My favorite place: an update

This is where I've been spending as much time as possible lately. It's a tiny little beach but because you have to hike a bit to get there, and probably for other reasons too, it's never all that crowded. I've been swimming as much as I can, just floating and diving and letting myself be carried by the waves. We saw dolphins doing the same thing a couple of weeks ago ... probably they were hunting too, I suppose ... anyway, it was cool to see them.

I appear to be entering perimenopause. The infamous fuzzy thinking has definitely taken hold, and I'm considering it one of the blessings of this time of my life that I'm not presently encumbered with a job that would make fuzzy thinking a detriment. When it takes over, I'm mostly able to just go with it. Which is not to say that I'm not getting anything useful done, just that I'm doing it at my own pace and timing rather than feeling bound to work by someone else's guidelines. It's actually pretty great. The hot flashes, not so much. I'm fine tuning my diet this month though and am expecting to be able to continue just riding them out when they happen. So far they've been few and far between, and uncomfortable, but not unbearable.

We missed the window of opportunity to live outdoors for a month or two while redoing the entire house, so have been focusing instead on doing other stuff that doesn't require emptying all the furniture out into the yard. The carpets have been shampooed and re-shampooed to within an inch of their lives, and amazingly, they look almost new again – so much so that I'm a little embarrassed at having waited to so long to do them. I really thought they were beyond hope. We now have the whole winter to look at flooring, cabinets, lighting and fixtures and make some well-considered decisions about what will work for the rest of our lives – since I never want to have to do this again – instead of rushing into a quick choice that may or may not end up making us (meaning, me) happy.

I've been looking at pictures of places I used to live in, and remembering things I liked and didn't like. The good news is, I still like a lot of the same stuff I've always liked, like unpainted solid wood doors, wood floors, checkered tile in the kitchen, certain colors and patterns ... If I've already liked it for 45 years, it's a good bet I will continue to like it. So we'll probably end up going with that. With some variations just for fun, of course.

Yoga is going great. I love, love, love my practice and my teacher. I'm riding my bike a lot more again now too, now that Bea is old enough to be left alone for more than just a few hours at a time. That's been really wonderful. Mr. A took me to test ride a few full-suspension mountain bikes and I'm thinking maybe I'll get into some off-road riding this year, in addition to my usual riding-for-transportation. It was amazing to ride off a curb on a bike so springy I hardly felt the bump. Also, I've started running, very tentatively, and swimming at the gym every once in awhile. And walking the dogs two to four miles a day. For all the work I've been doing, strangely, I haven't lost much weight ... I still look about the same as I always have. I feel good though. The depression seems to be fading too, for which I'm very grateful.

Not much is happening on the job front, though I am starting to look more seriously again. I sent several resumes last week, including one where an old friend is at least partly in charge of hiring (so, fingers crossed for at least an interview), and received a rejection notice from a barista position at Whole Foods. Hrmph. I've been working 10-20 hours a week on various web projects, and starting this week will be working one day a week at my friend's froufy home furnishings shop again, the same one I worked at last time I was grievously underemployed. She is sweet and the shop is beautiful, and I'm looking forward to getting out of the house and interacting with actual human beings on a more regular basis again.

As for school, I'm contemplating whether I want to reapply to that program now or not. I still don't have the experience they want, and not really any prospect of obtaining it, so it seems kind of pointless. There are other programs, though. In the meantime I'm looking for a place to start learning Spanish. Seems like a good thing for anyone living and working in California to know, and I've got the time. And I like languages. So there's that.

The dogs are great. They're a huge part of my life right now. Is that pathetic, or wonderful? I choose to think of it as wonderful. Bea is 45 lbs now and won first prize in the games at her graduation from puppy school, for mastering and demonstrating the most tricks and commands. She has several puppy friends that we meet at the dog park every once in awhile, and is turning out to be a complete and utter sweetie pie. She's still breaking in her big girl teeth on everything she can get a hold of, and she loves to dig in her water bowl, but the incessant frantic barking is finished and she's finally starting to enjoy snuggling and snoozing without constantly chewing on our hands and faces.

Yesterday we found out she's now tall enough to reach things on the kitchen counters – for example, the 3/4 lb steak that was cooling on a plate, waiting to be sliced over salads. I thought Mr. A had put it in the fridge, and he though I had, so it took us awhile to realize that the puppy snoring away on her back in the middle of the floor was not just sleepy from playing all morning, but from the aftereffects of a very large protein snack. I still don't know how she did it without pulling the plate off the counter, or leaving some tell-tale greasy mess somewhere ... But I know it wasn't me who ate it, and it wasn't Mr. A, and Tater can't stand up on his hind legs like that anymore, even if he wanted to – which he never has done in his life, anyway. What with him being the world's most perfect dog and all.

It was actually pretty cool to imagine her enjoying that steak though. I wish I could have seen her. Especially because it will (must) never happen again. I'm working with her now to make sure she understands the counter is not a place for dogs to eat, ever, ever, ever. Kind of sad, in a way, but probably best for everyone.

In other news, I just looked into a little mirror I have here on my desk and saw that I seem to be growing some new little nose hairs I never noticed before. Oh dear.

And finally, fall is time to dream of boots ... I haven't decided yet if I'm going to spend any money on boots this winter. It turns out I don't really love the ones I got last year, and have hardly worn them. Possibly I will sell them on eBay ... they're seriously almost brand new. I even still have the box. Anyway, in closing, here are a few that I've been looking at for 2010-11.




What are you wearing on your feet lately?

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.

More numbers

Last night on my way home from work I stopped at the pharmacy to pick up the last prescription refills that will be paid for by my insurance. I asked the pharmacist how much they would've been if I were paying for them out-of-pocket and found out it's even more than I thought. Today, I paid $45. If I refill the same prescriptions next month, it will cost me a whopping $385. That's more than an 800% increase, folks.

An eight HUNDRED percent increase.

The most expensive part of that by far is the test strips for my meter, which I'm pretty sure I can find online for less than the pharmacy charges. How often to test is a matter of much debate in the T2 community, but I like to test at least three or four times a day, or even more than that if something unusual is going on (new food, I get sick, etc.). With my current insurance, it's been costing me about 7 cents per test; with the new insurance, it will be anywhere between about 65 cents and $1.50 per test.

The result, of course, is that I'll be cutting way back on my testing. If I scale back to just one test a day I can make this latest refill last through the end of the year, and then the next time I buy them, at least the cost will go toward my deductible. For me, this is probably okay. For someone who needs to test a lot to keep from crashing and dying, it could be a real hardship.

All I keep thinking is, I'm so glad I'm not really sick! Although I guess if I were, that's about the only time I would get anything out of this new insurance .... Or at least that's what they've told us. Hopefully I will remain lucky enough never to have to jump through those particular hoops.

In other news, I have a new nephew, born yesterday. No name yet but I saw the pictures and he is, as you would expect, adorable. I'll meet him in October when I go back to Utah for my dad's 70th birthday party.

Rich and mighty (me?)

Augh! Today Julie wrote about the possibly impending demise (though it may yet be saved!) of a club she likes, and cited this monstrosity as a contributing factor. Go take a look!

Now seriously – how does anyone live in a place like this? As I said in my comment to her post, I would have to be a cadaver to be comfortable in a kitchen like that, and the artist's rendering of the living room makes me feel anxious, like I'm perpetually either about to miss my flight or plummet to my death. As for the views – it's never struck me so much as today, but looking out over the Manhattan skyline (I assume that's what it is) all I can think is that living in a huge city must be very much like living in the desert – vast expanses of sheer, unclimbable cliffs and hard, unhospitable terrain, with little vivid oases of life tucked in here and there and a lot going on under the surface ... Beautiful and windy and harsh up there above all those buildings, I would think.

But no, no penthouse suite for me, no thank you. I like to keep both feet more or less on the ground.

Anyway, it was funny to see that today because I was already kind of working myself up to a rant about the rich and frivolous (you should stop reading right here if you don't like my pissy, self-righteous side), in response to a piece I've been working on about someone I know who's building a 15,000 square foot replica of a certain famous house that used to be here (now destroyed), and the fund-raising party (for the organization whose board I quit last fall) featuring, among other things, views of the behemoth-in-progress and an abundant (one might even say over the top) menu of auction items including four days of luxury accommodations for six at the Burning Man Arts Festival in Black Rock City, Nevada.

That last item ... I don't know why that makes me so mad, but somehow it just freaks me out to think of anyone who would go to THIS party, also going to THAT party. Or really, not so much GOING to it, but paying someone else (via a donation) to take them there and pamper them, rather than making the arrangements themselves and actually participating in the spirit of the event, i.e., radical self-reliance and a GIFT economy (not purchase economy!).

I know, I know, I'm way too uptight about these things. But you know, I've seen the books – for six years I saw them – and I know what they bring in on an event like that, and I have to say – all these self-congratulatory people partying for a cause ... god bless them for contributing anything at all, because a lot of people who have homes here don't participate in the community at all. But I think of the houses this person already has, and I can't help thinking – what if, instead of building yet another super-ginormous tribute to his own Wealth and Taste (and ostensibly, a Cherished Legacy to the Future Citizens of This Valley), he were to take the money he's spending on this new project, and give that to the organization?

Yeah, I have issues about money! Lately I'm even more fascinated than usual by the uber-rich folks I know around here, because I've become a little obsessed about my own financial future, and in trying to figure out the best way to take care of myself when I'm old and gray (should I be lucky enough to live so long) it's occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, having an awful lot of money isn't necessarily the worst thing I could try to aim for while I'm still reasonably young and more-or-less able-bodied.

I guess I've always just felt like it was wrong to put so much energy into amassing great amounts of money, when there were so many other worthwhile things to do that were not getting done. Like it was selfish to spend time on that goal, and to spend money on things I don't really need, when I could instead be spending time helping other people.

But now I'm trying to see if it might be possible to look at it from a different perspective. If I had more money, I wouldn't necessarily have to spend it all on frivolous and extravagant purchases for myself. I could spend it on frivolous and extravagant purchases for my friends, as well. If I had more money, I would be better able to take care of myself when I'm old. I'd also be better able to help other people – friends, family, community. Like those folks on the hill do.

Somehow (I know I've already said this recently) it feels to me like right now things are trying to happen with my career. Another sign: last Thursday I got home from work and found a door-hanger on my front doorknob, announcing that Comcast is FINALLY extending their network down our road, and when I called the 800 number for details, I found out that service should be available at my house (that's broadband, baby!) within the next month or so.

Which means that the biggest obstacle to expanding my own network of clients and side-projects is soon to be no more, which means it now begins to make sense to invest in new software and equipment and business cards, and build myself a real website, and join the local professional organization, and figure out the taxes and deductions, etc. etc. – which means that this might actually be the year when I finally begin to take myself seriously as a Professional Artist and Business Owner, instead of thinking of myself as a semi-faker who never went to school for art, who sort of fell into this line of work and does a nice enough job of it, and bills it out so cheap she still gets clients anyway, every once in awhile.

Not that I expect to get rich this way, or at least, not rich enough to build a 15,000 square foot house. But I wouldn't mind getting some real curtains up in the living room one of these days.

Anyway! Tomorrow I leave for the Mesa Verde trip. I did finally get a new camera and have spent about a week learning how to use its many interesting features, so I'm hoping to have lots of nice pictures to share when I get back.

P.S. That fluff piece I wrote is publishing in a couple of weeks. Fluff or no fluff – I'm pretty happy with it. That feels good.

P.S.2. In the near future I want to write about my habit of vigorously resisting certain kinds of change, and digging in my heels whenever anything is trying to happen very fast in my life. It has been referred to by certain persons as "a tendency to not go for it," or more popularly as "driving with the emergency brake on," which sounds about right. I want to figure out what that feeling is all about, and how I can let it go. Just the fact that I'm starting to want to let it go feels like a big step in a direction I think I'm going to like!