Woman, sixty, and still trying to get it right. Stumbling the path toward the Divine. Discussing things like grandparenting, Waldorf education, child development, nature, human awareness, empty-nesting, breast cancer, and knitting luscious things once in awhile. The hippie with a boob job?
Three days late. What does Rudolf Steiner say? Sleep on your thoughts and decisions for three days and things will be much more clear. That was not my intention here though. I had no intention, I had a blank space of emptiness. Your birthday was approaching and nothing came from me. My words have flat lined.
Last year when they found your truck near a campsite in Arizona, and they sent out a search party, I prayed that you had abandoned everything and hitched a ride to be with your mama, your incredible mama in her golden years. But I hear that didn't happen.
You need to check in back home. You really do, my friend. Or call me.
"Find a convenient streetlight, step out of the shade."
Well my youngest baby girl is engaged and getting married on September 6, 2015!
Two Saturday's ago a gaggle of us spent the day in San Francisco visiting Bridal Salons. So much chatter, so many plans in the making. It is all a dream. here are some photos of the day:
Of course, none of these dresses were chosen or I wouldn't have posted the photo here. ;) We had a wonderful lunch, and a toast.
The wedding is planned for 5pm, a garden wedding in her sister's backyard. The theme is A Midsummer Night's Dream: lots of flowers, candles, wedding flags. Flower garlands here and there. They are busy picking music and food and all that enjoyable stuff.
...can be a good thing. :) Had so much fun at the beautiful May Day celebration at my grandkid's school yesterday. I'm doing great. So sorry I am so lost to my blog, I think about you everyday. It is just so much easier to go to facebook. : / But then, what kind of writer is THAT?
I have been having some serious issues with my bones and joints post Taxol. They ache day and night. A real deep down, don't-you-forget kind of pain. The kind that makes me need to sit down during the day and makes my forehead perspire if I can't. The kind that makes me have to silently, stealthily steady myself upon standing after I have been off my feet for awhile. The kind that is making me use my left arm more and more because my right shoulder won't rotate or reach sometimes. The kind that makes me have to step downstairs like a toddler when they are feeling weak and I'm afraid they will give out.
This is hard to swallow for a used-to-be-before-treatment hiker and outdoor's lover. I cry about it. My dream was to hike the Pacific Crest Trail, in segments, over a few years beginning in the spring following my 60th birthday. And then I was diagnosed the next month and that dream evaporated like dreams do in the stark light of day. Especially when we startle awake. I cry about it and I have come to peace about it. I think I mostly cry because of the everyday interference in my mobility.
I spoke to my oncologist about it last week and he told me to take a diuretic. I didn't feel heard at all. I began taking L-Glutamine again. I took it during treatment and had no side effects. It seems to be helping a little bit already. And next week I begin physical therapy. That too, should help me regain my strength.
So all that whining was my preface to telling you about yesterday morning. An online friend wrote this amazing account of how he decided to take hold of his COPD by addressing it directly, feeling the discomfort, and asking it what was the message it was trying to get across to him. I've been working 24/7 this week because my employer is away on a business trip. They live in a beautiful area by the bay, right outside the gate to China Camp State Park. I have taken my little charge exploring many times in the hills and along the shores in China Camp.
After I dropped my little nanny guy at school, I took myself on an adventure of exploration. I was very inspired by something I read the other morning, written by an author online friend of mine, Ted Slipchinsky. He wrote in part:
"Yesterday I decided to "walk the talk" and apply some of the principles I put in the book that I am always babbling on about (because they have worked so well for me in the past). I lay down, closed my eyes, and decided to experience this God-awful continuous urge to cough in the fullest sense possible. I know this sounds counter-intuitive. I had been cursing out this urge for days, feeling sorry for myself, Googling the symptoms of COPD, and bemoaning my fate. But yesterday I decided to breathe very deeply into the sensation and completely surrender to it...
I drove to the park thinking about my legs, and how I was always so grateful that they were so strong. My strength was there, even though my upper body was less hardy. I used to marvel at what these legs could accomplish. So in my mind and heart I spoke to them. I thanked them and told them I was so sad that they were changing. I asked them to please let me know what it was that I was to learn from this situation. basically that is what I said (but in a lot more words). A prayer. A meditation for my body, this vessel carrying my heart and soul. I accepted the pain. I planned to hike and explore anyway.
And then my answer came on the car radio when the silly little tune Nobody Gonna Break My Stride came on full volume. hahahaha It made me smile. It was a beautiful hike. And I'm going to keep on in this fashion until I am strong again. Thank you Universe! Sometimes you make me laugh...
Oh my goodness (funny I chose that opening phrase - ha!) I feel as if I need to clarify my last post because it seems to be misunderstood.
I celebrate all the goodness in the world and more particularly, my life, every single day. I LOVE life and I love living it. This is not about my life. It is about one man who has betrayed me endlessly through out this life. Who always said one thing and did another. Who spoke pretty. The greatest disappointing lie happened during those days I was dealing with cancer treatment. The posted song and the words written to go with it were directed to him (no, it's not stevematts )
I know this guy reads my blog, and thus it was how I chose to say this to him:
"There is fiction in the space between The lines on your page of memories Write it down but it doesn't mean You're not just telling stories There is fiction in the space between You and me"
And so be it, my friends. Putting this one to bed and it feels good.
But me? I am doing GREAT. Thank you so much for caring.
The other morning after I dropped little nanny guy off at school I took my car in to have it washed. And I really realized that I can be a nightmare when it comes to cleaning. I don't think I have been to a carwash where I didn't call them back to clean something a little bit more. I even warn them with a smile at drop off, "I'm very particular about my middle console. Please be sure it is cleaned well." What I have noticed is that though he assures me it will be, by the time my car has gotten to the end of the line where the interior is being tended to, it's a whole new crew of folks and my message has been lost in the ethers.
I'm not a neat freak by any means. I don't mind disorder. Clothing on the chair. Art projects strewn about. EVEN the dinner dishes waiting until morning (as long as they are rinsed and stacked on the counter:) ) But it has to be clean disorder. Bottom line, if you say you are going to clean something, someplace, just do it right. Half assed cleaning is like nails on a chalkboard.
So here it is. Proof that they did a half-assed job. I rewiped with the little wipey they left me. The guy so kindly went over it again after I showed him. But no, they did not get a tip. Sorry guys. I don't tip just because, I tip for great service. And if my service is great, it's amazing how much I tip. :)
Righty Tighty, Lefty Loosy. That's how my dad taught me to remember when screwing something on or off. This morning my head is so full of thoughts I just want to unscrew it and place it on the windowsill to look out into the beautiful sunshine for the day. I want a day off from thinking. I'm trying to organize so many things at once I feel pressure in the front of my forehead. Not one cancer thought actually. Just thoughts about my kids and what is going on in each of their lives. And thoughts about my life and how I want to live it going forward from cancer (I guess that could be considered a cancer thought, but not really. it's a moving away from cancer thought.) I've already mediatated and pulled a tarot card. Daughter of Pentacles. Talked to two of my kids and tried to shop fabric online. I made french toast out of the seed and nut loaf I made last night. And drank a cup of yesterday's coffee. I have soothing music playing and will get up and wash the dishes soon. I cut a daphne from the blooming plant outside my bedroom door and put it in a vase in the bathroom. I want to go to the city, and I want to do some art. The laundry pile is daunting. I love my new wallet. And my new sheepskin slippers. I should vaccuum. I love garlic. It's supposed to be beautiful weather today. There is a very loud duck out on the creek - I want to go say hi. I have those gift certificates, I should go get a massage or a pedicure. Tonight is Fiona's birthday celebration. I need to wrap her gift. I want a dog. It's almost noon. I gotta get out of here into the sunlight.