The Social Butterfly

Well, I'm officially not a recluse anymore. I went to the community clubhouse tonight with hubby and a bunch of other couples to play cards. I baked banana bread to add as our contribution to finger food. We played a canasta-type game with a very nice couple, and we had a really good time. When we started out to go home, my husband said my counselor would be very proud of me. I said, "You know what? I am proud of me, and that means more to me than what she thinks." He said, "She'd be more proud of THAT."

I stopped all my anti-depressant meds before I took my trip to Seattle. I'm down to a 1/2 of an Ambien to sleep, and one pill for cholesterol. Other than that, I'm med-free. My memory is improving. I don't have those moments as often now when I'm grasping for something I know I've forgotten. I don't have to pause in mid-sentence because the word I wanted to say is floating away. I have less moments when I think I have to do something and then promptly forget what.

I had told my doc awhile back that my memory was getting bad. This really worries me because of my dad's Alzheimer's. He said it's menopause, that it takes awhile for your brain to get use to hormonal changes. I asked what if my brain never catches up? He laughed, which was not funny. I was serious. So maybe my brain is catching up. Or maybe it's being off the meds. I'll take the improvement no matter the reason.

By the way, my husband did buy us that new Christmas tree. It's on it's way from a JCPenney warehouse somewhere. He drug all the decorations down from the attic. I'm going to make a bigger effort this year.

Several people at our card group go to the church near here where I took my kids when they were growing up. They invited us back (My husband has never been there, but I'm still a member.) I'm going to think about it. Going to church was easier when I was doing it to give my kids a religious background. It's harder to do just for me.

I'm reading Nickel and Dimed. It's about poverty in America. Living on minimum wage. I've been there, done that. Lived on food stamps and two part time jobs, raising three kids, with an ex-husband who was ten months behind on child support. I don't think the reporter who decided to slum it for the book completely grasped what it's like to not have that "other life" waiting over in the wings to fall back on.

I helped my youngest son fill out pell grant papers so he can go back to community college. He's the only one of mine that didn't finish college, so naturally I'm so excited that he's now interested in finishing. He's also worried that the economy is going to affect his job, so he's looking for another field to fall back on. My middle son is still job-hunting. Keep praying. Please.