Four decades of red shoe regrets, resolved

I've had a love hate relationship with red shoes for so many years ... stalking them, loving them, lusting for them, even buying them again and again, only to find myself unable to wear them because they're just way too red. There are at least three pairs stashed away right now in a box in the garage that I've never worn, even though part of me still loves looking at them. I even get them out to try on every once in awhile.

Anyway. Today I break my long blog silence to announce that the curse has been lifted: I've found some red shoes that I love, that I can actually wear. Check 'em out!

OK, so maybe they're not the height of fashion ... I actually worried as I was ordering them that they might look like clown shoes, or children's shoes. But they don't (well, maybe a tiny bit, but in a good way). I'm happy with them. They're red enough to be red, without being TOO red. I love the slight platform, the soft thick leather, the comfortable strap. And you can't tell from this picture but they're very wide across the toes, just like my feet. I plan to wear them all summer.

What else? I still think about blogging every day, but so much of what I think of saying seems kind of unnecessary to say. That's a spell that seems to have been broken lately too – my decades-long compulsion to document my experiences, rather than simply living them. I think that practice helped me, more than anything else I've done, to learn how to really inhabit my own life. Writing it all down – and paying close attention to myself, so I can be accurate in my account – has taught me to love it all. I read something the other day that rang true to me:

The great Japanese film director Akira Kurosawa once said, "An artist is someone who never averts his eyes." In 1923, the Great Kanto earthquake killed 100,000 people and destroyed Tokyo. Kurosawa was just 13 years old and walked amongst the devastation of human and animal corpses. When he tried to turn away, his older brother instructed him not to avert his eyes. As a result, Kurosawa came to believe that looking at the whole of life was a way to defeat fear.

That's a big part of what I've been doing until lately with this blog, and with journaling in general. Learning to defeat my fears. I can't say they're totally defeated, or that I expect them ever to be, but I do feel safe in my life and in the world right now, and that makes me feel generous and strong, like I have more to offer than this inward-turning exploration of my own ego. I guess that's why I'm not writing much right now. I'm feeling more like expressing myself in other ways.

While I'm quoting people, here's another quote I've been meditating on for awhile, that I feel I've finally internalized to the point where it's truly how I see the world. I have it on a little card on the refrigerator and have been painting it in calligraphy on little cards to leave around town ... just for fun, and maybe to share the blessing it's been to me:

Hm, what else? It does seem like a long time since I've written anything down. Just for utilitarian purposes, I'll go ahead and document some highlights, in no particular order.

1. I'm about half way done winding down with the antidepressants. They did their job for me again, and I'm grateful. Once again however they did cause me to gain weight – about 20 lbs since August – and that is not good for me. Actually, I don't think they directly caused the weight gain; what seems to have happened (again) is that they make me sleepy and hungry, and hungry specifically for carbohydrates, so that it's very hard to exercise and eat like I know I should. So I'm weaning myself off them and forcing myself to do what I need to, even though I really, really don't feel like it.

2. The job is still going great. I don't think it's possible to overstate how much I love it. This, too, I think, is a huge part of why I'm feeling so good these days.

3. Not that everything is perfect. I don't feel like cataloguing everything I don't like, though. It's all just normal stuff, no different than what most people have to deal with in one way or another.

4. We found out last week that Tater has diabetes insipidus. It isn't the same thing as diabetes mellitus ("sugar" diabetes – the kind I have) – it's caused by a deficiency of a different hormone, and isn't life-threatening; it mainly just means his kidneys can't concentrate urine properly so he needs to drink a ton of water, and pee a lot (that's how I realized something was going on; he was just drinking soooo much water). We're starting him on a medication that should help. Other than that, he's still doing great, enjoying his food, toys and walks, and even inviting Bea to wrestle with him every once in awhile, just like a big puppy. He'll be 13 on June 1.

5. Bea is just a wonderful, wonderful little dog. We're doing an agility class together, and she's also evolved into a major ball hound. That's fun for both of us and makes it easy to exercise her – I just throw the ball for her for 20 minutes a couple of times a day and that about does it for her.

6. I think I am officially turning into the nutty middle-aged dog lady. And I'm pretty much OK with that.

7. My latest obsession is finding the perfect underwear to wear under summer dresses. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to figure out how to make it myself, and I have a plan. It's based on a pair of ladies' old-fashioned silk combination underwear from the 20s that I found at a vintage shop a few years ago, and is basically a full slip with a camisole top and a long-ish split skirt at the bottom, and possibly some kind of drop flap at the crotch (this is the part I'm still working out, how the crotch needs to work in combination with the longer legs. The piece I have is more like tap pants on the bottom, but I wanted something that will work better on a bike). The goal is to create something that is loose, cool and comfortable, with no clinging waist band or straps to fall down, and with two legs so you can ride a bike without worrying about the whole thing flying up over your head.

8. We've been putting up birdhouses all over the property this spring and as of this weekend we have over 90% occupancy.

9. My early morning yoga experiment lasted exactly one day, at which point I pulled a muscle in my back (in an un-yoga-related incident) and was out of commission for almost two weeks. By that time I'd basically given up on the whole idea of my spring practice period, and decided to just do what I can, when I can. I'm still going to my class at the gym and practicing a little bit at home each day. I want to do more and when I can, I will!

10. The early rising thing was not a total loss, however. I'm learning how to go to bed earlier and gradually it's getting easier to wake up earlier without such a struggle. Part of the problem, I've realized recently, is Mr. A's schedule – he's up between 3 and 4 a.m. every week day, and even though I sleep in my own room, with ear plugs, I always seem to wake up at least partially whenever he's up and about. Synchronizing my sleep schedule with his, at least a little, has helped some; instead of going to bed at 11 or 12, I've been trying to be asleep no later than 10 p.m., which gives me a chance to get into and out of one good solid cycle before he wakes me up at 3. It's not a perfect solution but I think it's better than before.

11. I got through the whole winter without knitting a single thing and am now getting involved in summer sweaters, and tiny little pink sandals for newborn babies in Japan. This is not just any baby, but the baby of my first true love from high school, who's lived there for almost a decade now and is having a daughter in just a couple of weeks with his adorable Japanese wife. Apparently nobody does baby showers or shares baby clothes over there, so they are having to outfit the entire enterprise alone ... Except, they're not really alone – I'm crocheting furiously .... Wishing I had had the time and inclination to do more of this kind of thing when my own nieces and nephews were being born, but I guess better late than never.

12. Speaking of family, I've been more homesick for my brothers and sisters and parents over the last several months than at any other time I can remember since I left home at 18. I'm not sure why. I just love them so much, and miss them so much, and wonder sometimes why I'm still living out here so far away ... except that I love my family here – Mr. A and the dogs, and my friends – and I love my job, and the landscape, and the plants and trees and beautiful clean fresh air ..... Anyway, I'll be traveling to Utah at least once or twice this summer, and possibly to a few other places too. Looking very, very forward to that.

P.S. One more thing – I'm on the lookout for an extremely wide-brimmed straw hat, for gardening. The biggest one I have right now is about 18" across and I would love to have one that is at least two feet across, or even wider. Almost like a parasol for the head! Oh wait – maybe this? I'm actually picturing something more a little rougher, more rustic ... Let me know if you see something like that, won't you?

Bad news / good news

The bad news is I just got an overpayment notice from the unemployment people. Apparently I forgot to report some income I had back in February – despite my sincerest efforts at accurate record-keeping and reporting – and now I have to write them a check for the amount they paid me, that I wasn't entitled to. Plus, they "may" add a 30% penalty. Not to mention they "may also assess a penalty denying future benefits that I might claim for up to 23 weeks." Which would really suck.

I know it doesn't do any good, but man, I'm so mad at myself about this right now. I don't know how I could have overlooked it, but looking at the check stubs, it appears I did. The worst part is knowing that it doesn't matter that it was an honest mistake – when I call them on Monday to ask them to please not add those penalties, I fully expect them to think I'm a liar and a cheater trying to rip off the system, and to treat me as one. It's so maddening. I didn't do it on purpose! Also, anyone who knows me would know that the anxiety I feel at the very thought of possibly getting caught in a lie is more than enough to keep me in line.

So I'm just going to have to try and let this go, accept whatever they decide, and write the damn check. But for the record, I do want to state: I am not a liar!

On to the good news. We may have found a puppy. There's a litter of golden retriever / black lab mix pups at a rescue up north of Sacramento that we're going to look at tomorrow. I'm nervous and excited. I just found out about them this afternoon, and am feeling a little overwhelmed at the idea of having an 8-week-old baby dog to look after on only 24 hours' notice. With Tater it was so natural and easy; I knew his parents, and visited several times a week starting as soon as the pups were born. My friends and I spent that entire summer in puppy mode, so by the time he was old enough to come home with me I was totally in sync with the energy and routine of taking care of a very young dog.

I knew even at the time that it was about as perfect an experience as anyone could hope to have, and I appreciated every minute of it. It would be so great if I could do it that way again this time. There's something kind of weird about walking into a room, spending a few minutes with a dog, and then having to make an on-the-spot decision about whether you're going to invite that dog to be an intimate partner in your life for the next twelve to fifteen years.

Normally I would expect someone from the rescue to be intimately involved with each of the dogs, so you could get a more informed impression of each dog's temperament, energy level and personality. The lady I talked to on the phone today sounded like kind of a dingaling, though. She just kept saying how "sweet" the puppies were – which I didn't find very useful, since pretty much all puppies are sweet. I guess there's really nothing to do but drive up there and see for ourselves.

(Out the window: A small gopher standing at the edge of a garden path, chewing something.)

What I would like to Not do is spend every weekend for the rest of the summer driving all over the state to look at puppies that either aren't there anymore by the time we get there, or that turn out to be not the dog we want. Or, adopting a dog and then finding out that she's totally insane, untrainable, or otherwise incompatible with our family. Or, waiting too long, and ending up with a broken heart and an empty house utterly devoid of dogs.

I think I mentioned recently that Tater will be 12 years old on June 1. When he first came home with me I remember thinking, "This dog will be with me until I'm almost 50." I still really hope that happens, and it could. His health is good and he's happy, energetic for his age, and always up for a walk. Still. There's that saying about eggs and baskets. Going from two dogs to one was hard. Going from one to zero would be unbearable.

It's impossible for me to imagine loving any other dog as much as I love the Taterman. Is this how parents feel when they contemplate having more than one child? Maybe I'll be surprised to find I'm capable of more love than I realized. I hope so. Actually, I suppose I do already believe that's what will happen – it's kind of the whole reason we're getting another dog. Our family feels smaller these days, because it is smaller – by two members in the last year, with more to come – and we need to renew ourselves.

With all the hospice work and other death-related stuff I've been doing, this has really come home to me in the last few months – the need to renew. The older I get, the more I seem to see what it looks like at the end of things. Sickness, old age, death – they're all inevitable. If you don't make a point of mixing it up a bit with people who are still just starting out (babies and kids, in other words), it's easy to start feeling kind of fatalistic about things, like why even try when it's obvious it all ends the same way for everyone?!

The trouble is, I don't know many kids around here. I have 18 wonderful nieces and nephews but I only see them a few times a year. The kids I know here, I can count on one hand. One finger, if you want to know the truth. In this whole entire town I have exactly one friend who is a child.

Bizarre, eh?

So – a perfect time to start re-balancing my life in the direction of youth, growth, and puppies. And maybe start thinking about signing up with the mentoring program; it might be nice to know a few more kids, too.

Overdue

I've been holding on to this library book way past its due date, intending to track down the quote I wanted to remember – and now I finally found it.

Going into your fear is like going through a fog. The key is whether you're regarding what you experience as simply something real or instead as monumental entrapment, imprisonment. If you panic further, you breed cowardice. If you don't descend into cowardice, then you just have an experience of fear. You can break through without being a coward at that point. ... If you are able to join fear and uncertainty with genuine confidence, then you will come through to the other side.

He really nails it here, for me: "If you don't descend into cowardice, then you just have an experience of fear." The problem isn't that I feel afraid sometimes, it's more than when I do, I tend to think of it as monumental, important, life-defining. For some reason I've learned to make it into much more than it is, which is just an experience of fear. End of story.

At least, that's how I'm trying to remember to look at it. It does seem much more manageable when I can remember to do that.

Yoga was great, of course. My friends were sweet – the one who met me there, and the one who teaches the class. I'd never been to her class before and it was quite different from others I've done. It felt really energizing to do something new, in a new setting, with new people. Afterward we sat in the steam room for awhile, and then in the whirlpool, and I met a new woman who seems like she could become a friend. I felt so good on the way home I started imagining myself going to a class every day. There's really no reason I couldn't!

One thing at a time, however. Right now I'm totally focused on passing my statistics class. I'm so focused on it that I can't even remember if I talked about this already; it seems like it's all I think about or do all day long, and all night as well – all I see when I close my eyes is more numbers and formulas, and when I wake up I have the feeling I've been dreaming about them the whole time I was asleep. I'm not certain I'm going to be able to finish by the end of May and still get 100% on my two remaining exams, so I may end up settling for a passing grade after all – which is all that's required, though I really want to do better than that.

It's been interesting to see how this compromise is affecting me. Making a decision about grad school and diving in the way I did this winter is something I've never really done before, at least not with anything this big. Normally I like to plan everything out waaaay far out in advance so I have plenty of time to get things done absolutely perfectly, without having to rush or sacrifice the quality of my work. It's one of the things that drove me crazy about my last job – it seemed like there was never time to do anything very well, and I was the only person who even cared.

Anyway. My intention here was to stretch myself out of my comfort zone and try doing things differently, and I knew it would be uncomfortable, and it has been, but it's also kind of cool to see what I'm capable of. Maybe I am blasting through this class in less than the ideal amount of time, but the whole point of it is to satisfy a prerequisite to the MSW program, not to memorize, recite and interpret the entire textbook by heart.

I still don't like doing just an adequate job of something when I know I could make it perfect, but in this case I'm going to let it be OK.

Other news. Hmm. The hospice work is starting to happen. I visited my first patient a couple of weeks ago but they passed away a couple of days after our visit so I didn't get a chance to do much. I have a new assignment starting next week and in the meantime attended an in-service training on grief vs. depression that I thought was pretty interesting.

A little closer to home, Mr. A's mother is starting to fade pretty fast as well. We spent a couple of hours there yesterday and the situation is not good, but she's on service with hospice now so I'm hoping that will be some comfort to her. I need to spend some time writing about this whole thing offline; it's been pretty intense for me in several different ways.

This decision to not write about Mr. A's family issues makes me think of that situation that happened with me and my group of friends about a year and a half ago, in which my trying to process my own experience of it in this blog contributed to the person in question deciding that they couldn't talk to me anymore. I've wondered if I might have made a mistake there ... and while I'm still sad about the loss of that friendship, I don't feel like I did anything wrong. So what's different here? I guess the first thing is that the first situation had to do with a serious breach of trust that affected me personally and profoundly, and in this situation, while it's definitely affecting me, I don't feel like I've been wronged in any way. I guess that's it. It's a very sad situation that I'm a witness to, and there isn't a lot I can do to make it better, though I am (we are) doing what we can.

Actually, I'm not sure I'm being totally honest here. I could have chosen to write about that other situation offline too – why didn't I? Partly it was because I know that only a handful of people read this blog (seriously, I get the stats!), and all of them either already knew all about what had happened, or don't know me personally at all. So I didn't feel like I was revealing anything sensitive. Looking back on it though I think I was also trying to regain a little bit of my own power in the situation, by talking about it because I wanted to talk about it, even though I knew the other person didn't want me to. Was I passive-aggressively trying to hurt him?

I sat here for several minutes trying to answer that question and I keep coming back to "no." I knew he would probably hate it that I wrote anything at all, but that isn't the reason I did it. Still, if I had it to do over again I think I would have taken that one offline too. It wasn't malicious or extreme but it wasn't really very sensitive or kind, either. Or necessary.

Yeah, the therapy function of this blog is becoming pretty evident again of late.

In any case – getting back to the matters at hand – I'm getting some practice here in what it's like to be with someone who is actively dying, and it's making me very grateful for everything I've learned (and continue to learn) about staying calm, staying present, and accepting life as it comes without judgment or drama.

One other thing I don't think I've mentioned is that my parents have gone on a mission for their church. They left last week and will be gone six months. I'm proud of them and excited that they get to have this experience. I'm also feeling lonely for them, knowing they're even farther away now than they usually are. My mom emailed me that on their first day there they found several other couples and friends they've known for years and decades. That seems to be a pretty common experience in Mormonism (maybe other organizations too) – arriving in a place you've never seen before and being instantly assimilated into a deeply connected community life. There's a lot I don't miss about being part of the Mormon church but that one aspect just makes me want to weep from the loss of it. I've lived here 15 years and still don't feel as connected here as my parents do after just one day in their new town.

Something to strive for.

Extended stay

It appears being laid off has left me even more disturbed than I had realized. Several hours into my six-day road trip with a friend, some baggage shifted and as I was leaning into the back seat to straighten it, my friend said something about how lightly I had packed. "I'd never be able to pack just one little bag for a two-week trip."

"Two weeks?" I said.

"Um ... we're going back next Tuesday, so ..."

"Oh. Next Tuesday."

Turns out I had not noticed the actual dates of the trip, and read the "Thursday ... blah blah blah ... Tuesday" part as being the same 4-6 day trip I almost always do when I come here. This is typical of the kind of mistake I might make when my mind is stressed and distracted, but I've never blown it to this degree before. Not that it's such a bad thing, though -- Mr. A is home with the dog and aside from missing them there really isn't any other reason to rush back home on my original schedule.

So I'm here until next Tuesday, and today I'm spending some time planning what I'm going to do. Definitely pump up the tires on my mom's bike, and ride around some. There are hikes I want to do, and friends to catch up with, and lunches to eat at posh mountain resorts ... Also, there's a freelance copywriting project my brother-in-law was nice enough to send my way, which needs to be done by Wednesday.

So the exercise is going to be essential, because my poor mind/body is still freaking out, even though I keep trying to tell it everything is going to be OK. The worst part is the steady stream of rejection dreams -- every night I get kicked out of the car at the side of a road in a strange place, locked out of a building, broken up with by a series of strangely faceless husbands and boyfriends. And it's not just the rejection, it's the humiliation. Almost all of the dreams end with me crying hysterically and begging to be taken back, and waking up drenched in adrenaline and stress chemicals.

So blah blah blah and woe is me, etc. I'm not sure what to do to make this pass any faster, so as usual I'm dumping it all out in this boring online journal in hopes of letting it go long enough to accomplish some work and get some enjoyment out of the day.

On a completely unrelated note: I'm writing this in my dad's office and just noticed the little green plastic wind-up frog I gave him a few years ago sitting on the desk, right in front of a picture of my grandparents. It was just a silly little gift, and he's kept it around all this time. Not only that, but it has a little piece of wire wrapped around it where he's very carefully repaired the mechanism that makes the arms move. For some reason this strikes me as a really sweet thing to have done.

P.S. As for packing too light for a two-week trip, I pack pretty much the same (as much as I can carry without sweating) whether I'm going to be gone for two days or two months, so that wasn't really an issue. I might get some new hiking boots while I'm here though, if I can find some that I like. We did about an 8-mile hike last weekend in some fairly rugged terrain, and hoo boy were my feet killing me by the time we were done. Don't want to repeat that experience, or cut a great hike short because my dawgs are barking.

P.S.2. And another thing -- I'm curious to know why the exact same 6 oz. package of raspberries, with the same label, from the same farm in California, costs $5.99 at home and only $2.48 here. Doesn't it seem like the cost of travel would make it more expensive here, instead of less? Same with the exact same label, exact same farm avocados -- 25 cents each here, vs. $2.99 at home. I will definitely be investigating this situation while I'm here.

My dad is on Facebook!

I had the coolest experience on Facebook today – my dad friend-requested me! I accepted the request, of course, and then tonight I called and had the nicest conversation with my parents. Apparently one of my sisters had been telling him about something that happened on Facebook and he thought it sounded cool, so he googled it to find out what it was and then signed up for an account. It totally made my day to see him on there and I just wanted to take note of the occasion.

In other news, Spring Practice starts tomorrow and I've got a whole slew of activities I've decided to undertake – chief among them the commitment to non-wearing of black until after Easter. Others have to do with my diet (I changed the wallpaper on my cell phone to an old encylopedia illustration of the pancreas, for inspiration), my exercise routine, and my regrettable habit of talking trash about people who make me feel threatened.

Details to come, though I don't know when. Still very busy, and found out today I'll be working through the weekend again, long hours alone in a cold building while the rain falls and the wind howls .... I can use the overtime money and should come out of it with a few "free day off" vouchers so it all works out in the end.

Home again

I'm back – just too busy to write. I spent a quick and wonderful weekend in Utah celebrating my dad's 70th birthday, and the moment I stepped back into my California life a gigantic wave of work and activity washed over me, which I am still surfing to the best of my ability.

It's a good thing. Although I don't like being this frantic all the time, it's very satisfying to feel necessary, to know I'm contributing, to finish a few big projects and see that my work is good.

More pictures and activity reports to come; right now it's back to work.

Friday frivolity

Nothing better to take your mind off unspeakable horror than a stupid "pick that bag" contest.

The all red one is the one I have now. I like the basic design and the size. But the red – sometimes it's just not what I want. So these are some other fabrics I've been playing with. The one with the dots is a different kind of bag and I'm not sure it would really work, but it could be promising – it's actually meant to be a baby bag, which in this case just means they've taken a regular messenger bag and outfitted the inside with removable padded, insulated totes for things like diapers, bottles and extra clothes. Or, in my case, for all the food and other diabetes-related crap I have to haul around with me most of the time. I don't know what the layout of it is like inside though; I'm pretty attached to the million little pockets inside my current Timbuk2 bag.

Anyway. Colors.

And tomorrow I'm leaving for a long weekend with my family. My dad is turning 70 on Sunday, and I'll also be meeting my newest little nephew for the first time. I'm glad to be getting out of here for awhile; I could use a little freshening up of my perspective and faith in humanity.

Happy news

My little sister just called with some exciting news – she's having twins! This will make her the mother of six, and me the aunt of 17. Hooray!

This particular sister always amazes me with her incredible energy and marathon-running ways, in addition to her humor, calmness, creativity and just general sense of joie de vivre. Her husband, the same – an amazing artist, businessman, fly fisherman, and of course a really, really fun dad.

Two has always been my favorite number. Now, even more so. Can't wait to meet these new little folks!