They may Run the Bulls in Spain…but in Virginia, we Run the Bubbles!
Running of the Bubbs
Category: Love
687 Miles to Sloppy Kisses…
It’s been over a year and a half since I’ve seen my grandson Alex, who turned 3 in April.
I can think of nothing I’d rather do than share the next few days with you as we get reacquainted and fall in love all over again…
The Journey:
Old Glory flies high and
Gas prices do too
140 miles more before we leave the high cost of living in the Northeast behind…
Storm on the horizon
Unwanted voyeurs
One who is thankful for the break.
345 miles to go for sloppy kisses…
Oh…and a windmill, of course.
300 miles more to giant hugs from little arms
Silos and Barns growing out of the Corn
and oh….
Crackin’ the Barrel on every corner!
200 miles and we pop the top and pull the cork.
The Gas Prices Fall
And the Caverns are Cavernous
100 more to their front door.
Basketball, football, soccer and all
Running, shooting, fetching, “no fair!”
I’m goin’ swimming…hop in gram, we’ll share.
So ends the first day…worth the trip and worth the heat.
Stay tuned for the next installment…getting down on the trampoline then popsicle parties and bubble magic.
🙂
Delusional Illusions
Growing up as I did, I had to become a master of delusion.
And a master I was.
I managed to convince myself I was happy, normal, thriving, even exceptional at times.
But, as with everything in life, it ends.
That day came when the delusion hit me square in the face and I found myself staring at a naked stranger in the mirror.
So what’s to be done?
Face my naked self?
See life as it is for the first time…stare the ugly in the face and see beyond it?
Reach into that mirrored heart and grab that frightened, yearning, amazingly loving, little girl and give her a chance?
That would be a most difficult, utterly terrifying path. Yet a fine one indeed. A healing thing, a healthy thing, a loving thing to do.
Or…how about exchanging the delusion; that umbrella of fantasy under which life was so real as to be believed; for one of illusion.
I know it won’t be entirely real; just enough to convince me that I can be happy. No longer deluded, yet not quite ready to face the ugliness in the mirror. Not quite strong enough to bring her out into the open to face the fact that life is not fair; life is not pretty; life is not forgiving…it’s just life.
So illusion it was…for a time anyway.
But…as all things in life do, this too did end.
An even more painful death than the delusion.
The delusion took my face and smashed it into my mirror.
The illusion died slowly, with tiny little blows that wounded me a piece at a time.
With it’s whispered ‘I love you but…”
And it’s well intended, but still misguided “You’re too good for me…”
The true shield behind which the illusions spew forth “It’s not you, it’s me…”
And the fatal blows to the heart “I’ll always love you…”
a & f
The delusion?
That my damaged soul and wounded heart could find love and peace, inside or out, anywhere but in my own heart.
It’s not possible without facing the naked truth that no matter how much I love another, it won’t last until I love myself enough to see beyond the mirror.
a & f
The Illusion?
That my damaged soul could tell the difference between what’s whole, what’s honest, what’s without fear, and what’s my illusion.
To realize true happiness and true love I must stand naked and fearless in front of that mirror.
And besides my own, the eyes of the one I love are the truest mirror I’ll ever face.
If I’m willing to see it, the reflection will be one of truth. My truth and his.
Stark naked, no illusion.
I’ll see trust, kindness, inner beauty, desire, love without qualification, and acceptance of who and what we both are…in all that naked glory…or I’ll see nothing.
If I see doubt, fear, unease, tempered or guarded emotions, and conditional love…from either of us….I’ll run.
♥ The delusion is dead.
∞ The illusion is dead.
Life is bare…
it promises nothing and offers only what you are willing to pay for
it is as ugly as it is beautiful…
it is as rich with humiliation and pain as it is with pleasure and joy…
but at least it’s now naked…
Now is the time for truth
Back on the Road
Inroads – encroachment
Crossroads – decisions
Dirt roads – tributaries along the way
Bumpy roads – the ups and downs
Detours – new direction to the same destination
Roadblocks – stop or find another way
Out roads – the place we don’t want to be
Every day, we choose the road we set our feet upon. Each inch we travel is a minute step in the right direction as long as that direction is forward. Don’t stand still, don’t hesitate, don’t stop moving.
Others will make inroads against us…don’t let them. Do not allow anyone to take from us what we are not willing to give freely. Don’t let them sneak up on you.
Do our hard thinking along the way so when we reach your crossroads you’ll know the direction you are meant to take. This will never be easy and we will likely be here more than once. If you take the wrong turn the first time, remember it well…and do better the next.
The dirt roads are mere side trips; chances to meet new people, try new things, gain new insight, or just look for a place to breathe. These are the paths that make the journey worthwhile.
There will always be bumps in the road ahead…there has never been a completely flat road and there never will be. Some are visible, some clouded in the fog of our mind’s eye…but there, they are. We must use caution on the way to planting our flag of accomplishment on the top, and always leave a word or two of encouragement there for the ones that follow. And remember, we are gaining strength with each step up and over to the other side. The next one will be a little easier and the one after that and the one after that.
Don’t fear the detours, they are a necessary part of our journey. As long as our destination is clear, how we get there matters little and there’s nothing wrong with a change of scenery. Sights to be enjoyed, experiences to be treasured, lessons to be learned…Life recalculated.
The road blocks are meant to test us. They will stop some in their tracks; end the journey because it just got too hard. Don’t let this happen. We must use them as tools to hone our skills of adjusting, ingenuity, imagination, and self-reliance. Don’t give in and don’t give up…give ’em hell.
There may be times we find ourselves on the outside, what I call the out roads. This is not a place to be. This is a place of indecision, self-doubt, fear of the unknown, and even fear of the known. The kind of fear that lives in the dark places, leaves us afraid to step forward, or afraid to move at all. Lost. If we find ourselves here…we must stop, open our minds, hearts, and eyes…for this is the time to ask for help.
We can see them; the people in our lives we love and respect; lining the shoulder of the roads we’ve walked…reaching out. They are waiting, they are willing, they are there to help you back on your path. But they cannot do it for you…admit you are lost, take the hands that are offered, and begin again. One step at a time.
It’s never too late.
It’s never too late to reach for the moon.
It’s never to late.
It’s never to late to get back on the road.
Safe travels my friends.
Wait Just One Bone-Pickin’ Minute…
I’ve got a bone to pick and I’m gonna pick it clean.
Then I’m gonna give it to my DOG to finish off.
Yes.
My DOG.
The same one that shared this day with me eating mini ice cream sandwiches and snuggling together in the rear-end of a Jeep…
In the Vet’s parking lot…
Staring death in the face with a face full of vanilla and teeth full of chocolate cookie crust (his too.)…
Yeah, that one…Ripken, my beloved 10 year old B’Lab
The subject of my last post celebrating his life and mourning his demise.
Why?
Because my Vet is a douche…that’s why.
Okay, maybe not a douche.
How about insensitive, callous, money-grubbing, gotta pull in the bucks to justify my position as the newest Vet in this practice, A’hole?
Yeah, that’s better.
- Here’s how it went down almost a month ago (I feel like I should put this to music like Harper Valley PTA or something):
Yearly check-up; three-year rabies shot; lyme vaccine; snap test
Vet says he looks good except…
I’m concerned about this growth, this tumor, in his right armpit
I’ve looked at his records, and I see he was here 6 months ago (for an intestinal problem) and this mass was not there
The fact that it grew so large, so fast, and seems tender to the touch tells me it’s something we need to be concerned with.
Normally, I’d say it’s just a fatty deposit, but not in this case. I believe we are looking at a malignancy here
ME: Can you give me an idea of how much I’m looking at to find out? Financially speaking, I need to know
I can certainly give you an estimate for how much it would be to do the pathology and remove the tumor, but subsequent treatment would be expensive
ME: OK, I’ll need that estimate before I make a decision
Of course
Estimate: $970 – (nothing specified about what the cost would be to treat the ‘cancer’)
ME: I hate that it comes down to money, but I can’t afford this
Oh I completely understand. Take some time to think about it and let me know
ME: Okay, but I know what my finances are…I can’t afford this
I completely understand, but just think about it and let me know. Take the time you need, but I don’t think you should wait too long
ME: Okay, I’ll think about what I can do, and I’ll talk to my family, but I can’t afford this only to find out it’s a cancer I can’t afford to have treated
- Here’s where we were two weeks ago:
Stopped eating
Stopped drinking
Lethargic
Acute diarrhea (sorry, but it does sound better than the runs)
I was out of town, get a call from my parents that the dog is sick
- Here’s where we were one week ago:
Not eating still so I boil hamburger and rice – nothing
Not eating so I notch it up to chicken and rice – not much improvement
Only think I can get him to eat are his biscuits…the dog effin’ loves those biscuits
Still not drinking
Still with the D-word adding in that straining would be an understatement
- Here’s where I was Sunday:
This can’t go on, he’s suffering, I can’t afford to see this through, I need to call the Vet tomorrow
Appointment made for Wednesday for euthanasia based on information known at the time
- Here’s where I was today – Wednesday – E Day
Get to Vet’s office – packed beyond belief – had to park in another county practically – no sweat, more time to sit and snuggle and eat ice cream sandwiches with the Dude
Go into office at scheduled time, 5:30 pm, alone, to complete all paperwork and pay fee without Rip having to be in there
Told they are waaaay backed up, would I mind waiting?
Ummmm, yes, in fact I WOULD mind waiting. This is not the kind of appointment one wants to sit and ponder amonst the other four-legged beasts running around.
Told it would only be a moment then…they’d get a room ready right away. She returns within seconds telling me to go ahead and bring him in.
I do that. We go to the room. The Vet comes in…
Aw, and how’s old Ripken?
{I explained the last two weeks in detail)
Oh, so he’s not eating or drinking. Well, let’s have a look see what a treat does for him
{I watch as Ripken about tears the guy’s fingers off taking the treat. Maybe I should have warned him about Ripken and those biscuits}
Wow…I have to tell you, this dog is not telling me he’s ready to die. His breathing is a bit loud and labored, but that’s his age. But he’s active and took that treat well enough
{I look at him like he’s gone mental. Was he suggesting I was there to kill my dog for no reason?}
ME: No…YOU told me that and based on the last two weeks, I believed it. This is NOT the same behavior of the last two weeks {except the biscuits}
Now, really, I’m not concerned with that growth. I feel it’s just a fatty deposit and as your dog’s advocate, I must tell you that based on what I’m seeing here today, this is a healthy dog, and in good conscience, I can’t do what you are asking me to do
What I”M ASKING? Do you realize what your comments to me during our last visit did to me? And how those comments lead to my sitting here today, in this office, having spent the last 4 days beating myself up and grieving for him? Do you think I’m here to rid myself of a loved family member for financial reasons?
I’m only telling you that I can’t do what you came here to do in all good conscience because I feel he’s healthy and just showing his age
{By now, I’m about hysterical, but from anger…}
I am not leaving this office until you do whatever you have to do to prove this is NOT a cancerous tumor; tell me the cause of the last two weeks; and I AM NOT PAYING FOR IT. YOU ARE.
Of course. I will aspirate the mass and I’ll take a stool sample. If, you’ll hold him
{Just give me a biscuit dumbass}
Aspiration done, sample taken, Vet disappears, returns 15 minutes later…
I was correct. That mass is nothing to worry about, for now, it’s just fat
And the stool sample shows he’s loaded with bacteria, which I can treat, with medication. And this bacteria is absolutely the cause of his lack of appetite and lethargy. It’s common and treatable.
All I ask is that you give him a fair chance. Let him take the medication for a couple days. If there’s no improvement, we can revisit it.
What? A fair chance? You tell me my dog has a malignant tumor, tell me to make up my mind quickly, it’s only $970 to be on the safe side, and you tell ME to give him a fair chance? Give him pills for a couple days and then you’ll revisit killing him?
That’s all I’m asking. I can’t stop you from going through with this, but I can’t do it. I’ll not charge you for anything but the pills and I’ll only charge you what they cost me.
{Lord, get me away from this man before I BITE HIM}
Get me the pills, refund my prepaid murder for hire fee, and we’ll be gone.
He did and we were.
FOR FUCKING EVER!
My Dude…alive and well…despite modern medicine! When did Vets become like all the rest?
🙂
The More Things Change…
“The more things change the more they stay the same”
I’m sure you’ve all heard it. I KNOW you’ve all heard it. It’s been around since the dawn of bitchin’ and moanin’.
It’s been several days since I’ve had a thought I felt worth sharing. And today started the same way…empty.
That’s a word I’ve come to know very well. It’s not a good word in any capacity that I can think of…
empty bank account
empty wallet (because of the empty bank account one would assume)
empty fridge
empty gas tank
empty glass
empty heart
empty feelings
empty mind
empty empty empty (such a strange word when looked at so closely)
I have decided this word is creeping into my everyday life way, way, too often. And it’s pissing me off.
Is it the winter? The, oh so cliché but oh so real, cabin fever? I don’t know.
But, today the sun broke through, so I ventured outside. With no plan other than soaking up that which has been missing for too long. The light, the warmth, the overall feeling of hope that things will be okay.
As a winter lover, I hesitate to blame these empty days on lack of sunshine and warmth. But as a woman in transition, I’m more hesitant to blame it on something else. That would mean taking responsibility for my own feelings, right?
Like those feelings of self-pity? Depression? Lack of self-confidence? Oh woe the fuck is me? Can it be I’m allowing these dark, snowy days I used to look forward to, give me an excuse to stay inside and hide from the world I don’t always feel ready to face?
Yes. Yes, yes, and yes. That is exactly what I was doing. And it took two people, my Yin and my Yang, to get me up and out into that light. One is the left, the other the right. The past and the future. Opposite ends of my journey. But they managed to meet in the middle…me…I am the middle ground.
The left says…”Get up and get moving; no one can fix you but you; I’m here but I can’t fix this; fix you. You have to. I’ve told you I love you, but frankly I’m sick of your whining.”
The right says…”I love you and am always here for you. I wish I could make things better, but you must choose to be happy. There are things you can do, support is out there, use it.”
Okay, I paraphrased, but that’s the gist. Love on the left; love on the right; me in the middle, feeling empty for NO good reason.
What is WRONG with this picture?
ME…that’s what.
So…why did I title this post “The More Things Change…?”
Because this is a pattern for me. A pattern I need to change. The more things have changed in my life, the more I’ve fought the changes. And NOT the changes themselves. No, it’s the roller coaster of ‘it’s the right thing, it’s the wrong thing, it’s exciting, it’s scaring the shit out of me, I’m worth it, who are you kidding’, emotional roller coaster. Not the obvious ones, like divorcing after 31 years. THAT deserves a roller coaster ride…and what a ride it has been. But, for the most part, I can say that ride is over. The extremes anyway. Figuring out where we go from here is the next ride, but it’s not a roller coaster, it’s more akin to the Tea Cup…up, down, and all around, sometimes sickening, sometime exhilarating, but always an end in sight.
This is not it.
It’s the bi-polar, manic-depressive (as a way of explanation only, she tells herself) emotions that I’ve allowed myself to fall victim to when things in my life don’t go the way I want them to. I allow myself to lash out at those that love me for no other reason than the dog just doesn’t understand. Seriously…if the damned dog would just say ‘I get ya Ma, I feel for ya Ma, now can I have a treat?’ I’d be better off.
Instead, I lash out, cry, feel empty, look at my life as a black hole instead of realizing I have a tremendous amount of love and support to be thankful for. From the left and from the right and from everywhere in between.
That it took a short sojourn out into the sun to put things back in perspective is a little strange maybe. But I am not questioning it. If a bit of bright light and vitamin D turn my empty thoughts into ones filled with hope and remembrances of the love I have in my life; past, present, and future; then I say bring on the sun.
You are my sunshine…my only sunshine…you make me happy…when skies are gray.
Here comes the sun…get out there and ABSORB it!
Good Grief
I’ve experienced my share of loss. Most of a certain age have, and some not of such an age. It is an inevitable part of life.
I’ve mourned the loss of grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins and friends much too soon, neighbors, and four-legged buddies too.
Grief is a process. It’s as important a process as learning to walk or speak. It’s something we all must do in stages…there is no other way. We can deny it, run from it, gloss over it, or ignore it…makes no difference to grief. It says…
“Deal with me now or deal with me later…face me today or sit back and let me take over your life…I can and will, offer you the tools but you have to choose how or if to use them. For if you leave it to me, I’ll build walls with no windows and doorways to nowhere. I’ve got your heart in my hands and I can keep it in the dark and squeeze the life out of it. Or, you can help me release it back into the light. The choice is yours.”
Mourning has a natural path it must follow; a beginning, a middle, and in time, an end. We must allow ourselves to follow it to its natural end. And I say natural because we are all different. We didn’t all learn to walk and talk at the same point in our lives. We each learn as and when we are meant to. With help or without…we have but one choice if we are to become who we are meant to be. I don’t believe anyone is meant to be broken by grief. It’s a choice. A sad one, but still a choice.
In the past several months, I’ve been one of those denying, running, glossing over, ignoring souls. And not from the grief of losing ones I loved to dying. No. For me, that is the allowed grief, the necessary grief, the natural mourning after saying goodbye to their souls grief.
No, it’s the mourning the loss of life that still breathes; the blood’s still flowing but the heart’s not beating, life; the everyday life staring back at me in that shattered mirror life that I had to choose to either pour a new foundation, pick up the hammer, and start building a new frame for; or choose to let grief build me and my tender heart into box kind of grief that I ran from.
I didn’t understand. No one had died. Neither of us was ill. Grief? Mourning? I just didn’t get it.
Then.
Now I do.
I woke to a poem today.
Not a morning poem, but a mourning poem.
A poem of love lost, dreams gone, futures altered:
I close my eyes, see a life once shared
I close my eyes, sweet memories there
I close my eyes, our future’s gone
as is the past
Eyes now open and shed of tears
No longer sorrow, pain, and fear
Open eyes to a new journey
Toward lives of love for you and for me
My open eyes see friendship strong
and will ever last
Our years of love and care mean wishing
That each will find what we were missing
But one things sure and I hope you do see
You’re my best friend and always will be
This poem woke my giant who was not only sleeping but hiding under the Hoover Dam. It helped me acknowledge my need to mourn the loss of a once treasured and thought unbreakable bond of a decades long marriage. I was lost in sadness; mired in a self-pity; feeling guilty for wanting more; needing more; yet never admitting I needed to grieve what was gone, mourn that loss of the life we’d made and shared.
Yet, in those few words of a sleepless night’s reflection and melancholy remembrance of a life’s love shattered, there was hope. For each other. To find love and true happiness. For building a stronger bond of friendship beyond those days of “I don’t anymore” on through to these days of “I do and always will, and cannot imagine a life without you in it, somehow.”
To Hugh. The man I grew up with, fell in love with, married, bore children to, and said goodbye to as my husband…I say this:
the past does visit still when sleeping
the day will come for no more weeping
but, this mourning must travel its natural path
this grief we share of days gone past
of love and life and joys and sorrows
for lost dreams, hopes, tomorrows
and in its wake, will dawn a new day
together and separate we’ll each find our way
to fulfilled lives complete with laughter
to each grab hold of what we’re after
but this remains a constant truth…
life would not
could not
be…
without you, my best friend
Thank You. For helping me see what I would not.
Grief.
For pulling me out of hiding.
To Grieve.
For knowing I needed to.
Grieve.
And for loving me enough to say it.
Grief.
Good Grief.
50 Shades of Gray Hair 
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