16/365/2014 The Shopping Fu Was Strong

Jan16

My cousin and I have had dates most weeks since I have moved to Maryland. We’d been doing that on Sundays, and over the past 6 weeks or so, Sundays have evolved into more of a family day where we all hang out together, enjoy a meal, and play some games. Which is great, and we all enjoy that. But she and I were beginning to miss having time just for ourselves. Since my new schedule leaves me free on Friday, we chatted early this week and decided that every other Friday would be our date day, and we’ll just continue Sundays as full-family. We went out today and did the thing we love to do: shop.

Now you need to know that we do not love to shop just any place. We love to shop in the thrift store and we love to shop in the grocery store All other shopping is more like a chore than fun. And you also need to know that when we shop together, we literally shop together, with each of us having one eye open for ourselves and the other open for the cousin. Today was a particularly good shopping day. The fu was strong. I’ll leave it for her to tell you what she scored, but these items were my major haul. That’s a leather Giani Bernini bag, and I gave $5.50 for it. It just needs some leather butter. And a very warm leather jacket for which I gave $11.50. It just needs dry cleaning. Have I mentioned that Friday is 50% off clothing day at the Salvation Army Thrift Store? Oh yeah. It is.

Underneath those goodies…well that, my lovelies is a double breasted men’s cashmere coat. It’s ankle length on me, scrumptiously soft, and fits me like a dream, except for the sleeves. No problem. At $40 for a freaking full-length cashmere coat, I will pay for the alteration.

After all that excitement, we went to Mecca. I mean Wegman’s. I bought ingredients–actual raw meat and fresh produce to turn into food. And I bought some spices. And I bought teas. And I bought good bread. And we talked and talked and talked. This has been a wonderful day.

Tomorrow, there will be slicing, dicing, and sauteing. I am planning a lovely beef stew with mushrooms, leeks, shallots, and garlic over spaetzle. I’ll serve roasted Brussels sprouts with that and sourdough rolls. It will be delicious. There will also be some pouring over cookbooks, looking for recipes that I think will convert to crock-pot use. I am tired of eating crappy food because I don’t have time to cook when I get home. My energy levels are down and I just don’t feel as good as I should, and I know it’s because I’m not fueling my body correctly. I also got easy, nutritious, grab-and-go foods for breakfast and lunch, because woman does not live by dinner alone. Not even when it includes sour dough bread.

Speaking of which, I need to get my starter going.

15/365/2015 Application to Graduate

Jan15

I guess this qualifies as a thing, yeah? I turned in my application for diploma for the summer semester. And I realized, ya’ll, that’s just six short months away. It felt like it would take forever to get my BSW. And then when I had that, the MSW still seemed so very far away. And now, it’s breathing down my neck. I’m pretty excited about that. And a bit trepidatious.

To calm my nerves yesterday, I looked at job postings. Yep, they are still hiring social workers here in Maryland. In fact, there’s an opening right now in a hospice unit. I’m taking it on faith that there will be a spot for me in a nursing home or hospice when the time comes. I’m hopeful that it will be with the VA, but we’ll see.

I guess you have noticed that I’m having a harder time coming up with 500 words on days I work. I’m not allowed to take pictures in the facility because of patient privacy issues. And naturally, I can only talk about my work in very general terms. I can, however, tell you about today’s social work moment. Today, just as she had on Tuesday, my supervisor added other team members to case notes I had written. That was a social work moment because it told me that what I was writing was adding useful information that is of value in caring for these veterans, not just for the social workers, but for the rest of the team. And what that means is that I am actually doing social work, folks. I’m doing the things I wanted to do when I started this journey four years ago.

14/365/2015 Wha??

Jan14

So this happened today. No, we’re not going to talk about it.

13/365/2015 Trying a Little Stand-Up

Jan13

So, I asked Giant Deli to marry me today. The little minx cocked her head to the side and said we could date for dollar, dollar bills. I’m sad to say, I accepted her offer. But I reminded her that Wegman’s Hot Bar was just down the street, and she’ll be a fine little thing to have on the side. Since I’m having to pay and all.

I’ve spent the last three and a half years learning how to identify people’s strengths and point out examples of resiliency. Now I get to learn how to spot the crazy in all of us. It’s a life, I suppose.

But ya’ll. In all seriousness. There is something about owning my very own DSM-V. It’s so …professional. And that feels good. It feels competent. But it also feels and smells like…responsibility. Heavy responsibility. What I’ve been doing so far is all about hope and growth. And while I understand insurance companies want these words before they will come up off the money, I’ve never done well with labels. I don’t like wearing them, and I’m pretty sure I won’t like assigning them.

None of that will stop me from digging into this book like it was a novel, though, because mental illness FASCINATES me. Fascinates, I say. It always has. Which I guess is not surprising coming from an aspiring clinical social worker.

I promise to use my super powers for good and not for evil. Mostly.

12/365/2015 Move Over, Paula Deen. We’re Done.

Jan12

12 to 18 months ago (I think, it might have been longer), I bought myself a set of red Paula Deen pots and pans. Because I love red in the kitchen and I thought PD would be a good pan. Let me tell you from experience, Paula Deen is some expensive cheap-ass junk. The pans warped; they aren’t supposed to go in the dishwasher; the teflon scratches if you look at it; AND the final straw occurred a couple weeks ago: I picked up a pan I had boiled pasta in, BY THE HANDLE, and got a blistering burn on my finger. Hell to the no. I replaced those dishes today with this set. I’m sending the three usable pieces of PD to Goodwill, and moving on. I am a cook. I will have good tools in my kitchen. These new ones have a nice thick bottom for even, no-warp heating. They aren’t teflon coated, but ceramic. They are RED. They are dishwasher and oven safe. And they cost less than I paid for the PD. They will be in the dishwasher this evening, and ready for use tomorrow. (I’ll keep the one pot we make tea in. Everybody needs a thin, cheap pot to make iced tea by the gallon in.)

In less fiery news, I was talking about love on the facebooks this morning, commenting on a link a friend shared. I like what I had to say so much that I am repeating it here:

I like choosing to love, because then I can continue to have a loving heart toward someone whatever happens. In the past, I found that If I accidentally fall in love, I can just accidentally fall out of it, too.

If I want to love someone, I choose to act lovingly towards them. In my case, feeling follows action. Infatuation, lust….those are different matters.

Since I have understood and applied this concept, ALL of my relationships have been successful, whereas before none of them were.

Now we have to look at how to define success. I choose to define it as a relationship that gives me positive feelings and personal growth both of which I retain in the case of the relationship itself ebbing. Am I a bigger, better person? If yes, then that was/is a successful relationship.

P.S. Does not only apply in romantic relationships.

Now for the bad news. I took three kids to the dentist today. One needs to see an oral surgeon AND an orthodontist. One needs an extraction and three fillings. The other just needs three fillings. I reckon the next time I tell them they need to brush their teeth, they still won’t listen. Because I’m only Mom. Sigh.

11/365/2015 I’m Learning Something Here

Jan11

My kids have learned to play Dominoes at the after school program they attend, and now they are teaching me. It’s a more complicated game than I thought. I’m liking it.

You wanna know what else I am liking? Football. Yeah, I know, that’s crazy talk.

When I was a child, I thought as a child and I (un)spake as a child. But when I became a grown-ass woman of 47, I realized that just because silence during tv (and meals and breathing) was the rule in my childhood home, I didn’t have to keep living that way. And I realized that just because a man watching sports alone and silently was something I witnessed throughout childhood, that didn’t mean all men did it that way.

Now I watch, sometimes with an explainer, and sometimes just with my kids. And I am here to tell you, we were robbed in the third quarter last night by some BS calls. And nobody had to explain that part to me–I figured it out all by myself.

I’m understanding more why men gather with friends to watch the game that is playing on their own tv at home. Because football watching is more fun as a group activity. And this, boys and girls, is how I’ve moved from a Super Bowl watcher to a … well, fan may be too strong a word, but tolerater is definitely not strong enough.

10/365/2015 Bittersweet–some pieces come with stories

Jan10

So, I posted a photo of the unfinished Bittersweet yesterday, and I told you there would be more about it later. Welcome to “more.” I finished this piece last night, cuddled up on the couch watching Netflix. (BTW, if you haven’t checked out “Ripper Street,” it’s a decent period piece from BBC America, and makes good cuddled-up-and-knitting fodder. Find your own cuddle-ee.) I call this piece Bittersweet because that’s the name it has earned.

Bittersweet is supposed to be a bit larger than it is, because there are supposed to be two more balls of yarn in it. Unfortunately, on multiple levels, I have lost contact with the holder of the rest of this yarn. I’d put the piece down in September or October when I realized that I was very near the end of what was in my possession, figuring to pick it up again when I had the rest of the yarn. Yesterday, I made myself finish it with what I had on hand. That is to say, yesterday I achieved another measure of closure. This piece is the last tangible tie between then and now. I have put the rest away already.

As you can see, it’s pretty short and a bit frillier than my normal work. The extra length and weight would have worked most of that frilliness out, but it is usable as is, particularly if I put a button on it instead of closing it with a brooch. It will go well with many of my brown clothes, and it’s a good accent piece. And it feels divine around my neck, being mostly cashmere. But, Bittersweet. I do not know if I will ever wear it again or not.

Now it is going to appear that I am changing subjects, but I’m really not. I related the story of this piece and the yarn to a friend of mine this morning. And I thought I was done. And then, when my mouth stopped moving, my mind started working. The pattern recognition software that is installed in my brain went tick, Yarn Holder, tick, Step-father, TICK, Father. Walls of silence are not a new phenomena for me. Walls of unbeing. This feeling is one to which I have become accustomed due to prolonged and repeated exposure.

This is how I know that homosexuals really are born that way. Because men, as has been noted by one who knows me well, have been a firestorm on my life. And not just husbands/friends/lovers, but also men in the form of fiduciary guardians. Maybe moreso in that capacity, because there is such an element of…dentrayal. That’s a made up word. It means denial and betrayal. Which is a word that had to be made up because there is no other word to go with the usually mutually exclusive actions of denial and betrayal. I often say that if I had a choice, I would be gay, because men. But I can’t. The best I can do is asexuality, and that only works for a few years at a time.

And this also brings me back around to non-attachment. It is only because I practice non-attached loving that I am able to handle some situations with any grace at all. Because I don’t want to be bitter. I choose not to be angry. And the principles of non-attachment allow me to say “You are perfect in your (insert name)ness. Namaste.” The principles of non-attachment allow me to let go of that which is not meant for me without leaving claw marks on relationships or people.

I noted today that I have come a long way in regards to my dad’s death. I can reflect on him when I bring him consciously to mind without distress these days. I’ve had a number of comforting dreams lately in which he appeared. But when my subconscious does its work, when my own brain slaps me with that loss from out of nowhere…then I am a small and wounded child again.