"When they took the fourth amendment, I was quiet because I didn't deal
drugs.
When they took the sixth amendment, I was quiet because I was innocent.
When they took the second amendment, I was quiet because I didn't own a
gun.
Now they've taken the first amendment, and I can say nothing about it."
Joe emailed me the above quote this week and the timing was so appropriate. I started reading Chinese short stories for the World Lit course I'm taking. One, called "Sketches from the 'Cattle Shed'", is about a woman in a Chinese prison, experiencing the lack of freedom to say, write, think, and read what she wants. Needless to say, the story is incredible, rips the old heart out. I'm going to write about it for the class (& post it on my World Literature page) so I won't go into the whole thing right now except to say "Thank God for free speech in this country and for so many other blessings I take for granted."
I don't have much time this afternoon to write. We are going to the country this week no matter how hard I try not to (don't want to have too much fun, you know.) Played that game last weekend and I've just about had it. This weekend I'm going and I'll enjoy myself and I'm going to write and walk through the woods (and don't tell anyone but I might have fun for a change!) It's crazy being crazy, you know. It's all in your head. And the more you think about it, the worse it gets. Nobody is as self-absorbed as a depressed person. We spend all our time thinking about how depressed we are--- and it's like, duh, who wouldn't be depressed sitting around thinking about how depressed they are?
A few weeks ago, I told my boss I was not in this new job for the long haul-- that being an administrative assistant/office manager/legal assistant/secretary is not what I want. It's not what I'm good at (even though it seems to be the only thing I can get a job doing these days and it does pay well.) But I am so fortunate at this time, I can choose whether or not to work. This is one of those weird blessings that I'm afraid of and feel guilty about because I know I don't deserve it (like anyone gets what they deserve.) Anyway, I'm not going to spend the rest of my life doing something I don't enjoy unless I have to.
Here's the silly part. I told my boss I'd stay until he could find a replacement. But there doesn't seem to be anybody out there looking for work. It's nuts. At first, I admit, I thought he was putting me on. He said he had contacted his normal sources, a couple of employment firms, and they didn't have anyone. So I thought, "yeah, right." Then I called a number of Pittsburgh business schools, asking for their placement offices, thinking surely they'd all have lists of former graduates looking for work. I mean, this job is a good one. The boss is a good guy. He'll pay whatever. The days and hours are nice. The location is great. And if you like administrative work, especially real estate law, this could be a great opportunity. But no one seems to be out there. Two of the three schools said they just didn't have anyone, sorry. I know the unemployment rate is down but this is ridiculous. Anyway, I quit but as far as I can tell, I'm still working. By the by, if you know of anyone looking for a good job, please give me a buzz.
Well, off to the country. Until we meet again...
Sunday - September 6, 1998 - 12:29PM EDT
It's Labor Day weekend. Joe and I were going to go down to the country (Majorsville) yesterday but never made it for one reason or another. We'll probably try again later today (after the Steeler game.) It is gorgeous out there and I should be taking advantage of it.
Labor Day is one of my least favorite holidays if only because it means the end of summer. Read somewhere that you should consider summer like a gift of a jar with pebbles in it-- one to represent each of the days. And, so as not to freak yourself out, each day, just reach in and take one out and enjoy it. I liked that idea. Even wrote on a little blackboard I have down in the country, "One pebble at a time" to remind me. But this jar is just about empty.
We do still have an upcoming trip to Corolla scheduled for the end of this month. That should be nice if we can manage to make it there between hurricanes! Heard from my cousin Peg in Virginia Beach that Hurricane Bonnie knocked out their electricity for 3 hot, sticky days. Didn't sound like fun.
On the Outer Banks, Corolla is closer to Virginia Beach than to Cape Hatteras so I use their weather forecasts as a guide. Corolla and the Northern Banks are becoming very upscale and trendy. I would probably fit in better down in Hatteras but for so many years, up in Corolla, we had the wild horses running free. That was something I couldn't pass up. Used to be, when we'd stay there, we'd wake up to find them our yard. I petted a few and shared some carrots with them, although you're not supposed to get close.
Unfortunately, over the years, the Northern Banks became so popular, many of the horses were being injured or killed by traffic. So two years ago, they moved them further up north, fencing them in where only 4-wheel drive cars can go. I was all for the move, since it seemed to be the best thing for the horses. Of course, someone forgot to tell the horses, and a bunch ended up going north to the southern part of Virginia Beach! Some were returned but others were sold! Anyway, when we were down there in June, I saw a couple of places offering rides up to see the wild horses (suppose they had jeeps or something) for a FEE. The money is supposed to go to help keep them in feed etc. so I guess it wasn't as bad as it sounded. It's just, I was there before, and it was so nice-- this is not the same.
I suppose Joe and I will be choosing houses down south in the years to come. When we first started going there, over 20 years ago, we used to stay in Kill Devil Hills, in a beach bungalow between the highways that was lucky to have air conditioning (so many at that time did not.) Then McDonalds and such moved in and we traveled, first to South Nag's Head, then north, trying to escape all the commercial ventures. I can't imagine what it is like for the old Nag's Head families who've had houses on the beach for seventy-five years, how many changes they've been through because it seems like I've seen way, way too many myself in just the past 20. So, I suppose we'll travel again, this time down towards Hatteras although they too have their developed areas (Waterfall Park and such.)
I shouldn't complain. It is still very beautiful there-- anywhere on the islands. The building boom that has been going on for the past few years up near us has consisted of incredibly big, beautiful (& expensive) houses. Most with hot tubs, wet bars, and their own pools and gazebos. There are golf courses and tennis courts, lots of shops with little trams running in and out of some of the larger developments. But I miss the old days and ways, when the biggest store in Corolla was a tiny Wee Winks that doubled as the post office and the National Audobon Society had a refuge that stretched for miles and miles through undeveloped beaches and dunes. Ah, well, that's the way things go, isn't it.
Have a good holiday weekend.
Monday - August 31, 1998 - 7:12PM EDT
Two times in the past three days I've managed to find time to write in here. Is this cool or what?
Did you all read about the CMU study that says the people who spend time on the internet are more likely to be depressed and lonely. But then they only studied people living around here, in Pittsburgh.... and, as we all know, they're all a bunch of lonely and depressed people anyway! Too funny.
I'm trying to write this but I have ICQ turned on at the same time and I keep getting "oh-oh'ed" with messages.
Dr. Steve is on! He's lamenting the fact that he went to buy a John Cougar Mellencamp CD and the 16 year old behind the counter didn't know who John Cougar was! Made him (Steve) feel ancient! I told him how I had this bicycle messenger kid come to deliver a package at work, and his pants were falling way, way, way down below his waist. Had he not been wearing a long, tucked in tee shirt, it would have been more than the "crack of Don", it would have been "Don's whole butt." His hair was purple and teal colored and about 17 different lengths. I said, "cool hair" and he looked at me with such contempt and horror. What could be worse than an overweight, middle-aged grandma lady telling you "cool hair"? He probably pedaled right home and shaved it off! (Sorry-- they were pretty colors.)
Joe is home from the chiropractor. He threw his back out last week reaching for a can of chicken noodle soup in the grocery store. If that isn't sad, what is? Anyway, he looked like an "S" but went to the chiro. on Saturday and came back looking like a backwards "S". I'm afraid to go downstairs and see what letter he is tonight.
Marilyn is over seeing Hall and Oates at the IC Light Amphitheatre tonight! Hall and Oates?! Talk about feeling old. Funny too because her daughter's inlaws-to-be are going too, and then she found out her boss and his wife have tickets also!! I'm laughing myself silly here. At least they have a nice night for it--- gorgeous out there right now, 78 degrees, clear and the cicadas and crickets are singing.
Tomorrow is Lauren's first day in kindergarten! Heather will probably bawl her eyes out. (So will I if I think about it-- it doesn't seem like any time at all since it was Heather's first day in kindergarten.)
Guess I'd better go fix some din. We're going to watch General Hospital while
we eat. Joe is still trying to grasp Friday's cliffhanger (which we didn't
get to watch until yesterday)... how can Katherine still be alive??? Hmmm.
Joe's not a veteran at these soap things so he doesn't understand. I told him,
this might just be her long lost twin, or maybe some woman Count Vlad's mother paid
to get plastic surgery so she'd look exactly like Katherine. There are many
ways in soap land for this to occur. Happens all the time. (Geez, Joe,
get with the program.)
Saturday - August 29, 1998 - 8:20AM EDT
The last couple of weeks have been the weeks from Hell, with an ending sent from Heaven, or something close to it.
My granddaughter, Lauren, ready to begin kindergarten in less than a week, was pitched out of her Montessori school—a decision that the self-proclaimed Christian woman who ran the school swore was "best for everyone involved" but one that I believe has its roots in cruelty and other very un-Christian-like behaviors.
Lauren has been attending this daycare school since she was six months old. It was a familiar and (we thought) protective, loving place for her young mind and body to grow. But this week, we learned differently, as she was figuratively if not literally, tossed to the sharks.
Trying to secure a spot in a good, reputable kindergarten class, the week before classes start is much like trying to hit the Powerball lottery number, standing in line a city-block long, waiting to buy your ticket, two minutes before the drawing.
Thank God for the Catholic Schools—Heather managed to get her registered at the local diocese school. This was truly a miracle. I hope Lauren will like it and they will do right by her. The only thing more frustrating than watching your kid struggle is watching your kid and her kid struggle!
Part of the problem the past two weeks was finding immediate daycare for Lauren while her mother sought out other schools. Heather hasn’t been at her job long enough to take off for an extended period, and Manny (like me) doesn’t get paid when he calls off work. The two of them did what they could then Joe and I had to step in to help. Joe took Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday while I chose Wednesday and Friday (the days my boss said were the least likely to cause him problems. Bless you D.) I learned that Joe is better at nurturing than I am. Shouldn’t be surprised—I adored Heather as a youngster and love Lauren beyond description, but to be totally honest, raising children was never my forte. I don’t feel capable if there are any sort of crises at hand. In fact, my usual response is to throw up my own (shaking) hands and freak out. Lauren, like most 5-year-olds doesn’t really appreciate my preferred way of dealing with such (i.e., "let’s take a nap", or at the very least, "let’s watch Nana take a nap." Gee, I wonder why that isn’t fun? )
On the days Joe stayed home, I got to drive myself to and from work in Oakland, during rush hour traffic--- an interesting challenge. Boy, do I have a new respect for Joe (& the thousands of others) who do it regularly.
If not for Xanax and Kava Kava and Prozac, I do not think I would have made it through this period at all, but then that has been the case for a long, long time, as many of you know.
Ah, the miracles of modern medicine and ancient herbal remedies-- will wonders never cease?
One of these days, when I get back to having more free time, I’m going to do some research into depression and anxiety and treatments then post some information here on my web site. It is such a debilitating illness and seems to be reaching epidemic proportions at least in my personal experience with family, friends, and people with whom I converse on a regular basis. In my case, it’s become a chronic problem—I’ve been in treatment for over seven years now—you’d think I’d be an expert at it. I’m not although I have accepted I will most likely never be able to live without the drugs. Not that there is anything wrong with that, like a diabetic or someone with high blood pressure, or an epileptic, you do what you have to do to take care of the illness, even if you aren’t actually curing it. At least you keep going and sometimes that’s the best you can hope for.
Also, for me, writing helps. Most of the time, I try and keep things under control in my own private journals but sometimes things slip out in public, as is the case today. Keeping journals is very strange though. It’s not like you can go back and read through them and gain all this insight. Usually that’s about as much fun as shaving your legs with a Campbell’s Soup can lid. I guess that’s also probably because of the nature of depression. Even looking at photographs from my past is difficult. Either I remember something wonderful that was happening at the time, then lament the lost years since or I am reminded of some long forgotten problem. What a drag. So, no, unlike some, I don’t write to read it back and try to learn from it. It’s just a good way of letting it all out, vomiting forth the day to day crap we all have to deal with.
Gee, wasn’t that a pleasant way of putting it? This really is turning into an upbeat entry, isn’t it? If I am the vomiter, does that mean you, the lucky reader, are the vomitee?
Okay, I will stop. Sometimes people like to carry on celebration three, four months. (Get the hook!)
I did have fun this week with Lauren (when I got enough of my wits about me to climb out of the bed.) We went over to watch the band practice across the street. It’s the local high school band and they practice in the field over behind the old school, daily, every year at this time. It’s one of the reasons why I enjoy living here—strange but true. Even though the band members change, they play the same songs year after year after year (we’ve been here since 1979.) And there is something very comforting about that. Some people around here probably get sick of Yankee Doodle Dandy, over and over and over again but I like it. And Lauren thought it was really cool.
Watched them practice their marching formations. The head majorette dropped her baton more often than not but I had to give her credit for her persistence. If I were out there, and dropped that thing on my head in front of a crowd of jeering kids and their rotten parents, I’d be outta there but fast! Joe took Lauren over on one of his days as well . We were amused—both of us asked her if she’d like to play an instrument someday and if so, which one would she choose? On my day, she said the baton!?! On Joe’s day, she said no, she didn’t want to play in a band because she wanted to grow up and be a veterinarian!?! Art Linkletter (& I guess nowadays, Bill Cosby) would have a field day with Lauren.
I’m a gonna stop now-- I know you are all breathing a sigh of relief. Praying that Hurricane Bonnie didn’t do any damage around my cousin’s places down there (Peggy and Art & Jean Hopper.) I have to call them all today and make sure things are okay. Hurricanes freak me out. I want to live on the coast almost more than anything but how could I ever do it, with nor’easters, tornadoes, and hurricanes a regular part of life?
TA TA for now.
Sunday - August 23, 1998 - 8:07PM EDT
Twenty-eight years ago this evening I started feeling pain in my back-- Heather was on her way, ready to make her first entrance into this world in another 5 hours or so.
I remember that night so well. The weather was stifling: hot, humid, like it is now. It was a Sunday night and the final game of the 1970 Pony League World Series was being played out at Washington Park. I had spent the day out there, played my guitar sitting atop a wooden picnic table, under huge, shady trees. Still have that old Garcia & still play it although it's mainly been collecting dust the past month or so.
I was very young when I had Heather, only 16. Sounds worse now then it seemed to me then. I was ready.(Like the old song goes, "Ah but I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.") I had been waiting and planning for her arrival for a long time. She was late-- almost three weeks. I didn't know she was a girl yet (they didn't do ultrasound back then, at least not in my case.)
I had enjoyed being pregnant, once I finally accepted and admitted it (only took me 5 months or so.) Probably felt the healthiest I ever was. I thought her name would be Jennifer, up until a week before she came, that's what I planned. But the first time I saw her, she wasn't wrinkled, red, and screaming like most newborns-- she was soft, beautiful and smelled like flowers after a spring rain.
And now it's 28 years later and tomorrow is her birthday.
She's had more than her share of rough times recently. It's not easy being her age, working, raising a family, and trying to figure out who you are and what you want. I wish I could make things better for her. Only prob is I'm 44 and still trying to figure things out myself, more often than not.
I don't know if I tell her enough how lucky I am to have her in my life. She is my friend as well as my daughter. When I look into her eyes, I sometimes see her but other times I see my own eyes, and sometimes her daughter's, and sometimes my sister's, and sometimes my mother's. It evokes something in me that I don't know how to put into words.
I love you.
Saturday - August 15, 1998 - 3:46PM EDT
Man oh days, how can it be that August is half over already? If things keep speeding up like this, in a few days, it'll be ... whoosh, there goes another few decades, whoosh, sorry, it's all over and you forgot to take the time to enjoy it. Nope. Not going to let that happen.
We're going to the country this afternoon. Would have liked to have gotten an earlier start (like maybe last night) but at least we're going. Time slows down a little bit when we're at Majorsville. Maybe because we allow it to. I don't even mind cooking down there and as anyone who knows me can tell you, I HATE TO COOK. No microwave or dishwasher there. Sometimes I wish there were but it's so strange how I can enjoy doing simple things there that I despise here. We do have a phone but thankfully, it doesn't ring too often. We had it put in when my dad first got sick. I couldn't stand to be down there and incommunicado for any length of time. Not that there was much I could do to help him anyway. And we have a VCR there... will wonders never cease? It really is wonderful during rainy days and at night (if I'm awake long enough to watch anything.) The regular tv pulls in maybe 2 or 3 channels and that's only on a good day when you are squinting real hard.
Those bum Steelers lost last night. Luckily, both Joe and I fell asleep while they were still winning. I know it's not supposed to count because it's just a preseason game but they all count, for something.
Growlf, my dog, knows we're getting ready to go to Majorsville. He gets so excited when preparations begin. He runs outside and starts barking at the garage. Guess he's reminding us not to forget to take him. He has the most horrible, ridiculously high-pitched whinny bark. You'd think he was some little lap dog or something instead of a solid 85 pounds (wide-body, we like to say.) Know the neighbors always breathe a sigh of relief when we finally pull out.... "Thank god that stupid dog has stopped that incessant whining! Next time, someone ought to call the police."
All dogs love Majorsville. It's doggy heaven. They can run in the creek and through the woods, maybe get into a little stinkweed or, if they're really lucky, find something dead to roll in. Ah, what could be more fun?
Sheba, my cat, is not as fond of Majorsville. We usually only take her if we're going to be gone for more than 2 days, otherwise, it's just not worth it to try and trick her into climbing into kitty prison (the wooden box we use to transport her.) Maggie, my niece, says Sheba would like it better on the trips down and back if we'd just let her roam around the car, free. But I have these visions of her getting stuck under the brake pedal or climbing up Joe's face just as he is about to make the exit off the Interstate at Claysville... Yikes! Besides, even when I do take her, she acts like, "Is this fun? Little mice and big snakes running all over the place? Let's go back to our house in town. It's so much more civilized."
So, I'd better quit writing and get going before it's next week or next year or
next decade. Hope you all have a nice weekend. Try getting into a Majorsville
state of mind-- it really helps.
August 13, 1998 8:06PM EDT
This is going to be a short entry. Haven't had dinner yet and my fingers are numb from typing at work all day. Plus, it's hot as Hades up here on my 3rd floor this evening. Surprised my computer is working at all with this humidity and high temperatures! One of these days, I must get around to moving it down to the 2nd floor where there is air conditioning. But who wants to move heavy computers and furniture when it's so hot out?
Another reason why this entry will be short-- my mind is jumbled. Every time I try to engage it, it threatens to short circuit itself once and for all...
Speaking of bats in the belfry.... we have birds living in our chimney. This is not good. Had them last summer and a few ended up in the basement and died!!! Arghhh!!! It was horrible. I couldn't stand it. Talked then about getting a screen mounted on the chimney top but... best laid plans, blah, blah, blah. Now it's summer again (funny how fast they come and go anymore) and more birds. When I go into the sunroom in the early morning before the sun is up and turn on the lights, some light works its way up through the glass doors of the fireplace and my walls start chirping. It's maddening, I tell you, maddening!
So I called "Critter Control", a company in the yellow pages. Next week they are coming and promise to bang on the flue to get all the little birds out alive, then put a cap on so this won't happen again. Wonderful, except they charge $50-70 for the banging on the flue part, and another $70 or so for the cap part. But it's worth it.... what price sanity?
On that note, I'm off to eat everything in sight then pass out cold as soon as
I'm done eating (my normal routine these weekday evenings!) Catch you later.
August 8, 1998 7:19AM EDT
This file was getting a bit ungainly so I moved all the old entries to another page. Guess I should read up on designing and navigating in web journals. Dr. Steve sent me some really neat links with ideas. Guess web journals are all rage these days. Who would've thunk? Makes me laugh really. What could be more pathetic than sitting at your machine pouring your guts out for any and all to read at their leisure. Oh yeah, the person sitting on the other end, at his/her machine reading the garbage that spews forth from these pages! Oy the humidity.
Anywho, it's Saturday, and I'm not in the park, and it's not the Fourth of July (so much for that song.) Can't blame the construction crew for waking me up this morning, although they did come along shortly after I got up. (This whole part of the state is one orange barrel after another-- all spring, summer, and fall. They just take them down to allow for the ice & snow that winter brings. But, I digress.)
Joe's going to watch the Steelers vs the Buffalo Bills today. So we are not going to the country until tomorrow. I need the country. And the country needs me. (HUH?) I am a wee bit slap-happy this a.m., can you tell?
Having worked a whole two weeks, I'm in need of a year or two sabbatical. My web pages are neglected, I haven't written or read anything in the past 14 days, my online classes are proceeding happily without me. And I'm feeling just a bit sorry for myself (gee, bet you didn't notice.) Did get paid yesterday-- that's always nice. If only I had time to spend it. Not serious.... it's been spent for months, maybe years. This just might make a dent in the deficit (sp?) but I doubt it!
Got our clogged drains cleaned out. (Bless you, Jeff C.) This is big news. At least three times a year, our bathroom tub and sink drains get hideously clogged. I think the fellows responsible for the original plumbing were Moe, Larry, and [Curly]. The pipes in there go up and over and down and around, then do a couple of figure eights and maybe a few figure nines. It's a wonder anything ever goes down. But the Jeff man comes and there are these horrendous,grinding, wrenching, squealing noises, \ like something right out of Alien and I get scared the electric eel or whatever it is he uses is going to come boring through the plaster any minute now but then, whoosh.... it all goes down. And we live happily ever after, (or at least for 3 months or so.)
You might wonder, why don't they spend a buck and get it replumbed. Problem is the floor in there is old-- marble chips set in concrete. To rip it all out would mean major problems, not only for the bathroom but also for the ceiling in the hallway underneath. Jeff man says it will have to be done sometime, sooner or later. He's been telling us that for 19 years (can't believe we've lived here that long, maybe it's time I get to know the neighbors, what do you think. Wouldn't want to rush it though.) Anyway, we keep saying, "Yeah, we know." But what we really mean is "Please God, make it last another 19 years or so or at least wait until we win the lottery."
Well, I'm not even going to bother rereading this. It is so stupid, I'd never
have enough nerve to post it if I did. Have a good one.