This is the last day of a challenging year.
And, I think that I said something close to the above statement about a year ago.
The past few years have been action packed and had great moments of joy (30th anniversary! trip with adult children!) and achievement (earned my PhD! Taught some awesome classes!).
The past few years have also had an astonishing number of challenges- health challenges and decisions to those close to me, some of my own. Some of these are private; I'm just saying, they happened/are happening.
And there were some losses. Some big losses.
My mom was doing major care-giving for her partner Doc P and for her aunt, my great-aunt, Ree. Ree died in 2006. Doc died in 2008.
In 2007 we learned that my dear friend R had colon cancer. I made soup and then made soup and felt helpless while our friend, his wife K battled that long year with him. He died in 2008.
In 2009, I was able to tell my mother-in-law that I had successfully defended my dissertation. She wasn't able to respond, because she had a massive stroke months before and she died a few weeks after that dissertation defense.
In March of 2010, a few weeks after celebrating 5 years of being cancer free, my mom had a heart attack and almost died- reacting to the dye in the catheterization process.
In October of 2010, my daughter survived a terrible car accident. This is a GOOD thing- the surviving. The accident- life-changing, major stress for all of us.
In March of 2011, my mom had spinal fusion surgery on 4 of her vertebrae in her lower back. The surgeon didn't accomplish all he wanted to, so another surgery in May on the same vertebrae, this time coming in through the abdomen. Then in July, Mom landed back in the hospital with a pulmonary embolism. Apparently this was fortuitous, as she met again Dr. C, for whom she had once worked, and he was randomly assigned as her internist at the hospital. He discovered she had a blood disorder which makes her prone to clotting.
And the REALLY good news is that she followed up with him about the tingling in her fingers which progressed to dropping everything and suddenly losing the ability to walk without falling. Dr. C was like Sherlock Holmes, determined to find out what was going on- AND listened to her when she said something was wrong, and after an initial prediction of MS, he had an MRI done then rushed her to the hospital because it wasn't MS, but stenosis on the cervical spine which would have likely led to paralysis if my mom had fallen ONE MORE TIME.
So in September, Mom had neurosurgery AGAIN on her cervical spine- 4 of the 7 vertebrae in her neck were fused and stabilized. The recovery has been/is long- but it *is* a recovery.
I was mourning the loss of my teaching at university job- but it turns out that I was needed to care for my mom, full time, 24/7 essentially all of September and October. Her recovery continues- and now I have accepted offers to teach two classes this upcoming semester!
SO perhaps things are turning around. Let's hope so.
I'm ready for some really good years!
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Monday, December 12, 2011
Unseen Powers are Capricious
I have issues with electricity and magnetic forces- sometimes my PEMF* causes failures for these powers, and sometimes these powers fail me.
Like today.
* This is me, editing a month later. I really cannot remember to what this refers.
I am actually looking at some of my old wrist watches and wondering if I might try them again. Especially as our new cable box with the new TV does not show the time. How obsessed with time are we, that I find it too inconvenient to get off my ass and MOVE to where I can see a clock- or pick up my cell phone and check the time?
Like today.
* This is me, editing a month later. I really cannot remember to what this refers.
I am actually looking at some of my old wrist watches and wondering if I might try them again. Especially as our new cable box with the new TV does not show the time. How obsessed with time are we, that I find it too inconvenient to get off my ass and MOVE to where I can see a clock- or pick up my cell phone and check the time?
Sunday, December 11, 2011
some days
I don't know why, but some days everything comes together, and it all goes well and life is good and one even has a chance to appreciate it.
And some days, it all goes to hell in a handbasket.
I don't know why that happens, either.
And some days, like today, there are a thousand little things to lift you up, and also a thousand little things that drag you down.
Like today.
And even though the scales should balance, for some reason the sad and frustrating thousand seem to have more weight.
And it's hard to breathe.
And some days, it all goes to hell in a handbasket.
I don't know why that happens, either.
And some days, like today, there are a thousand little things to lift you up, and also a thousand little things that drag you down.
Like today.
And even though the scales should balance, for some reason the sad and frustrating thousand seem to have more weight.
And it's hard to breathe.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
technology is a beautiful thing... and can make you crazy
My mom, because she is wonderful, and because she loves us, and because she is appreciative of the our care-giving for her- because of all these things, she bought my Dear Husband K and me a wonderful, HD, Internet, all-the-bells-and-whistles TV.
So, while favorite youngest son A was visiting for Thanksgiving, he took a few hours to set it up.
And it was great. Frustrating- for him- because setting up the Internet required our wireless key which is 63 nonsense characters long and completely random. Fortunately, I have saved this key on a flash drive.
Unfortunately, the TV does not have a USB port for the flash drive to make the connection!
After trial and error, A had dh K plug in the flash drive in the laptop, change the font on the key until it was readable (you could tell a zero from an "o" and note the difference between "l" and "1") and typed it in- all 63 nonsensical letters and numerals.
And it was good. But we weren't using all the capabilities, because we had an old cable box, not a new, HD capable cable box. So we called the cable company and they sent a new cable box.
Which we were to install ourselves, AFTER our tech-savvy children had left town/the state.
OK.
At this point I should mention that prior to my mom moving in, we had called said cable company and they had installed a receiver/station in the bedroom Mom would have and I had brought her TV over from her house, so that when she moved in, she had her own private TV.
This is also a good point to mention that while we were waiting to get up the courage to install the new cable box, we received our holiday gift from son A: UPS delivered a brand new Blu-Ray DVD player!
So, here we are with a new TV with unused potential, and two new cardboard boxes each holding items which should help us realize this potential.
We gathered our courage in our hands, filled our wine glasses, and also unpacked the boxes.
My mom, watching dh K and I unpack boxes and set up instructions, murmured something along the lines of how brave we were to do this by ourselves- together. I think she was more than a little concerned this was a certain recipe for divorce.
"I'll just mention one thing," she said. "Maybe you don't want to have anymore wine until you figure out how difficult this will be."
Then she went and hid in her bedroom with her TV.
We had a few adventures with set up. We mostly did alright. Finally, we are getting it all set up and I decide that we need another HDMI cable.
K is not sure we need one.
I am pretty sure we do.
So, after some hemming and hawing, K agrees that we can always return the cable if we don't need it, and I go off to the local Kmart and buy a cable.
(While I am gone, my mom comes out, notices that I am not there, and asks with some alarm where I have gone. K says I went out- Mom says, oh, no, did it get bad? - thinking we had come to some horrible parting of the ways over the set up- No, K says, she thinks we need the HDMI cable and she went to the store. Oh, my mom said, and went back to her room.)
And, with the cable, YES, everything is hooked up, and in the proper order. All the lights flash appropriately. I go online to activate the new box, and complete the instructions and hit the final button.
And we have no video signal.
*sigh*
I KNOW I have made all the correct connections.
So dh K is called on for his specialty: dealing with people and corporate entities over the phone. So he calls the cable company, and after they treat us like idiots (Have you checked to make sure you turned on the TV? Check to make sure the cable box is plugged in...), they check on THEIR end and discover....
OOPS. We forgot to program your box. Hang on. We'll do that now.
So they do, and while they are doing that, my mom mentions that we should remind them that she does not get all the channels in her bedroom that we get on the main TV, which she should, which is part of our package. So dh K throws that into the mix, and again after asking questions that suggest we are morons, they go, OH, we need to send you a different cable box for that room.
OK.
So, a few days later a new cable box arrives for my mom's room. Once again, I unpack the box, review the directions, follow directions, connect all appropriate cables, activate the box online and then...
Nothing. No TV happening in Mom's room at all.
So I try a few other things- and the main TV stops working.
So we call on dh K again- and he calls the cable company, and after asking the requisite are-you-a-bunch-of-idiots questions, the cable company check a few things and go...
OH. I guess we sent you a bad remote. We'll send you a new one.
So, they fix things on their end so that we have TV working in both locations, although Mom still doesn't have all her TV's capabilities until she gets the new remote (at which time I will install it correctly, then without a doubt call in dh K to call the cable company so that they can fix / program the new remote).
HOWEVER- the High Definition really is wonderful. And today, we checked out the Blu-Ray, also wonderful, and have played with some of the Internet TV's apps- and we have Internet radio programmed and playing now! Pretty cool.
And, although it did sort of make us go a little frustration-crazy, we were able to correctly install everything ourselves!
So, while favorite youngest son A was visiting for Thanksgiving, he took a few hours to set it up.
And it was great. Frustrating- for him- because setting up the Internet required our wireless key which is 63 nonsense characters long and completely random. Fortunately, I have saved this key on a flash drive.
Unfortunately, the TV does not have a USB port for the flash drive to make the connection!
After trial and error, A had dh K plug in the flash drive in the laptop, change the font on the key until it was readable (you could tell a zero from an "o" and note the difference between "l" and "1") and typed it in- all 63 nonsensical letters and numerals.
And it was good. But we weren't using all the capabilities, because we had an old cable box, not a new, HD capable cable box. So we called the cable company and they sent a new cable box.
Which we were to install ourselves, AFTER our tech-savvy children had left town/the state.
OK.
At this point I should mention that prior to my mom moving in, we had called said cable company and they had installed a receiver/station in the bedroom Mom would have and I had brought her TV over from her house, so that when she moved in, she had her own private TV.
This is also a good point to mention that while we were waiting to get up the courage to install the new cable box, we received our holiday gift from son A: UPS delivered a brand new Blu-Ray DVD player!
So, here we are with a new TV with unused potential, and two new cardboard boxes each holding items which should help us realize this potential.
We gathered our courage in our hands, filled our wine glasses, and also unpacked the boxes.
My mom, watching dh K and I unpack boxes and set up instructions, murmured something along the lines of how brave we were to do this by ourselves- together. I think she was more than a little concerned this was a certain recipe for divorce.
"I'll just mention one thing," she said. "Maybe you don't want to have anymore wine until you figure out how difficult this will be."
Then she went and hid in her bedroom with her TV.
We had a few adventures with set up. We mostly did alright. Finally, we are getting it all set up and I decide that we need another HDMI cable.
K is not sure we need one.
I am pretty sure we do.
So, after some hemming and hawing, K agrees that we can always return the cable if we don't need it, and I go off to the local Kmart and buy a cable.
(While I am gone, my mom comes out, notices that I am not there, and asks with some alarm where I have gone. K says I went out- Mom says, oh, no, did it get bad? - thinking we had come to some horrible parting of the ways over the set up- No, K says, she thinks we need the HDMI cable and she went to the store. Oh, my mom said, and went back to her room.)
And, with the cable, YES, everything is hooked up, and in the proper order. All the lights flash appropriately. I go online to activate the new box, and complete the instructions and hit the final button.
And we have no video signal.
*sigh*
I KNOW I have made all the correct connections.
So dh K is called on for his specialty: dealing with people and corporate entities over the phone. So he calls the cable company, and after they treat us like idiots (Have you checked to make sure you turned on the TV? Check to make sure the cable box is plugged in...), they check on THEIR end and discover....
OOPS. We forgot to program your box. Hang on. We'll do that now.
So they do, and while they are doing that, my mom mentions that we should remind them that she does not get all the channels in her bedroom that we get on the main TV, which she should, which is part of our package. So dh K throws that into the mix, and again after asking questions that suggest we are morons, they go, OH, we need to send you a different cable box for that room.
OK.
So, a few days later a new cable box arrives for my mom's room. Once again, I unpack the box, review the directions, follow directions, connect all appropriate cables, activate the box online and then...
Nothing. No TV happening in Mom's room at all.
So I try a few other things- and the main TV stops working.
So we call on dh K again- and he calls the cable company, and after asking the requisite are-you-a-bunch-of-idiots questions, the cable company check a few things and go...
OH. I guess we sent you a bad remote. We'll send you a new one.
So, they fix things on their end so that we have TV working in both locations, although Mom still doesn't have all her TV's capabilities until she gets the new remote (at which time I will install it correctly, then without a doubt call in dh K to call the cable company so that they can fix / program the new remote).
HOWEVER- the High Definition really is wonderful. And today, we checked out the Blu-Ray, also wonderful, and have played with some of the Internet TV's apps- and we have Internet radio programmed and playing now! Pretty cool.
And, although it did sort of make us go a little frustration-crazy, we were able to correctly install everything ourselves!
Monday, December 5, 2011
not Santa
Today is one of those days that I would really like to unzip the fat suit I seem to be wearing these years and step out of it as my real self.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
new language revisted
You may recall that I am collecting non-words for a new language. I now have 5 pages of new non-words!
However there are a number of words that are not underlined as red as non-words.
One is seuss. I guess the good doctor has made it into the language.
I guess krowst is close enough to krowster - another name of fame- although here, in blogger, both seuss and krowst are underlined in red for WRONG.
A mystery.
And here I thought I was going to enlarge my vocabulary.
However there are a number of words that are not underlined as red as non-words.
One is seuss. I guess the good doctor has made it into the language.
I guess krowst is close enough to krowster - another name of fame- although here, in blogger, both seuss and krowst are underlined in red for WRONG.
A mystery.
And here I thought I was going to enlarge my vocabulary.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Suzy Homemaker
As I prepare for Thanksgiving, I find I am having a role I *never* predicted for myself: Suzy Homemaker! I've washed several sets of curtains, cleared, cleaned and made the beds in 3 "new" bedrooms, washed comforters and quilts and tested new recipes.
And shopped for a lot of groceries. A lot. And I'm still waiting on the majority of my shopping for Tuesday.
It is looking like I will have between 25 and 30 for Thanksgiving dinner. Which may be stressful, but I do love it.
And shopped for a lot of groceries. A lot. And I'm still waiting on the majority of my shopping for Tuesday.
It is looking like I will have between 25 and 30 for Thanksgiving dinner. Which may be stressful, but I do love it.
Friday, November 18, 2011
Feh!
Feh! this is a tremendously useful expression.
Especially today.
For a variety of reasons today was a FEH! day.
I woke up early because I was tossing and turning and worrying about a bunch of relatively petty stuff.
And, I really shouldn't toss and turn about petty stuff. I shouldn't. Because, it's petty and I really don't care. I don't.
Because, ever since my daughter's horrible car accident, I really don't care about the petty shit, and I know that most of it is petty shit.
Still.
I'm human and I have my days.
So, today, I was tossing and turning wondering if I was scammed by the guy who came to repair my oven. I am having somewhere between 23 and 30 people for dinner on Thursday because it is- well, Thanksgiving- and my oven has occasionally been turning itself off.
There is a long story here, but bottom line is that the oven apparently needs a $200 part which needs to be installed during a $100 service call- so a $300 bill to repair an oven that cost a bit over $500 brand new 4 years ago.
Feh!
Then, the theater troupe from which I have recently retired has been posting pictures of the lovely theater in which they are working.
They couldn't manage to find a lovely theater while I was directing!
Feh!
Yesterday, when I took my mom for her assessment at outpatient physical therapy, I dropped her off and went to the dealership to have a second key made for her car- and to get an oil change- over due- and I said to the girl how long will this take? because I have to pick up my mom- and she said, about half an hour. We'll call you when it's ready; you can wait in the lounge.
So I went to the lounge to wait. I had a book, so I wasn't too bothered when 45 minutes had passed. I wasn't too bothered after an hour had passed, because I had a book, and because my mom was busy with her assessment for physical therapy. After an hour and a half, though, I tracked down the girl who checked me in.
You said about half an hour, I said. It's been an hour and a half.
Oh! She said. Let me check- oh, it's been done for over an hour. I guess when I went to lunch I forgot to mention to them that you were waiting on site.
Feh!
Then, I had to email the CPA who has had the trust fund paperwork- from my mom's aunt- since the first week of April. I have only heard from him when I have emailed him. It is NOVEMBER!
Feh!
Then the oven guy calls. The part still hasn't arrived. He won't be coming today. Maybe Saturday. Maybe Monday.
Thanksgiving is THURSDAY!
Even though the sun is shining I'm having a gray day.
Feh! Feh! Feh!
Finally, I decide to indulge in some retail therapy. Although, can you really call it retail therapy if it is at Kmart and the grocery story and it is pretty much stuff on sale that you needed anyway?
Shortly after I returned home, the oven guy called and my husband answered to hear that the part is in - the guy will come tomorrow, Saturday-
The CPA returned my email and he says the packet was mailed 10 days ago. At least, that was the answer he got when he emailed one of his underlings.
Do we call this progress, or not?
Somehow, it will all be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end.
Especially today.
For a variety of reasons today was a FEH! day.
I woke up early because I was tossing and turning and worrying about a bunch of relatively petty stuff.
And, I really shouldn't toss and turn about petty stuff. I shouldn't. Because, it's petty and I really don't care. I don't.
Because, ever since my daughter's horrible car accident, I really don't care about the petty shit, and I know that most of it is petty shit.
Still.
I'm human and I have my days.
So, today, I was tossing and turning wondering if I was scammed by the guy who came to repair my oven. I am having somewhere between 23 and 30 people for dinner on Thursday because it is- well, Thanksgiving- and my oven has occasionally been turning itself off.
There is a long story here, but bottom line is that the oven apparently needs a $200 part which needs to be installed during a $100 service call- so a $300 bill to repair an oven that cost a bit over $500 brand new 4 years ago.
Feh!
Then, the theater troupe from which I have recently retired has been posting pictures of the lovely theater in which they are working.
They couldn't manage to find a lovely theater while I was directing!
Feh!
Yesterday, when I took my mom for her assessment at outpatient physical therapy, I dropped her off and went to the dealership to have a second key made for her car- and to get an oil change- over due- and I said to the girl how long will this take? because I have to pick up my mom- and she said, about half an hour. We'll call you when it's ready; you can wait in the lounge.
So I went to the lounge to wait. I had a book, so I wasn't too bothered when 45 minutes had passed. I wasn't too bothered after an hour had passed, because I had a book, and because my mom was busy with her assessment for physical therapy. After an hour and a half, though, I tracked down the girl who checked me in.
You said about half an hour, I said. It's been an hour and a half.
Oh! She said. Let me check- oh, it's been done for over an hour. I guess when I went to lunch I forgot to mention to them that you were waiting on site.
Feh!
Then, I had to email the CPA who has had the trust fund paperwork- from my mom's aunt- since the first week of April. I have only heard from him when I have emailed him. It is NOVEMBER!
Feh!
Then the oven guy calls. The part still hasn't arrived. He won't be coming today. Maybe Saturday. Maybe Monday.
Thanksgiving is THURSDAY!
Even though the sun is shining I'm having a gray day.
Feh! Feh! Feh!
Finally, I decide to indulge in some retail therapy. Although, can you really call it retail therapy if it is at Kmart and the grocery story and it is pretty much stuff on sale that you needed anyway?
Shortly after I returned home, the oven guy called and my husband answered to hear that the part is in - the guy will come tomorrow, Saturday-
The CPA returned my email and he says the packet was mailed 10 days ago. At least, that was the answer he got when he emailed one of his underlings.
Do we call this progress, or not?
Somehow, it will all be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
I highly recommend...
I should become a professional recommendation writer.
Although, I suppose, if people were to pay me for it, my recommendations might become suspect.
Yesterday, I wrote a recommendation for one of my connections on LinkedIn (I'm on LinkedIn- check out my profile!).
Within minutes, I received this reply:
Lisa, this is a very strong recommendation. It is greatly appreciated in this current era of diminished funding opportunities and budgets for many of the folk who hire us. Thank you!
Hey hey! It's nice to be appreciated.
In fact, I have written dozens of letters of recommendation, and almost always with excellent results for those I recommend.
I've written letters that were instrumental in achieving college admissions, scholarships, grants, jobs, internships.
I am always honest and positive. Most of the time, this is not difficult- I hang out with talented, intelligent people of integrity. Once in a while, though, I am asked to write a letter that requires some deliberation to accomplish a positive recommendation that is also honest.
Only once have I not written the letter requested. The request was made when I was so busy- with legitimate, consuming medical issues for my mom- that it was weeks before I was able to respond. When I explained the circumstances, she wrote, oh! I would not have asked if I had known you were so busy!
So I allowed that to take me off the hook.
I still don't know how I will graciously decline to write letters in future.
Meanwhile, I have another letter of rec to write today!
Although, I suppose, if people were to pay me for it, my recommendations might become suspect.
Yesterday, I wrote a recommendation for one of my connections on LinkedIn (I'm on LinkedIn- check out my profile!).
Within minutes, I received this reply:
Lisa, this is a very strong recommendation. It is greatly appreciated in this current era of diminished funding opportunities and budgets for many of the folk who hire us. Thank you!
Hey hey! It's nice to be appreciated.
In fact, I have written dozens of letters of recommendation, and almost always with excellent results for those I recommend.
I've written letters that were instrumental in achieving college admissions, scholarships, grants, jobs, internships.
I am always honest and positive. Most of the time, this is not difficult- I hang out with talented, intelligent people of integrity. Once in a while, though, I am asked to write a letter that requires some deliberation to accomplish a positive recommendation that is also honest.
Only once have I not written the letter requested. The request was made when I was so busy- with legitimate, consuming medical issues for my mom- that it was weeks before I was able to respond. When I explained the circumstances, she wrote, oh! I would not have asked if I had known you were so busy!
So I allowed that to take me off the hook.
I still don't know how I will graciously decline to write letters in future.
Meanwhile, I have another letter of rec to write today!
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
sigh
My mom is watching the F'ed up news. I don't think that this particular "news" program should be allowed to call itself "news".
Anyway.
My mom used to be a liberal. Not anymore.
Anyway.
A conversation: the "news" was reporting on the questions being raised by people taking guns from one state to another, considering that different states have different laws about how guns are issued or licensed.
Well, she said, the Constitution gives us the right to bear arms.
I said, there are a variety of opinions on exactly what that means.
I don't like, she said, when they want to change the Constitution. I get nervous when they want to change it- It has worked so well for so long.
I say, It's worked so well for so long because it was DESIGNED to be flexible and be able to change with changing conditions. And I like some of the changes. I like being able to vote- even though I am a woman.
I say, it was almost immediately changed- amended- after it was written. The Bill of Rights lists the first amendments to the Constitution. The right to free speech. The freedom of religion.
In fact, the right to bear arms- is an amendment.
- She did get quiet, for a moment.
Anyway.
My mom used to be a liberal. Not anymore.
Anyway.
A conversation: the "news" was reporting on the questions being raised by people taking guns from one state to another, considering that different states have different laws about how guns are issued or licensed.
Well, she said, the Constitution gives us the right to bear arms.
I said, there are a variety of opinions on exactly what that means.
I don't like, she said, when they want to change the Constitution. I get nervous when they want to change it- It has worked so well for so long.
I say, It's worked so well for so long because it was DESIGNED to be flexible and be able to change with changing conditions. And I like some of the changes. I like being able to vote- even though I am a woman.
I say, it was almost immediately changed- amended- after it was written. The Bill of Rights lists the first amendments to the Constitution. The right to free speech. The freedom of religion.
In fact, the right to bear arms- is an amendment.
- She did get quiet, for a moment.
write shit
I have told myself, I have told friends, I have told students: WRITE!
It doesn't have to be good. "Not good," even "bad," can be fixed, improved, revised.
You know what CAN NOT be revised? A blank page.
So I have decided to write here, at least a little, if not a lot, every day.
If I have to, I'll write shit.
Because you know what?
Shit is great fertilizer. Seeds grow great in shit.
No shit.
It doesn't have to be good. "Not good," even "bad," can be fixed, improved, revised.
You know what CAN NOT be revised? A blank page.
So I have decided to write here, at least a little, if not a lot, every day.
If I have to, I'll write shit.
Because you know what?
Shit is great fertilizer. Seeds grow great in shit.
No shit.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Sex with my mother*
To all my children, friends, and past and potential future therapists: I am not now, nor have I ever been, having sex with my mother.
Or even having fantasies of having sex with my mother.
No, instead, I am talking about the challenges and inconveniences of having sex, with my mother now living in our house.
( at this point, I assume, almost everyone will stop reading: my children, because LA LA LA TOO MUCH INFORMATION and all others because, well, it is husband - wife sex we are talking about now, which is universally considered uninteresting except to those participating)
Said inconveniences include:
1. Inhibitions about making noise.
2. No afternoon adventures.
3. Only bed and bath- no beyond (talking locations, here, people).
This was not something I'd really considered before bringing my mom into our home. And, if my husband and I had thought about it, we still would have made the same decision.
But.
There are times and moments when I get a bit nostalgic for spontaneous passion.
Okay, kids, you can uncover your ears now.
* This blog title was a stab at tabloid-style blogging. What do you think?
Or even having fantasies of having sex with my mother.
No, instead, I am talking about the challenges and inconveniences of having sex, with my mother now living in our house.
( at this point, I assume, almost everyone will stop reading: my children, because LA LA LA TOO MUCH INFORMATION and all others because, well, it is husband - wife sex we are talking about now, which is universally considered uninteresting except to those participating)
Said inconveniences include:
1. Inhibitions about making noise.
2. No afternoon adventures.
3. Only bed and bath- no beyond (talking locations, here, people).
This was not something I'd really considered before bringing my mom into our home. And, if my husband and I had thought about it, we still would have made the same decision.
But.
There are times and moments when I get a bit nostalgic for spontaneous passion.
Okay, kids, you can uncover your ears now.
* This blog title was a stab at tabloid-style blogging. What do you think?
Sunday, October 30, 2011
like a turkey with my head cut off
It recently dawned on me that on Tuesday it will be November.
November = Thanksgiving.
Now, granted, with my mom moving in and taking care of her and being somewhat homebound, I have dozens of excuses BUT excuses don't cut it when you are hosting a host for a holiday.
In some areas I am ahead of the game- I've been on top of laundry for quite some time. Since I am cooking at home, and since I cleaned the deep freeze (intentionally) and cleaned the freezer (because of the thaw-age), the food supplies are fairly current.
We do have 2 new mattress sets.
BUT
The basement is as bad as ever, and I need at least one more set of mattresses and I have so much cleaning and purging to do.
EEEK~~~!!!
November = Thanksgiving.
Now, granted, with my mom moving in and taking care of her and being somewhat homebound, I have dozens of excuses BUT excuses don't cut it when you are hosting a host for a holiday.
In some areas I am ahead of the game- I've been on top of laundry for quite some time. Since I am cooking at home, and since I cleaned the deep freeze (intentionally) and cleaned the freezer (because of the thaw-age), the food supplies are fairly current.
We do have 2 new mattress sets.
BUT
The basement is as bad as ever, and I need at least one more set of mattresses and I have so much cleaning and purging to do.
EEEK~~~!!!
Friday, October 21, 2011
an unusual phone call
I received a phone call from my dad. This, in itself, is unusual. Both my father and I hate the phone with a passion. Indeed, I have described myself as phone phobic.
I'm home, he said.
Up North? I said. (As he has a home in the northern part of the state, and a home in the South near the Gulf where he winters).
Yep, he said. Listen, the reason for my call is I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you for what you have done in caring for your mother.
(I managed to say thanks through my shock and emotion - after all, I have long been the least favored child.)
You are a good, nurturing daughter, he said. I wanted to let you know.
I was, and am, stunned.
He noticed. AND said something about it.
He and his wife had visited a few days prior to this- I think my sister must have mentioned that I knew he came into town and didn't visit me, just my brother and sister and so they made a point of coming over- and my dad, his wife, I and my mom had lunch together. My mom took a nap after lunch and my dad, his wife and I visited a bit about my mom's surgeries and recoveries.
My parents have been divorced for more than 20 years. After many uncomfortable years, we as a family have found ways to be together without too much tension.
All of this led up to this most unusual phone call.
I'm not sure how long it will take me to process this.
Guess it's a good thing I answered the phone.
I'm home, he said.
Up North? I said. (As he has a home in the northern part of the state, and a home in the South near the Gulf where he winters).
Yep, he said. Listen, the reason for my call is I wanted to tell you how proud I am of you for what you have done in caring for your mother.
(I managed to say thanks through my shock and emotion - after all, I have long been the least favored child.)
You are a good, nurturing daughter, he said. I wanted to let you know.
I was, and am, stunned.
He noticed. AND said something about it.
He and his wife had visited a few days prior to this- I think my sister must have mentioned that I knew he came into town and didn't visit me, just my brother and sister and so they made a point of coming over- and my dad, his wife, I and my mom had lunch together. My mom took a nap after lunch and my dad, his wife and I visited a bit about my mom's surgeries and recoveries.
My parents have been divorced for more than 20 years. After many uncomfortable years, we as a family have found ways to be together without too much tension.
All of this led up to this most unusual phone call.
I'm not sure how long it will take me to process this.
Guess it's a good thing I answered the phone.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
update on it's bad to be good; or, it's difficult to be good is a better title
The update is that my Dear Husband K called my brother C and my sister D. I asked him to call because I was still too pissed to call.
And, my brother came over the next day and K and I went out. And K got my sister to agree to come over Sunday afternoon.
She eagerly agreed to come over Friday night so that K and I could take out her sons to a movie which was our birthday present to my nephew. And she eagerly agreed to come over NEXT Friday so that K and I could take out her and her husband to the comedy club- our birthday gift to her (her sons will be with my mom while the couples go out).
BUT she hemmed and hawed and this and that and dithered before agreeing to come over for Sunday for a break time for me and my hubby.
So, I am grateful for the break time/date time.
But still annoyed at/disappointed in my sister.
My brother, on the other hand, arrived early, and *offered* to make this a weekly event.
And, my brother came over the next day and K and I went out. And K got my sister to agree to come over Sunday afternoon.
She eagerly agreed to come over Friday night so that K and I could take out her sons to a movie which was our birthday present to my nephew. And she eagerly agreed to come over NEXT Friday so that K and I could take out her and her husband to the comedy club- our birthday gift to her (her sons will be with my mom while the couples go out).
BUT she hemmed and hawed and this and that and dithered before agreeing to come over for Sunday for a break time for me and my hubby.
So, I am grateful for the break time/date time.
But still annoyed at/disappointed in my sister.
My brother, on the other hand, arrived early, and *offered* to make this a weekly event.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
It's bad to be good
The good news is that my mom's prognosis is excellent. Every day and every way she is getting better and better!
However, she cannot live on her own yet. Not for quite a while.
I am happy to be able to have this space in my life to provide care for her. I feel it is a blessing and a privilege.
Let me repeat this. Let me make sure you understand: I am HAPPY to do this for my mom.
I am truly, truly glad that I am able to do this. Really. No kidding.
BUT.
(with that build up, of course there is a but)
EVERYBODY needs a break, and currently, 16 days in to full time caregiving of the housebound, which means that I am essentially housebound too, I have not had a break. Not one.
This after a MONTH of daily visits to the hospital. Visits which I do not regret, not one bit, because I know that my being there gave her better quality of care, and even though it took a month to spring her from the joint, I know that my being there helped her recover enough to come home with me more quickly than she would have otherwise.
Hell, even the rehab floor doctor noted on more than one occasion that my mom was much *better* when I was there.
And it is better for my mom to be here. She is getting better and better every day and every way because she is with me, and I am taking care of her, and I have her dogs with me.
BUT
I need a break. And I have not had one in 16 + days.
Going to the grocery store does not constitute a break.
Going to a tension filled family gathering (to which we also brought my mom) does not constitute a break.
And I am PISSED at my sister because she was going on and on and on about how she would definitely be there and give me and my Dear Husband K at least one night off a week, maybe a whole day or a whole weekend, and NADA ZIP ZILCH.
She offered once, for a couple hours last week- when it was Yom Kippur for us, so I was staying home with mom and DH K was going to services so NOT a day to take off- NOT a break. And no offer since.
I am sure I am being unfair because I am nowhere near as pissed at my brother- partly because he hasn't offered all in my face, and because he travels for his job, and because his daughter who is (big long story) in a difficult relationship with him is in town and doing some passive aggressive dance with him at the moment.
And, later, today, or tomorrow, I will have DH K call my sister and BOOK some play dates for us, because I am too angry to do it.
AND furthermore on top of this I am LOSING money taking care of my mom because the only regular income that I have currently (for long and tedious reasons) is when I substitute teach. Which I cannot do. Because I am caregiving.
It's because I am "unemployed" that I can caregive for my mom.
But at the moment I feel like I am being punished for doing what I believe to be the right thing.
However, she cannot live on her own yet. Not for quite a while.
I am happy to be able to have this space in my life to provide care for her. I feel it is a blessing and a privilege.
Let me repeat this. Let me make sure you understand: I am HAPPY to do this for my mom.
I am truly, truly glad that I am able to do this. Really. No kidding.
BUT.
(with that build up, of course there is a but)
EVERYBODY needs a break, and currently, 16 days in to full time caregiving of the housebound, which means that I am essentially housebound too, I have not had a break. Not one.
This after a MONTH of daily visits to the hospital. Visits which I do not regret, not one bit, because I know that my being there gave her better quality of care, and even though it took a month to spring her from the joint, I know that my being there helped her recover enough to come home with me more quickly than she would have otherwise.
Hell, even the rehab floor doctor noted on more than one occasion that my mom was much *better* when I was there.
And it is better for my mom to be here. She is getting better and better every day and every way because she is with me, and I am taking care of her, and I have her dogs with me.
BUT
I need a break. And I have not had one in 16 + days.
Going to the grocery store does not constitute a break.
Going to a tension filled family gathering (to which we also brought my mom) does not constitute a break.
And I am PISSED at my sister because she was going on and on and on about how she would definitely be there and give me and my Dear Husband K at least one night off a week, maybe a whole day or a whole weekend, and NADA ZIP ZILCH.
She offered once, for a couple hours last week- when it was Yom Kippur for us, so I was staying home with mom and DH K was going to services so NOT a day to take off- NOT a break. And no offer since.
I am sure I am being unfair because I am nowhere near as pissed at my brother- partly because he hasn't offered all in my face, and because he travels for his job, and because his daughter who is (big long story) in a difficult relationship with him is in town and doing some passive aggressive dance with him at the moment.
And, later, today, or tomorrow, I will have DH K call my sister and BOOK some play dates for us, because I am too angry to do it.
AND furthermore on top of this I am LOSING money taking care of my mom because the only regular income that I have currently (for long and tedious reasons) is when I substitute teach. Which I cannot do. Because I am caregiving.
It's because I am "unemployed" that I can caregive for my mom.
But at the moment I feel like I am being punished for doing what I believe to be the right thing.
Friday, October 14, 2011
GRRR F** news
My mom has moved in with us. I'm glad; I am happy we can do this.
My mom watches F** news- which, in my opinion, should not be allowed to call itself news.
It's making me a little nuts.
This "news" station is so blatantly biased towards conservative-to-extremely-conservative politics that it makes me angry. And I don't feel in a position to rebut this at the moment. So, I'll just complain here.
For instance, today on the Huffington Post (which, I will grant, leans the to the liberal end of the spectrum) I read about the Republicans passing the "Protect Life" bill. The bill "prohibits women from buying health insurance plans that cover abortion under the Affordable Care Act and makes it legal for hospitals to deny abortions to pregnant women with life-threatening conditions." The Huffington Post goes on to state that the "goal" of the bill, to ensure that public funds will not pay for abortion, is already addressed in current law.
On Fox "news", the "reporters" are bashing Democrats for opposing this "Protect Life" bill - bashing in the most strident terms.
My mom watches F** news- which, in my opinion, should not be allowed to call itself news.
It's making me a little nuts.
This "news" station is so blatantly biased towards conservative-to-extremely-conservative politics that it makes me angry. And I don't feel in a position to rebut this at the moment. So, I'll just complain here.
For instance, today on the Huffington Post (which, I will grant, leans the to the liberal end of the spectrum) I read about the Republicans passing the "Protect Life" bill. The bill "prohibits women from buying health insurance plans that cover abortion under the Affordable Care Act and makes it legal for hospitals to deny abortions to pregnant women with life-threatening conditions." The Huffington Post goes on to state that the "goal" of the bill, to ensure that public funds will not pay for abortion, is already addressed in current law.
On Fox "news", the "reporters" are bashing Democrats for opposing this "Protect Life" bill - bashing in the most strident terms.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
There are joys so basic...
It was one year ago today that my daughter B miraculously survived a highway accident in which her vehicle was hit 3 times by 2 different semi-trucks.
This is my experience: Miracle on Monday
This is what she wrote: B's story
Thank you, God, for life and its many blessings. I am grateful every day.
This is my experience: Miracle on Monday
This is what she wrote: B's story
Thank you, God, for life and its many blessings. I am grateful every day.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
trying
Today - Thursday September 29- was the day that I was supposed to take my mom home from the hospital to live with us and continue her recovery from her THIRD spinal surgery.
But yesterday, a huge backward step- she was hallucinating, sleeping, lost coordination that she had so slowly gained.
So- not going home - yet.
My mom was so frustrated. By the evening, she was much more herself, much better with coordination- they had reduced her medication, taken some meds out, reinstated a stimulant that had been removed.
Still, when dh K came to join me at the hospital, she was convinced he had come to help her escape the hospital.
But yesterday, a huge backward step- she was hallucinating, sleeping, lost coordination that she had so slowly gained.
So- not going home - yet.
My mom was so frustrated. By the evening, she was much more herself, much better with coordination- they had reduced her medication, taken some meds out, reinstated a stimulant that had been removed.
Still, when dh K came to join me at the hospital, she was convinced he had come to help her escape the hospital.
Friday, September 23, 2011
Honor your mother and father
This High Holiday season I will not have a solo to sing.
I will not sing with the choir.
I will not attend services.
I will be praying with all my being, with all my actions, with all my love-
to honor my mother; to help her in every way toward refuah sh'lmah - a complete healing.
I will not sing with the choir.
I will not attend services.
I will be praying with all my being, with all my actions, with all my love-
to honor my mother; to help her in every way toward refuah sh'lmah - a complete healing.
Friday, September 16, 2011
a rough day
I was hoping to celebrate today, have exciting news about how well my mom is doing in physical therapy.
It started out okay; we made it through the night with the FOUR dogs (my two and now her two), and I got shopping and errands done for my mom.
When I got in to visit her, I told her the stories of her dogs and she smiled. Then she told me about her night, which wasn't good, lots of pain, hard to sleep.
Then she had physical therapy. She began in her bed with ankle pumps, leg lifts, and other exercises. Then she had to pee, and part of her therapy was working through getting up, getting in to the wheelchair, getting to the bathroom. All assisted by the PT therapist. Then they went to the physical therapy room. All told, maybe 25 minutes or half an hour.
Then my mom's pain started coming back. The meds that they gave her were not helping much. Her doctor was not responding to the messages the nurses had left for him. When we got my mom's dinner, her hands, which had seemed to be getting more coordinated yesterday, were trembling and uncoordinated and she asked me to feed her.
Plus, the pain meds have her constipated.
Seeing her in so much pain is so hard.
Several times she told me "I love you so much" and there were tears in her eyes and that was so hard too.
There are positives: her control of peeing is greatly improved. And she stood, and worked really hard in physical therapy.
And I am telling myself, that the backward move in coordination is due to the fatigue and the pain.
But it is so scary. I want so much to help. I want it to be BETTER.
And it is not clearly better.
I am crying, and praying, and praying and crying. And I don't want her to see me cry.
dogs day one
I certainly feel like a packmaster! I think I should start reading and watching the dog whisperer!
I have my dogs - variously called Jasper, AKA BigHead/GoLayDown, and Jackson, AKA GetOfftheCouch.
My mom, who is in hospital, for an extended time, has asked me to care for her dogs. These dogs are much smaller than my dogs, much fatter than my dogs, and much more spoiled than my dogs.
They are:
Reba, the grand dame.
and her daughter. Tootsie:
Yesterday, K, daughter C's boyfriend, went with me to pick up my mom's dogs. The dogs never wear collars, let alone leashes or tie outs. My mom wanted me to get tie outs because she is very worried that the dogs will get loose and try to travel back to my mom's house (some 15 miles) to find her. So I had two tie outs and stakes in the car also.
I brought leashes and collars from home (luckily as part of my cleaning drawers and cabinets I had found several collars and some looked like they might fit). We took Tootsie and Reba outside and let them do their thing and then I put the collars and leashes on them.
Tootsie *freaked out* and pulled back and snaked around until she escaped from the collar! So, K picked her up and I used the leash for Reba and we put the dogs in the car. I took K back to his house and then I drove to our house, put the car in the garage, put the garage door down, and then let the dogs out. Our dogs were in the backyard.
Reba and Tootsie sniffed all around the house. My mom had told me to bring some of her clothes with her smell on them and also some blankets from their house for the dogs to lay on.
Then, I put the collars and leashes on so the dogs would pee in the front yard. My plan was to stake them out in the front yard and then bring our dogs on leashes to meet them- after my dh got home.
WELL.
Tootsie *freaked out* again and got out of the collar (don't tell my mom)- she didn't run away, just continued sniffing the lawn by Reba, so I put the collar and leash on her again, but DIDN'T pull, just encouraged Reba to go and called Tootsie so she followed along- they headed over to sniff noses with our dogs through the fence, and then I had to PICK TOOTSIE UP to take them inside.
I am definitely measuring Tootsie and buying a harness today. Maybe with the money I get back by returning the tie outs.
I came back in and spread clean sheets and throws on all the couches. There is NO WAY we will be able to train these bitches to stay off the couches!
Then I watched the end of the Tigers game - their 12th straight win!- and the dogs spent most of that time snuggling next to me on the couch.
My dh was home in time to watch the end of the Tiger's game. We talked about how to introduce the dogs to our dogs, but we had to wait until about 7:30 pm because Bob-with-a--beard came over to fix our leaky sink.
After Bob-with-a-beard left, we decided to take the little dogs in the basement, then get the big dogs on leashes, and introduce them all in the basement, which is *semi*neutral territory.
I'm sure it would have been an excellent plan had we been able to implement it!
As soon as we opened the sliding glass door, the little dogs went out and the big dogs in and the little ones came back in and the big ones went back out- anyway, no dog was on a leash once they were all butt sniffing and tail-wagging and stiff-legged with hackles up.
Except Jasper of course who was just grinning and oblivious.
There were no fights, just a couple of growls and the pack dominance order was quickly established. To absolutely no one's surprise, Reba is Queen of the Pack.
So we all settled in and watched TV. Our dogs were happy curled at our feet, and my mom's dogs were sometimes on the (sheets on the) couch and sometimes on the blankets brought from their home.
Bedtime was interesting.
We decided to put the little dogs in the side bedroom on the pile of clothes and blankets from their house.
Our dogs sleep in our bedroom ON THE FLOOR.
I gave the little dogs treats to go in the side bedroom and I closed the door.
We went to bed.
We would have ignored the whining. We would have ignored the yips. However, when the scrabbling/scratching sounded like it was starting to separate the bottom facing of the door from the door itself, we gave in to the inevitable and brought the pile of clothes into our room and brought the little dogs into our room. NO WAY are they coming in to our bed; if that happens, it's crate time.
We thought that the little dogs would lay on the clothes.
Jasper promptly laid down on the clothes.
After a couple of firm NOs when they looked up at our beds, and a few circles of the bedroom, the little dogs finally curled up on the dog mats on the floor and went to sleep.
I know my dh had some adventures trying to feed the dogs. That's going to take some work. I'm thinking maybe I will feed the little dogs after the big dogs go out, because today the little dogs did not eat their food when the dh tried feeding them in the side bedroom.
Of course, they are used to eating all day long and I am sure they are not hungry. However, living here, they will soon learn that "once in the morning does it" because Jasper will eat everything if they don't.
The little dogs scramble down our stairs just fine. They scramble up more slowly- especially Tootsie- but, you never know, they may soon lose weight at our house. All that exercise.
Such a tiny window of opportunity for food.
They are doing their business just fine outside. They don't seem to be searching for a way out of the back yard. So far, so good.
Later today, when I run some errands for my mom and then go visit her, will be their first time alone in our house. We will see how it goes. I figure I will put all garbage, etc. in the garage and close all the doors and hope for the best.
Keeping the big dogs outside in the backyard, of course.
Wish us luck!
I have my dogs - variously called Jasper, AKA BigHead/GoLayDown, and Jackson, AKA GetOfftheCouch.
My mom, who is in hospital, for an extended time, has asked me to care for her dogs. These dogs are much smaller than my dogs, much fatter than my dogs, and much more spoiled than my dogs.
They are:
Reba, the grand dame.
and her daughter. Tootsie:
Yesterday, K, daughter C's boyfriend, went with me to pick up my mom's dogs. The dogs never wear collars, let alone leashes or tie outs. My mom wanted me to get tie outs because she is very worried that the dogs will get loose and try to travel back to my mom's house (some 15 miles) to find her. So I had two tie outs and stakes in the car also.
I brought leashes and collars from home (luckily as part of my cleaning drawers and cabinets I had found several collars and some looked like they might fit). We took Tootsie and Reba outside and let them do their thing and then I put the collars and leashes on them.
Tootsie *freaked out* and pulled back and snaked around until she escaped from the collar! So, K picked her up and I used the leash for Reba and we put the dogs in the car. I took K back to his house and then I drove to our house, put the car in the garage, put the garage door down, and then let the dogs out. Our dogs were in the backyard.
Reba and Tootsie sniffed all around the house. My mom had told me to bring some of her clothes with her smell on them and also some blankets from their house for the dogs to lay on.
Then, I put the collars and leashes on so the dogs would pee in the front yard. My plan was to stake them out in the front yard and then bring our dogs on leashes to meet them- after my dh got home.
WELL.
Tootsie *freaked out* again and got out of the collar (don't tell my mom)- she didn't run away, just continued sniffing the lawn by Reba, so I put the collar and leash on her again, but DIDN'T pull, just encouraged Reba to go and called Tootsie so she followed along- they headed over to sniff noses with our dogs through the fence, and then I had to PICK TOOTSIE UP to take them inside.
I am definitely measuring Tootsie and buying a harness today. Maybe with the money I get back by returning the tie outs.
I came back in and spread clean sheets and throws on all the couches. There is NO WAY we will be able to train these bitches to stay off the couches!
Then I watched the end of the Tigers game - their 12th straight win!- and the dogs spent most of that time snuggling next to me on the couch.
My dh was home in time to watch the end of the Tiger's game. We talked about how to introduce the dogs to our dogs, but we had to wait until about 7:30 pm because Bob-with-a--beard came over to fix our leaky sink.
After Bob-with-a-beard left, we decided to take the little dogs in the basement, then get the big dogs on leashes, and introduce them all in the basement, which is *semi*neutral territory.
I'm sure it would have been an excellent plan had we been able to implement it!
As soon as we opened the sliding glass door, the little dogs went out and the big dogs in and the little ones came back in and the big ones went back out- anyway, no dog was on a leash once they were all butt sniffing and tail-wagging and stiff-legged with hackles up.
Except Jasper of course who was just grinning and oblivious.
There were no fights, just a couple of growls and the pack dominance order was quickly established. To absolutely no one's surprise, Reba is Queen of the Pack.
So we all settled in and watched TV. Our dogs were happy curled at our feet, and my mom's dogs were sometimes on the (sheets on the) couch and sometimes on the blankets brought from their home.
Bedtime was interesting.
We decided to put the little dogs in the side bedroom on the pile of clothes and blankets from their house.
Our dogs sleep in our bedroom ON THE FLOOR.
I gave the little dogs treats to go in the side bedroom and I closed the door.
We went to bed.
We would have ignored the whining. We would have ignored the yips. However, when the scrabbling/scratching sounded like it was starting to separate the bottom facing of the door from the door itself, we gave in to the inevitable and brought the pile of clothes into our room and brought the little dogs into our room. NO WAY are they coming in to our bed; if that happens, it's crate time.
We thought that the little dogs would lay on the clothes.
Jasper promptly laid down on the clothes.
After a couple of firm NOs when they looked up at our beds, and a few circles of the bedroom, the little dogs finally curled up on the dog mats on the floor and went to sleep.
I know my dh had some adventures trying to feed the dogs. That's going to take some work. I'm thinking maybe I will feed the little dogs after the big dogs go out, because today the little dogs did not eat their food when the dh tried feeding them in the side bedroom.
Of course, they are used to eating all day long and I am sure they are not hungry. However, living here, they will soon learn that "once in the morning does it" because Jasper will eat everything if they don't.
The little dogs scramble down our stairs just fine. They scramble up more slowly- especially Tootsie- but, you never know, they may soon lose weight at our house. All that exercise.
Such a tiny window of opportunity for food.
They are doing their business just fine outside. They don't seem to be searching for a way out of the back yard. So far, so good.
Later today, when I run some errands for my mom and then go visit her, will be their first time alone in our house. We will see how it goes. I figure I will put all garbage, etc. in the garage and close all the doors and hope for the best.
Keeping the big dogs outside in the backyard, of course.
Wish us luck!
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
the least favored child
The good news is that my mom has had her surgery and that we are guardedly optimistic about the prognosis.
The good news is that I am spending more time with my brother and my sister.
Visiting with each of them individually, the subject of my dad came up.
And I could feel my heart twist.
When my sister brought it up- and I don't even remember the context- but something made me say it out loud:
It still hurts, I said, even though I have tried hard to make my peace with it, that I am the least favored child.
Oh, you're not! she said.
I am, I know it, I said. I know he comes in to town and sees you, and sees our brother, and never calls me. I know it. It still hurts.
But you're not the least favorite! she said. What about- and she named his sister, one of his grandchildren, his niece.
I meant, I said, of we siblings.
There was a long and uncomfortable pause.
Well, not always, she said.
The good news is that I am spending more time with my brother and my sister.
Visiting with each of them individually, the subject of my dad came up.
And I could feel my heart twist.
When my sister brought it up- and I don't even remember the context- but something made me say it out loud:
It still hurts, I said, even though I have tried hard to make my peace with it, that I am the least favored child.
Oh, you're not! she said.
I am, I know it, I said. I know he comes in to town and sees you, and sees our brother, and never calls me. I know it. It still hurts.
But you're not the least favorite! she said. What about- and she named his sister, one of his grandchildren, his niece.
I meant, I said, of we siblings.
There was a long and uncomfortable pause.
Well, not always, she said.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
but not for me
I see someone far less talented as a teacher, as a director - full time and apparently inner circle at the place where I taught (past tense).
I see what was once my theater troupe is about to have a theater- with real dressing rooms!
Once I leave, these opportunities are found.
But not for me.
Why?
I see what was once my theater troupe is about to have a theater- with real dressing rooms!
Once I leave, these opportunities are found.
But not for me.
Why?
the rest of trip
where were we??
Honestly, it's been so long that I have forgotten some of the details. I know we tried the miracle berry. And watched a video of our dear daughter's play that had closed the weekend before we arrived. And we ate a huge brunch on Saturday?Sunday? before arriving at NM's home for (we thought) just some mojitos with her and her folks- and walked into a HUGE feast of delicious food- NO WAY could we do it justice as we were still groaning from over indulging at brunch!
It was, in every way, a wonderful weekend- just too short, as these weekends always are.
Honestly, it's been so long that I have forgotten some of the details. I know we tried the miracle berry. And watched a video of our dear daughter's play that had closed the weekend before we arrived. And we ate a huge brunch on Saturday?Sunday? before arriving at NM's home for (we thought) just some mojitos with her and her folks- and walked into a HUGE feast of delicious food- NO WAY could we do it justice as we were still groaning from over indulging at brunch!
It was, in every way, a wonderful weekend- just too short, as these weekends always are.
the real F word
While rehearsing Shakespeare in the park with my teen theater troupe, some of the moms approached me.
Could I speak to the teens about the appropriate use of language? Some of the foul mouthed vulgarisms- especially from some of the teen boys- especially around the younger kids- especially around some of the conservative moms- could I talk to the kids....?
So I thought about it. And this is the gist of what I said:
Language is powerful. Working with the beauty and the power of Shakespeare, I know this. You know that words can be beautiful and words can be ugly.
The words are beautiful and powerful and healing or hateful because of how we use them and what we understand from them.
It matters as much to whom we say it, as what words we use when we speak.
Here is one story.
When my kids were little, one of the families that we were friends with were conservative Christians, with strict standards of behavior. My daughter who was perhaps 10 at the time, reported this experience she witnessed while visiting. My daughter's friend J, also about 10, went running to her mom with a report about J's brother M.
J: Mom! Mom!
Mom: What?
J: Mom! M said a bad word!
Mom: What did he say?
J: He said the F word!
Mom: WHAT? What did he say???
J: I don't want to say it!
Mom: TELL ME!
J: He said (whispering) fart!
[Laughter from my teens]
So it depends who you are talking to. And I can tolerate a lot. I've heard the F bomb dropped- and I don't mean fart- and, depending on the time and place, it may not bother me at all.
But there are people here that it will bother. Have respect for them. Have respect for our organization. Don't say it.
There are words that offend me, though. There are. Here is the F word that I hate: faggot. I can barely say it.
I can't say the N word. You know the one I mean. If I had to say it in playing a role, it would be really difficult for me to say.
Words are powerful. Use them with care.
Could I speak to the teens about the appropriate use of language? Some of the foul mouthed vulgarisms- especially from some of the teen boys- especially around the younger kids- especially around some of the conservative moms- could I talk to the kids....?
So I thought about it. And this is the gist of what I said:
Language is powerful. Working with the beauty and the power of Shakespeare, I know this. You know that words can be beautiful and words can be ugly.
The words are beautiful and powerful and healing or hateful because of how we use them and what we understand from them.
It matters as much to whom we say it, as what words we use when we speak.
Here is one story.
When my kids were little, one of the families that we were friends with were conservative Christians, with strict standards of behavior. My daughter who was perhaps 10 at the time, reported this experience she witnessed while visiting. My daughter's friend J, also about 10, went running to her mom with a report about J's brother M.
J: Mom! Mom!
Mom: What?
J: Mom! M said a bad word!
Mom: What did he say?
J: He said the F word!
Mom: WHAT? What did he say???
J: I don't want to say it!
Mom: TELL ME!
J: He said (whispering) fart!
[Laughter from my teens]
So it depends who you are talking to. And I can tolerate a lot. I've heard the F bomb dropped- and I don't mean fart- and, depending on the time and place, it may not bother me at all.
But there are people here that it will bother. Have respect for them. Have respect for our organization. Don't say it.
There are words that offend me, though. There are. Here is the F word that I hate: faggot. I can barely say it.
I can't say the N word. You know the one I mean. If I had to say it in playing a role, it would be really difficult for me to say.
Words are powerful. Use them with care.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Mississippi weekends- beginning with Friday
After a delicious meal delivered by a disdainful waitress, our little band stopped at CVS for a couple of purchases and then trooped over to B's townhouse for an afternoon glass of wine and we continued our visiting.
Our evening plans were to head out and join friend NM for karaoke. The karaoke restaurant/bar was picturesque but, B explained, had a limited and greasy menu, so we had baked spaghetti and broccoli at home before heading out.
We arrived at the nightspot. As we drove up, we found 3 similar establishments, one next door to the other. We were headed to the third in the row, although D explained that all three have similar menus and ambiance, yet all three manage to survive.
The restaurant was on the reservoir, and as we headed for waterside seating, we noticed that this was apparently NOT karaoke night. As we approached, it was "almost like a scene from a movie" as we were greeted by the opening guitar phrases of "Sweet Home Alabama". As we entered, we discovered the cover band looked like they were teens. What they lacked in talent- which was much- they made up for in volume.
So we moved out of the building and away from the band and down a ramp onto a deck on the reservoir. The deck was furnished with standard picnic tables and we moved toward the one nearest the ramp. Dh K and I sat on the side further from the deck railing; D slid onto the other bench nearer the railing.
Before B could join D, I said:
B, I think you might want to sit by me on this side.
B looked at me quizzically; but before she could ask me why, I pointed out the spider who was cheerily spinning a web in and around the deck posts and railing.
B jumped! and moved to my side of the table- and then moved back, cautiously- and flipped open her phone to film the spider! Soon dh K and D were using their phones for lighting!
And then we moved to an entirely different table, that was, as far as we could determine, spider-free.
We ordered our drinks.
Eventually NM arrived. Although disappointed by the lack of karaoke she was undaunted. Somehow she charmed the proprietor into bringing her a free split of champagne.
NM thought dh K's beard was bad-ass! And she invited us all over to her house with her parents to celebrate her dad's birthday with mojitos on Sunday- or was it Saturday? - the mojitos may have clouded my memory.
We finished our drinks and headed off into the night.
Our evening plans were to head out and join friend NM for karaoke. The karaoke restaurant/bar was picturesque but, B explained, had a limited and greasy menu, so we had baked spaghetti and broccoli at home before heading out.
We arrived at the nightspot. As we drove up, we found 3 similar establishments, one next door to the other. We were headed to the third in the row, although D explained that all three have similar menus and ambiance, yet all three manage to survive.
The restaurant was on the reservoir, and as we headed for waterside seating, we noticed that this was apparently NOT karaoke night. As we approached, it was "almost like a scene from a movie" as we were greeted by the opening guitar phrases of "Sweet Home Alabama". As we entered, we discovered the cover band looked like they were teens. What they lacked in talent- which was much- they made up for in volume.
So we moved out of the building and away from the band and down a ramp onto a deck on the reservoir. The deck was furnished with standard picnic tables and we moved toward the one nearest the ramp. Dh K and I sat on the side further from the deck railing; D slid onto the other bench nearer the railing.
Before B could join D, I said:
B, I think you might want to sit by me on this side.
B looked at me quizzically; but before she could ask me why, I pointed out the spider who was cheerily spinning a web in and around the deck posts and railing.
B jumped! and moved to my side of the table- and then moved back, cautiously- and flipped open her phone to film the spider! Soon dh K and D were using their phones for lighting!
And then we moved to an entirely different table, that was, as far as we could determine, spider-free.
We ordered our drinks.
Eventually NM arrived. Although disappointed by the lack of karaoke she was undaunted. Somehow she charmed the proprietor into bringing her a free split of champagne.
NM thought dh K's beard was bad-ass! And she invited us all over to her house with her parents to celebrate her dad's birthday with mojitos on Sunday- or was it Saturday? - the mojitos may have clouded my memory.
We finished our drinks and headed off into the night.
musing in Mississippi
I am having lots of fun visiting my beloved first born daughter B at her home in Jackson Mississippi. I have no idea why I always end up visiting her in a sweltering state in the summertime, but so it goes.
Anytime is a good time to visit her!
Nevertheless, with temperatures 100+ and high humidity, our activities are planned to include as much indoors-enjoying-air-conditioning events as possible.
Sadly, on this trip I will miss visiting the museum with the tw0-headed snake.
Oh, how I did enjoy visiting the two-headed snake and learning its story. One head of a two-headed snake usually tries to kill the other, forever frustrated by the fact that so many organs are shared that the death of one head will inevitably cause the destruction of the other.
There is a moral in this for all of us. I am not certain what it is, but I feel certain that there is indeed a moral.
But I digress.
We arrived Thursday afternoon. After B picked us up at the airport, we swung by B's townhouse where she now lives with her boyfriend D- and his mustache- so that we could drop off our bags and settle in to our own guest bedroom. We said hi & by to D who had stopped home briefly and was headed back to the office- followed by his attending a callback. So we wouldn't see him until later in the evening.
We renewed our acquaintance with B's dog Dov and met B's new foster dog Chewie and D's cat Loki.
B had some work to finish up on her computer and K and I set up our electronics and caught up on our email. It felt good to spend time with B! We opened some wine and B started roasting a duck. When D arrived we had a late dinner of delicious roast duck and green salad.
Friday we lazed around then went to a late brunch in Fondren. We ate sparingly as we knew we'd be having late lunch with DH. B had a computer that UPS had been trying to deliver, so we went to pick it up. The only UPS pickup station for Jackson is FAR from B's home AND in a hugely sketchy neighborhood. K and I were glad we traveled with her to what is arguably the hardest to find UPS station in the world.
We picked up her computer and headed out to meet DH for lunch. We ate at Hokkaido, a Japanese restaurant in Madison MS. It was great to see DH, but we had a stone faced waitress who was practically radiating disdain.
The food was good, though.
More soon.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
not an especially good day
Monday was a Monday, which can be rough anyway.
It was the Monday after the wonderful but too short weekend in Chicago.
A series of unhappy events:
1. When I picked up the dogs, I was informed Jackson had snarled and nipped at a new employee there. The receptionist from whom I collected the dogs kept say, we sure don't want to tell you that you can't bring him anymore... the subtext being, if this happens again, you can't bring him anymore. This is bad, bad news, as we are nearly out of options for Jackson when we *must* travel, and with my mom moving in, we can't have this untrustworthy behavior.
2. I got a call from the Lopez building receptionist. The MYT inventory trash, that had to be moved out before Sept. 1, was laying all around the overflowing dumpster and the dumpster hadn't been picked up.
3. When I talked to my mom, her update was worrisome: she feels she's getting worse, weaker.
Not an especially good day.
It was the Monday after the wonderful but too short weekend in Chicago.
A series of unhappy events:
1. When I picked up the dogs, I was informed Jackson had snarled and nipped at a new employee there. The receptionist from whom I collected the dogs kept say, we sure don't want to tell you that you can't bring him anymore... the subtext being, if this happens again, you can't bring him anymore. This is bad, bad news, as we are nearly out of options for Jackson when we *must* travel, and with my mom moving in, we can't have this untrustworthy behavior.
2. I got a call from the Lopez building receptionist. The MYT inventory trash, that had to be moved out before Sept. 1, was laying all around the overflowing dumpster and the dumpster hadn't been picked up.
3. When I talked to my mom, her update was worrisome: she feels she's getting worse, weaker.
Not an especially good day.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Damn you, KB, wherever you are!
I am haunted by sophomore year in high school. By "mediocrity".
In my sophomore year, our school put out a literary/poetry/arts magazine/publication. It featured poems and other writings and photos by students.
I had some poems published.
So did KB, an upperclassman.
Later that year, KB wrote in my yearbook "(blah blah blah) you inspired my favorite poem Mediocrity."
I was shattered. You see, I had read that poem. It was about a woman/girl with great aspirations who never quite made it past (or to) the middle of the pack.
I asked KB, how?? did I inspire that poem?
And she said, oh, no I think you are great, you are so talented, (blah blah blah) it's just that I can't imagine anyone I know actually "making it."
I still feel haunted by that poem.
I'm having a rough day today. My social media feeds are full of "back to school" bulletins of former students, of former colleagues-- and I am not headed back to school to teach (due to the economy, due to - blah blah blah). Others that I *know* are not close to as gifted as I in teaching, or directing, are going back to jobs, are getting tenured at jobs.
I have- voluntarily- retired from my artistic directorship of the youth theater troupe I founded. Which was absolutely the right decision: the position was eating more and more of my time and energy for fewer and fewer delights and rewards. Still, I don't know when my next artistic gig, or my next professional gig, or my next professional artistic gig, will be.
I am happy for the ones who are enjoying successes and new beginnings.
I just wish I could see mine.
In my sophomore year, our school put out a literary/poetry/arts magazine/publication. It featured poems and other writings and photos by students.
I had some poems published.
So did KB, an upperclassman.
Later that year, KB wrote in my yearbook "(blah blah blah) you inspired my favorite poem Mediocrity."
I was shattered. You see, I had read that poem. It was about a woman/girl with great aspirations who never quite made it past (or to) the middle of the pack.
I asked KB, how?? did I inspire that poem?
And she said, oh, no I think you are great, you are so talented, (blah blah blah) it's just that I can't imagine anyone I know actually "making it."
I still feel haunted by that poem.
I'm having a rough day today. My social media feeds are full of "back to school" bulletins of former students, of former colleagues-- and I am not headed back to school to teach (due to the economy, due to - blah blah blah). Others that I *know* are not close to as gifted as I in teaching, or directing, are going back to jobs, are getting tenured at jobs.
I have- voluntarily- retired from my artistic directorship of the youth theater troupe I founded. Which was absolutely the right decision: the position was eating more and more of my time and energy for fewer and fewer delights and rewards. Still, I don't know when my next artistic gig, or my next professional gig, or my next professional artistic gig, will be.
I am happy for the ones who are enjoying successes and new beginnings.
I just wish I could see mine.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
waiting rooms
Times when doctors should make an EXTRA SPECIAL EFFORT to stick to the appointment time and not keep you waiting:
When you've been asked to come in with a full bladder.
When you've been asked to come in with a full bladder.
Monday, August 15, 2011
bad day
Today has been a rough day. I am working on steeling myself for tomorrow; I want to do what I can to make it a better day.
Tomorrow I go with my mom to her internist.
She now has: her regular doctor, Dr. T; her cardiologist, Dr. Hometown; her neurosurgeon, Dr. BreakfastPastry; her infectious disease specialist, Dr. IForgetHisName; her abdominal surgeon, Dr. Bunnies; and her internist, Dr. UsedToSWorkForHim.
I hope I haven't forgotten anyone.
Tomorrow I go with my mom to her internist.
She now has: her regular doctor, Dr. T; her cardiologist, Dr. Hometown; her neurosurgeon, Dr. BreakfastPastry; her infectious disease specialist, Dr. IForgetHisName; her abdominal surgeon, Dr. Bunnies; and her internist, Dr. UsedToSWorkForHim.
I hope I haven't forgotten anyone.
Thursday, August 11, 2011
setting the house in order
I am cleaning out files. I have sorted through the files from Richard (of blessed memory) and discarded extras and sorted out my mementos and separated out archival materials for the troupe to retain now that I have retired.
I have sorted though two of our file drawers. I have filled 6 bags for paper recycling. I have filled a file crate of memories for me and a file crate of archives for the troupe.
And two of our file drawers are now organized.
Some of this activity is painful. I came across the bulky file that details- since it all took place in the context of a volunteer organization- my sudden and savage betrayal by someone I thought was a trusted friend.
Tax returns filed when we were-- economically challenged.
Some memories return that are bitter, some that are bittersweet, some that are sweet.
This process will take some time, but I have motivation now. My mom will probably be moving in with us this fall or winter. It's time to take stock, release the old, keep the best, release the rest, restock, renew.
I have sorted though two of our file drawers. I have filled 6 bags for paper recycling. I have filled a file crate of memories for me and a file crate of archives for the troupe.
And two of our file drawers are now organized.
Some of this activity is painful. I came across the bulky file that details- since it all took place in the context of a volunteer organization- my sudden and savage betrayal by someone I thought was a trusted friend.
Tax returns filed when we were-- economically challenged.
Some memories return that are bitter, some that are bittersweet, some that are sweet.
This process will take some time, but I have motivation now. My mom will probably be moving in with us this fall or winter. It's time to take stock, release the old, keep the best, release the rest, restock, renew.
lots of Lisas
When I was a girl, I only ever knew one other girl named Lisa.
Now, the name seems to be all over.
Especially in my theater adventures.
In 1997, in my youth theater club, we had me and 2 other moms named Lisa, and one child actor.
In 2000, when the teen troupe was founded, we had 3 moms and at least one youth named Lisa.
Now, in 2011, as I retire, we have past, present and future: I, founder and past director; a mom on the transition team; and a director for 2012.
Odd.
Now, the name seems to be all over.
Especially in my theater adventures.
In 1997, in my youth theater club, we had me and 2 other moms named Lisa, and one child actor.
In 2000, when the teen troupe was founded, we had 3 moms and at least one youth named Lisa.
Now, in 2011, as I retire, we have past, present and future: I, founder and past director; a mom on the transition team; and a director for 2012.
Odd.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
transitions are hard.
When giving birth, the "transition" phase is the most difficult. This is what I found at: http://www.birthsource.com/scripts/article.asp?articleid=228
****
If we read "contractions" as "extreme and sometimes involuntary exertions" this may be read as description and advice for transitions of all types.
Transition is, indeed, the most difficult type of work. But there is no getting around it- in order to change, grow, move forward, one must go *through* the transition. It would be nice if this intense phase was also the shortest, but I am not convinced this is the case.
And the waves of effort and exertion- the contractions- often DO seem to piggy-back, one on top of another. Just now, as I am trying to push past my feelings of ownership and rejection of my theater troupes, of my university teaching position, I am also feeling the pressures of family responsibilities to my children- not yet settled or secure, for whom I ache- and to my mother, for whom I am now (in October of 2011- it is taking me a while to write this post) the primary caregiver.
I do find that I am irritable, restless, discouraged, confused. I have a hard time communicating my wishes - you bet- and I keep losing focus- where am I headed? When will this end?
And yes, I could use a lot of support just now.
I hope I can remember to take just one contraction at a time, and have faith that something new and wonderful awaits- in just a little while, if I can just keep pushing through...
****
Transition is the most difficult phase of labor for most women; however, it is also the shortest phase generally lasting ½ hour to 1½ hours in length.
Physically, mom is experiencing contractions 2-3 minutes apart, lasting 60-90 seconds, and are very strong in intensity. Contractions may even "piggy-back" which means one contraction may start to fade away and another one comes along immediately. ..
Emotionally, mom can become restless, irritable, discouraged, and confused. She may find that she focuses inward as she works with her labor. She may have a hard time communicating her wishes. This is the point in labor when she usually needs the most support...
Remind her to take one contraction at a time and not to give in to the panicky feelings. If Mom Panics: call her by name, take her face in your hands, develop and maintain eye contact, breathe with mom or talk her through the contraction, try variations in breathing patterns, and give lots of reassurance that she is near the end!
If we read "contractions" as "extreme and sometimes involuntary exertions" this may be read as description and advice for transitions of all types.
Transition is, indeed, the most difficult type of work. But there is no getting around it- in order to change, grow, move forward, one must go *through* the transition. It would be nice if this intense phase was also the shortest, but I am not convinced this is the case.
And the waves of effort and exertion- the contractions- often DO seem to piggy-back, one on top of another. Just now, as I am trying to push past my feelings of ownership and rejection of my theater troupes, of my university teaching position, I am also feeling the pressures of family responsibilities to my children- not yet settled or secure, for whom I ache- and to my mother, for whom I am now (in October of 2011- it is taking me a while to write this post) the primary caregiver.
I do find that I am irritable, restless, discouraged, confused. I have a hard time communicating my wishes - you bet- and I keep losing focus- where am I headed? When will this end?
And yes, I could use a lot of support just now.
I hope I can remember to take just one contraction at a time, and have faith that something new and wonderful awaits- in just a little while, if I can just keep pushing through...
Monday, August 8, 2011
what a weight off...
gee, I hope that it does work out that way... as I am making a big change, closing one chapter of my life... I find that I am POOPING!!! a lot!!!
Wonder if literally there is a weight off...
If I am letting "go"...
Or, if I am just "relieved" to be home and away from the porta-potty.
Wonder if literally there is a weight off...
If I am letting "go"...
Or, if I am just "relieved" to be home and away from the porta-potty.
Wednesday, August 3, 2011
In America, they haven't spoken it for years...
Ah, my beloved language- how I miss you! I am wrapping up the directing of yet another one of Shakespeare's plays while also keeping current on the social media. As I listen to Shakespeare's words, I reflect on the variety and richness of the language.
And then I check out Facebook:
From today:
One woman posted that she was in an elevator with a group of professional women, all similarly dressed in business attire, except that they were all wearing flip-flops and carrying a "bag of heals".
I asked if they were medicine bags?
Another poster said, in order to compliment the beauty of someone in a photo, that the poster was "drulling" over them.
I am wondering if this is a new verb, or if we are shifting to spelling "drooling" this way?
Don't even get me started on the demise of the word "than"! Apparently, "then" needs the overtime pay.
And then I check out Facebook:
From today:
One woman posted that she was in an elevator with a group of professional women, all similarly dressed in business attire, except that they were all wearing flip-flops and carrying a "bag of heals".
I asked if they were medicine bags?
Another poster said, in order to compliment the beauty of someone in a photo, that the poster was "drulling" over them.
I am wondering if this is a new verb, or if we are shifting to spelling "drooling" this way?
Don't even get me started on the demise of the word "than"! Apparently, "then" needs the overtime pay.
Sunday, July 31, 2011
irrational rage.
Yesterday, you slept till 1:00 pm, and I was pissed that you slept into the afternoon.
Today, you were up before I came out to the living room at 8:45 a.m. and that pissed me off, too.
Partly because you were laying on your ass watching cartoons.
Partly because you were eating up all the fresh blueberries I bought for another purpose.
But mostly because I didn't even have a few minutes alone with coffee and email.
I am angry that you have eaten or drunk: an entire half gallon of orange juice, and when I replaced it yesterday, you have now drunk half of the next half gallon; an entire pint of fresh blueberries; and 5 croissants that I bought for the dh, not you.
I haven't even checked the donuts; and I don't want to check 'em. I am afraid of what I will find.
I am also sick of your pizza crusts and boxes strewn over myh house.
Today, you were up before I came out to the living room at 8:45 a.m. and that pissed me off, too.
Partly because you were laying on your ass watching cartoons.
Partly because you were eating up all the fresh blueberries I bought for another purpose.
But mostly because I didn't even have a few minutes alone with coffee and email.
I am angry that you have eaten or drunk: an entire half gallon of orange juice, and when I replaced it yesterday, you have now drunk half of the next half gallon; an entire pint of fresh blueberries; and 5 croissants that I bought for the dh, not you.
I haven't even checked the donuts; and I don't want to check 'em. I am afraid of what I will find.
I am also sick of your pizza crusts and boxes strewn over myh house.
family stories
It's freshman year in a very liberal, progressive college and my son is taking a course that teaches about Shakespeare.
The professor says: many of you may not realize that to "die" in Shakespeare's time had another meaning.
My son's hand goes up.
The professor: Yes?
My son: I know what it also means.
The professor (indulgent): Oh, you do?
My son: Yes. It means to experience sexual climax.
The professor (surprised): Why yes it does! Where did you learn that?
My son: From my mommy.
(I feel certain he didn't say "mommy" but it is much funnier that way.)
The professor says: many of you may not realize that to "die" in Shakespeare's time had another meaning.
My son's hand goes up.
The professor: Yes?
My son: I know what it also means.
The professor (indulgent): Oh, you do?
My son: Yes. It means to experience sexual climax.
The professor (surprised): Why yes it does! Where did you learn that?
My son: From my mommy.
(I feel certain he didn't say "mommy" but it is much funnier that way.)
Saturday, July 30, 2011
morning
So after washing, dressing, etc. I looked in the mirror and I noticed that the sunburn from yesterday could use some attention.
So I grabbed one of those little bottles of lotion that you get in hotels and smeared my face.
Only it really didn't feel right. It was smearing in a ... different way than it usually does.
So I got my glasses.
And I read the tiny bottle.
Which was labeled, in flowing script: Shampoo and Conditioner.
On the plus side, both my eyebrows are shiny, smooth and tangle free.
So I grabbed one of those little bottles of lotion that you get in hotels and smeared my face.
Only it really didn't feel right. It was smearing in a ... different way than it usually does.
So I got my glasses.
And I read the tiny bottle.
Which was labeled, in flowing script: Shampoo and Conditioner.
On the plus side, both my eyebrows are shiny, smooth and tangle free.
food in the blogosphere
My good friends Megan and Beth are writing in their blogs about food. Lovely essays about what they are making and how they are avoiding restaurants or all things fried.
Which makes me think of my love / hate relationship with food.
As anyone who knows me for any length of time, I like to cook. Actually, more accurately, I like to cook for people. I like to make Thanksgiving feasts for all my friends and family, making sure that there are protein dishes for vegans, and something for the one who eats nothing green, and respecting all allergies.
I like to make vats of delicious soup and deliver it to those whose bodies or souls need nourishing.
And there are foods that I love- chocolate and coffee, raspberries, fresh baked cinnamon rolls, potatoes with sour cream--
Some of those loves also contribute to the more troubled side of my relationship with food, as I am -still- unhappy with my weight.
However, what some might not know is that I also dislike making food. I dislike making food that is fuel: breakfast, lunch, dinner. I dislike making food that is taken for granted.
I dislike making food when it is tedious, another chore, nothing special.
I am thinking of making a great vat of potato leek soup: partly because I have potatoes and leeks that really ought to be put into soup, and partly because I have a friend coming home from the hospital.
But, at the moment, I have so many chores that even making food to nourish body and soul of those I love feels like another chore.
Which makes me think of my love / hate relationship with food.
As anyone who knows me for any length of time, I like to cook. Actually, more accurately, I like to cook for people. I like to make Thanksgiving feasts for all my friends and family, making sure that there are protein dishes for vegans, and something for the one who eats nothing green, and respecting all allergies.
I like to make vats of delicious soup and deliver it to those whose bodies or souls need nourishing.
And there are foods that I love- chocolate and coffee, raspberries, fresh baked cinnamon rolls, potatoes with sour cream--
Some of those loves also contribute to the more troubled side of my relationship with food, as I am -still- unhappy with my weight.
However, what some might not know is that I also dislike making food. I dislike making food that is fuel: breakfast, lunch, dinner. I dislike making food that is taken for granted.
I dislike making food when it is tedious, another chore, nothing special.
I am thinking of making a great vat of potato leek soup: partly because I have potatoes and leeks that really ought to be put into soup, and partly because I have a friend coming home from the hospital.
But, at the moment, I have so many chores that even making food to nourish body and soul of those I love feels like another chore.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
professional commentator?
Gee, I am having so much fun posting comments on the blogs I follow, I am running out of time to post myself!
Is there any $$ in commenting on blogs? Because I'm getting really good at it!
(plus collecting lots of words for my fantasy novel)
Is there any $$ in commenting on blogs? Because I'm getting really good at it!
(plus collecting lots of words for my fantasy novel)
the Khord of the Sanwar
I've started collecting the non-words that you have to type in to the security box to prove you are not a robot.
I thought it might be fun to start a new language; and maybe I will.
Or maybe I will just mine these words to name events and nations in a fantasy novel.
I thought it might be fun to start a new language; and maybe I will.
Or maybe I will just mine these words to name events and nations in a fantasy novel.
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Don't tell me
Don't tell me you want to help, you are there for me, and then dump all over me to make me feel guilty for accepting the help you offered.
Your timing is terrible. IF you were to tell me that you needed to back out of the offer, do it more than a few hours from the commitment.
I could have fixed this - on my end - two days ago.
Now I feel stuck, when I should have unalloyed joy for this one event.
Your timing is terrible. IF you were to tell me that you needed to back out of the offer, do it more than a few hours from the commitment.
I could have fixed this - on my end - two days ago.
Now I feel stuck, when I should have unalloyed joy for this one event.
Friday, July 22, 2011
proposal for a new language
So I've just been posting comments on some friends blogs, and I am noticing the almost-words that I must type to prove I am not a robot.
And I am thinking: I should collect these almost-words and create definitions for them. And start a new language.
THEN what will we type to prove we are not robots???
And I am thinking: I should collect these almost-words and create definitions for them. And start a new language.
THEN what will we type to prove we are not robots???
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
not a good day
It's not a good day. It is hot, too hot, and I don't have enough air conditioning.
My last gig with my troupe is not going well. Yes, I know that it is the traditional time for it all to suck, but I am deeply depressed by the missing actors, the actors missing- lines and cues; the social club atmosphere.
I am tired of parenting and pseudo-parenting teens.
This is the second day in a row I've had to go into bitch mode, and I don't like it, and I don't like me in that mode.
I'm tired of being fat, but it's too hot to move.
I am wrapping up this, my great creation, my artistic directorship, with so much layered on of what I am doing for others and little for myself.
And I am having a major attack of poor-poor-me weepiness. If I'm so smart, why aren't I rich? Or famous?
I know I am blessed and should count my blessings. But lately I feel like a big smelly heap of fast-fading unrealized potential.
My last gig with my troupe is not going well. Yes, I know that it is the traditional time for it all to suck, but I am deeply depressed by the missing actors, the actors missing- lines and cues; the social club atmosphere.
I am tired of parenting and pseudo-parenting teens.
This is the second day in a row I've had to go into bitch mode, and I don't like it, and I don't like me in that mode.
I'm tired of being fat, but it's too hot to move.
I am wrapping up this, my great creation, my artistic directorship, with so much layered on of what I am doing for others and little for myself.
And I am having a major attack of poor-poor-me weepiness. If I'm so smart, why aren't I rich? Or famous?
I know I am blessed and should count my blessings. But lately I feel like a big smelly heap of fast-fading unrealized potential.
teen parenting, revisited.
So, this not-my-real-daughter teen that I am extremely-temporarily parenting started off at our house by not showering for four days (that we know of).
This morning, she showered for (I kid you not) 50 minutes.
So, apparently, it all evens out in the wash.
This morning, she showered for (I kid you not) 50 minutes.
So, apparently, it all evens out in the wash.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
the look
She gave me the look.
He and I had agreed: boundaries. Nothing artificial. We don't make her get up if there is no appointment to be kept. We don't tell her to turn off her cell phone or get off the computer just because it's annoying.
But we had agreed, he and I, that my seat at the table was my seat at the table. She is the new one, the one who is benefiting from what we have to offer. We have made room for her; we don't have to give her our space.
She sat in my seat.
He was supposed to say something; but he had stepped out. So I said something; I smiled and I teased, but I claimed my space.
She gave me the look: naked and raw, disdain and perhaps a flash of anger and hatred.
She gave me the look.
And she moved.
He and I had agreed: boundaries. Nothing artificial. We don't make her get up if there is no appointment to be kept. We don't tell her to turn off her cell phone or get off the computer just because it's annoying.
But we had agreed, he and I, that my seat at the table was my seat at the table. She is the new one, the one who is benefiting from what we have to offer. We have made room for her; we don't have to give her our space.
She sat in my seat.
He was supposed to say something; but he had stepped out. So I said something; I smiled and I teased, but I claimed my space.
She gave me the look: naked and raw, disdain and perhaps a flash of anger and hatred.
She gave me the look.
And she moved.
Interventions, inventions, preventions
I and my dh Ken are doing an intervention of sorts. My aunt, and her daughter my cousin, are parenting my cousin's two kids. The kids are now teens, both my aunt and my cousin are older, working, and majorly depressed.
Not a recipe for anything good.
The older, my cousin's daughter, is a particular challenge. She loudly announces her intense hatred of her brother. She doesn't do homework or housework. She sasses back. The dynamic in the house has been untenable for all concerned.
She claims she wants to be a star, but has done no classes, plays or taken any steps toward the goal. She just watches tv, plays on the computer, and sleeps in.
This summer is my last production with my teen theatre troupe. So, after various conversations, we offered and it was accepted that my cousin's daughter, KL, would spend most of the summer with us, at "Aunt Lisa's summer theatre camp."
So here she is .
The first two weeks, I was "awesome". I was taking her to meet cool new people in my theatre troupe. I was cooking great meals and teaching her to cook and taking her out to dinner.
The first two weeks she didn't have a computer, so she had- limited- opportunities borrowing my laptop.
Now we are four weeks in, and I'm not quite so awesome. Foolishly, if you ask me, her mom sent the family laptop with her. So, when not at rehearsal- or sleeping till noon- she is on her laptop or texting.
I don't take it personally; she's not my kid.
I've had one run-in with her when I pointed out things won't go her way if she isn't a helpful part of the equation (more on that later).
The prompt for this post, though, is this: she is constantly texting. I find it rude, and possibly dangerous- who knows who she is texting? But, she is fifteen, and this is something allowed by her parents/grandparent- who am I to intervene.
BUT
just now-- well, actually about a half an hour ago now-- her cell phone rang. She answered it, then sprang up and went to "her" room, saying- "did you get my text?" - She was in there for a long time, 20 minutes or more, door shut- then she came back, then her phone rang again, she answered, heading back for the room- saying "You ditched me, you totally ditched me!" - Now she is in the room but I think with the door open, and whoever is on the phone is loud enough that Ken and I are speculating that it's on speaker phone. And I can't tell if she is crying or laughing with her friend.
AND
I am currently choosing to stay out of this potential drama. I figure, she is safe in my house, because she can't drive, and has no access to a car, and is very rarely in the house without Ken or me or both of us. So, I think she really can't *do* much.
We're starting to see hints of what makes her mom and grandma so frustrated: completely self-obsessed, inventing fantasies for her future, telling outrageous tales of doubtful veracity of her adventures in the past.
Today, visiting with one of my teen theatre troupe members, KL counted her cash, and said she had $28, but she wouldn't be spending it all, because she is saving her money.
To buy an apartment in New Jersey.
Not a recipe for anything good.
The older, my cousin's daughter, is a particular challenge. She loudly announces her intense hatred of her brother. She doesn't do homework or housework. She sasses back. The dynamic in the house has been untenable for all concerned.
She claims she wants to be a star, but has done no classes, plays or taken any steps toward the goal. She just watches tv, plays on the computer, and sleeps in.
This summer is my last production with my teen theatre troupe. So, after various conversations, we offered and it was accepted that my cousin's daughter, KL, would spend most of the summer with us, at "Aunt Lisa's summer theatre camp."
So here she is .
The first two weeks, I was "awesome". I was taking her to meet cool new people in my theatre troupe. I was cooking great meals and teaching her to cook and taking her out to dinner.
The first two weeks she didn't have a computer, so she had- limited- opportunities borrowing my laptop.
Now we are four weeks in, and I'm not quite so awesome. Foolishly, if you ask me, her mom sent the family laptop with her. So, when not at rehearsal- or sleeping till noon- she is on her laptop or texting.
I don't take it personally; she's not my kid.
I've had one run-in with her when I pointed out things won't go her way if she isn't a helpful part of the equation (more on that later).
The prompt for this post, though, is this: she is constantly texting. I find it rude, and possibly dangerous- who knows who she is texting? But, she is fifteen, and this is something allowed by her parents/grandparent- who am I to intervene.
BUT
just now-- well, actually about a half an hour ago now-- her cell phone rang. She answered it, then sprang up and went to "her" room, saying- "did you get my text?" - She was in there for a long time, 20 minutes or more, door shut- then she came back, then her phone rang again, she answered, heading back for the room- saying "You ditched me, you totally ditched me!" - Now she is in the room but I think with the door open, and whoever is on the phone is loud enough that Ken and I are speculating that it's on speaker phone. And I can't tell if she is crying or laughing with her friend.
AND
I am currently choosing to stay out of this potential drama. I figure, she is safe in my house, because she can't drive, and has no access to a car, and is very rarely in the house without Ken or me or both of us. So, I think she really can't *do* much.
We're starting to see hints of what makes her mom and grandma so frustrated: completely self-obsessed, inventing fantasies for her future, telling outrageous tales of doubtful veracity of her adventures in the past.
Today, visiting with one of my teen theatre troupe members, KL counted her cash, and said she had $28, but she wouldn't be spending it all, because she is saving her money.
To buy an apartment in New Jersey.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
my ring is too tight
So I went to a dinner last night with my dh Ken to celebrate the amazing financial miracle he arranged in orchestrating a loan for his school to achieve an expansion in this horrible economy, and I wanted to look great so I put on make up and used a curling iron on my hair and put on one of my nice rings. The ring was too big for my pinky finger and a bit snug for my right ring finger, but overall fit better on my ring finger so I put it on.
And, I am trying not to panic the next morning when it doesn't want to come off.
And, I am trying not to panic the next morning when it doesn't want to come off.
Monday, June 13, 2011
low tide/ tongue- tied
I am low today, and I would love to unburden but to whom?
To my mom? I am busy being her support post surgery- two spinal surgeries in as many months!
To BK, D1? Or to friend KD? Both have their own struggles....
To SR? Her own struggles as well, and so far away...
To MW? Her own struggles as well, and she has so little support, and her advice is usually trying to encourage me along her path, rather than mine.
To DH KK? Somehow he does not see my pain, and the response is usually, "Well, you shouldn't feel that way!"
But I *do* feel that way.
Triggers are multiple.
I had a board meeting of the troupe I founded and from which I am now retiring. It is difficult to go to these meetings on so many levels. I am letting go, letting go, letting go-- yet it is hard when it seems that those who want to "carry on" don't seem to "get it". I have the sadness of loss, the fear of what the next step might be...
I went that night to an anniversary celebration of friends. I was happy for my friends, and glad for the community that they share. On the other hand, I looked around at the beautiful, larger and better furnished home than my own, and I wonder, will I ever have the home that I long for? with beautiful furnishings and large rooms to host gatherings of family and friends?
The next day I went to a play directed by SO, who once was one of my students/actors. It was quite good- some directing tips that I would like to share- but all in all, quite good. And I was happy for my friend-- and envious of the money and connections behind the show. The production standards were high- beautiful set, and in an intimate and lovely theatre.
And I wonder- will I ever direct or perform in a lovely theatre? Will I ever direct or perform... at all, in future?
And as I struggle with the high stress of the online course of 95 students, I wonder if I will teach again? I have another application in, for another university job, but I am still hurting from the rejection of the recent application, unsure whether I will get even an interview with this one...
On the one hand, part of my dream is to be an outstanding, highly regarded educator with a salary to match BUT- I am wondering if it isn't time to have some unstructured time for writing-- BUT-- will I write with that time?
So I'm okay if I get the job, and okay if I don't-- not the sense of loss that I had with the other one-- BUT--
My mentor, and former chair of my department, has not responded AT ALL to my emails requesting letter of recommendation and teaching evaluation. I have other letters of recommendation, but truthfully he is the only real source for teaching evaluations.
Plus it feels like rejection to not hear at all from him.
AND my weight and my age and my worries about my mom and my kids and retirement and my teeth and and and
It's just a rough day. And I know why, and I don't know why.
To my mom? I am busy being her support post surgery- two spinal surgeries in as many months!
To BK, D1? Or to friend KD? Both have their own struggles....
To SR? Her own struggles as well, and so far away...
To MW? Her own struggles as well, and she has so little support, and her advice is usually trying to encourage me along her path, rather than mine.
To DH KK? Somehow he does not see my pain, and the response is usually, "Well, you shouldn't feel that way!"
But I *do* feel that way.
Triggers are multiple.
I had a board meeting of the troupe I founded and from which I am now retiring. It is difficult to go to these meetings on so many levels. I am letting go, letting go, letting go-- yet it is hard when it seems that those who want to "carry on" don't seem to "get it". I have the sadness of loss, the fear of what the next step might be...
I went that night to an anniversary celebration of friends. I was happy for my friends, and glad for the community that they share. On the other hand, I looked around at the beautiful, larger and better furnished home than my own, and I wonder, will I ever have the home that I long for? with beautiful furnishings and large rooms to host gatherings of family and friends?
The next day I went to a play directed by SO, who once was one of my students/actors. It was quite good- some directing tips that I would like to share- but all in all, quite good. And I was happy for my friend-- and envious of the money and connections behind the show. The production standards were high- beautiful set, and in an intimate and lovely theatre.
And I wonder- will I ever direct or perform in a lovely theatre? Will I ever direct or perform... at all, in future?
And as I struggle with the high stress of the online course of 95 students, I wonder if I will teach again? I have another application in, for another university job, but I am still hurting from the rejection of the recent application, unsure whether I will get even an interview with this one...
On the one hand, part of my dream is to be an outstanding, highly regarded educator with a salary to match BUT- I am wondering if it isn't time to have some unstructured time for writing-- BUT-- will I write with that time?
So I'm okay if I get the job, and okay if I don't-- not the sense of loss that I had with the other one-- BUT--
My mentor, and former chair of my department, has not responded AT ALL to my emails requesting letter of recommendation and teaching evaluation. I have other letters of recommendation, but truthfully he is the only real source for teaching evaluations.
Plus it feels like rejection to not hear at all from him.
AND my weight and my age and my worries about my mom and my kids and retirement and my teeth and and and
It's just a rough day. And I know why, and I don't know why.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Overwhelmed.
I feel like I'm playing catch-up all the time. Frankly, I've been, and still am to a certain extent, overwhelmed.
My mom has had TWO major spinal surgeries in as many months, and I have been her main support/advocate. My schedule is flexible enough that I can take her to the hospital, stay with her there, take her home, spend the night, do her laundry and shopping and so on.
I don't mind. She did it for me AND changed my diapers too! Although that was many years ago ;-)
Then, I am teaching Intro to Theatre online. This is how it came about:
I was teaching Intro to Theatre at X State when I was told about a full-time assistant professorship that looked to be tailor made for me! It was organizing, teaching and administrating all the Intro to Theatre classes! What I've been teaching and refining for 8 years! So I looked at the qualifications, and it described me to a T- except for having published. But, I thought, I have plenty of teaching experience and administrative experience-
Long story extremely shortened, I not only didn't get the job, I didn't get an interview. Didn't make the first cut. A friend who is on the search committee made a special point to talk to me and the bottom line is: they want someone who is published, who will bring fame and honor to XSU- not someone who can teach. They are looking for another professor like the one detested by students, who falls asleep in class- but, when he was hired, had published a book based on his research- and he now has tenure.
Not that I'm bitter.
My friend had the grace to say that she didn't think that those priorities serve the needs of students.
SO- I figured that was it, done with X State, on to something else. You see, once the "Intro Czar" was hired, the plan was to get rid of part-timers such as myself.
Then- I was contacted to see if I would be willing to teach Intro online for the Spring session.
Heck yeah, I said. I am ready to learn something new! And look- gas is $4 a gallon, and now I don't have to commute!
So, after saying yeah, I met with those already teaching the course and got some tips from them. And I signed up for a workshop called "Moving Your Course Online." The instructions said, bring your syllabus with you. Which I did. And it was never even referenced.
Meanwhile, I've learned that Spring session, instead of being 15 weeks, is the intensive 8 weeks version that is supposed to cover everything. And classes are starting in less than 3 weeks.
I go to the workshop. The other participants are saying, I'm nervous, I've got so much to do with this class before Fall-
I say, I'm teaching Spring. Intensive.
Nervous smiles.
Then another participant, after hearing the workshop leader go on about *small* groups of TWO or THREE students, asked, but what if you have a larger class?
The leader says- The research says it's best to have a class of 12 to 15; but, if you must, 20--
The questioner says- but what if you have a BIG class, say 50?
The leader says- Oh! Well, then get grad assistants! Aim for that 12-15!
I say nothing. I have 100 students enrolled at that moment. And NO chance of getting any graduate assistants. Hey, giving me, adjunct, the job, is a COST-CUTTING move.
Fast forward to now, about 3 or 4 weeks in. I have 94 students. I've never taught online before (I can't bring baked goods!). AND it's the intensive version. AND I had only 3 weeks to prepare.
I can see a light at the end of the tunnel now (I should hope so, the class ends at the end of this month!), but it's been a struggle. I put in 40+ hours in 3 days- Thurs, Fri, Sat- just this past weekend, which has meant that I can just about keep up now if I put in ONLY 4 to 6 hours a day.
And I've been subbing at the local K through 8 school when I can- which is where I am now. And going to my mom's after work-which I am doing tonight- don't know where I will find my 4-6 hours today.
AND I'm working on applying for a position at another university. We'll see if I get the interview this time.
Really, ideally, I think I would teach online, publish a wildly successful book or two, go do guest lecturer/artist spots, and laugh my ass off at X State for being so stupid as to NOT EVEN GIVE ME AN INTERVIEW.
Not that I'm bitter.
My mom has had TWO major spinal surgeries in as many months, and I have been her main support/advocate. My schedule is flexible enough that I can take her to the hospital, stay with her there, take her home, spend the night, do her laundry and shopping and so on.
I don't mind. She did it for me AND changed my diapers too! Although that was many years ago ;-)
Then, I am teaching Intro to Theatre online. This is how it came about:
I was teaching Intro to Theatre at X State when I was told about a full-time assistant professorship that looked to be tailor made for me! It was organizing, teaching and administrating all the Intro to Theatre classes! What I've been teaching and refining for 8 years! So I looked at the qualifications, and it described me to a T- except for having published. But, I thought, I have plenty of teaching experience and administrative experience-
Long story extremely shortened, I not only didn't get the job, I didn't get an interview. Didn't make the first cut. A friend who is on the search committee made a special point to talk to me and the bottom line is: they want someone who is published, who will bring fame and honor to XSU- not someone who can teach. They are looking for another professor like the one detested by students, who falls asleep in class- but, when he was hired, had published a book based on his research- and he now has tenure.
Not that I'm bitter.
My friend had the grace to say that she didn't think that those priorities serve the needs of students.
SO- I figured that was it, done with X State, on to something else. You see, once the "Intro Czar" was hired, the plan was to get rid of part-timers such as myself.
Then- I was contacted to see if I would be willing to teach Intro online for the Spring session.
Heck yeah, I said. I am ready to learn something new! And look- gas is $4 a gallon, and now I don't have to commute!
So, after saying yeah, I met with those already teaching the course and got some tips from them. And I signed up for a workshop called "Moving Your Course Online." The instructions said, bring your syllabus with you. Which I did. And it was never even referenced.
Meanwhile, I've learned that Spring session, instead of being 15 weeks, is the intensive 8 weeks version that is supposed to cover everything. And classes are starting in less than 3 weeks.
I go to the workshop. The other participants are saying, I'm nervous, I've got so much to do with this class before Fall-
I say, I'm teaching Spring. Intensive.
Nervous smiles.
Then another participant, after hearing the workshop leader go on about *small* groups of TWO or THREE students, asked, but what if you have a larger class?
The leader says- The research says it's best to have a class of 12 to 15; but, if you must, 20--
The questioner says- but what if you have a BIG class, say 50?
The leader says- Oh! Well, then get grad assistants! Aim for that 12-15!
I say nothing. I have 100 students enrolled at that moment. And NO chance of getting any graduate assistants. Hey, giving me, adjunct, the job, is a COST-CUTTING move.
Fast forward to now, about 3 or 4 weeks in. I have 94 students. I've never taught online before (I can't bring baked goods!). AND it's the intensive version. AND I had only 3 weeks to prepare.
I can see a light at the end of the tunnel now (I should hope so, the class ends at the end of this month!), but it's been a struggle. I put in 40+ hours in 3 days- Thurs, Fri, Sat- just this past weekend, which has meant that I can just about keep up now if I put in ONLY 4 to 6 hours a day.
And I've been subbing at the local K through 8 school when I can- which is where I am now. And going to my mom's after work-which I am doing tonight- don't know where I will find my 4-6 hours today.
AND I'm working on applying for a position at another university. We'll see if I get the interview this time.
Really, ideally, I think I would teach online, publish a wildly successful book or two, go do guest lecturer/artist spots, and laugh my ass off at X State for being so stupid as to NOT EVEN GIVE ME AN INTERVIEW.
Not that I'm bitter.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
I wasn't absent, I was sick!
I teach Intro to Theatre. It is my conviction that one of the greatest attributes of the art of theatre is that artists from different disciplines with different talents collaborate to create a unified work of art-- together.
Because of this conviction, I design my class with a strong component of collaborative and group work.
My class is not difficult. I work hard to design a class that includes a variety of ways to succeed. If you do the work, you can not only pass the course, but also get a decent grade.
If you show up.
Since during much of the course there is group work and group discussion, the student must BE THERE. The theatre department is also stringent in regards to attendance.
Every semester, my students earn a lot of As, some Bs, a few Cs, barely any Ds.
And every semester, in spite of repeated warnings, there are a good number of students who fail.
For instance, this semester, in my class of nearly 50, ten students failed, all for attendance-related issues.
I am mystified by the students who come once, or twice, and then stop attending. In spite of email messages I send, stating that it is mathematically impossible to pass the course, and they should withdraw, these students do not withdraw and consequently fail the class.
WHY would one NOT withdraw if the professor suggests it?
My mentor, then chair of my department, suggested it might be that some students must enroll in a certain number of credit hours to qualify for student financial aid. That is certainly possible; but surely the financial aid is withdrawn if the student fails because they NEVER SHOWED UP!
Every semester there is one student- sometimes more- that seem to feel the rules do not apply to them.
This semester, in addition to the seven who stopped coming, there were three students who received the warning about their excess absences. I met with each of them, explained that they had the option to drop the class, and, when they expressed it was important to them to pass, I worked out a plan of extra work for them to compensate for the absences, on the condition that there would be NO future absences.
One of these students eagerly agreed, had no more absences-- and not only did not do the additional work, she did not do the required work of the course. I was completely mystified as to why she would turn up for the final exam, but she did. However, I did not hear from her when I emailed her, explaining that as she had not done the work, she would be failing the course; nor did I hear from her when I posted her grade of F.
One of these students agreed, then had two additional absences, and did not turn in the additional work until a week past the last date on which I would accept additional work. I again was mystified to see this student show up for the final exam, even though I had announced several times in class, AND posted in email announcements to all the class, stating that for students who had an agreement with me regarding make-up work, any additional absences would void the agreement. However, I did not hear from him when I emailed him, explaining that as he had two additional absences, and had turned in the work far past the deadline, he would be failing the course; nor did I hear from him when I posted his grade of F.
The last of these three also had the benefit of the class announcements and email announcements stating that agreements regarding make up work for excess absences would be voided if there were additional absences. She had two additional absences. I emailed her explaining that as she had two additional absences, the agreement was voided and she would be failing the course.
I heard nothing in response to the email, sent a day and a half before posting grades.
I then posted grades. I heard nothing from her for another day.
The day after posting grades, I began receiving a barrage of emails from this student. First, she wrote that she understood the agreement, but she had NOT been absent two more times. One of the dates I had recorded as an absence (I had sent the calendar dates in question) she had not been absent, she had been tardy. On the other date, she wrote, she had not been absent. She had been very sick and unable to attend class.
Really? Not absent, just sick and therefore not in class?
I wrote back saying that the agreement was NO more absences, that even if she had been tardy, it was HER responsibility to let me know that day-- and that 2 tardies were the equivalent of an absence and she had more than one tardy. I also wrote that I regretted she had an illness, however since she was not in class it was still an absence.
She wrote again saying she thought she had told me she was late, but she was really stressed that day so maybe she forgot, and she really wants to pass the class, could I change the grade?
I wrote again saying that whether or not she had told me about the tardy, she still was absent on the other date; that I had given her the option to drop the class; and that two tardies still equal an absence.
She wrote back saying, yes she understood but even if she left an hour early sometimes traffic made her late and she really wanted to pass the class so could I give her a C?
ARGHHH!! I wanted to remind her of her repeated tardies, that I had not bothered to factor in; that her regular course work was often late or even missing; that her additional work was late; that her in-class work was sub-par.
I haven't responded to her latest missive. I don't know if I will.
Does she believe that the rules apply to everyone else? That she should get a C just because she WANTS one?
There were three other students, in addition to those above, who met with me, worked out a plan, and adhered to the plan. They didn't miss any more classes, they did the additional work without complaint, and, in fact, thanked me for the opportunity to improve their grade.
Those students are the ones for whom I am glad to be flexible.
The others...
Because of this conviction, I design my class with a strong component of collaborative and group work.
My class is not difficult. I work hard to design a class that includes a variety of ways to succeed. If you do the work, you can not only pass the course, but also get a decent grade.
If you show up.
Since during much of the course there is group work and group discussion, the student must BE THERE. The theatre department is also stringent in regards to attendance.
Every semester, my students earn a lot of As, some Bs, a few Cs, barely any Ds.
And every semester, in spite of repeated warnings, there are a good number of students who fail.
For instance, this semester, in my class of nearly 50, ten students failed, all for attendance-related issues.
I am mystified by the students who come once, or twice, and then stop attending. In spite of email messages I send, stating that it is mathematically impossible to pass the course, and they should withdraw, these students do not withdraw and consequently fail the class.
WHY would one NOT withdraw if the professor suggests it?
My mentor, then chair of my department, suggested it might be that some students must enroll in a certain number of credit hours to qualify for student financial aid. That is certainly possible; but surely the financial aid is withdrawn if the student fails because they NEVER SHOWED UP!
Every semester there is one student- sometimes more- that seem to feel the rules do not apply to them.
This semester, in addition to the seven who stopped coming, there were three students who received the warning about their excess absences. I met with each of them, explained that they had the option to drop the class, and, when they expressed it was important to them to pass, I worked out a plan of extra work for them to compensate for the absences, on the condition that there would be NO future absences.
One of these students eagerly agreed, had no more absences-- and not only did not do the additional work, she did not do the required work of the course. I was completely mystified as to why she would turn up for the final exam, but she did. However, I did not hear from her when I emailed her, explaining that as she had not done the work, she would be failing the course; nor did I hear from her when I posted her grade of F.
One of these students agreed, then had two additional absences, and did not turn in the additional work until a week past the last date on which I would accept additional work. I again was mystified to see this student show up for the final exam, even though I had announced several times in class, AND posted in email announcements to all the class, stating that for students who had an agreement with me regarding make-up work, any additional absences would void the agreement. However, I did not hear from him when I emailed him, explaining that as he had two additional absences, and had turned in the work far past the deadline, he would be failing the course; nor did I hear from him when I posted his grade of F.
The last of these three also had the benefit of the class announcements and email announcements stating that agreements regarding make up work for excess absences would be voided if there were additional absences. She had two additional absences. I emailed her explaining that as she had two additional absences, the agreement was voided and she would be failing the course.
I heard nothing in response to the email, sent a day and a half before posting grades.
I then posted grades. I heard nothing from her for another day.
The day after posting grades, I began receiving a barrage of emails from this student. First, she wrote that she understood the agreement, but she had NOT been absent two more times. One of the dates I had recorded as an absence (I had sent the calendar dates in question) she had not been absent, she had been tardy. On the other date, she wrote, she had not been absent. She had been very sick and unable to attend class.
Really? Not absent, just sick and therefore not in class?
I wrote back saying that the agreement was NO more absences, that even if she had been tardy, it was HER responsibility to let me know that day-- and that 2 tardies were the equivalent of an absence and she had more than one tardy. I also wrote that I regretted she had an illness, however since she was not in class it was still an absence.
She wrote again saying she thought she had told me she was late, but she was really stressed that day so maybe she forgot, and she really wants to pass the class, could I change the grade?
I wrote again saying that whether or not she had told me about the tardy, she still was absent on the other date; that I had given her the option to drop the class; and that two tardies still equal an absence.
She wrote back saying, yes she understood but even if she left an hour early sometimes traffic made her late and she really wanted to pass the class so could I give her a C?
ARGHHH!! I wanted to remind her of her repeated tardies, that I had not bothered to factor in; that her regular course work was often late or even missing; that her additional work was late; that her in-class work was sub-par.
I haven't responded to her latest missive. I don't know if I will.
Does she believe that the rules apply to everyone else? That she should get a C just because she WANTS one?
There were three other students, in addition to those above, who met with me, worked out a plan, and adhered to the plan. They didn't miss any more classes, they did the additional work without complaint, and, in fact, thanked me for the opportunity to improve their grade.
Those students are the ones for whom I am glad to be flexible.
The others...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)