Thursday, November 30, 2006

DANCING IN THE DARK

The days are a whirl of activity as I manage the migration to a different life.  It's hard adjusting my compass and understanding what it is I am trying to accomplish.  There are some positive ramifications coming out of this change.  I feel better and I am too busy to think.

While I am trying to turn this bus I call a life towards true north, friends in distant places are suffering with the real estate crunch.  I am seeing it in the fore closures of their homes and the crashing down sizing of their lives.  It's hard to watch.  I am lucky that I went back to school and received training in computers so I have many talents to fall back on.  The time spent in telecom doesn't hurt either.  I am also lucky that I have always kept a very tiny life, one I could manage if anything ever happened. I never escalated my life to match the money.  I guess it's the practical Irish girl in me.

While watching friends crash and burn I learn all the interview offers are apparently a rare event.  Many of these friends never even get a phone call and they have masters degrees.  It is a funny economy...and look at me turning up my nose at job offers.  Have I lost my mind?

For so much of my life I have always done what everyone else wants me to do or thought I should do, with my mother warning me the sky was about to fall.  I am tired of doing what others think is best for me.  How do I keep telling Brian to chase his dreams - he can do anything he wants - if I don't do the same?  Of course, I'd like to pack us up and move to a place on the water with pine trees and tall mountains, but Brian's life is here, so here I am ... for now.  God I love him.

A new year is coming, so  I signed up for a dance class.  I love dancing and haven't been doing much of it the past couple of years.  Ok, except for some naked dancing around my living room when Brian is at his dad's. But that isn't REAL dancing. It is time to start re-claiming small parts of myself.  Plus, I am feeling good - no heart pains - no numbing of my hands and feet,  I just need to take it slow,  Dancing felt fun and like something I should try. 

I miss tall dark and handsome, but there isn't a thing I can do about him.  Isn't there a prayer that goes something along the lines of "... accept the things I cannot change..."?  Sometimes acceptance sucks.

At least there is still dark chocolate.

And friends.

And Christmas.

And Brian.

And a redhead's life.

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

CHANGE

I realize something about myself this past week.  I love change.  It is why my longest relationship with a man lasted only 9 years.  I hate routine.  Except when it comes to Brian, of which I could endure endless days of Mr. Alton's Biology class dialog (which put me to sleep in the first ten minutes of class) for the next 7 years if it is what Brian needed.  But for anyone else, forget about it.

Now that my x is running his business out of his home and I can hang in mine and hang at Steph's I am loving the change in routine.  I actually ran around my living room naked this morning... just to run around my living room naked. 

I pause to think of people living together in the same place for 30 years and I shudder... the same job ... ick.  Maybe this is also why I love to write ... to be able to think of something different ... to look at life from distinct angles. I am lucky too ... as I am not tied to a husband who checks-out by watching endless hours of TV, or playing some video game, or online poker.  I think I'd find a young lover and never come home. 

Sometimes under stress we forget just how lucky we are, until the clouds have begun to pass and the sunlight peaks it's way through. 

Change and nakedness. Hmmmmmmmm

It must be the holidays.

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/  

Monday, November 27, 2006

A PIECE OF HOPE

H O P E ... it's a funny little word that conjures a different mental experience for everyone, I think.  There's the HOPE a young girl has when her menstrual cycle seems like it is coming after being foolish enough to have had unprotected sex.  There is the HOPE in watching someone we love attempt something grandiose and desperately wanting them to be successful.  There is the HOPE that comes to some on Sunday evening when wishing for a different week.  There is HOPE one has when praying that someone not die, get sick or suffer. 

HOPE.

Merriam Webster writes that HOPE is to cherish a desire with anticipation -   to expect with confidence.  I see HOPE in the eyes of children, in the Pacific Ocean sunsets, and the sparkling stars of a nights sky.  I see it in the faces of some clergy, in a warm summer breeze, and in a bicycle ride down a hill with legs out stretched to the side. I love the beauty that is HOPE. 

There is foolish HOPE, like when we wish someone else will change, or bring us what we think we need, or carry our burdens.  These are often the unanswered foolish HOPE.  And quite possibly the type of HOPE that leads to heartache.  Ahhhh damn the foolish HOPE ... it will bite ya' every time.

Speaking as someone who has often picked her ass back up from being knocked to the ground, I can say with certainty that I have experienced all the diverse nuances of HOPE.  The most painful is foolish HOPE, which seems to stem from a desire to hide from the world, rather than running and embracing it with everything we've got.  But hiding in this HOPE is ok ... sometimes we need it in order to rest and set our sites on a new dream.  Or to be able to dust off an old one and bring it out into the light.

I have seen the walking HOPEless in the eyes of poverty, in the face of abuse and the passion of greed.  I have seen it in adults who accept less from the world, and attempt to bring others down with them.  A soul void of HOPE is cruel heartache looking for something to destroy.  Be wary of the HOPEless, those that will try to make you less than you are. Keep your eye on the mark ... supported by HOPE ... and let the HOPEless go.  As soon as you do, there is a freeing experience that comes with the letting go.

I like how Emily Dickenson puts it, ""Hope" is the thing with feathers-- That perches in the soul-- And sings the tune without the words-- And never stops--at all."  We must remove our own weighted bags of sand and soar upwards...

for the next dream begins with new HOPE.

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

Saturday, November 25, 2006

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WHEN I PLAYED IN THE SANDBOX THE CAT KEPT COVERING ME UP...

I am certain deceased relatives are dancing over their graves as my brother pulled off a Thanksgiving dinner party at his home.  There is hope for him yet.

My mother insisted that I be at my brother's house by three, and she shows up at four.  I think it was in her master plan to have my brother and I spend "quality" time together.  It was cute, because he seemed to be a bit nervous about hosting such a big dinner.  He appears to have everything under control, as he pours me a drink, grabs Brian's football and directs us outside.

I sit on his grey stone porch admiring the blue sky and the fact that my brother is about to play ball with my son, his nephew.  Brian loves attention from adults.  He has one of those odd, quirky smiles one has when trying not to let people know you are thrilled.  They throw the football back and forth until my mother arrives.  This is the first time I have ever watched my brother play outside with Brian.

My mother arrives with a stuffed turkey in hand and a centerpiece for the table.  My brother has prepared numerous side dishes and I start the potatoes.  The wait for my niece and nephew begins.  Brian sits at the front door watching the street waiting for the two young adults he admires most, his cousins.

Shannon and Johnny, my niece and nephew arrive with Shannon sporting a new vehicle.  They aren't children anymore.  I haven't seen them since Shannon's going away party.  Brian attacks Johnny like a starving dog to its owners, and I hug Shannon.  She is so perfectly beautiful.  I think she is already wealthier than me... she is her father's daughter.

For the first time, we will be having Thanksgiving with just our side of the family.  Felicita is gone, so there isn't this little Italian woman standing at the window seeing if I have brought a new man, then bitching that we are late. It is just my brother, mother, his kids and my son Brian.  No boyfriends or girlfriends.  It is a true family dinner.

For the first time in the kid's lives we began to tell our family stories and laugh, exposing the kids to the Irish side of their heritage.  And like my father before him, my brother has a mental library full of stories about construction and the different paving contractors in this area.  Trust me, Jimmy Haffa is most definitely buried in cement.  The stories still facinate me and I think they would make a great Chinatown-type movie about the construction industry.

Shannon talks of college and her boyfriend. Johnny is weeks away from driving his own truck. My mother is warmed by the joy of having her family about her. She is the grandma of the day. The usually shy Brian decides to try his dinner story telling skill for the first time and recites a long list of jokes, which make everyone laugh.  The best part is the shock on Shannon's face, because Brian's jokes are actually funny; then her great laugh causing Brian to giggle, which causes her to laugh harder which causes Brian to giggle more and the rest of us explode in laughter at the two of them.  Brian thinks he is "all that".  He even tells Shannon she is beautiful.  Oh I see shades of his future with women...

The dinner is excellent and my mother's stuffing gives me heartburn as usual.  My brother leans back in comfort from having a nice Thanksgiving with his kids, who I tell some of his best secrets.  He can give me all the stern looks he wants, but the kids love it.  Especially Shannon... when he harps on her for her boyfriend's age.  As she sits there trying to defend the age difference, I clear my throat and tell Shannon to ask him how old Lily was when they met.  "Eighteen", he answers.  And how old he was ... she looks at him "Twenty-five" he answers again.  Shannon laughs and hits his leg as they were exactly the same ages Shannon and her current boyfriend are now when he met their mom.

For some reason it is rare that my brother tells the kids his stories, so they are hanging on every word.  Shannon wants to know about our father, as she complains that my brother never talks about him.  Shannon asks if he was mean, and my mother and I laugh.  "Our dad?"  I ask.  "Well yeah," says Shannon, "because he never talks about him." looking at my brother.  For the first time in years my brother tells a story about our dad.  "I had this MG spitfire when I was in high school that never ran right and one day after school it dies.  My friends and I push it home.  When dad gets home from work I tell him about my car and he says, 'Let's go out and look at it', but I told him I didn't want to, that I want to go to the basketball game with my friends.  He says ok, and tells me to have fun.  When I get home late that night he is in bed, and when I get up the next day I discover while I was gone to the game, he fixed my car." he smiles and looks away.  "THAT," I respond, "That was our dad Shannon.  He would have given you the world if you asked."  She smiles, pleased.  We begin to tell her other stories of him.  This is a big step for my brother. 

We clean the table and do all the dishes together as a group.  It has taken 18 years to get us to this point.  My brother's dinner party was a huge success. 

And Brian thinks he is the new Rodney Dangerfield...

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

Thursday, November 23, 2006

HAPPY THANKSGIVING



May your stuffing be tasty

May your turkey plump,
May your potatoes and gravy
Have nary a lump.
May your yams be delicious
And your pies take the prize,
And may your Thanksgiving dinner
Stay off your thighs!

Tuesday, November 21, 2006

FRESH STARTS

It has been a crazy week so far.  It's funny because usually everything slows down the week of Thanksgiving in this business.  However, I am migrating my ex to his home office, training someone for him and driving to Stephanie's to start things with her.  I already like the change and can feel the winds blowing in a new direction.  I don't have time to think, which is probably a good thing.

The COO of the company I interviewed with on Halloween sent me another email about how disappointed he is that I didn't give him a chance.  Hey there sparky, I am a single mother here doing it all on my own - you want me - grab me while you can.  I didn't see an offer on my table to "give him a chance."  I heard through some old friends from ATG that he contacted of my old CTO, Curt.  I guess Curt raved about me, and it wasn't just for the size of my breasts.  So now this COO began to hear the stories ... like when I started the "Future Women in Technology" program at one of the local high schools and volunteered time there while working for ATG.  The principal tried talking me into getting my teaching credentials and becoming a teacher.  Or the reason I was employee of the month.  Or the time the CEO called me during the black out ... when I was in the bathroom in the dark and answered my cell phone.  I asked him to come find me because we had no security lights and I literally could not see the hand in front of my face. I was trying to use my cell phone to light my way out of the bathroom.  The CEO thought that was the funniest thing he had ever seen.  All I was thinking is "I am NOT dying in a bathroom!"  Curt will say, "You have to have that redhead around for the great laughs."

Now the hearing assistance company is calling me about their inside sales position too.  I haven't even gone for an interview.  I am going to work with Stephanie, but I will go interview and see what they have to offer. 

Interestingly enough, the stress has been monumental these few weeks and I seem to be making it without a serious "crash".  This morning I was up at 5am working on the computer and organizing my desk at home.  I feel fine, so maybe now the Armour is finally kicking in.  Or ....getting further away from my ex husband pleases me more than I realize...  I can't really say anything bad, as he did step up to the plate and helped me as I have helped him. 

Some other closures came up for me personally this week and it feels great.  It sometimes takes me a while to completely disconnect from things, but when I do, I am done and there is no going back.  I hate re-tracing old steps when a new path looks so much more inviting ... and promising.  Don't you love getting rid of emotional baggage and walking away?  It is so freeing.  You stand there scratching your head wondering why you didn't disconnect earlier.  I guess it takes some of us a little longer to learn our lessons.

I am looking forward the Thanksgiving at my brother's house.  He has already called me twice as we are trying to co-ordinate it around my mother's back.  So far we are working on the "How do we get her not to put her stuffing in the turkey?" plan.  I am looking forward to spending a relaxing day with my family and drinking wine with my brother.  He is one of those people who becomes funnier when he relaxes, so I will be refilling his glass often.

Gotta run-

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

Sunday, November 19, 2006

REMEMBER. NO MAN IS A FAILURE WHO HAS FRIENDS.

I finally get rid of all the little boys that have hung around Brian this weekend, jump in the shower to begin the countdown to our Sunday evening, when Brian yells. "There is someone at the door!"  How I am to deal with this while shampooing my hair is anyone’s guess, but only a child will do something this annoying.  "Who is at the door?"  I yell out to him.  "I don't know!" he answers.  I quickly rinse my hair, step out of the shower into my robe and go to the door while bitching at Brian.  He reminds me that I have always told him never to open the door to strangers.  Oh yeah ... there is that...

I open my door to this petite girl in a jogging suit and baseball cap, who begins saying,  "God Damn Cath I have had enough and I am coming in!" 

It is Stephanie.

I grin, "Ok, what's up?"  (I would have to ask this).  Oh let the lecture begin.  "Ok I am tired of this,” she begins, "I love you and I am tired of this.  I want you to work with me.  I want you in business with me.  I want you to let someone help you.  I hate that you are around your ex husband.  Let us go sit on your couch and talk about this and I am not taking no for an answer!  I came over because you are not answering your phone and I can’t stand this for one minute longer"

I follow her like a dutiful child to the living room.  I am smart enough to know when I have to sit down and listen to a beautiful woman, and a dear friend.  Tears well up in her eyes as she says, "I miss you.  I miss the old you, but I understand.  I have been you.  I have been there and please let me help you get your life back.  Please?  I am begging you.  I want you working with me, traveling to Florida, having fun, and laughing again.  I want you to write your book.  I want to sit in the audience when you are famous and say 'I helped her get here'.  I know I can help you make your dreams come true and it starts with getting you away from your ex.  We can be in business together and go to the gym together.  We can laugh together.  I can help you come back.  Lean on ME Catherine, please? Please don't say no."

I look at her with her big blue eyes and her kind soul.  A beautiful single mother who has raised two great kids all on her own.  We often compare ex husbands since they are so alike we are sure they were separated at birth.  Her stories are painful because it is like hearing my own married life.  I still do not know what to do or say.

She gets out her checkbook, writes a check and hands it to me.  "What is this?"  I ask.  "This is time," she responds, "I am buying your time, your brains, your talent, your friendship so you will see how serious I am.  I know you are laying awake every night scared out of your mind with no one to hold you, praying you will pull down a miracle.  I am your miracle.  I am here.  Everyone is this damn town loves you Catherine and we want our girl back."  Tears begin to roll down my face.  I am at a loss for words.

She takes my hand, "Lets dig you back out together.  Someday we will look back on all this and laugh.  I love you.  I am sure God sent you into my world to be my friend.  You are a true blessing - a wonderful person.  Please come work with me...please. I miss that girl who used to push her way into our office and demand loans in pink high heels and a handbag to match. This job will allow you to get well, go to school and write your book … wear pink shoes"

I laugh, and then sigh. "Ok, let's try this."  I respond.  She leaps to her feet with a grin as wide as Texas and exclaims, "Good, dry your hair and lets all go out to dinner.  I'm buying."

Well look at this…. tomorrow I start the grand adventure of disconnecting from my ex once again and begin the next phase of my life.

I prayed to God for so long it feels strange when he answers.

Until next time-

C


http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

REBEL REDHEADS

The series Six-Feet Under has come to the Bravo Network. I did not watch TV for eight years so I am finally able to catch up on this much talked about series.  People used to tell me the redhead daughter reminded them of me in my high school and early college years.  Since I never knew the TV program I could not comment if it was true.

Then last Saturday while resting all day I watch a marathon showing of the first season of Six Feet Under.  I fall in love with the series.  I enjoy well-written TV.  I like the redhead daughter but can't really see the connection between her and I until...

My brother knocks on my door Friday morning.  It is a rare event when he comes over to visit.  He never calls and only visits when he is troubled.  He is the older sibling who is forever doing the right thing.  I used to call him “Dudley Do-Right” when we were teenagers just to piss him off.  Since graduating from college he has chosen to work in construction, because he finds the walls of an office "suffocating".  He gets up at 5:00 am every day - just like my father and is roaring along by 7:00 am. 

When I open my front door at 7 am dressed in a robe, rubbing my eyes, instead of saying hello, he says, "Jesus Christ! You aren't still in bed are you?"  I have to look around because I swear he is channeling our dead father.  He is clutching papers in his hands and I invite him in. The coffee is about done brewing. I offer him a cup, "No I've had three already and breakfast.  Good God, when do you go to work?"  "Gees, you sure are a nag” I respond, pouring my first cup of coffee.  I lead him into my living room.

I sit down ready to hear what his problem is and offer my opinion.  He has questions about his current home loan.  I tease him by falling out of my chair because he actually trusts me with a financial question.  He laughs and tells me to stop.  My brother saved his first thousand dollars by the time he was seven.  I was twenty-eight when I started realizing all the money in my accounts were not meant to be spent.  He married the right girl, from the right wealthy family, while I walked away from all that when I left Rich.  My brother is divorced now, of course, which I rather enjoy, (Not because it hurt him - because it killed me to see him in such pain) because he is not so perfect anymore. I like him better this way.

I answer all his loan questions and we talk about my niece and nephew.  He has decided to host Thanksgiving this year.  This will be the first time in the history of our family a man is handling the Thanksgiving feast.  My mother is having panic attacks.  I don’t know why, as her turkey is always as dry as cactus in the Mohave desert.  We are not brave enough to tell her this (we do want to live to be 90).  My brother and I hold out hope, with his cooking abilities we might not have to put an inch of gravy on our turkey this year.  I am looking forward to sitting around his pool catching up with my niece.  It seems my nephew is struggling through his own sixteen year old stuff.  Brian will be excited to follow him around all day and bug the crap out of him. 

My TV is on low as we sit in the living room at 7 am.  Bravo happens to be the channel and suddenly a Six Feet Under advertisement appears.  My brother stops, turns his head, laughs and says, "Have you watched this show?"  I respond, "Yes, I just started last weekend.”  He says, "Was that us after dad died or what?"  I hadn’t really thought about it, but while he grins it dawns on me, "Mom is like the mother" I comment.  He laughs, nods and says, "You were a pain in the ass like the sister.” (I am thinking I am still the pain in the ass).  He rises from the chair and thanks me for my loan advice.  He gives me a hug and says, "You need to get up earlier."  I roll my eyes and he walks out the door.

Once outside, he turns to me and says, "You should come down to the union office.  They are desperate for people because of the freeway-widening project.  They can't get enough help."  Me in a hard hat?  He goes on, "It has great benefits that pay 100% which can help get you well. See you later.”  He turns and walks away.  I laugh thinking; yeah they would hire me since they hire guys just out of prison.  My brother is known for understanding how to deal with them ... it is why he has risen through the ranks of the union.  But his sister…???

Saturday, between cleaning house and feeding boys I watch a segment of Six Feet Under.  The redhead daughter on the show has been sent to a weekend camp because she was busted.  I laugh.  When I was 16 I was picked up in the State Park for under age drinking.  I was with a bunch of friends watching a local baseball team.  We were all drinking and I was the lucky girl the cops reached in and picked.  I thought my dad was going to tear the door off the building when he arrived at the police station.  I asked the sergeant if I could stay.  They did not arrest me, just wrote me a ticket to appear in court.

I got in so much trouble with my parents for that stunt.  When it came time to go before the judge, she looks at my school records and says, "You are an A student and on the honor role.  I have letters from your teachers here telling me what a great kid you are.  Tell me again, why are you here in my court?"  "I was drinking beer with my friends in the park,” I respond.  "Honest too… I see,” she says, "Will you promise me you will wait until you are 21 to drink again?"  I smile, "Sure".  She rips my file in two and says "Then I have never seen you here."  My dad is so mad that I got off this easy that he extends my restriction by a month.

In watching the girl on Six Feet Under I constantly laugh aloud.  I see who her boyfriend is; this two ear ringed troubled youth who was just like the hockey player that was my boyfriend in high school.  My brother and I also made fun of the men our mom dated after dad died.  We hated most of them until Papa Dick came along.  I remember one of the men mom dated called and was an ass to me on the phone.  I told him I was getting my mother and then just set the phone down.  I turned up the stereo and never moved.  Several hours later I put the phone back on the hook.  The next time he came over he tried to lecture me and I flipped him off. I got on the back of my boyfriend’s motorcycle and rode off.
 
At the time my mother would try to defend him and we would get into these fights.  I referred to him as “pencil-neck guy”, or “queue-ball head man”.  God, she would get mad. After she marriesour “Papa Dick” she finally admits I was right about “pencil-neck man”.  I loved Papa Dick.  He was wonderful to me, and to Brian.  When mom married him it was as if he brought the family back together and heals our broken hearts.  We were thrilled mom didn't marry any of the other goofballs she'd been dating.  Papa Dick sure loved Rich.  He wanted us to get married so badly.  He didn't want me to marry my ex husband.  I could say that I should have listened, but there would be no Brian and Papa Dick adored Brian. He spoiled him rotten.  Of course, we all know I am crazy for Brian too.

Thankfully, I think I have grown up since being the redheaded girl with the chip on her shoulder, although the rebel in me does come out from time to time.  I try hard to contain her, but it is difficult sometimes.  I think my inner rebel is more under control when I am with a man who is a warrior-type.  What I mean by this is a man who handles difficulties with ease and determination.  He is street smart and just a wee bit untrusting of strangers.  Both Rich and my ex husbands are not warriors, which forces a woman to take charge in difficult times when involved with them.  Most women don’t like it.  For me the rebel girl comes out when I lose respect for a man. 

I suppose I am not as far from the redhead character, Claire in Six Feet Under as I thought…

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

Thursday, November 16, 2006

BUT WORDS ARE THINGS, AND A SMALL DROP OF INK...

Sometimes life hands us an "Ah ha!" moment when we least expect.  Well over a year ago I decided to start this blog after attending a REMLA meeting where Susan Hagen and Mary Carouba were the keynote speakers.  They wrote a book called Women at Ground Zero.  This luncheon meeting changed the direction of my life.

I was profoundly moved by the stories, their presentation and the fact that there they were, standing right in front of me ... two people who had simply acquired my dream.  A dream I had ignored, stuffed, laughed at and tried to sweep under the rug.  Except it kept showing up in my life repeatedly.  The world seemed to be screaming at me to write again.  At this meeting, KB gathered at least 40 copies of all their fliers and toilet papered my chair saying, "If this isn't your G-damned sign then I don't know what is!"  KB is anything but subtle.

So I started this blog to get the thoughts that roll around in my head out of me so that I can move to the story.  But I didn't realize that I needed to tell my stories to heal my broken heart.  I think my heart has been aching for a very long time.  This blog helped me dig the painful stories up and exorcise them from the dark side of my heart.  The little stories turned into many stories, which turned into a type of mediation practice that I can't let go of for very long.

I signed up for Susan Hagan's writing newsletters and often wished there was the extra money to go to one of her workshops for women.  Truth be told I could have probably collected the funds to attend, but I feel guilty spending the money when Brian needs things too.  He is such a great kid. 

Then ... this week one of her emails arrives and it is for a writing workshop this evening in Petaluma, a town 20 minutes south of me.  It is affordable, $10.00.  I decide to forgo Brian's basketball practice, since he is with his dad this week, and allow myself some time to explore this burning desire in my soul. 

I haven't been sleeping well the past two nights, so for a brief time after work I thought about staying home and going to bed early.  But I felt I was called to go; I needed to be there.  I brave the cold rainy night and drive to the Petaluma Community Center.  I find a small sign, which reads "Writer's Forum" with an arrow and step into a room where the chairs are laid out in a circle.  At least 30 other writers are there too.

Susan begins to speak and walk us through her writing practice. I realize how much I miss taking classes.  I am transfixed by her ease of words, as if she is channeling a great philosopher.  She shares her process for writing, then uses it to take us into a writing prompt.  My college English professor used to have us "free write" this way, and I remember how much I loved it.  When the bell sounds to write, I become stuck with the writing prompt.  Oh great, I have writers block.  It is difficult, so I just free write exactly what my mind is saying.  Fifteen minutes later we are done.

Then she asks us to read our free write stores.  As writer after writer share their stories, which sounded like something Shakespeare would write, I think about not sharing mine.  But then I tell myself I have to find out why I feel called to be here.  I shake like a scared dog reading what I wrote. I can't figure out why.  Usually public speaking doesn't bother me.  When finished, the fellow writers give feedback.

I was struck by something Susan says, "It is obvious your mind wanted you to write about Brian, but you were fighting it.  It was interesting that you wrote how you had difficulty with the prompt about the island with the photos from your childhood and not seeing Brian there.  You wrote how your life began when Brian was born."   She went on to say other helpful comments, but I was stunned by her comments.  I hadn't really listened to myself read my story. 

The book that rattles around in my head is based on Brian.

Another writer notes the isolation in my story in being on an island surounded by photographs of my young life without having Brian there, even though he was foremost in my mind.  She blows me away.  Was my childhood and young life really that lonely?

Susan ends the meeting giving me the tools I need to begin writing my epic story.

As it turns out...

This was my sign.

Until next time-

C

There is more to tell...but I am exhausted.

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

Wednesday, November 15, 2006

YESTERDAY'S SONGS

There is a theory about the reason we forget stuff.  It is called the consolidation theory.  It states that because of experience, certain neural activities responsible for permanent memories are set into motion. Disruption of these activities leads to poorly formed memories, and thus, we forget.

Then a certain smell, sound, place or circumstance brings the memory back to the forefront and we are suddenly transported to the past.  Like today when I was driving, lost in thought and all of a sudden I hear, “Where it began I can't begin to know it …but then I know it's going strong … was in the spring, and spring became a summer… Who'd have believed you'd come along. …Hands, touching hands … Reaching out, touching me, touching you…”

Sweet Caroline

It’s Neil Diamond on the radio.  Unexpectedly I am transformed back to the year 2000.  I am walking the long pale yellow hall towards my office at the back of ATG.  It is 4:30pm on a Friday and I quicken my pace – almost time to go home.  I pass the smiling faces of the engineers who say hello as I pretend to not notice them watching my breasts as I walk by.  The wireless group is next and they giggle hello in the middle of their ‘what are you doing tonight’ conversation.  As I round the final corner to my office door a familiar sound begins to reverberate from beyond my view.

Eric has started Sweet Caroline in our office.  You see, when you share an office with a MacGyver tech guy he can wire up a surround sound computer stereo that would make Madonna jealous.  There is a live concert booming from my computer.  I enter our office and he turns to me singing, "Warm touching warm, reachin' out, touching me, touching you, hands, touching hands, reaching out, touching me, touching you…” I start to laugh as the wireless group runs down the hall behind me pushing me all the way into our office.  They begin a loud chorus, “Sweet Caroline, good times never seemed so good! I’ve been inclined, to believe there never would. Oh no no. Sweet Caroline, good times never seemed so good! I am inclined, to believe there never would. Oh no no.

In that place we are all singing and dancing.  It’s Karaoke without the booze.  There is just something about this Neil Diamond song that makes you feel like Santa really does exist and good guys do finish first.  Even the CEO, who often looked like he could kill you for breathing, laughs at our silly end-of-Friday ritual.  Of course, we are clear across the building from him, which is half a block long.  Eric arises from his chair, walks over and begins to dance with me.  Our laughter echoes down the long corridor out through the cubicle floor.  I never knew work could be so much fun.

Soon Tony peaks his head through the door, shakes his head, and laughs.  He is our very own Antonio Banderas.  He stands watching us in his perfect Italian suit with his perfect Latin hair. He winks at me with his beautiful turquoise colored eyes.  Eric gives me the “I know you think he is a nice guy, but please stay away from him” look as Tony enters the office approaching me.  Cracklin Rose begins to play.  The group is singing louder now and Tony moves closer.  He is now in my personal spaceand blocking Eric.  I don’t think a man should be this beautiful. “Red, what dar you doin tonight?” he practically whispers.  In my head he is asking, “Lovely red, will you fly away with me to the Kasbah?”  Luckily motherhood and a boy who needs to be picked up from day care saves me from temptation.  He responds, “Too baad … maybe another time?”  Eric gives me the YOU KNOW HE IS A SENIOR EXECUTIVE look. 

Yeah, but Tony could melt all the food in the frozen food isle with just his smile.

I am jolted back to the present with the loud honking of a car horn, as my light has turned green. Sweet Caroline is over.  God, I miss them.   I miss riding in the corporate jet so mad at Tony that I hold up a newspaper to block his face.  With him calmly charming everyone else while making small comments about the articles on the back page of my paper.  He was so hard to resist.  Eric was forever trying to block any interaction between Latin man and myself.  I’ll never forget the time I told Tony he smokes cheap cigars.  He looked at me, laughed and generously offered to bring his cigar box to my hotel room for a closer inspection.  Just when a girl thinks she has heard everything…

Back at the office my x husband greets me.  There are no Tonys or Erics there.  I have a second email from the COO of the company that interviewed me on Halloween.  He is wondering if I got the application … his email is tentative.  I am guessing he doesn’t like his other applicants.  I think about all the jobs I have had and what they meant to my life.  I decide to take a big risk and tell him I am not interested in the position.  It was one of the most freeing experiences I’ve done since I went skinny dipping at …

I am considering other options.

I just wish they included Eric, Neil Diamond and some tall sexy man following me around wanting to know what I am doing this evening.

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

Monday, November 13, 2006

I WISH LIFE IMMITATED ART

The rain has returned to Northern California and I spent the better part of the weekend resting.  Often, when Brian goes to stay with his dad, I turn attention to myself and realize I need to sleep. Friday night, I light a fire, dawn my pajamas and curl up under a blanket to watch Men in Trees.  I adore Brian but there is something about not hearing the constant, "Mom... MOM.... mom ...mum ...MoM... awwwm...Mom" which brings peace.  Children sure know how to wear out a word.

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Of course it stands to reason that I love a TV show about a woman writer who gets to fly all over while getting paid, hang out with sexy, kind men and write about the experience.  Where was I when they were handing out such a life?  I suppose I am relegated to watching it on TV and wishing it was I.  Maybe if I take up writing porn as it has been suggested, I could live such a life…? HA!

 

The COO of the company I interviewed on Halloween has emailed me an application and now wants to start a background check.  Have I seen an offer?  The balls of this man must be titanium, as I do not seem to view the idea of working for him as worthwhile as he believes it is.  Again, why do I have to lay my life open for a job that does not require life-saving skills?  And, why on earth would I do it before we agree I even want the job?  By now so many people I value have all said, “NO!” to taking this job the minute I describe what has happened in the interview process. Now I get the pleasure of saying “No thank you”.  As desperate as I might seem to move my life along I AM NOT THAT DESPERATE!  I am looking forward to writing a “thank you but NO thank you” letter.  Dale keeps reminding me, “There is no one like you Catherine and any company would be lucky to have you – remember this!”

 

Even though I am the redhead…?

 

I sleep all day Saturday on into Sunday and feel my adrenals finally coming back to life.  I have learned not to beat myself up for resting, instead, I tell myself it is “self care” and allow my body to tell me what it needs.  By Sunday morning I feel like my old self and am ready to go play.  Luckily for me the writer’s club is meeting is Sunday afternoon.  There is also a speaker I enjoy at an evening meditation service.  I can get out of the house and mingle.

Late Sunday afternoon I make my way through empty Santa Rosa streets downtown to the Arts Council of Sonoma County Gallery for this month’s writer’s club meeting.  The President begins each meeting with everyone telling the writing we have accomplished in the past month.  I always feel like a kindergartner attempting Yale at this moment as writer after writer says something like, “I have finished my second novel and have submitted it to the publisher, I have started a short story on Gandhi who I lived with when I was a child, and I solved global warming when I was bored…oh and Bill Gates wants me to write a ….”  Then it is my turn.  “Ummmm … I am a redhead … ?”  Can I get kudos for being a single parent?

The walls that surround us in this mini art museum are sketched nudes of women.  There are naked penciled women everywhere.  They encircle us like butterflies about a thistle field.  The chosen speaker this month is an attorney to discuss copyright law.  Only a copyright attorney can stay focused on such dry material while surrounded by groups of smiling naked, penciled women.  He manages to focus on the clock.  I am pleased to see artists who sketch women as they really look.  There is sensuality in the imperfection and therealness of their round shapes.

 

I wish the attorney were discussing art...

 

I love this little funky group of talent in this club.  They achieve goals I can only imagine at this point in my life.  None are uncomfortable with the naked art, as we feel right at home with fellow artists revealing their craft.  I am thrilled there are other naked women who look like me.  It takes many of us women back to that scene in Titanic where Jack sketches Rose.  We all secretly want to be Rose.  Of course, the men in my life would have drawn a stick figure or one dot and then want sex.  I can hear the "Hey babe, but I drew a freckle!" line now...

 

So now I know everything I never wanted to know about copyright, although I did learn what lawyer I would want to call the minute a contract gets pushed under my nose.  I meet a new member … a tall guy who has had his own thyroid issues.  He looks great which gives me hope.  I hope he isn’t wierded out by me tackling him to the floor and sitting on him to tell me every last morsel of information on why he is doing so well…

Of course with 30,000 different naked penciled women all around he may have thought he died and went to heaven.

I leave naked women on the wall and an attorney who finds copyright law more tantalizing than erotica to drive to the evening meditation service.   I could say it is a culture shock, except the meditation hall is filled with candles and muted lighting.  Soft music plays in the background as everyone shuts their eyes.  IS THIS MY SIGN?

 

It helps when I get out in the world doesn't it?

 

Until next time-

 

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

Saturday, November 11, 2006

Thursday, November 9, 2006

OK I FIGURED IT OUT

TA DA
                                                                               

Now if I can only make it center, but it is a start.

OIY ... I need to get a life!

Soas I interview and look about to find that next thing, today my xhusband comes into my office and asks to speak with me.  "Are youseeing what's happening to you?" he asks.  "What is happening tome?" I look up.  "After that first intense interview you didn'trecover for three days, and I see you suffering with it all. Are you sure you can handle a full-time job?"

There it is ...you can hear a pin drop.

NowI ask myself, is this the afraid, not wanting me to leave him x, or ishe speaking from the heart? It is still difficult to gage.  He issalesman, and a narcissist to boot.  But a little voice in myheart tells me I am drowning.  I am dog paddling a lifehere.  But I don't think being around him too much is ever verygood for me overall.  He is a drain on my energy.  I justdon't know what it is and I don't know why I didn't see it when we weredating.  Being around him is like dragging an anchor atsea.  I know there will be some improvement from disconnecting.

Butcan I handle eight or more hours a day?  There is this job 30minutes south of me that I would love to try.  It is amulti-billion-dollar company provides hearing tools in schools forchildren with disabilities.  Is this right up my ally orwhat?  It's an inside sales job and talk about something I ampassionate about!  I'd be able to see all the tools that mighthelp Brian ... and I would have access to them.  Plus to be ableto helpother parents and their children…  I would love it. However, it would be over an hour a day on the road plus the eighthours and the stress of learning a new job.

Dale, our broker and my x boss calls me today asking how my interviews are going.  I know he doesn’t want me to leave, but understands I need to move on.  He is the top name on my reference list.  I ask about the company I interviewed with on Halloween, whether they have called him.  He says no, but adds “You always ace the interview Cath.”  Yeah well…maybe the old me.  The COO has emailed me telling me I am in the running, and I relay this to Dale.  “Do you want the job?” he asks.  I tell him that I don’t know, that I am pissed that he hasn’t bothered to contact my references.  I mean, I show up early, with a porfolio and a resume written just for the job.  He knows everyone I worked with at ATG.  I spend two and a half hours at their office.  Isend a funny written card, followed up with a professional email thankyou with an attached PowerPoint presentation like he asked.  And he can’t acknowledge my effort by calling my references?  Oh but he will call an old boss of mine that I worked with at ATG if I can find him.  Seems he was a neighbor and is just dying to talk with him.  Did I start the job already?  I did email the old ATG group, but no one has been able to come up with anything yet.  SoI tell Dale, “What kind of boss will he be if he can’t even make aneffort to acknowledge the work I have done by calling at least oneperson on my references?”  And Dale, wise man says “Exactly.  I think that’s your answer.”

I am scared that I can't do the eight ours plus commute thing… not yet … but really  ...I just don't know.  Is my x sensing this and moving in on a openwound of mine ... or is he seeing what I refuse to admit?  Thereis Stephanie out there who is offering something part-time that wouldwork, but it certainly isn’t something I am passionate about.  It would buy me time to still work on getting well. 

This afternoon, I talked with an old friend on the phone that deals with the same thyroid issues.  He says over time it does improve.  He is much better now after years on medication.  I don’t have years … and I have a son to take care of.  So the bigger question is can I take the high stress of the new job and push through it …if I can?

Meanwhile I meditate and pray for guidance.  Something has to take hold.  I just wish I felt better.  I have to believe that it is all working in my favor and will turn out, as it should.

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

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ED HAS LEFT THE BUILDING

 

 

Damn ... now another one I won't be able to marry.

 

 

 

 

 

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With all my vast technical training I still can't figure out how to make my photos and art fit within the text section of this blog.  It is available, I just can't figure it out ... God forbid I actually read some instructions!

 

 

 

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DON'T STOP THINKING ABOUT TOMORROW

I don't often discuss the side effects of Hashimoto's disease, as I try and keep my focus on important things in life and fight through symptoms as they arise.  Lucky for me I get the added disease cocktail of Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue!  I try and fight these two added lovelies with lots of B12, Ibruprofin and extra Cytomel(T3).  I am pretty successful most of the time, until I have a "crash".  A crash is a period of time where I have to force myself to do everything, and mornings are an exhaustive nightmare.  Sleep is not restorative and depression sets in.  Focusing becomes impossible as I fight with my mind and body to get through each day. 

It is tough interviewing during these crash times.  It takes everything I have to show up and be ready with my portfolio.  The interviewer has no idea what a fighter I am.  It is difficult to be patient with their ridiculous questions which have nothing to do with the job at hand.  The bigger questions employers should ask are:  Is this person smart and adaptable?  Will this person be easy to get along with and have a good attitude?  Do their references have great things to say about them?  Pretty much, that's it.  My resume is filled with software experience, yet a future employer will get stuck on one software I don't know.  Isn't all software just entering information to produce something?  It isn't rocket science.  I remember going to work for NAMC and not knowing a thing about "Smartsoft" and the phones keep ringing off the hook.  I decide to help by picking up the phone and opening the software on my desktop.  I am always able to figure out the users problem and fix it without training.  This blows my bosses away. 

My new bosses at NAMC are so insanely busy that on my first day all they have time to do is point to my desk area where a computer is in a box.  They can't stop long enough to get me set up.  I set up my own computer and wander the halls of NAMC asking for the head of IT.  When I find him and tell him I am setting myself up, he laughs and sends a technician with me back to my desk.  The technician is impressed and calls the phones guy over.  In a half hour I am up and running.  My bosses think this is amazing and hilarious.  Hey, wear a short enough skirt or the right top and guys will follow you anywhere to help you do just about anything.  Of course from then on my bosses always answer my questions with, "You figure it out - you're smart!" 

When I was a manager I hired people from the places I would go as a consumer.  One employee I hired was a waitress in a restaurant.  I watched how hard she worked, how well she multi-tasked, how pleasant she was and I gave her a business card and told her to call me.  She didn't know a thing about computers or mortgage banking.  She ended up being one of the best employees I ever had.  She didn't even know how to put together a resume.  I trained all myemployees that I pulled in from other places. They were all better than the employees I inherited from the previous boss.  So much for that structured interview process...

So back to this crash time ... see how easily I get off subject ... its that focus thing.  But there is some new information I have come across and for those of you reading this blog with thyroid issues I want to provide the following information:

Kent Holtorf, M.D., on Effective Treatment of Chronic Fatigue Syndrome and Fibromyalgia
ImmuneSupport.com


02-21-2003

By Kent Holtorf, M.D.

Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (CFS) and Fibromyalgia (FM) are illnesses that often coexist and affect millions of Americans. Symptoms vary amongst individuals and commonly include severe fatigue, sleep disturbances, cognitive problems (commonly called ‘brain fog’), muscle pain and multiple infections. Unfortunately, many individuals and physicians continue to deny that these syndromes are legitimate diseases.

The medical literature is, however, very clear that these are legitimate diseases and individuals with these syndromes have measurable hypothalamic, pituitary, immune and coagulation dysfunction. These abnormalities then result in a cascade of further abnormalities, in which stress plays a role.

The pituitary and hypothalamic dysfunction results in multiple hormonal deficiencies that are often not detected with standard blood tests, and autonomic dysfunction, including neurally mediated hypotension.

The immune dysfunction, which includes natural killer cell dysfunction, results in opportunistic infections and yeast over growth, making the symptoms worse. Recent studies have shown that the coagulation dysfunction is usually initiated by a viral infection and has genetic predisposition. This abnormal coagulation results in increased blood viscosity (‘slugging’) and a deposition of soluble fibrin monomers along the capillary wall. This results in tissue and cellular hypoxia, resulting in fatigue, and decreased cognition (brain fog). Neurotransmitter abnormalities and macro and micro nutrient deficiencies have also been shown to occur with these disorders.

Gulf War Syndrome, which is almost identical to CFS and FM, was found to have a parallel cause. The cause was determined to be from multiple vaccinations under stressful conditions in susceptible individuals. These vaccines, which are viral mimics, resulted in the same coagulation cascade and the deposition of fibrin monomers, resulting in the same tissue hypoxia that occurs in FM and CFS. As a result, these multiple injections are being discontinued by the armed forces.

Current research suggests that many triggers can initiate a cascade of events, causing the hypothalamic, pituitary, immune and coagulation dysfunction. The most common initiating cause is a viral infection, which is very commonly Epstein-Barr Virus, Cytomegalovirus or HHV6. These are found in 80% of CFS and FM patients. Many people with these syndromes can pinpoint the onset of the disease(s) to a viral infection that never got better. Also, stress seems to be a contributing factor. Effective treatment, with 80 to 90 percent of individuals achieving significant clinical benefits, can be achieved by simultaneously treating the above problems that an individual is found to have.

The mix of treatments needed varies from patient to patient. There are some abnormalities that are common. For instance, close to 100% of individuals with these syndromes have low thyroid. This is, however, usually not picked up on the standard blood tests because the TSH is not elevated in these individuals due to pituitary dysfunction. Many of these individuals will also have high levels of the anti-thyroid reverse T3, which is usually not measured on standard blood tests. In addition, the majority of individuals can also have a thyroid receptor resistance that is not detected on the blood tests. Consequently, thyroid treatment, especially with timed release T3, is effective for many patients. T4 preparations (inactive thyroid) such as Synthroid and Levoxyl do not work well for these conditions.

Adrenal insufficiency and growth hormone deficiency are also very common with these disorders, and supplementation with these hormones can often have profound effects. As with thyroid testing, these deficiencies are, unfortunately, usually not detected with the standard screen blood tests and require more specific testing.

When an individual is found to have one of the viruses discussed above, these can be treated with resulting improvement in symptoms. There are a number of drugs, including anti-viral medication, that are currently undergoing phase III clinical trials at clinics, including ours [Hormone and Longevity Medical Center], for FDA approval in the treatment of FM and CFS.

Although a concept that is sometimes uncomfortable and foreign to traditional medical styles of thinking, the need for multiple interventions is effective when an illness affects a critical control center (such as the hypothalamus), which impacts the multiple systems noted above. Unfortunately, there is not a single treatment that reverses hypothalamic dysfunction directly. Thus, this situation is different from illnesses that affect a single target organ and which can be treated with a single intervention.

For example, pituitary dysfunction itself often requires treatment with several hormones. This effect is multiplied in hypothalamic dysfunction, which affects several critical systems in addition to the pituitary gland. An integrated treatment approach based on simultaneously treating the above problems is significantly beneficial in CFS and FMS. Individuals with these devastating syndromes can “get their lives back” despite the fact that they were previously told, “There is nothing that can be done,” or “It is all in your head.”

Kent Holtorf, M.D.

***

The above article shows why, even though I am better because of the Armour, symptoms of CFS and FMS still pop up from time to time.  These better doctors are expensive and don't bill insurances.  This is another reason why I need a different job so that I can afford the rest of the care to get completely well.  It is that damn chicken or the egg thing.  I need to be well to do the job and I need the job to be well.  It has been suggested that I apply for State Disability, but I am afraid if I allow myself to get out of the game, I won't get back in.  When we were first married my x husband was on disability before his back surgery.  I hated it.  The bureaucracy is a nightmare to deal with.

I am determined to beat this thing and get my career back.  I will not consider anything less. A local doctor that is a friend has bugged me to live in his lower home, but again, giving up my independence and the home that Brian has known is not an easy decision.  This is the fighting redhead in me. 

My heart goes out to all of you reading this blog who also deal with this disease and battle the same issues.  I hope through the years I can show you that we do make it and overcome the physical obstacles we deal with.  We must never give up.

Until next time-

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

http://www.aweekinthelifeofaredhead.com

Wednesday, November 8, 2006

ONE FOR THE HISTORY BOOKS

Today, my friends,  I awake to a historical benchmark ... a woman Speaker of the House  ... WOW.  I love Nancy Pelosi.  She has attended several functions here and I have met her in person.  She is a straight shooter who once told me single motherhood is the toughest, most admirable job there is.  From her lips to God's ears.

Madam Speaker.

I just love how that rolls off the tongue.  Regardless of ones political persuasion, women have to be glad that we are finally breaking through the ranks in politics.  It is not a career I would choose, hell mine would be so rocked with scandal that I'd make Brittany Spear's life look tame, but I believe all workplaces benefit from a balance of men and women. 

Then Rumsfeld resigns.  Doesn't he always look like that little barking dog at your neighbors, who you know is going to bite you the minute you move? I swear I hear a little growl just before he begins to speak.

On a lighter note, today Brian turns in a report on "The Person I admire Most for His Perseverance".  Last night he wants me to read it and look for mistakes (me-the girl who needs her own editor - oiy).  I was glad he left the room, because I cried when I read it.  I told him later it was fine.  Now, like a typical mother, I want to share it.  Here it is:

_______________________________________________________________

Writing                                                                                     Brian C. 7

Expository Essay                                                                      November 8, 2006

 

 

MICHAEL J. FOX

 

           

             The person I picked who has persevered in their life is the actor Michael J.

 

Fox.  Michael J. Fox has stared on many TV shows and was the star of the Back to the

 

Future movies.  The reason I picked Michael J. Fox is because he has Parkinson’s

 

disease. He has the disease since 1991.  Parkinson's disease is a degenerative disorder

 

of the central nervous system that impairs movement and speech.

 

            Michael J. Fox is wealthy enough to stop acting and quit when he found out he

 

has Parkinson’s disease, but he didn’t.  He decided to continue acting, start the

 

Michael J. Fox Foundation for Parkinson's Research, write abook and become a

 

supporter for stem cell research.  He is trying to help find a cure for this disease.

 

            I like Michael J. Fox because I know his days must be difficult and people

 

probably think he looks funny.  He doesn’t seem to care.  He says that this time in his

 

life are the happiest.  He is proud that he has this disease.  Mr. Fox makes me believe

 

that if I try hard enough I can do anything and I shouldn’t care what other people think. 

 

He is not afraid to stand up for something he believes in.  This is very hard to do.

 

Reading is hard forme and it probably is for him too.  He would want me to try as hard

 

as I can.  He’d want me to persevere.

 

_______________________________________________________

 

Is this my sign?

 

Until next time-

 

C

http://journals.aol.com/rapieress/Aweekinthelife/

Tuesday, November 7, 2006

                  I VOTED!

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