Rapping Grandma and Brain Funk

I managed to lose the two pounds I gained on Prednisone and am down one extra.

My youngest son is a DJ. He called my mother, age 78, last night and had her rap on the radio. First he had to help her "prepare." Then they did the actual recording. It was too funny not to have it on here.

The therapist told me to read Self Matters by Dr. Phil. It said you were suppose to list ten defining moments in your life, events that changed you even though they were probably not memorable to others. I told the therapist I hadn't done that yet, because what if I had more than ten? And how would I narrow them down? What if I couldn't think of ten? So she told me to throw the perfectionism out the window and just do it. If I got five or twenty-five--didn't matter, just make a short list of a few words about what each event was. I did that. Then I go back to reading the book. Dr Phil says you have to go back to each item, think about how you were feeling, who was there, what happened, smells, sights, sounds, your thoughts, etc. I told her I hadn't tackled that part yet. She quickly said for me NOT to do that at home. I should only do that in her office with her. Of course, my first thought was....Why? Do you think I can't do this myself without cracking up? Or do you think I won't do it right? My brain marches to it's own drummer most of the time, and the drummer is nuts. ha. So I'll take my little list and go there next week and see how it goes.

Yesterday, I called my mom and told her I was going to come down and visit her AND MY SISTER one day soon. I have seen my sister less than a handful of times in ten or twelve years. I think I have grown enough through the therapy process to do this. No, I didn't ask the therapist about it. I just mentioned it to my mom to see if I would be welcome in my sister's home and to give them time to talk it over. Of course, my mom said it was a great idea. But then, she hasn't talked to my sister yet. So we'll see. I'd like to make peace with everyone in my life. Not necessarily deep relationships, just peace would be fine.

I also told the therapist that I'm back to the "my house is so cluttered, it's driving me nuts" period in my life I go through now and then. She said it's controlling the things outside myself when I feel I can't control the inside. I'm not sure I understand that.

I'm also suppose to start becoming more aware of my ego strength or emotional strength. Like, when I have to go out in a social setting and make conversation with people I am uncomfortable around, I come home exhausted, emotional strength =0 or 1. When I feel great, can't wait to get up and get out there and have lunch with friends and join groups and socialize, supposedly a 10. I recognize the pits. I don't recognize anything in between. I guess that's why I'm suppose to try to become more aware of it. This is another one I don't know how to do.

Well, we missed the debate last night because of American Idol and Biggest Loser, so I'm going to go watch it now. Have you wondered why it's "McCain" and "Obama" and "Hillary?" Why call her by her first name and the guys by their last names? Senator Clinton, you go girl!

Shopped, Dropped, Thrilled

Well, I got inspired. From what? An Oprah show. You know I'm not crazy about Oprah, but I did appreciate the guy on there who showed women I identify with, finding a new look. You know those women.

The ones, like me, who would rather have on sweats or pajamas all day, who pray they can run out to the grocery without seeing anyone they know. Since I stopped working, it's becoming easier and easier to be that woman.

Well, I've lost some weight, my clothes are too big. I decided I needed to reward myself. But what to buy? My idea of clothes shopping is to buy what looks good on the mannequin. Then I get home, and I like maybe the pants from the outfit are great, but the sweater is too short or scratchy. So I never wear the sweater, but like the pants. So the pants join the rack of "stuff I like but nothing matches." My whole closet has the same story.

This guy on Oprah said all women need ten basic items to mix and match and look great with COMFORT. That's my favorite word. Comfort. (Of course, his basic ten seemed to grown to about twenty if you really paid attention to the show.) Ok....black pants. I have those. White and black turtlenecks...my hot flashing body ruled those out.

A bright colored trench coat to throw over jeans, or even a black dress. I needed one of those. I ordered a red one from Target. Showed the pic to my daughter who said it looked very "Audrey Hepburn." Hmmm...Anyway, it hasn't come yet, but I'm looking forward to seeing if it looks as good up close as I thought it did in the picture.

He said we need dark wash jeans. Not sandblasted, stonewashed, bleached, holed, or faded. DARK wash. And, get this. WHITE jeans. His exact words were "Size six or size sixteen, you need a pair of white jeans..Fresh...Cute...year round." Ok, I've never owned a pair of white jeans. But it sort of made sense to me. And I figured if my butt looks huge in them, I can cover it up with the red trench! So far, so good.

Crisp, white shirt. Ordered me two of them online. Then tees. Bought a white one, and a red one. A white denim jacket, which I ordered.

Guy says we need a white purse, which is fresh and year round. My husband took me shopping, and I came home with a black and white purse, a black purse, and a red purse. Plus a cute pair of black flats, just for good measure.

I never go shopping. My husband used to take his first wife clothes shopping all the time. He was happy when I asked him to go. So I tell him sort of what I'm looking for...white blouse....red tee, etc. He shows me a lot of things I don't like. Then he finds this one white blouse, to which I reply, "Hang on to that, and I'll try it on."
He gets this big smile, and says, "That's the first time in five years I've picked out any clothes you like." Awwwww. I felt bad. I bought that blouse, even though it ended up not being one of my favorites. But how could I not?

Anyway, this was my big shopping spree for the year, thanks to our tax refund and a sweet husband. Now I have all my new clothes on hangers, and all my new purses spread out on the kitchen table. I feel like a kid at Christmas.

And I learned that it's not just a figure of speech to say "shop till you drop." I have never been so pooped in my life. I came home and passed out on the couch and slept until time to go to bed. But it was so FUN!

Nutjob and Dreaming

This time, I actually have something to write about.

Two weeks ago, I got a call on my cell as I was getting ready to go to bed. Some old guy said, "Kathy?," and when I said yes, starting slurring and mumbling something I couldn't understand, so I hung up. The next day he called when I had my phone turned off. His message went something like this..."Listen, I don't care if you're going by Brenda, or Kathy, or whoever the f**k you are. You have messed with the wrong man. Then he went on to beg his mystery lady to call him back in between crying and cussing her."

The next day, I answered the phone. I told him, "Mister, you have the wrong number." He said, "I don't have no f**king wrong number. I was married to you for twenty years. I still love you. You're f**king with the wrong guy." So I hung up.

The next night at midnight, my phone rings. By this time, I had actually entered this guy's number in my call list labeled "NUT-JOB" so I would know not to answer when he called. So my caller screen said NUTJOB. I refused the call. Go back to sleep. Phone rings again. Nutjob. So I turn off my phone.

The next day, Boy! do I have messages! From what I could understand, Brenda is his ex-wife, who left his drunk ass, and is living with another man, and he hates her guts and wishes she would die. However, since he knows she's not happy, and she knows she still loves him as much as he does her, if she'll come back home, he'll buy her a mansion. Of course, he cusses her a lot in between his offer for wealth. ha.

Ok, so by now my husband is livid over this a**hole waking us up at night. So besides changing my voice mail message to not have my name on it anymore, I decide to just refuse all his calls. I call my cellular provider to ask aboout blocking this idiot's number. Can't be done, they say, but they do offer to change my number. I don't want to change my number. I say I'll just handle this.

So that night, we are watching TV. Nice, quiet, peaceful evening. Then NUTJOB calls. My husband, mild mannered as he is, blew his cool and answered. He yelled that the guy is a drunk bum, he better stop calling his wife's cell phone, he has the wrong blankety blank phone number, stop calling us, etc. Then he hangs up. In a few minutes, Nutjob calls back. He is now convinced he has gotten his dear Brenda's new love on the phone. He's furious with my husband. So I talk to him. I say, Mister, for two weeks you've worried me to death leaving messages on the WRONG NUMBER. If you call me anymore, I'm going to report you for harassment. Stop calling this number!"

Then he calls back. We turn off my phone.

Next morning, a fresh batch of two more voice messages saying, "Your husband is an idiot. He must think he's a brain surgeon. Maybe he is a doctor, but he doesn't give a G*dd*mn. He knows he has the right number, and Brenda, by God, he's not going to give up. etc. etc."

By now, I'm seriously considering getting my number changed, even with all the inconvenience this could cause me.

That afternoon, phone rings again. He's drunk, but not quite as unintelligible as usual. I tried the calm approach. I said Mister, you've been leaving messages for some lady named Brenda for two weeks on my phone. Yes, my husband is upset with you. You're calling all hours of the night. I know you want your messages to get to person you are trying to call. But that's not me. You really ARE calling the wrong number. He asked if our number was ***-****, and I told him no ours was actually one off from that (the number under the button he was trying to hit while falling down slobbering drunk). He said, "Welllllll, Ahhhhh---mmmmmm....sarrrrrr.....eeeeeee." Hangs up. No more calls. Knock on wood.

My daughter thinks the voice messages are funny enough to put on the blog, but we couldn't figure out how to do that. So you got the abbreviated versions.
Anyway, since nutjob quit calling, my life is somewhat back to normal.

I'm still seeing the therapist once a week, and it's like after years of floundering and feeling like I'm wasting my gas money driving over there, I can actually see progress. I no longer feel hurt or pain regarding my bio family. If my mom calls, I'm actually happy to talk to her. I even call her, too. I'm visiting my dad regularly, as an ADULT, not feeling like a three year old when I'm there. I feel a lot of apathy when I'm talking to them. Like they are not really close to me, but they are connected, and I have an obligation to them. However, I don't feel close enough to feel like their opinions could hurt me, and I don't feel this screaming need to have their approval anymore, which is a giant step forward.

After five years of marriage (next month), I'm finally starting to relax around my husband. Last week, I told my therapist that what I'd love to do is go out by myself for the day shopping, but every time I mention going out, he starts putting on his shoes. And while I really don't mind him going, the whole time we are in the store, my brain is racing with thoughts of He is probably bored and ready to go. I should hurry. Then there is nothing relaxing to me about browsing because I'm worried about him getting antsy. She said, "How about this. You tell him before you go in the store...."For years, I shopped alone. I enjoy shopping with you, but the whole time I'm in there, I worry constantly of whether you're bored or ready to leave. This time I'm just going to leisurely browse the store and not worry about it. If you want to go, you'll have to tell me."

My husband said he found a gift he wanted me to have. He saw it in an airport while he was on his business trip. He knows I like Hillary, while he hates her. So he came in her yesterday saying he had found the item he wanted on Amazon and when he went to order it, it was signed into my account. He wanted to switch it to his credit card and wanted me to show him how, but I was not to look at what he had ordered. So I switched his payment method, and of course, I looked. It said, "Hillary Nutcracker."

So I came into the living room and get on my laptop and look up this item. It's a replica of Hillary Clinton, about Barbie doll size, and you can actually put nuts in between her knees and crack them. I thought this was stupid, rude to me since I like her, demeaning to women (powerful women are nutcrackers? I think this goes back to men who are scared if they stand too close to a gay guy, or wear a pink shirt, or hug another guy, their nuts will magically fall off. Men. Geez. Isn't it nice to be a woman. I can say, "Hey, you look great in those jeans, Marge. I can hug another woman when they're crying. If someone says, Hey I feel a lump, there is no biggie in me feeling her boob, and I don't worry that the estrogen fairy will strike me dead and throw me out of the female ranks.)

So I am offended at his choice of gifts.
So when I get the confirmation email that he has ordered this item for a total price of over $22, I go back on there and cancel the order. No,I didn't tell him. I thought since he's already planning to fork out the 22 bucks, I'll just buy myself a gift card from Amazon instead. Then I'll either 1) tell him they were out of stock on whatever he ordered and they gave me a credit which I spent on e-books or 2) tell him I thought his gift was stupid and in poor taste, and I canceled it, but went ahead and kept the money so it would be the gift that counted, not the actual item.
Hmm....Either way, I think I'll wait until he begins to wonder why his gift never arrived. God, we need a woman president so badly in this country....

My middle son is in Seattle, on his job interview, which for his sake, I hope he gets because he wants it so badly, and for my sake, I hope he doesn't because then none of my children will live in the same state as me. Selfless vs Selfish. Geez.Motherhood.

Back to the counseling, she has me reading Self Matters by Dr. Phil (or Dr Dork according to my husband), a book called Being a Better You by Joel Olsteen. I'm also reading the Book Thief, and another book on the Atkins Diet, and have about fifty others waiting on my Kindle to read. What I'd like to do is go off to a mountain cabin by a lake and curl up and read, undisturbed, for a month or so.

Oprah had a show where you are suppose to make images of your dreams and put them on a bulletin board until they come true. Here's my dreams.

Total financial independence. I don't want to live like Paris Hilton. I want to live my life where I am without any money problems.

I want to empty my townhome, have it totally painted, have hardwood floors put down, rebuild my kitchen cabinets, add professional appliances, granite countertops in kitchen and baths, and hire a decorator to make me feel like I'm coming home to a spa in Kyoto. I want a mimimalist look with cleaned off tables, countertops, dressers, etc.

I want to buy a Class B camper van, fill it up with gas, and drive. Go wherever I want to. Stop and see sites along the way. Eat at some new places. Take lots of pictures. Come home when I get ready but have no time table.

I want to throw out my television and have classical music piped into my house twenty-four seven.

I want to knock out walls and make huge windows in my house to let in more light. Skylights even.

I want to finish losing this weight, not have a single stitch that fits me, take about five grand, and go shopping for a whole new wardrobe.

I want to take another cruise, a long one, at least ten to fourteen days, a cruise where I don't have to speak one word to another living soul the whole time.

I want to learn to play the piano. I want to buy a Baldwin piano like the one my ex-husband had and took with him when we divorced even though I am the only one who played it.

Well enough of my rambling. I don't want to blow out my brain this early in the day. There's so little of it left.

Munching, Muses, Messes

My husband has been gone since Wednesday on a business trip. He just called and said he won't be home tonight until around seven, because the DC airport is backed up and he has been re-routed through Atlanta. Since he's been gone, I've cleaned the house, caught up on laundry, done some reading, and just enjoyed the quiet with no TV on.
I bought an MP3 album of classical music (A Bride's Collection of Traditional Wedding Music - Will Taylor) and it's been so relaxing to putter around the house with it playing in the background.

I got a check for the book that is coming out in March (Cup of Comfort for Single Mothers). I had my hair colored, highlighted, and cut. Then I spent the rest of it on a new down pillow. Sleep is very important to me the older I get, and nothing beats a new pillow. It's suppose to be delivered today. Then for the wild child in me, I ordered a sweatshirt from the National Organization for Women. On the front it says, "Feminism is the radical notion that women are people." I also made a small donation to Hillary's campaign.

I'm on my fourth round of antibiotics for the sinus/bronchitis/sinus/bronchitis mess I've had since the cruise. The last two times I've been on an antibiotic along with prednisone. And I've been starving. Nights are the worst. I have a normal dinner and then am dying of the munchies from then until bedtime. I just couldn't figure out what my problem was, because I had been doing so well.

Then I remembered the prednisone. When I worked at hospice, our regional manager commented on a girl who had been prescribed prednisone and said, "It will make you feel like you want to eat the back end of a horse." So after I remembered that, I relaxed a bit. I only have one more day of that med and then things should bet back together as far as appetite goes. In the meantime, I went to the grocery and bought some low carb snacks (low carb yogurt, low carb popsicles, made some tuna salad, deviled eggs, bought pork rinds, etc.) So at least if I feel like munching, I can leave all horses' hineys alone. I'm sure they will feel better, and I know I will.

For a long time, my family has said i needed to write a book. I had in my mind that if I was going to put the time toward it, it had to not be A book but THE book. So the perfectionist in me could never come up with THE idea for THE book, so I've procrastinated. I decided yesterday that I will write a few books, just for me, ones I want to write, even if I never let anyone read them. That's how I've done best with my writing so far, write it for me..if someone else likes it, fine. If not, I'm still happy to have written it. So I've decided to just start and see where it goes. I may have to write several before I find one I really like and am proud of. But sitting around ruminating over beginning is getting me nowhere.

Yesterday's Oprah said clutter in your home makes your butt fat. ha. See there, something else I can blame on my packrat hubby.....

Super Tuesday and the Social Butterflies

My husband voted on the way to work. I decided I'd go a little later and undo the damage he did that morning.

Our polling place is a nearby elementary school, and the poll workers are all my neighbor ladies, and only two of them do I vaguely know. The first is Poll Worker Number One aka Mary Kay Lady. The second is Poll Worker Number Two aka Sunday School Teacher that called my house forever after I visited her church once many years ago, trying to get me to come back.

I want to vote. I don't want to go there with those ladies to vote.
Go. Not go. Civil duty wins out.
I give myself a big pep talk....c'mon you don't care about running into a few old gossipy ladies, do you?

I arrive at the polling place. Poll Worker aka Mary Kay looks at me in line. Then she looks at me again.

She says, "Hey, I didn't recognize you. How are you doing?"

Me- "Fine. How have you been?"

She- "You look good. You've lost a lot of weight!"

Me--"thanks."

I give my driver's license to PW Number Three. She looks at it and says, "You live in our neighborhood?" She reads off my address. "I live on the same street."

Me- "Oh."

She- "Which one do you live in?"

Me- I repeat house number she just read.

She- "Whose house did you buy?"

Me- "Huh?"

She- "Who did you buy your house from?"

Me- mumbling..."Uh, Julie somebody. I don't really remember."

She- "You don't know who you bought your house from?"

Me- "Well, it was a long time ago. I've lived there eight years."

She--"What? Why don't I know you?"

All the other poll worker neighbor ladies who have been following along with our conversation gather around the table.

Me- I say nothing. I'm thinking...You don't know me because I don't come to the homeowners meetings, because I don't know a single neighbor's name except Mary Kay lady, and that is only because my ex knew her husband from the Masons, and she mails me MK catalogs in the mail from time to time.

Poll Worker Number Two- Sunday School Teacher--"Which one do you live in?" (She doesn't know me either, I guess.)

I repeat house number again.

All the ladies look at each other.

PW Number Three- Determined to solve the mystery--"You've lived there since 2000?"
Me-"Uh huh."

PW Number Two- "I don't know you either. I thought I knew everyone." (She does, and she knows me, at least I thought she did.)

PW Number One aka Mary Kay Lady "I didn't think you lived in our neighborhood anymore."

Me- "Oh yeah. Same place. Long time."

They all are giving either other strange looks. I grab my ballot and run into the booth.
Voices from outside.

"Who is she?"

"That's Kathy. She lives next to the (mumbling) family."

"I've never seen her before."

"Me neither."

"What's her last name again?"

MK Lady-"I don't know. I think it was "O-something" but she's changed it a few times, I think."

"Divorce? Oh."

MK Lady--"She's sort of a recluse, I think."

"She must be. Otherwise, I would have known her."

"She doesn't come to the meetings? Why doesn't she come to the meetings?"

MK lady says, "She came a couple of times years ago, but I think all the arguing everyone did back then got to her."

"I can't believe I don't know her. I know everyone."

"I've never even seen her outside."

I run from the booth, throw my ballot in the machine and go to my car. I make myself breath slowly so my heart will quit pounding. Then I drive home, relieved I don't have to do that for awhile.

The time before this when I voted, the comment I heard when I was leaving was from "Poll Worker Who Was the Receptionist from My Family Doctor's Office" and she said, "She's a loner. She's on anti-depressants!"

Dribs and Drabs of This and That

I haven't been so great at keeping regular posts on my blog lately, but am going to try to do better. I got my Kindle from Amazon, downloaded some books, and now have an even better excuse not to get out of my recliner. So yesterday, I ordered some books on low carb dieting, so maybe that will get me motivated to get my butt walking.

I saw my regular family doctor this week, because I still have this cold/sinus infection/bronchitis/whatever it is that I've had since the cruise the middle of December. I'm on my fourth round of antibiotics, prednisone, decongestants, etc. so hopefully this time's the charm. While I was there, he weighed me and said from when I saw him in August to now, I've lost 27 pounds.

Then he gave me a lecture about why low carb doesn't work. Can you believe that? I thought, hey, take a look at my behind, it begs to differ! His theory is people that do low carb are actually just eating less calories without noticing. Hey, I'd notice.
My grandmother, bless her heart, always said it's the starches and sugars that make you fat. I think Granny was onto something.

Our tv shows came back on, so we have spent the last couple of weeks watching Lost, House, In Treatment, Amazing Race, and a host of game shows. That is my husband's favorite thing to do, tv. My favorite it turning it off, turning on Canon in D on the Kindle, and reading. I have found if I use noise reducing earbuds instead of the speakers, I can actually block out the tv. There is a God.

My middle son has an interview he's flying out to Seattle for in a couple of weeks. I don't think I can stand him being that far away. The thought kills me. My daughter is too far, my youngest son is too far, but Seattle seems like a million miles. Of course, he's always wanted to live in Seattle since he visited there a few years ago. He talked about it all through college. I want him to be happy, but I wish all my kids lived closer.

I'm still seeing the therapist. Here is what I've learned the last few weeks. It's ok to cry at funerals even if your mother doesn't like you to, so there is no reason to avoid them because of fear of crying. I have a whole critical dialogue with myself that plays in my mind a lot. I'm working to change that. I have no more to feel guilty about than the next person, but it just seems that way. It's ok to ask for what you need to take care of yourself, even if it seems selfish (this one is hard for me.)

As for books, I'm reading Mercy of Thin Air right now. Good, but took me awhile to figure out the flow of the story. I loved the movie "I am Legend" (even though I didn't think I would) and am thinking of reading that book. I want to re-read Gone With the Wind. I haven't read everything that everyone else has read, so still have the Kite Runner, World Without End, HP books 3-7, A Thousand Splendid Suns, and a few more "gotta-reads" ahead of me. Hopefully, by the time I finish them, there will be some more "gotta-reads" out there. Reading on the Kindle is much better for old eyes, because you can adjust the font size.

We are planning to go to temple tonight. The children are putting on a program, and I think it will be cute to watch. I've decided to put converting on the back burner for awhile, and see how I feel about it in a year or so. In the meantime, I love going to temple.