Moved Out of Dad’s House…But No Apartment Yet
The last week was very hectic, and not in a good way. I said goodbye to my father’s home, the place I was raised along with my sibs; that was not fun, not pleasant, and was quite frustrating, besides.
I did have some help to get out of Dad’s house, mind. My good friend Lika and her husband and son helped me greatly. (Note that all four of us have significant physical limitations, but we did our best to work around them.) My sister and niece helped the day before the move-out, doing their best to consolidate and remove clutter (along with getting all of my clothes into one place; that’s a handy thing, and I appreciated it). Lika was able to find several things in my bedroom that had eluded me for months, for which I thanked her profusely.
But leaving was still tough.
See, the first thing I had to do the day of the move (which was last Sunday, BTW) was to rent a U-haul truck. I had no trouble renting it, but a great deal of trouble actually getting up into the truck (as it was not a low-rise type of truck, anyone who attempts to get in there has to have better knees than I do). At first, I didn’t know what I was going to do. Then my friend Lika came to the rescue, and she drove the truck (which was fine with the U-haul people) while I drove her car back to Dad’s house.
So, one obstacle down. A whole bunch to go…
At any rate, we loaded the U-haul with as much stuff as we could find. Some stuff still got left, including many of my books and some of my sheet music (probably most of it, but as it had mildewed in the basement over the years, it would’ve had to be thrown out anyway). But as far as I know, I got out all of the music I’ve written over the past twenty-plus years, all of my clothes, and at least some household things like chairs and my bed.
We took it to the storage place I’d picked out, and unloaded it. (Actually, I mostly watched Lika and her family do this. They knew I was struggling mightily by that time.) Then we went out to eat at George Webb’s (as they’re open 24 hours), and they went home as it had been a very, very long day.
I couldn’t get everything, though. Food was left behind (mostly canned food and yogurt). There was just no room for it in my car. In addition, all the pots and pans were left, as were silverware, plates, cups…I did manage to get out the microwave, the mini-fridge, the slow-cooker, and the blender.
Because I was quite tired, too, it took me seven hours to find nooks and crannies in my car in order to take as much stuff as I could. (Lika had already taken my musical instruments with my permission, as I felt they were safer with her than with me under the circumstances.) I had a few panic attacks, and at least one of them was so bad, I thought at first I was having a true, honest-to-Goddess heart attack.
Eventually, I left Dad’s house, after saying my final goodbyes, and wishing it well during the renovation phase. It was a good house for my family, and I will miss it.
Then I had to deal with the next obstacle, which was driving a fully-loaded car on a very sunny day. I’m not normally driving at that hour, much less with so much stuff in the car. It was a struggle to keep going, as I was so tired, I had to repeat like a mantra, “Stay in your lane. Hold your lane. Hold your speed,” over and over.
I’ve never done that before and hope to never have to do it again. But concentrating on that worked, and I drove safely without issues. (Score one for the good guys. Or the good girl. Or whatever.)
But as the title says, I have yet to find a new place to live. I am on quite a few waiting lists, and I have hopes one of them will have room soon.
For now, though, I’m staying with family. This is not a long-term solution, but it gives me time to rest and recuperate. I need that time, as moving took a great deal out of me.
This reminds me of something Michael, my late husband, said. After we’d moved into our new apartment in Iowa, which was hard on both of us as both of us walked with canes (we had no help), he said that he could not face another move. He just did not feel like he was up to it. He was right, though in this case, I think he’d have rather been wrong as him “not moving again” happened because his body gave out.
This might’ve been why I had the bad panic attacks. It also might’ve been why I wondered, again, how I’ve made it almost twenty-one years without the love of my life, and thought such self-defeating things as, “Your music won’t matter. Goodness alone knows, your books certainly haven’t sold much. Maybe you’re fated to live in obscurity the rest of your life.”
All of that may be true, though I hope it isn’t. Still, I have to do what I believe is right. I’m doing that.
And if my works never matter to the world as a whole, I just have to remind myself that out of all the creative sorts who’ve ever lived, we only know a fraction of their names, much less what they did. That does not make what they did bad, wrong, or insignificant.
Anyway, the move was stressful, difficult, painful (you don’t want to know how much I hurt after all that), and frustrating. But I’d like to think something good can come from it, somehow…even if I don’t yet know what that “something good” will be.
Housing Search Continues
Folks, I know I’ve been a bad correspondent lately. But there’s a reason for that.
As I said a few months ago, I knew that my father’s house would be sold soon. As I’d stayed at this house for several years before he passed and continued after, it’s a big change to be looking for a new apartment. Mostly, it’s a welcome thing, because if I’ve proven one thing in the last two years since Dad died, I am not capable of taking care of lawn maintenance or snow shoveling or weeding or any of that.
Mind you, if I didn’t need a cane to walk with, and if I were more flexible, I possibly could’ve done some weeding or something with flowerbeds or whatnot. But shoveling snow, using a snow blower…just out. And using a lawn mower, or shears to cut back hedges…that’s a non-starter, too.
I have had great neighbors, here at Dad’s house. They have consistently bailed me out by shoveling the walks and the driveway, mowing the grass, cutting back the weeds…really, these are kind people, and I will miss them when I’m out of Dad’s house (as I will be in a few weeks).
Now, as I hadn’t blogged about it yet, you may be wondering why I said “housing search continues.” That’s because I’ve been discussing it at Facebook on my personal page, trying to give updates every day or two as to what I’m doing to find a new place.
Mostly, I’ve had some help in finding apartment waitlists that I hadn’t known about, and I found out today from the housing counselor (that’s what I’m calling him as he’s been enormously helpful) that because Michael was a Navy veteran with an honorable discharge, there may be a few more places available to me as his widow.
Still, there are two songs that keep rolling through my head. The first is Three Days Grace’s “Mayday,” which has lyrics like “the more you know you know you know nothing” (yes, they repeat “you know” three times in a row) and “it’s hard to keep fighting, when you’re barely surviving.” (The reason it’s called Mayday is because the group is talking about people who are in extremis that feel like everything they’re doing makes no sense. Yet they keep doing it, even if they “walk like dead people who haven’t died yet,” and even if they’re “going down, but not today. We’ll never say Mayday!”) The second is from the Architects and is called “Everything Ends.” (I think that is enough explanation for one day.)
The thing is, while everything does end, we often have to end something in order to begin something else. Many times, we have to get through a whole lot of stuff that makes us want to yell “Mayday!” and get help before we can get to anything good. And sometimes, it’s hard to remember there are good things out there still waiting, or good people also, because so much has happened that you can barely take it in.
I miss my Dad a lot, more than I’d expected (and I had expected to miss him greatly, so that says something). But to honor Dad’s memory, I have to try to get through this move — one of the seven great stressors even for a healthy, fully ambulatory person (sans cane) — and hope I do find the right place for me to settle in for a while.
Then, I can get back to writing more, editing more, and hopefully enjoying life a little more, too.
Anyway, I will try to write a blog next week or whenever I have some good news to share on the housing front. Either way, I will keep watching the Brewers (go Brewers!), doing what I can to help my Mom so long as my body will allow it, and continue to pack stuff up as best I can.
Wish me luck with this, hey?
21st Street Culver’s, You’ve Disappointed Me for the Last Time (A Rant)
Folks, a couple of weeks ago, I went to the Culver’s restaurant (the 21st Street location in Racine, for those of you in Southeastern Wisconsin or Northern Illinois). Most of the time, Culver’s gets its orders correct, and most of the time when it doesn’t, it has tried to make it right.
Except…not this time.
I’d ordered fish, broccoli, and mashed potatoes for me, and burgers, plus another order of fish (also with broccoli and mashed potatoes) for my mother. The burgers were fine. No trouble whatsoever. But the fish was another story entirely, as were the “fixings.”
The broccoli was good. (Mom’s dog, little Brat, likes broccoli, and she enjoyed what I didn’t eat. Mind that I do like broccoli quite a bit, but two orders of it is just a bit much.) But the fish was all fat and almost no meat, and the mashed potatoes were crunchy. While there was some gravy on the potatoes, it didn’t help.
So, of the six pieces of fish, only two were of decent quality. One was of marginal quality. The other three were all fat, and by the time I got to my Mom’s, the restaurant had already closed so there was no point in calling them.
I was ill for a few days, so I had to wait to call them until nearly three days after I’d had this bad experience.
Now, here’s where my rant comes in. (You’ll understand why in a bit.)
If someone complains to you that the food was not right, and that the potatoes in particular were crunchy (not what you’re supposed to have with mashed potatoes), you shouldn’t be told, “You waited too long to let us know.”
But that’s what I was told.
In addition to the “you waited too long” comment, my experience and that of my mother was downgraded to “it must not have been that bad because you didn’t tell us right away,” and my asking them to please make sure other customers did not get crunchy mashed potatoes and/or fish that was all fat and no meat didn’t go anywhere. Something was wrong with the food preparation there, and I said so.
My concerns were not treated well. The manager I spoke to by phone was obviously young, but that’s no excuse. I had the feeling throughout my call that the manager thought I was a crackpot. (Or looney tunes. Or crazy. Pick your poison.) I didn’t like that. At all.
No customer deserves to be treated the way I was. It’s just not right.
Anyway, back to the phone call. I tried one more time, explaining to this same guy that I often went to this particular Culver’s because the burgers are great. I stopped there several times a month, and occasionally more than once a week. Mostly the food was good. But that doesn’t mean I should just shut up when the food is terrible, and I wasn’t about to do that.
There was no resolution to my call. The manager basically blew me off.
Then, I wrote to Culver’s using their email submission form. But I heard nothing, absolutely nothing, back from them, either. And that just made me madder.
Do these people think I have all day to sit around writing emails and calling them about bad food and poor service from the manager after a complaint? Do they honestly believe I’d just make this crap up? When I’d been a regular customer for years?
So that’s where I’m at. I do not like being condescended to, and I really don’t like my observations being thrown out the window because “it’s three days too late.”
Since this Culver’s did not do anything to make this right, my only recourse is to not go there anymore. And furthermore, I wrote this blog to let others know in this area that they might want to avoid this Culver’s, as the management staff obviously doesn’t care at all what happens to their customers.
There are two other Culver’s restaurants in Racine County that I’m aware of, and if I really need to go there (or my Mom wants her favorite burgers again), I’ll be going to one of those two and leaving the 21st Street location alone. I’ve never had bad experiences at either one of those and am at least willing to give them a chance.
But 21st Street? Nope. Never again.
The upshot here is, the 21st Street Culver’s should’ve known better than this. No matter when someone complains, it’s likely they had a real problem if they still remember it three days later. (I wish I’d have taken photos of the crunchy potatoes. I didn’t think of it at the time. I’m not sure the fish would’ve been able to be seen, but those potatoes…yikes.) Especially when someone like me, who often stops there and has for years, complains about something odd like this, they should not be condescended to, and they definitely should not be treated as if they don’t matter.
I have no idea what happened to my comments at the email submission form. But at this point, I don’t care. I’m really upset with this Culver’s location, and I do not plan to go back there ever again.
Take this as a public service, folks. If you live in this area, avoid that Culver’s. They don’t know how to treat customers. And the food will likely not be up to par.
Damian Lillard Deserved Better from the Milwaukee Bucks
Folks, as I’ve said in a few comments elsewhere on the internet, I have rarely been as disappointed in the Milwaukee Bucks as I am right now.
Why? Well, they waived star point guard Damian Lillard in order to use an esoteric “stretch” provision in the collective bargaining agreement between the NBA and the NBA Players Association. This allowed them to divide the two years of Lillard’s salary over the next five years’ worth of time.
That would not have been my choice, ever.
I don’t care what financial obstacles the Bucks had in trying to keep Giannis Antetokounmpo around another few years. The fact is, Lillard did everything asked of him in the last two years, including coming back from having a blood clot in his calf as quickly as he possibly could (something that often takes players completely out of a season even if Game 1 of the new season has just been played). Lillard had this happen approximately 2/3 of the way through the season. He was back before the playoffs started, which is a credit to not only his toughness and team spirit, but his overall physical fitness.
Lillard was praised by former Bucks center Brook Lopez due to Lillard’s unselfish play, too, earlier this year (long before the blood clot issue). Coming to the Bucks, Lillard had always been the number one option. He’d have to change his game to a degree in order to work with Giannis.
Lillard did that, which is almost unheard of from a man of his caliber in the NBA.
Look. Lillard will be in the Basketball Hall of Fame someday. He’d be in there right now if he had for some reason decided to retire. We were lucky to have him for two full years in Milwaukee, as he was and remains a classy individual who works hard and is a family man. He was never all about himself. He was always about the team. He also worked hard on his defense, to the point that he made several excellent defensive stops during the season — something no one would’ve believed (except maybe Lillard himself) before they happened.
In my opinion, no one in the NBA should treat someone the way Lillard was treated in being waived. He wasn’t told by the Bucks front office as far as I know. (I’m no insider, of course.) He wasn’t clued in by Giannis, who probably had to know about all this nonsense (as part of the reason for Lillard being waived was to get a younger center for the Bucks, and the Bucks couldn’t do that unless some of Lillard’s salary was deferred). The Bucks didn’t go to the NBA as far as I know and say, “You know, we might have to waive Lillard, which will make us look terrible, like ingrates, like cheapskates, in order to sign someone else.” (Yes, they did go to the NBA and request “salary relief” from them, which was not granted. But did they really put it all on the line the way I just did? If so, shame on you, NBA!)
Lillard should’ve at minimum been told by the Bucks front office that he was about to be waived. In addition, because Giannis is known around Milwaukee and Wisconsin for being a good person, Giannis should’ve contacted Lillard and told him he wished him well and that this should not have been the end of Lillard’s career with the Bucks.
For Lillard to come back from the blood clot issue, only to have an Achilles tendon tear in the playoffs, was exceptionally difficult to watch as a Bucks fan (and probably even worse as a Bucks player). To see someone play with such heart get waived all because of money really ticks me off.
I hope Lillard knows that at least some of the Bucks fans out there are not happy with this move. (Not that we can do much about it, but still.)
I also hope that Lillard will, when he is healthy, come back with whatever new team he signs with, and scores fifty-plus points against the Bucks. (And I have never said that before, except in one comment I made a few minutes ago prompting this blog, ever, as I am a Bucks fan.)
In short: Damian Lillard is a good person, did his absolute best for the Bucks and their fans, and absolutely, positively, did not deserve this terrible treatment from the Milwaukee Bucks.
As for the Bucks GM, as for Giannis himself…if they really did not do anything to clue Lillard and/or Lillard’s agent that something like this was about to happen, I have news for them.
Karma is a mother, sometimes.
Recent Heckling of MLB’s Ketel Marte Troubling
Folks, most of you who’ve read this blog for any length of time know I’m a baseball fan. And while my favorite team is the Milwaukee Brewers (always has been), my heart goes out to players who’ve suffered from life.
Take the Arizona Diamondbacks second baseman Ketel Marte, for example. Most people wouldn’t know he’s suffered loss, as he often smiles, laughs, and jokes around on the field…but recently, a fan heckled him in Chicago and it upset him dearly.
While I don’t know exactly what was said, Marte’s mother was invoked. It was apparently far beyond a “your Mama wears combat boots” type of insult, which most MLB players have heard since their days in Little League. My guess is it went like this: “It’s a good thing your mother’s already dead, considering what you just did.”
That’s wrong. It shouldn’t have happened.
See, Marte’s mother died in 2017. He still grieves for her. She died in a car accident, which means it was a sudden and completely unexpected death.
Marte is now thirty-one years old. He’s still a young man. But most of his success in major league baseball has come after the death of his mother, and that’s been very hard on him.
Maybe some of you are thinking, “He’s making big money. Why should I care?”
You should care because you’re a human being and you’ve likely suffered loss yourself.
I know that I understand how he feels. If someone heckled me about my late husband, I’d be first livid and then later very sad. It’s hard to stay above such personal insults. It hits you on a raw spot, even years later.
As for the unnamed fan, he’s been indefinitely banned by not just the White Sox, but by the entirety of MLB.
Baseball players are human beings. Their careers are often quite short. The money they make seems nice on its face, but there are a lot of trade-offs that come with that money, including constant travel, the potential for serious injury, the loss of time with their families, and much more. It’s not a job most people would want if they considered all the downsides, including possible interactions like with this dumb-as-a-box-of-rocks fan.
Most baseball fans have reacted the way I have, whether they’ve lost someone close to them or not. They know that insults like that are not acceptable and cannot be tolerated by civilized human beings.
I really wish everyone would try to remember that we only get this one life to live. We should approach people with dignity and respect as much as possible.
So if you’re going to yell insults at a baseball player or other athlete, stick with how they’re playing. Leave the parents, spouses, children, etc., out of it.
But better yet, don’t heckle at all. Life is too short for that.
Father’s Day Has Come and Gone (and I Have Thoughts)
Folks, yesterday was the second Father’s Day I’ve observed since my Dad died. It wasn’t an easy day in a lot of senses, mostly because the weather has been crappy in addition to observing this day…the air quality here has been downright awful, not just for asthmatics like me, but for everyone due to the Canadian wildfire smoke.
Anyway, Dad and I had a complicated history and relationship. He helped me many times, which I appreciated, but did not want any appreciation for this. (“You’re my daughter,” he’d say firmly. “What am I supposed to do?”) We talked about a lot of sports, we also talked about current events, and while we didn’t always agree on everything, Dad was a good conversationalist and enjoyed verbal sparring to a degree.
I miss him.
He was cantankerous. He delighted in being that way. He felt men should be strong, capable, and caring…but he also really didn’t like a lot of what he was seeing in contemporary society.
For example, to him, Giannis Antetokounmpo should’ve married his wife a lot sooner. They had several children before they married. I think the reason for them not getting married before having the kids is because life as an international superstar is not easy. Scheduling something as big as a wedding must be a difficult endeavor for someone like Giannis.
I do think Dad would be happy that Giannis married at long last (as this happened after Dad’s passing). Giannis always was true to his wife, and he’s been true to his kids, and I think Giannis’s own father would’ve been proud of him whether Giannis ever legally married his wife or not.
The difference, though, is in how Dad, being of an older generation, viewed marriage. He truly believed you should not have kids before marriage. (He knew people had sex before marriage and had for thousands of years, regardless of what that partnership ritual was called.) He thought it a difficult and problematic thing for the children because of things he saw in childhood, no doubt.
See, my father lost his mother when he was just eleven years old. His father was at the time a long-distance trucker, I think…and while other relatives would’ve taken in Dad and his three siblings, they wouldn’t take all four of them. So, my grandfather Edward made the difficult decision to put all four of them in the local orphanage as that was the only way they’d see each other every day. (Dad said it wasn’t easy, either. His two sisters were in the girls’ wing, while he and his brother Richard were in the boys’ wing.)
I don’t know all the people Dad met in the orphanage, much less the lessons he learned there. I do know he was there, as were his sibs, and it marked him for the rest of his life.
Mind you, he was not bitter over it. He understood his father’s reasoning and was glad to be able to see his sibs every day (even if it wasn’t easy to see his sisters).
But his life was upended very early, which is one reason he was a huge supporter of places like the Boys Home and such. He’d been there. He knew that everyone should have as many opportunities as possible.
Dad did his best to make things as stable as they could be despite my parents’ marriage always being difficult. (Loving, but difficult, is the best I’ve got to describe it.) Even after my parents divorced, it was clear that we’d always have a home with him (and also with Mom). This was a good thing, because several times in my life, I needed to stay with Dad in order to sort out things as best I could.
While I’m glad I was with him the last several years until his body just gave out, I wish I could’ve had the big music career everyone had expected of me rather than the series of difficulties and distresses I endured otherwise.
Mind, I will never regret studying music. I continue to compose music when it comes to me, and it remains a big part of my life even though I haven’t been able to play my saxophone, clarinet, or oboe in almost two years.
I still believe that if my health ever improves, because of the talents I possess musically, I might do well overseas in France or Spain. They love classical saxophonists there, and the culture there has a richness that I would love to experience for myself.
Anyway, Dad served in the Navy, and he was stationed in Japan for a year or two (he was a radio technician). Because of this, he was sympathetic to my wish to go overseas and learn whatever there was, while experiencing whatever there was…even as he knew my health has never been robust, and that my dreams may stay just that.
Wisps in the ether.
Dad pivoted several times in his life when he needed to do so, even though he never liked it. (I don’t blame him.) He was an excellent postal carrier. (That’s how he always described it. “Mailman” didn’t seem like nearly enough.) He worked as a cashier and grocery stocker at one point (which I found out after I’d gotten a job as a cashier and stocker myself). He played the drums and spent over ten years in the Racine Municipal Band (starting before they changed the name to the current Racine Concert Band), mostly playing the bass drum. He delivered flowers and newspapers, too.
Dad also didn’t like most modern conveniences whatsoever. He disdained microwaves (though he didn’t mind me using it myself, as I have one), did his dishes by hand, and until the last few years of his life, used a push mower rather than a gas-powered one. He delighted in his orange tiger lilies, enjoyed watching nature — the squirrels, birds, bunny rabbits, etc., were endlessly fascinating to him.
Most of all, he enjoyed being in his own home, where he could make any food he wanted any time he wanted. The simple pleasures, he often said, were the best.
While many things in this world are deeply upsetting, we have to hold on to the positive things. The positive memories, too. We have to know what we stand for, and what ethical purpose we’re here to serve.
That’s what I learned from my father, among other things.
So, when I see bunny rabbits rooting in the yard and they look like they’re about to run away, I talk to them in a gentle voice. (Most of the time, they don’t run away if you’re kind and obviously mean them no harm.) When I see birds nesting in nearby trees, I wish them well raising their chicks. When I see the squirrels on the nearby fence, I laugh at some of their comical actions.
Life is very difficult. It can be frustrating, upsetting, and a hundred other things. But it also can be wonderful with the right people around you, and with a willingness to believe that kindness still matters.
That, too, I learned from my father, though he probably would be astonished to know that if he were still here.
At any rate, I wish everyone well and hope for a safe, peaceful, and enjoyable week ahead. (Drop me a note in the comments, if you’d like. I always enjoy hearing from my readers.)
P.S. For those who’ve asked — the health issues continue. It’s not just the bad air quality we’ve had off and on. I still have that rash and will be seeing the dermatologist again later this week. (Let’s hope that something can be done. At this point, I’m wondering if there’s an underlying infection.)
Weather, Driving, and Other Updates
Folks, while I’m glad it got a little warmer today, I didn’t need it to be as humid. It was our first truly warm day of the year, and might’ve hit 80 F, but it felt worse due to the humidity.
The weather forecasters say that tomorrow, we should have heavy rain. I think that’s sensible. We’ve had a bunch of colder weather that’s reminded me more of March than May (and now, early June), and in a way, maybe it’s a good thing.
OK, in some ways, it’s not. My arthritis is worse in cold and humid weather than it is in warm and humid weather, though any humidity will set it off. I also have to say I don’t enjoy frost warnings in the middle of May, nor did I like seeing my father’s prized orange tiger lilies start to bloom, only to wither due to the frost warning a few weeks ago. (Explanation: It is a perennial, yes, but most likely I will not be in my father’s house that much longer. Assuredly, I won’t be here next year to see them without some sort of financial miracle.)
But the reason I said it might be a good thing is that many times, in mid-May, I start thinking about when Michael started seriously preparing to get to me, so we could get married in mid-June. He actually got there around June 7, back in 2002…so of course, this week, especially with the heat and humidity, I’ve been thinking a lot about that.
Later this month, I’ll be celebrating twenty-three years since the day Michael and I married. That’s always a bittersweet day on the calendar. I start thinking about how wonderful it was to be with him, even though we didn’t get that much time together…and then I start thinking about other men who aren’t as good still being alive, and wondering why.
For example, when men cuss out the grocery cashier around me, I wonder why they’re alive. Obviously, they have no interest in common courtesy, and they’re modeling bad behavior for their own children (the last two guys who did this had kids in tow, presumably their own).
I also wonder when I see bad drivers do stupid things on the road. I recently was driving home from my Mom’s, and someone ran a red (I had the green) and burned rubber speeding down the road. If I hadn’t stopped, or at least not started to accelerate, I would’ve been T-boned. And as I said, the guy clearly had a red light.
The good thing in this particular case is that the police were right there. They got that guy.
I also saw something a few weeks ago that I may have not blogged about before. I was driving close to a local cemetery that’s known for having geese and ducks in its pond. It was dusk. I had someone tailgating behind me even though I’d just left a stoplight, and they were less than a foot behind me. Ducks were crossing, and at first, because it was dusk, I didn’t see them. I swerved, and I still don’t know how I avoided them. (Picture five or six ducks. Two adults, probably Mama and Papa, on each side of a bunch of ducklings.) The driver tailgating also swerved, so no ducks nor ducklings were hurt.
I have to say, though, I put my head in my hand at the next stoplight. I knew how close to an accident that had been. I would’ve had to choose to hit the ducks rather than getting hit squarely by someone going at least fifteen miles over the posted speed limit of thirty-five MPH, and I hate hitting wildlife.
Anyway, June is a tough month for me. It’s in many ways the best month I ever had, if you go back to 2002. It’s also been a very quiet, difficult, and frustrating month since Michael died.
I think Michael would be happy that I’m still trying my best to write, to edit, and deal with my health. (That rash on my back is still here, BTW, and is no better. It’s quite frustrating.) Editing has been slow. Writing has been almost nonexistent. But I am trying, and I haven’t given up.
Michael used to say that I shouldn’t let anyone put me down, including myself. (He said this because I’m known to be extremely hard on myself.) He was big on emphasizing the positives if at all possible; otherwise, he used the Buddhist trick I’ve told you about before, where he let himself feel whatever stress was going on — money, work, car issues, health, you name it — for five minutes or so, then he’d say, “OK, self, I’ve felt that. Now let’s get on.” (He’d not put it quite that way. That’s my way of putting it. But the sentiment is true.)
So, I’m trying to use that Buddhist trick as best I can, even though I’m not a Buddhist. It helps some, at least some of the time.
Today’s good news is that my favorite baseball team, the Milwaukee Brewers, have as of tonight won eight games in a row. In addition, outfielder and designated hitter Christian Yelich was the Player of the Week last week due to his excellent play.
Other than that, I’m alive, trying my best.
Hope you all are doing as well as possible. (Let me know in the comments, if you feel up to it.)
Barb Caffrey's Blog 