went to the doctor. They gave me antibiotics, told me not to take sulfa drugs ever again, and the three of us got ice cream and went shopping where we all bought new clothes and shoes, and we drove fast through the two-lane country roads lined with corn and wheat fields, windows down, screaming out the lyrics to "Pour Some Sugar on Me." 

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She used to say that you should always eat your dessert first because there might be a fire before dinner was finished and wouldn't it be a shame if you didn't get to eat dessert. 

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She worked for the post office for over thirty years. She sorted mail, learned to drive a forklift, and could tell you every zip code for every small town in Michigan, Illinois, and Indiana. It was fun to test her on road trips. Climax! 49034! Corydon! 47112!

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At my wedding, she insisted on wear a pink top that clashed with the red that was our wedding color. Oh, well. She carried around an ugly old black purse and in every wedding photo, she's holding on to that damn purse. It makes me laugh now. At my sister's wedding, I took my mom's purse and cell phone from her and held them hostage in my car. Everyone she knew was at the wedding, so no one would call her. And damned if I was going to let her have an ugly purse in every one of my sister's wedding photos. 

The strap!

NO ONE ELSE HAS A PURSE ON THE DANCE FLOOR.

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When she was a tween, her nightgown caught fire on a gas range when she was heating up water for tea. She had third-degree burns up and down the left side of her body. They grafted skin from her thighs for her upper arm and torso. She was heavily scarred and she was out of school for more than two years. 

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She had nine brothers and sisters. She was number nine. There are only four remaining siblings now. 

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She used to text me indecipherable words. The number of times I texted "I do not understand what you mean" is probably hundreds. The very last text she sent to me was "Rocket is he play with him steals his bones. And lets him have the big cat." The fuck, mom? (Translation: Rocket plays with Sy and steals his bones. He lets Sy sleep in the big cage. - Rocket and Sy are my sister's dogs.) 

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One time she signed a birthday card to me Love, Fran instead of Love, Mom and then she didn't call me on my birthday and I cried. After I got married, she never called me on my birthday. She said it was my husband's job. I don't know. It made me sad. 

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She worked nights and my father worked during the day. So he was the primary caretaker. Did she notice the bruises? The empty fridge? The fear in our eyes? 

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One time we went for a walk in a county park. I though the loop was .75 miles, but at about mile two, my mom was getting tired. I saw a road across a field and made my mom troop through the field to get to the road, found a church, and parked her at a bench by the church. I looked a map on my phone, realized our car was about three-quarters of a mile away via sidewalks and ran to the car and drove back to get her. She referred to it as "our little hiking adventure."

Not from the hiking adventure, but when we went to a mall and she suggested I buy bright pink lipstick, which I did, but then threw it away because I am not a bright pink lipstick lady. She asked me why I wasn't wearing it the next time she saw me.

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I remember Jenny writing once (on her blog? in a comment here?) that when her mom died, she had young children and she just kept doing the things that it takes when you have young children and then one day she woke up and her life was normal again. Like, different normal, of course. But she had to keep on waking up and tying the shoelaces and packing the lunches and whatever it is that you do with kids. And every morning I'm getting up and walking the dog and then I get home and I don't remember it. My day-to-day life has not changed much since I lived hundreds of miles away, but somehow the world seems different. And I feel different, but I can't put my finger on what exactly. But I'll keep waking up and living my life and someday it will be normal again.

Obviously our relationship was complicated, but I never doubted that she loved me and my sister with all her heart and she always did what she thought was best for us. I miss her random incomprehensible emails. I miss the jokes about how terrible men were and how I would have to defend them (ME!). My birthday just passed and I missed the card in the mailbox. But that's part of the process, right?

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Thank you to everybody who has checked in with me in the last few weeks. The texts, the cards, the flowers, the books, the random board game someone sent with no name on it - it has all been very much appreciated. If I didn't send you a note thanking you, I have to admit that you probably won't get one because I have done a lousy job of keeping track. Just know that I did appreciate it and I have felt very much surrounded by love and support. 

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I'm going to attempt to do my regular bloggy thing, but posts may be sporadic. But at some point, it will become normal again. 

Love Thyself

It was a combination of things that led to this post. Nicole recently had a post called Tell Me Something Beautiful About You that was focused on our physical appearance. We all think our friends our beautiful, but when we look in the mirror, many of us are critical to our own selves in a way that would be considered downright cruel if we voiced it about someone else, so the focus is on self-love in what I see as a radical way through self-acceptance and appreciation.

I teach a Careers class - a one-credit class that is mostly taken by people who need one credit to graduate, but also has some underclasspeople in it. I focus on personality exploration (Stephany would appreciate that part), career exploration based on personality and interest, resume and cover letter writing, networking, and interviewing. Most students like it, although I had a guy last semester who complained nonstop throughout the semester and said it was busywork. *shrug*  This semester I did something new and had them sign up for mock interviews with me via our Zoom equivalent. Historically I haven't done this because the interview module aligns with advising season, but this semester I just said, oh well, and have had wall to wall student meetings in April.

In this mock interview, I ask them a couple of softball questions, but then I throw in some tough ones to see what they do and how they react when they don't have an answered prepared. One of the questions is "what is your greatest professional achievement?" and the other is "what makes you unique?" and I realized in my last interview that I had no idea how I would answer those questions if presented to me. 

In the spirit of self-exploration, love, and radical self-acceptance, here are my answers to some hard questions. I'll give three answers for each of them.

This has nothing to do with this post, but I took this photo when Dr. BB and I were at the Natural History Museum. I suspect that adorable creature has no self-esteem issues.

What is beautiful about you?

1) The answer I gave on Nicole's post is: I love my ginormous nose. It comes from both sides of the family and it ties to me to all my beloved aunts, uncles, and cousins. In profile, I look just like my Uncle Kevin who is a great man among great men and it makes me giggle when I see a profile shot of myself and think “I am a miniature of a 60something man.”

2) My boobs. They're large and sometimes get in the way when I'm doing yoga, but they're shapely and my husband digs them.

3) My butt. It turns out that I basically do all my lower body through my glutes and that means I have tight ass. I like it. 

What are the best decisions you've made in your life?

1) Marrying Dr. BB. Honestly, I can't imagine another man who would be as perfect for me as he is.

2) Leaving my hometown. I was at an introductory doctor's appointment a year or so back and my doctor was going over my family health history. She started talking to me and she asked, "so how come you don't smoke or do drugs, exercise, eat healthy, and don't have these conditions?" "I left." 

3) Keeping my friendships even through the hard times. I have good friends from high school and college who I am still in regular contact and I never regret the time I've invested in those friendships. 

What is your greatest professional achievement?

1) Leaving my volunteer position with a transition plan in place and without burning any bridges. I learned a lot of skills at that job and did a lot of things I would never have done otherwise, but I'm glad that part of my life is behind me.

2) I have recently started seeing results to some of my outreach at work. Last week I had two (TWO!) students call me because I had reached out to them in the past and ask for help right now. I know that seems trivial, but it's not. It shows that our model of forming relationships and reaching out to students who seem to be struggling is working and that I'm earning students' trust. Likewise, I had a faculty member call me yesterday and she didn't even say her name, she just started the phone call with "help" and I was able to get her what she needed within five minutes. It's working.

3) Friends, this is silly, but I was valedictorian of my high school class and a National Merit Finalist. I have feelings about some of this, but I also worked really hard for both of those things. 

What makes you unique?

1) My obsession with hats.

2) My commitment to snail mail.

3) My knowledge of the complete oeuvres of Garth Brooks, Skid Row, and Bon Jovi. 

What do you like about yourself?

1) If I say I'm going to do something, I do it. 

2) I always dance as if no one is watching.

3) I try to think of others first. 

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What do you like about yourself? Do you find these questions hard to answer?

Five Plus One for Friday, Edition #6

1) Update #1: Valet stand - Purchased and set up in his office. 

2) Update #2: Dining room table - I washed my heated vest doing laundry last weekend and put it away for the season, I washed all my merch from my alma mater and am actively wearing it these days, I recycled the paperwork about the class action lawsuit, we bought honey from the honey people at the Market last weekend, I wrote the review for the book, I ordered makeup, I sent that greeting card, and I didn't use the REI coupon because they didn't have good options for cross-trainers.

I still have four thank you cards to write, I have a new book sitting there to write a review about, and I need to reorder a prescription, but those are the only to-do items left on the table.

3) What does Adriene of Yoga with Adriene mean when she says "hug the low ribs in"? Like...my ribs are bones? And I have no control over them? 

4) At work, I sometimes leave myself reminders of things that need to be done with little notes on my calendar like follow-up with Joe Smith (#7788990) and I'll write a description "Did Joe graduate? If yes, call and congratulate him. If not, follow up and get him on track to graduate this summer." But this takes all of five minutes and it takes up an entire fifteen minute slot on my calendar. How do you deal with these follow-ups that are months out - I met with Joe in January or February for the first time so I need a reminder and I need a description of the situation?

5) Update #3: The dentist saga continues - I have bad gums. And I see my periodontist every six months for a cleaning and my regular dentist every six months for a cleaning, meaning my teeth are cleaned every three months. And for a decade I had an awesome family dentist and he retired and was replaced by a new guy who acts like my teeth are about to fall out of my head at any second. And I was powering through with him because for the last few times I'd been, the hygienist was lovely.

But last week I went and there was a new hygienist who tried to sell me on 1) a waterpik and 2) whitening mouthwash. I have been told REPEATEDLY by my periodontist that waterpiks are terrible for someone with my condition and whitening products just end up increasing my already sensitive gums/tooth bones. And when I said "no, thank you," she kept on and on and I was in tears when I left. I called my SIL the dentist who told me to just ignore everything the hygienist said, which made me feel better, but also made me feel worse.

So, you're probably thinking, just change dentists. As I found myself making another appointment for December, I wondered about this, too.

Here's the deal. We have sort of crappy dental insurance (it's the one all state employees get) and only four dentists in our area (my town and the town where our university is) accept this insurance. One is my dentist; one is a dentist with incredibly polarizing reviews (LOVE or HATE and nothing in between and I don't know who to trust); one is a dentist that is the merging of two dental practices that had great reviews when they were solo, but there's no way to speak to a human when you call the number; and the last is a dentist that has assured my husband who switched there that they are going to stop taking the insurance in the next cycle. 

I guess I'll continue with this dentist. 

6) June is first-year orientation month at our university. I run a session for folks coming into our college and as they are coming in, I play music*. I try to play upbeat music. Here's a sampling of songs on the playlist:

    "Flowers" by Miley Cyrus
    "Shake it Off" by Taylor Swift
    "Eye of the Tiger" by Survivor
    "It's My Life" by Bon Jovi
    "Hey There Delilah" by Plain White T's
    "Don't Stop Believin'" by Journey
    "Daydream Believer" by The Monkees
    "Brown Eyed Girl" by Van Morrison
    "Summer of '69" by Bryan Adams
    "Believe" by Cher
    "Wannabe" by Spice Girls
    "Single Ladies" by Beyoncé
    "Mama Said" by The Shirelles
    "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" by Cyndi Lauper
    "My Girl" by The Temptations
    "Dancing Queen" by ABBA
    "Another Saturday Night" by Sam Cooke
    "I Can't Help Myself" by Four Tops
    "Soul Man" by Sam & Dave
    "I Wanna Hold Your Hand" by The Beatles

    "Call Me Maybe" by Carly Rae Jepsen

*I may have gotten my hand slapped for playing the music too loud on the first day of orientation. Whoops. I also took the students through the wrong door to the computer lab that day and got a stern talking to from the direction of orientation. Sorry, everyone!

This is all great, but many of you are noticing that many of these songs are...fifty or sixty years old? What should I be adding to this list? Like...what are young folks listening to that pumps them up? I don't want anything insanely provocative or with a lot of cursing, but mild innuendo and a hell or a damn is fine.  Any thoughts?

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Thoughts on "knit your low ribs in"? What do you use for to-dos at work? What songs to the young people listen to when they want to get pumped up?

The Dining Room Table or How the Clutter is Winning

There are things I notice that I let slide when things get tough in my life. I stop worrying about things like personal care (if I go too long without a haircut, take notice!), keeping on top of the mail, and household chores. So I took a photo of the dining room table this morning because it is an indication that things are going off the rails for me.

Our dining room table usually has four placemats and a notebook each of us keeps on the table. That's what belongs on the table. We occasionally put things on the table as a reminder to do something (pay a bill, reorder a prescription, etc.), but the idea is that those things get done within 24 hours and the item is removed from the dining room table because if no other room in the house is neat and tidy, the dining room is. 

Well...

1. My heated vest - This has been sitting here for weeks. I need to take out the battery to store it for summer, put a reminder for me to recharge the battery in July on the calendar, wash the vest, and store all of it for the season. This seems like a lot of work, honestly.

2. This is the bag of merch I bought at my alma mater. I need to take off all the tags and wash everything (or, at the very least, put all the things in a laundry basket so they will get washed when we next do laundry). 

3. Paperwork #1 - This is on my husband's side of the table. It's a warranty card or something that he needs to fill out and return. No action needed on my behalf.

4. Paperwork #2 - This is a card to remind my husband to buy something. I think there's a coupon or something on it. No action needed on my behalf.

5. Paperwork #3 - Mystifying paperwork about a class action lawsuit regarding our new car. I am not sure we are qualified for it and so we have spent  about an hour between the two of us trying to decipher the language in this document. I think I'm just going to recycle it when I get home.

6. $40 - This was cash money we had to buy honey at the Farmers' Market last Saturday. The honey people weren't there, though, and we can't go to the Market this Saturday and now we're out of honey. I need to either call the honey people and go to their house to buy it or just buy honey at the grocery store.

7. Mail - A bloggy friend mailed me a note and I should write back. This involves finding the perfect card/stationery and hunting down an international stamp. This is FUN and I'm happy to do it, but it seems like a lot right now.

8. Library book - I need to write up a review for this book on my blog and take it back to the library.

9. Makeup - I have three items of makeup that I needed to reorder: foundation, eyelid primer, and primer. This should have been an easy chore, but my foundation is impossible to find. It's not available at Sephora or Ulta anymore and while it's on the Laura Mercier site, it's sold out in my shade and I'm starting to wonder if it's going to be discontinued. Meanwhile, I was uncomfortable making foundation decisions at the computer, so while I meant to complete this chore yesterday, I did not. I am not certain what I'm going to do about this. I did order primer last night, but the eyeshadow primer and foundation remain an issue.

10. REI discount coupons -I am going to buy some new cross trainers with one of the coupons. They expire next week, so I have some time to get to this.

11. Greeting card -  I should have sent this out on Monday to get to the person in time, but is still sitting on my table. FFS. Why am I like this? 

The truth is that I'm exhausted right now. I came home from work yesterday and took a nap. Then I went to bed at about 9. I just don't know what's wrong. I feel otherwise fine, but I am so tired. Excuse me for this pity party. I am FINE, I think. I am somewhat young, somewhat fit, and definitely privileged to just have one job and a partner to help with chores at home. But boy could I use 48 hours in bed.

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What's a chore you've been putting off? (Please tell me I'm not alone.)

9.27 Priority - Tough Love Needed

Bestest Friend and I are doing a blog project. Each day we will write about a pre-determined theme chosen by a random noun generator. The theme for the twenty-seventh day of the month is "Priority."

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Do you wake up every morning with a list of things that you need to do? Do you wake up excited to do those things? Do you prioritize what needs to be done and how?  

I'm just asking because I am starting to feel overwhelmed by the very few responsibilities I have every day and I can't tell if it's normal Tired of Adulting or Something You Should See a Doctor About.  I feel so very anxious about sending emails and making phone calls and hitting send on job applications. I'm feeling discouraged because I've had interview after interview and I have no job to show for it. I don't even want to talk about my volunteer position and how much it makes me want to curl up in a ball. My mind is constantly racing with things to do and I can't shut it up. 

But, like. This is what it's like to be an adult, right?  I should just put on my Big Girl Pants and deal with it?

Tough love, folks. I need tough love.

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9.7 Contact - Higher Than

Bestest Friend and I are doing a blog project. Each day we will write a blog post on a pre-determined theme chosen by a random noun generator. The theme for the seventh day of the month is "Contact." 

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This is my last nagging reminder to you, dear Reader, that our A Tree Grows in Brooklyn book club will begin on MONDAY! It's here. This is NOT a drill.  It's only about fifty pages a week. Please join us!

July 10 (Chapters 1 - 5)
July 17 (Chapters 6 -10)
July 24 (Chapters 11 - 18)
July 31 (Chapters 19 - 26)
August 7 (Chapters 27 - 32)
August 14 (Chapters 33 - 37)
August 21 (Chapters 38 – 41)
August 28 (Chapters 42 – 45)
September 4 (Chapters 46 – 51)
September 11 (Chapters 52 – 56)
September 18 (entire book wrap up)

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I have written about a yoga class called 20/20/20 that the yoga teacher at the community center teaches that I occasionally take. In my first mention, I suggested that perhaps I wanted more guidance in the class. In my second mention, I complained that I was uncomfortable with the journaling aspect of the class. In my most recent post about it, I did more complaining about the journaling. Well, friends, I'm here to say that I have done a complete 180 on this class. 

I love it.

At one point, Jenny wrote a comment here that I could just use the journaling time to write about whatever I wanted to. There's no need for me to write about my empowered vision of the future or what color I feel if that doesn't work for me. I sort of laughed because I am a rule follower, someone who wants do the homework right, and do what authority figures tell me to do because they must have their reasons for their rules.  But. Jenny was right.  My yoga teacher just wants me to do what works for me.  I wasn't actually breaking the rules, I was doing what I needed to do to have the most effective experience. 

So I love the first bit of the class where we dance around now. My teacher gives some instructions about focusing on gravity and root chakras and whatnot, but I just leave what doesn't make sense to me and focus on the music and moving my body and jumping around.  When we do unstructured yoga, I basically just try to do the same thing - a mini-practice I've created for myself - each time. I do a dead bug sequence, a couple of sun salutations, and then a warrior sequence. If there's time after that, I throw myself on the floor for some pigeon poses/other leg stretches.  So, at first this unstructured time was scary because I didn't know what I was going to do, but now it's predictable and it's comforting.

And then! The journaling. She usually has us journal at this point and I have taken to literally just writing down everything on my to-do list or anything that I've been focusing on while I'm doing the yoga piece.  

That means that by the time we get to meditation, my monkey brain has settled and I'm able to focus on my body and breathing. And I kind of feel like I'm high by the time we're done. Maybe more of a contact high than an actual high, but you know what I mean. 

When she asks me to share my journaling, I frequently tell her exactly what I wrote down and why and she's absolutely fine with it. 

Anyway, I do feel like this class is really helping me to focus on connecting with my own feelings and anxiety and how that manifests in my physical body. I'm converted. It's a weird class and probably not for everyone, but I'm 100% on the 20/20/20 train now.

8.22 Safety - A Series

Bestest Friend and I are doing a blog project. Every day we will write a blog post on a pre-determined theme chosen by a random noun generator. The theme for the twenty-first day of the month is "Safety."

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Monday night right before yoga started, we noticed three tween/teen boys climbing up the fire escape of the community center holding energy drinks. Everyone looked at me and I found myself meandering outside to ask them to climb down. "Hey, guys, you're not really supposed to be up there. Can you come down?" They were so nice and polite and apologetic as they clambered down.  "Nice view up there, huh?" 

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Monday night was a rough night in our house. Dr. BB had a weird tickle in his throat and he just couldn't cough it out. He was up and down to get water several times. Meanwhile, my right flank is sore (is it muscle pain? is it a kidney stone? who knows?) and my heating pad, which is really a bear, kept shifting and I'd wake up to shift it back. This bear was a present from my mom when I left for Minneapolis more than twenty years ago, yo. It holds heat better than any non-electric heating pad I've ever had and all it takes is two minutes in the microwave. It has started to fall apart, as in the fabric is actually wearing at the seams, and I've sewed it together. My mom has no idea how to replace it. 

So I was awake about forty-five minutes before the alarm went off, slogging my way through yet another endless book on my Kindle (my ebooks have been rough recently), but Dr. BB was finally asleep, so I was ignoring my bladder and trying to give him that extra sleep. 

We have an old house. There aren't any fire/carbon monoxide detectors wired into our house, so one of the first things we did when we moved in was to install one on every level of the house.  The one upstairs beeped super loudly at 5:56am this morning and had a fun little voice come on to tell us that the battery was low. 

I was up out of bed as if it was an actual fire, while Dr. BB stumbled around trying to figure out where the noise was coming from. We figured it out quickly that it was the monitor at the top of the stairs.

By the time we were able to get the battery compartment over, get the batteries (it was a new package from Costco and required tools to get into), and change the batteries, there was no snuggling back into bed for morning snuggles. Zelda was downstairs screaming for food, I was wide awake, and Dr. BB was charmingly disheveled by his morning awakening.

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So then Tuesday morning I went to that yoga/dance/meditation class. One of the first things the instructor said was to take notice of how safe we are in the space, how safe we are in community at this moment. 

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Sometimes it's a stretch for me to come up with something in my life that's related to the prompt of the day. But sometimes it feels like the universe is trying to tell me something.

8.14 Control - You're In Charge Now

Bestest Friend and I are doing a blog project. Each day we will write a post on a pre-determined theme chosen by a random noun generator. The theme for the fourteenth day of the month is "Control."

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My friend's daughter's high school open house was last Saturday. Since she was in middle school, she's always said she wanted her open house to be at her grandparents' farmhouse, so when I got to town on Friday, I went over there to help get things ready. This is the house where my friend grew up, so I've spent a lot of time there and I didn't even need the GPS to tell me how to get there!  

When I pulled into the driveway, a lot of men were working on trimming bushes and the like. There were power tools being used. My friend greeted me and asked if I would go inside where his wife and mother were working on prepping food for the next day. "My wife is not in a good mood and I think you'll cheer her up."

You guys! That was my job! I was the Cheer Up Squad! ME!  

And I was. I walked in there, started chopping melons and cutting cheese slices and joking around and soon there was laughter in the kitchen and whatever bad mood was originally there was long gone. 

It felt so good to be this person again. I am happy. I was happy to be there. I was surrounded by people I love. I was doing something useful. I was in total control of my feelings and could concentrate on everybody around me. 

Here's to more days like that one.

Pandemic Update: Things Are Not Normal

I recently read a comment on someone else's blog along the lines of "I'm over COVID and I'm not worried about monkeypox and my life is the same now as it had been before" and I was a bit dumbfounded. Because things are definitely not normal here. (I'm not particularly worried about monkeypox, to be fair.)

1) I'm still masking indoors. I am frequently the only person in a mask, but I still feel really gross about breathing in air particles filled with germs. I recently did an in-person interview and I wore a mask for the whole thing, despite only one other person (of the dozens I met) wearing one. I do wonder if that impacted their decision to not hire me, but I also think that if my mask wearing does make a negative impression, then the job wasn't a good fit for me.

We did interviews for a candidate to replace the Executive Director of the community center where I volunteer and one candidate wore a mask (as did I), but no one else on the committee wore a mask and the other members of the committee were pretty down on her for wearing one. I tried to suggest that there are good reasons for wearing a mask and limited myself to four:

a) She may be immunocompromised or is close to someone else who is 
b) She may have been exposed to someone who has tested positive in the last ten days
c) She may have regular contact with an infant (or someone else) who is not eligible for vaccination
d) She just doesn't want to get sick herself with a variety of gross things, including colds, flus, and COVID

Regardless, they kept bringing it up.  

2) I don't remember the last time I wasn't stressed out in an indoor public setting. I do not browse in stores, but I go in, get what I need, and get out. I don't hang around at the coffee shop, but I go in, make my order, get it, and leave. As soon as the door behind me closes, I can feel my heartrate increase, and I am a nervous Nellie.  I cannot foresee myself ever going to a movie theater again, ever trying on clothes at a store, or even enjoying a simple stroll through Target while sipping a delicious coffee beverage.

At the family reunion over Labor Day, we stayed with my husband's father and his wife. But when we went to the house where all the activities were taking place, I stayed outdoors or in the garage that had all the doors open. After the weekend, at least ten people tested positive for COVID, including my husband's golf cart partner and his father and his father's wife, who we were staying with. AND THE BABY. So far, despite having spent considerable amounts of time with some of those particular people, Dr. BB and I have remained negative and we chalk it up to all the precautions we took.

But. 

I am not nearly as excited about family get togethers as I was before this Labor Day. I don't like the idea that one of us is asymptomatic and we're giving COVID to our elderly relatives. I don't like the idea that the one infant who was too young to be vaccinated (and got passed around A LOT) was exposed and in the end, actually was infected. I don't like the idea that our cousin who has a terrible case of multiple sclerosis might be infected. I don't like it. 

I also don't like the idea of never seeing family again because someone might get sick. What's the point of living like that?  In the balance between mental and physical health, I think my husband and I are letting physical health win and I'm not sure if it's the right choice. On the other hand, the research is quite unclear about what exactly the repercussions would be for my husband if he did get COVID, based on his underlying conditions. It seems like some research says he'll have the same outcomes as other people without those conditions and other research suggests he'll have more severe symptoms and probably long-lasting symptoms. In the battle of the experts, who do we believe?  

3) I do not think I will ever again be comfortable eating in restaurants. Like, ever again. The idea of being in an enclosed environment with people chewing and swallowing repulses me. So gross. We rarely ate out pre-COVID, but at this point I'm concerned it might impact my future career should I refuse business lunches or dinners. 

I do leave my house, I assure you. But things are not normal here. I just thought you should know. Things are not like they were pre-March 2020 and I don't see how they can ever be.

Never Look Back by Lilliam Rivera

Never Look Back by Lilliam Rivera is a modern retelling of the Greek myth of Orpheus and Eurydice with Afro Latinx characters. If you don't know the myth, you could probably still read this book as a standalone, but I think you would miss some nuances. 

Pheus is a talented young musician who goes to visit his father in the Bronx where he meets Eury, the new girl whose traumatic past includes surviving a natural disaster and an abusive parent. There's an attraction there, but Eury keeps Pheus at a distance as she navigates her mental health. 

I wanted to like this book, I really did. But the book is a bit scattered for my taste. Is Eury in the middle of a psychotic break or is the figure she's seeing real?  Also, it seems like the main conclusion is that true love will heal mental illness. *sigh* As a retelling, the happy ending felt forced and wrong.

There were things I did like. I liked Eury's portrayal of Puerto Rico and her love for her home really came through the pages. I liked Pheus's father - it was so nice to see a father figure in YA that was supportive and nurturing. I liked the background of Bronx told from the perspective of a young person.

But, in general, I was not on board with this book. Disappointing.

2.5/5 stars

Lines I Highlighted:

"Guys always trying to win over a girl like she's a prize. As if this life is a contest." (page 106)

"It's funny how cruel time can be. When you are at school, the clock just toys with you, its seconds slowly moving. In the summer, it's a joke how quickly time flies." (page 159)

2022 Quarterly Goals

Since 2017, I've been setting myself quarterly goals. I've made some serious improvements in my life and created good habits because of these goals, but I'm starting to see them as pretty rigid, so I'm this year I'm trying to be more flexible - I'm going to have four areas of goal-setting and three goals within each, but I'm going to leave one or two of the goals flexible for me to decide for that particular quarter, as opposed to deciding now, in January, what my October goal should be! The numbers with * to them will be changing quarterly.

Area One: Health - I was pretty successful at my health goals last year and I'd like to maintain that momentum.

1) I'd like to keep my goals of working out at least five times a week for 30 minutes or more from 2021. I'd like at least two of those to be yoga and the other three can be whatever suits me. This first bullet will be for the same for the entire year unless I decide to change the numbers for some reason.

*2) For the first quarter, I need to go to the doctor to deal with the back pain that I've been suffering from since September and then actually do something about said pain.

*3) For the first quarter, I have to drink at least sixteen ounces of water every day. I drink a lot of liquid, but it's usually in the form of tea or Gatorade Zero and I'm desperate to decrease our grocery bills, so water is part of my solution.  

Area Two: Professional - It goes without saying that I need a lot of help here.

*1) Apply to a new job at least once a week until I have a new job. Hopefully this will only be on the goal list for the first quarter, but if my job search continues to be unsuccessful, it might stay on the list longer.

2) Respond to emails for my volunteer gig in a timely manner. I am in a relatively important role, but sometimes I don't have the headspace for it. I need to prioritize this.

*3) Likewise, I'm in charge of the programming committee at my volunteer gig and I need to really solidify the programming calendar for 2022 in the first quarter.

Area Three: Communication - I'm inherently a reserved person, so I'm going to try to keep up some of my habits from last year.

1) Continue to post in my blog at least twice a week.

2) Continue to write a note to K/D/M once a month.

3) Keep lists of snail mail I send and books I read.

Area Four: Post-Pandemic Re-Entry - I'm including this area over financial goals because I realized that I need to prioritize my mental health. I'll probably do occasional updates on budgeting/expenses, but I really need to start thinking about what it's going to be like whenever I leave my house.  I mean, someday I'm going to have to leave my house, right? I realize that I've become almost agoraphobic and the idea of travel outside of a six block radius of my house sort of skeeves me out. I don't know if I can continue to live like that.

1) Visit a new park/nature preserve/outdoor space at least once a quarter.

*2) Make plans in Q1 to visit my mom in Q2.

*3) Buy more KN95 masks.  

Miscellaneous

*1) For heaven's sake, figure out how to put more money in my investment accounts.  

*2) Just brush the dog and cat's teeth. How hard is it?  (Apparently very hard for me.)

*3) Try to figure out a budget for big things like groceries, savings, pet care, and things that aren't regular expenses, but come up regularly like birthday and holiday presents. 

UPDATE:

*4) After reading Stephany's post in mid-January, I have decided that I will donate $25 a month to a charity of my choice each month. This seems doable.  

Tough Day

Today the city took me by surprise. It hadn't happened in so long that the overwhelming feeling of oppression seemed that much worse. The hum of the city seemed to be more of a blare. The sirens in the background, the honking of cars, the squeal of the brakes of the train, the whistle of the wind blowing sleet into my face, the faceless voices talking into cell phones ("I'm on the train. I'll be there in ten minutes. Okay. Sure. Did you pick up Bobby? Someone needs to stop and get milk." Shut the fuck up, people. Wait until you get there and then have the discussion about milk.), and even the comforting zing of the electrical lines seemed to be decibels and decibels louder than normal. And the buildings seemed closer together. And the cars faster. And the people ruder. And I came very close to a panic attack. But, as I crossed a street and felt the tears start to come close, I (fortunately) caught sight of someone I know. I couldn't possibly have this person see me in tears and unable to continue walking on the sidewalk. I paused, briefly, took a deep breath, and berated myself for my silliness. All the things that I normally enjoy about the city are suddenly freaking me out? Stupid, stupid, stupid girl. (Okay, maybe I'm not stupid, but it was definitely a stupid, overblown reaction.) I continued on and the day turned out to be fine. There were a few moments when the desperation attempted to peek through, but, for the most part, I got work done and it was fine. But it was a tough day and left me with a sensitivity that led me to say at dinner with friends, "there is a lot of stress here," and led them to say, "no, there isn't - what's wrong with you?" So I'm not as good at hiding a bad day as I thought I was. Tomorrow will be better. The city will once again be full of wonder and excitement. I will smile at the cell phone users. I will enjoy the energy and the noise. I will live my life as usual. Because, unlike in times past, days like this are rare. And for that I am grateful. Until then, I will go to bed and sleep away this tension and stress.

The Fun Never Ends

On a trip to Minnesota to find housing, my father and I stopped by the Mall of America. Of course, this was before I lived here. We walk into the MOA and I promptly had a panic attack. Tears were streaming down my face, my breath came in short jerks, and I motioned to my father that I had to leave. This was not an untypical reaction to crowded new places for me. On my first trip to the bookstore on campus, I also had a panic attack that ended only when I threw my books down on the nearest available horizontal surface without purchasing them, elbowed my way through the crowd, and ran outside to take deep breaths for an unmentionably long time. My bestest friend came to visit me here last week. It was the first time she had ever been here. Of course, every girl from the Midwest wants to see the MOA. So I took her. And it was with great confidence and aplomb that I led her through the tortuous maze without a negative word spoken about it being a portal to hell. Props to me for finally accepting life in the city (yay! I gave myself props!). Three years later and I am almost a full-fledged city girl. The panic attacks have nearly stopped. I will never defend Minneapolis in quite the same way that Carrie Bradshaw defends New York in Sex and the City, but if I could give up country music, maybe, just maybe, I could pretend that I'm not a country girl. (Sorry for the SATC reference - my boyfriend is out of town and I may have rented several seasons to watch....hours and hours and hours....since I've been watching so much I realize 1) all problems can be related to a SATC episode and 2) television is a tool of Satan.) Because bestest friend was in town, I could reflect on trends in my life. I have made friends while in grad school, but my closest friends, the friends I call at 2:00 in the morning when those panic attacks do sneak up, are from long ago. High school, college, OH MY GOD, I just realized that the person I call most frequently is a person I MET IN SECOND GRADE. Anyway, the point is that it's because I have a persona that I've developed since coming here. I think it's to deal with the stress of the city. Anyway, this is not the real person who I am. And the people who have known me the longest know that the act I am putting on is bullshit. And they call me on the bullshit. And since they do, I don't even put it on with them. I can be the person I was before I came to Minneapolis. The person who didn't have panic attacks. The person who was so naive she didn't know that loving Garth Brooks music wasn't cool. The person who cared deeply and passionately and was loyal because she thought she would receive that same loyalty in return. So with my bestest friend in town, I was able to cut the act. I could whisper mean comments in the movie theater and not get told I was too mean or (worse yet) to shut up because someone else is taking the movie seriously. I was able to get lost in downtown St. Paul and laugh hysterically about the predicament instead of pretending I knew where I was. I didn't have to pretend I knew all the countries in Africa because she wasn't judging me based on my knowledge (or lack thereof). I was able to fall right back into inside jokes that haven't seen the light of day in five years. I was able to me for the first time in too long. And I did all of this because the loyalty is there. There's nothing I can do to her or say to her that would make that loyalty change. I feel like the loyalty might change with some people I consider my friends here in Minneapolis. It's not that they aren't wonderful people who have supported me through many tough times, but if they heard that story or knew what I did that one time, would they still want to be my friend? After going through so much drama in the past year with personal relationships, I wonder if I'll ever be able to develop a friendship as sustainable as those from times past when I was a different person. I cherish those friendships all the more knowing that they don't come around all that often.

Irrational Fear #237

Dropping my cell phone and/or keys in a storm drain. I find myself clutching my keys compulsively when I am at an intersection with a storm drain anywhere near. Today, I looked down at my hand and saw I WAS BLEEDING from clutching them so hard. What does this say about me, I wonder?