I Caught the Beast!

Wrapped her in a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer and put her right to sleep in her bed in her room/my office. We'll call it "The Guest Room."

After I dropped her at work today, I went to the gym. When I got home, I started re-deranging the office.

The bedding needed to be washed. The bookcase; table; life-size cut-outs of Darth Vader, SJP, and James Gandolfini as Tony Soprano; file cabinet; sewing machine; serger; office chair; and too many books, papers, and art supplies all needed to be moved somewhere else to make the room livable. They were all moved into the living room. The living room is now a dangerous place to walk through, so I've left the bathroom light on to help us navigate until Saturday when furniture gets removed to other parts of the property; read basement and garage.

Yep, the beast is asleep in her bed wrapped in a warm blanket. Sometimes Mama Bear gets it right.

In the Wee Small Hours of the Woman's Morning

There's a woman I know just a little bit, and I adore her because of what I know that she does not know that I know. I only learned it because her granddaughter told me, "Oh yeah, we've got that in our family." She then went on to explain how her dear grandma has two grandsons who live only a half mile away, and she never sees them; has no relationship with them because that's how the grandsons' mother wants it. This amazing woman's son lives this way. She is on par with my own sainted grandmothers. She inspires me. I am hoping to send her a note properly expressing how I feel without hurting her with reminders, nor making her uncomfortable because her first granddaughter told me a family secret in an effort to make me feel better. I care for the children of a wonderful family. I've been told that I'm appreciated. That's all I really need to spew love all over the little critters. So I'm relatively fresh off of taking care of three lovely granddaughters. None of them my own, but oh the joy they bring. And now, because this is only a blog, let's boil it down - I don't get to see my grandgirls, nor have any communication with them other than the few times I see them during the year. It is the same for my daughter, son, and entire family. It's called, "Parental Alienation." The time I spend with other children heals my soul. The people I've come into contact with who go through something similar to what I go through - well, when they handle it with public grace - I'm eternally awestruck. Oh to be that person in that moment. It's a goal worth pursuing that feels so much better than totally f'ing up. I'm off to be selfish and happy. There is a "Downton Abbey" marathon on WTTW Prime that's been going since sometime on Thursday. I'm thoroughly enjoying it. Basically, my daughter is away for the evening. My son is asleep. They are both safe. I've heard no bad news other than a bit of news from my sister-in-law. I've got a plan to address my volunteered obligations to her and my bro'. I've had a lovely evening of working to be the best I can be while taking care of myself and succeeding. All the while, I was showered with happiness and cooperation. I'm telling you. The mother of the grandsons is really missing out. I hope the same as my lovely grandmothers and so many other; may we all experience the just love of those we hold most dear simply because they are blood.

It's Time to Get Real

After only a year's hiatus, I'm back! Believe me, I'm as surprised as you are. With a new and never before used password, I'm off and running again. I'm still surprised. "Twilight Zone" is my white noise. I'm up because I'm a night owl. The story is about a woman traveling alone and continually seeing a hitchhiker. Anyone remember it? I do. Love "Black and White." I'm up because I'm a night owl, and my daughter is surviving a manic episode and at work. I've sent her a text asking if she can sleep at a friend's or Uber it home. She works a double tomorrow. She's off on Friday with plans to see her boyfriend, who is nine years her senior. The following is what I wrote for a new intro, but it is too long: "While six years ago the following might have been true, "Going Forward @ 50 is a bit of a journal with short stories, poems, pictures and random thoughts about the art of acquiring a new life because the kids are raised, and I need a life," the reality of the last six years is so much more than I expected. Seems this might be a great bit of therapy for more than just me. My most trusted friends are even more trusted. I am stronger than I want to be. My children are completely opposite personalities and wonderful. My granddaughters are smart and beautiful, and I fear for their well-being. We need help. We want help. If I do this right, all my dreams will come true. If I mess up, I'll learn and keep trying. Fuck fatalism and victimization. Crawling up from these depths may be a lack-luster journey filled with inconsistent plodding,failure, and success. Can't even commit to taking anyone with me all of the way. My friends are my friends. My readers are my readers. If you want a look inside - welcome." So, of course, I got upset and just deleted any intro, for now. Anyway, I can't say that my daughter will be happy with me for sharing any of these experiences. In fact, I'm very sure she'd be pretty, darn pissed. UNLESS - I can fully explain sincerely with integrity that the only reason I'm sharing this is because there are others who are going through something of the same in their own unique ways. If I can give hope through my writing. If my words and vulnerability might help reach a solution. If, if, if . . . After a good amount of reflection and emotional reaction, I've decided that imagining wonderfully, positive outcomes is better for daily living, even if, imagining the dramatic, negative outcomes might be better for a movie, book, play, or poem. One is used in real life. One is used in fiction -- "based on a true story." Both have the same desired outcome in America; HAPPY ENDING! Will we take a journey together to a happy ending? I sure hope so.

The Gym - Day 1

well - we'll see how this goes. day 1 = october 15, 2015 - went to the gym, bit of housework, and a bit of writing. just day 1, so far. goal: keep it zen. relax and work with as little pain as possible.

It's Been Over a Year

Dropped by on a whim. People are still looking at my blog. Maybe I'll start it up, again. We'll see. No longer know what I have to offer, but it may remain that this is just a form of accountability. In the meantime, best to all.

Veteran's Day 11-11-11

It's a special day, 11-11-11. It's Veteran's Day 2011. It's a day to remember and go forward with the knowledge.

Today, I will be telling stories to my children about our ancestors and a few others who have served. We will be spending the day together doing a mundane task. While my children may not express it, I will overtly point out how wonderful it is to be together today. We are lucky. We are surviving. I believe this is possible, in part, because of the many veterans who have influenced me over the years.

My Grandpa Norlander married into a ready-made family; my grandma had two children, my dad and aunt. He rose to the challenges and is recognized as our brilliant patriarch. He was kind, hard-working, humble, intelligent, loving, and never raised his voice. He had to quit school when he was in the eighth grade because his dad died, yet he was the one who taught me about Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. He read my dad's college philosophy books and passed on his passion for the subject to me. This usually occurred while he was working in his basement wood shop, a tiny room where he would make moldings and other small decorative items for his home. He went on to build his own cabin. The things I remember most about my Grandpa Smith are; sitting on his lap with his arms around me, laying in the hammock with him while he read to me or we took a nap, and tagging along with him like an obedient puppy. I adored the man. He was always kind and always made me feel special. He died when he was 50 years old from something called "exploding cancer." I have outlived him, and hope to be considered as good as he was.

My dad's dad, Palmer Ofstun, also served. He was stationed in the Pacific during WWII. His story is a tragedy. He died when my dad was nine or eleven due to injuries he sustained during the war and his alcoholism. He was a brilliant artist; I've seen the many drawings he did for his son in letters he sent while serving his country. His letters to his son and his wife (my grandma) tell a sad tale of a man who is separated from his family and knows that he's losing his wife. The stories of how much grief he caused my grandma are many, but long ago I forgave him is bad behavior; replacing any anger with sympathy for a man who couldn't survive the many bad decisions he made combined with the effect that serving had on him. His tale is a cautionary one, and I remember him fondly; knowing that he would want his heirs to do better. I try to be good for him, too.

Palmer's dad, Eric, was a brilliant great-grandpa. I made up a story when I was young that he had returned to Norway to fight with the resistance. I'm pretty sure that he didn't, but it made for some great stories; I think he might have enjoyed them. He painted beautiful pictures of his homeland. I've wondered what happened to them over the years, and have never found out. He was a kind, sweet man who had a tinge of sadness in his eyes. I loved and respected him for being kind, gentle, strong, and committed to passing on his love of Norway to me. Again, I am better for having known him even if he didn't actually fight in any war. He fought the war at home by doing what he could to make up for his son's mistakes. I know what it feels like to be in that position, now. Great-Grandpa Eric showed me the way.

My mom's dad, like my dad's dad, had a tragic life. I don't know if he served or not. I know he saw me once when I was two-years-old. He died shortly afterwards. Once upon a time I ran across a negative of him sitting in his pajamas looking so forlorn. The image is seared in my brain. The stories that I've heard are of an alcoholic, who was preyed upon by the men in his town, losing everything to gambling and drink; his wife, children, home and business. He is recognized as being intelligent and sensitive when he was sober, but he couldn't overcome his illness. It was years later when I was sitting in a UW-Madison Nutrition class that I discovered the reason behind so much of his behavior. It's one of those moments that takes on an other-earthly aura. A sentence in my book, literally, lit up, "Pernicious anemia combined with alcohol creates insanity." I highlighted it and ear-marked the page. After I rushed to my apartment, I called my mom and let her know that Grandma was right; the reason for Grandpa Tollakson's erratic behavior were because he was sick. Nobody ever realized what that he had a chemical imbalance that created the woes in his life and the lives of his family. I love the man. His life has taught me there are those who will take advantage of the weakest with no regard for the safety and sanctity of the families involved. He lived to voice his regrets, and I try to avoid his mistakes and become someone he would enjoy and be proud of.

My Grandpa Corbin married my mom's mom when he was 42-years-old, and she was a 52-year-old widow. Mom had to talk her into marrying him because of the age difference. They were married for over 35 years. I know I saw pictures of Grandpa Corbin smartly dressed in his military uniform. He was a loving, doting grandpa who could "talk your ear off and carry it down the road with him." I used to go with him in the early mornings when he set out to do a few plumbing jobs; and then, stop for coffee with his friends. We spent days together while he went from one job to the next. Every location was grand; schools, homes, farms. Schools were fun because the janitors would open up the gyms and let me play while Grandpa worked. Homes were fun because the ladies would treat Grandpa and me to some home-made treat. On the farms, I was allowed to wander in the barns and around the animals. Grandpa taught me how to fish, and we did that a lot, too. Grandpa Corbin was wholesome, loving, funny, and a rock. He died in his seventies and was imparting his wisdom right up until he decided when they should turn off his machines. He bravely faced his death and changed my mind about being hooked up to machines to extend my life. He did it so that his family could make it to the hospital to say good-bye. It was a selfless act that reminds me how much he loved all of us. My children knew him well and saw him in his last days.

Grandpa Corbin's dad was a hoot! I don't know if he was a Navy man or a Merchant Marine or both; but everyone should have at least one person in their lives like this man. He had it all; the grizzly voice, the tattoos of a ship and Hawaiian hula dancer (that he could make move by flexing his muscles), a stubbly beard, and a genuine love for Professional Wrestling and Roller Derby. Sitting on his knee watching the "Russian Bear" his old black-and-white TV and yelling for our hero to get up remains one of my greatest memories. He was absolutely endearing because he was so rough and manly, yet I knew that I melted his heart; I saw it in his eyes. Great-Grandpa Corbin taught me to enjoy the "characters" in life and to become one; lovable characters add spice to life and are just plain fun.

The grandpas I knew all had one thing in common; they never raised their voices to me. They corrected my mistakes and taught me how to improve. We cheered together. We hugged. I sat on their laps and was safe from the entire world because I knew they would protect me to their dying day. They smiled when they saw me and made me feel special. Isn't that what we all need?

So this is the most revealing bit of information that I think I've ever provided about my four grandpas and two great-grandpas. I share because I think there might be something to learn from each of them. I share because maybe it will do someone else some good, and this would make all of them happy. Six little profiles from one little life that might just make someone else feel a little less alone.

My wish for this Veteran's Day on this very special date is that we can create a world without war. I'd like this to include the wars we wage on each other when we are angry, hurt and scared; the wars politicians engage in while campaigning and politicking; the wars based on religious beliefs; and the wars we create within ourselves as we struggle through our lives.

My wish for today is World Peace. Maybe the power of November 11, 2011 (11/11/11) and a full moon will help with my wish.

Peace be with you.

It's My Birthday! - November 8, 2011

It's raining outside, and my homework awaits my continued attention. The house is quiet and dark. The only sound is of an occasional car and raindrops hitting the house. Oh, and the refrigerator buzzing away behind me. This is my kind of day.

This year's focus is simply to choose to be happy and focus on those people, creatures, and things that bring me joy. I'll try to do a better job of staying in touch with the friends who make an effort to stay in touch with me. I'll accept what life has to offer and continually look to the future and how I can improve it. I will exercise self-discipline in more areas of my life. I will have a good year.

I am having a good birthday. It officially started on Sunday and is continuing very nicely.

On Sunday, I was first in line to buy a new, 32" TV for under $200. I got one! It is our first flat-screen TV. We're still working off of an antenna and Netflix, but now we can get rid of some of the huge TVs that are taking up space.

From the store, I went back home to do a bit of cleaning before going to the church for my childcare job. I was able to calm two crying babies and make their parents feel good about our childcare services. I was also able to give an ear to my co-worker who is recovering from pneumonia.

After church I came home to GL and the grandgirls. They were absolutely fantastic. Big Girl was so happy for me. She makes me so happy simply because she loves me so much. GL told me that Little One went looking for me (I was at work when they arrived) and calling, "MeeMa, where are you?" Little One has been more reserved than Big Girl. She'd only said, "MeeMa," twice before Sunday. When I walked in the door on Sunday, Little One greeted me with a loud and cheery, "Hi MeeMa!" This was followed by, "Up. Up. Up, up, up, up," with her arms stretched up to me. Really. Could I ask for a better birthday present? Maybe, but maybe not. The grandgirls did give me presents; two pair of goofy, fuzzy socks and a Santa that moves his feet when he sings, "Here comes Santa Claus." What perfect presents from my grandgirls. Big Girl has noticed that I have Santas up in the house year round, and I know she decided to add her own to my collection. She also broke in one pair of socks and insisted that I put on the other pair. We blew out birthday candles four times because Little One just wanted to do it again and again. There was no cake, but none of us need cake. It was a lovely day.

Later on, GL gave me her present. I was blown away. She picked out a fun, "hippy" bag for me. I'm using it already. She also presented me with a beautiful, green, ring box with a shiny, gold clasp. Inside the box was my baby bracelet! I didn't even know that it still existed. There is was, "Girl ..... 11/8/59." Well, of course, I'm verklempt. How cool. How many people my age have their baby bracelet? It's pink with little flower pegs that hold it shut; old-fashioned and sturdy, just like me, huh.

GL told me that BB thought I needed underwear, so he was actually thinking of buying me some. Ewwww! Good intentions, but, "No." I know his heart is in the right place. I had to call him, tease him, and let him know that what I need is for the laundry to be folded and taken upstairs; there's plenty of "undergarments" in the laundry. Goodness. LOL

When I got home on Sunday, I started in on my homework. I didn't last long. I fell asleep on the love seat, and BB woke me up. I was pretty grouchy and grateful.

Monday morning started with a Birthday Breakfast at a good friend's home. She made me a great breakfast served on fine china. Because these friends have played such an important part in my life this past 18 months, I took them birthday treats of my own. There were symbolic treats; two skeleton keys with a heart-shaped handle and a handle that reminded me of binoculars. Of course, they had presents for me; a beautiful candle purchased from a store that helps Third-World countries, some of those puffy things for the shower, and two cards with surprises inside. After breakfast and presents, we all did a dance to "ABC" by the Jackson 5. Can't tell you how great it was to start the day with good food, good friends and dancing. Their friendship is the best present of all.

I left my friends' home and headed to get some cream. I found a very, very light purple rose at the store. It was the closest thing to a blue rose that I've ever seen, so I bought it for SA. Like her, it was unique, beautiful and appreciated. I took it to her house as a surprise, and we had a little chat before I left to go to the beach. Birthday surprises are the best.

The sky and water at the beach was a soft, fuzzy, light blue. I sat there and thought about Big Girl because her favorite color is light blue. Of course, I thought of all the people around Big Girl, too. I focused on being happy and being a good role model for every one's benefit. I focused on letting go of my anger and hurt; becoming more like my saintly grandma. It was awesome.

When I got home, I started in on the homework again. This is where I stop because my homework needs to be done. It is not as warm and fuzzy as this post, but it is important. I'm learning a whole new way of thinking and communicating thanks to my decision to major in Paralegal Studies. It's good to have a ton of trick in my ("hippy") bag, huh.

My birthday wish for everyone is simple; health and happiness to you all.