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Musings from the Laundromat: A Full Heart and Fridge edition
It was so lovely and quiet here this morning – and my laundry lady is back!
Then other patrons started filing in. Now there’s a hum and buzz and a chatter.
I did at least have a few moments alone with my laundry lady – able to ask about her health and tell her I had missed her. She said in her absence, (she’d been filling in for other people due to a shortage in staff) that she had told the people working her usual Sunday to be sure to have coffee made for me.
How sweet is that?
Yesterday I was extremely busy. Ended up going to bed at 8 p.m. on a Saturday night exhausted. The only thing I didn’t get accomplished? My room and bath of course.
The rest of the house is spotless and the fridge is full.
I actually teared up at one point. I had put all the groceries away and in between cleaning, I was also cooking.
Then it dawned on me.
Where am I going to fit these finished dishes???
And it was such a “1st world problem” and such a wonderful puzzle – because I knew with my whole heart what that meant.
I had a bounty. I was blessed with amazing food and a home in which to cook it. I didn’t even mind cleaning. Because that meant I had a shelter.
This morning I sure am feeling the labor of yesterday though. Tired and aching. In a good way.
When I’m finished here – I’ll be going home to pack. I’m house sitting today and tonight, which means my bedroom and bath won’t get done again, but I will get some time with my parent’s cats and of course, the pup Meesha.
Guess that also means I won’t be attending the Oscars 😉 I’ll just leave my ball gown on the hanger and send my apologies to the academy.
Happy Sunday everyone! Hope your fridges are full and your hearts are peaceful.
Musings from the laundromat: Panic and the Past edition.
“You’re not in danger … try to breathe with me. I’m proud of you – you’re going to come through this.”
Those were the words I listened to as I struggled to my knees and bent over the couch, clutching at it as air snatching fear hit me wave after wave. My heart pounding – on the verge of fainting. Mouthing “please, please, please” to some power greater than me. “Please – no.”
My vision blurred in and out. My arm tingled. Palms sweat.
“It’s going to be ok.”
And, nearly an hour after it had begun, it was okay.
That was my panic attack yesterday. They come out of the blue. This one in particular while I was merely laying on the couch watching a television show.
The one who talked me through it? The one who held my hand and stayed calm when I could not? My son.
I know all the tips mentioned above by heart – but ironically, since I do also have a very real heart condition, these ‘spells’ as we refer to them in my home are exacerbated by that knowledge. It’s hard to tell yourself ‘everything is going to be ok’ when at the same time, your brain is saying, ‘but what if this time it’s not?’
I was exhausted and grateful. And slept, after finally being able to assume a horizontal position again. The thing about panic attacks, your whole body gets the equivalent of ‘restless leg syndrome’ and staying put only amplifies the experience. Rocking helps if you can’t get up and walk. And if you’re feeling dizzy, pacing probably isn’t the best idea.
_____________________________
I know why this one occurred however. I had stayed up far too late spending time with … My past. We’ll leave it at that.
Got up at my usual time yesterday morning and woke Nic. We went to run errands. Oil change (that turned out I didn’t need) a car wash that I wasn’t able to have as they were having electrical issues. Then lunch with Nic.
That was the good part.
I love spending time with him.
We had so much more on the agenda – but after lunch, neither of us felt up to continuing.
We came home and resolved to finish our errands today.
The house was pretty clean and that’s when I decided to catch up on a few recorded shows.
AND that’s when it hit.
I tried to ride it out, realized this was a big one and managed to reach my iPad and send Nic a message asking him to come and sit with me.
And I want to thank him for going above and beyond. And caring so much.
As for my past – I’m going to leave it there.
I’m going to stay in the moment and seek healthy, positive and calm things.
The quandary of Facebook
Ok. I’ll admit it. I’m ‘one of them.’
I’m the diary chick.
SO not a ‘status’ chick. “I am currently writing a blog.” <POST> nah.
But, in my defense, I’m also VERY selective with my ‘friends.’ And I quote that because I see people with hundreds upon HUNDREDS of friends and I just don’t get it?
Facebook is not LinkedIn … Facebook, I thought, was a personal web page of sorts that you communicated from to your favorite friends and family?
I have under 100 ‘friends.’
I share too much.
I have also found myself deleting posts after posts because I feel inadequate or unable to be ‘real’ even with my selected friends.
Why?
Insecurities obviously … But, also, because THEIR lives SEEM so freaking amazing. I feel I fall short when I am honest.
And if you’re going with the above cartoon, then WHY is a photo of food not acceptable????
Tangent.
If we’re keeping it to ‘status’ only, then, what I’m eating is perfectly appropriate. Right?
I enjoy such features as IM. Instant messaging friends from all over the planet – for FREE!
No phone bill.
No stamps. (Although, I DO miss hand written letters.)
Off Tangent.
I have decided Facebook users fall into the following categories:
*The fantasy poster* – You ONLY hear good from them and their lives sound like they have a unicorn in their backyard and rainbows and confetti in their front yard – and you will NEVER live up to their marriage/relationship/mothering/fathering skills.
(Problem I have with these friends is that I actually judge myself – compare myself TO them.)
*The sometimes poster* – They really only remember Facebook when they’re NOT living their lives – because they’re real, and maybe they’ll share something fun with you. But, who know’s what’s going on in between.
*The work poster* – They’re busy, but want to advocate their occupation. You’ll get glimpses of their lives IF they decide it merits sharing and the post is innocuous – but mostly, it’s about work.
*The semi-honest poster* – Shares when they’re sad or happy – when their kids/partner/selves are sick or tired – but will stop at anything embarrassing.
*The Stalker* – They’re your friend, and occasionally will ‘like’ a post, but mostly just hangs back and reads everyone’s statuses and won’t share a damn thing.
* The over sharer (me) – will purge EVERYTHING without thought and regret it later. Usually will delete.
Thing is – I’m a writer!!!! I AM! I was published by 10. Have never stopped wanting to share. And this is why my friend list is short. And this is why I keep diminishing it – because I don’t WANT to stop being honest. I don’t WANT to have to edit myself.
MY Facebook IS my personal page. And anyone invited should seriously consider it an honor (tongue in cheek) because I just don’t trust many people.
I’ll be purging all over the place AND deleting – because that IS what I do.
God forbid I actually get a book published – would be pretty hard to delete. 😉
Um, and by the way … Check THIS out. After hitting review:
What I was even going to originally write about on Sunday was Stefan Kiesbye.
But then I felt bad – like I’d cornered him. (My issues, no reality there.)
He is my favorite author.
AND, a friend on Facebook.
Yes, I had even deleted my innocuous Valentines post to my friends and family.
Funny thing is – I got a message from Rainer on Valentine’s Day – and I remembered asking him to get Stefan’s autograph for me at a book fair in Europe.
ANYWAY! If you haven’t read these – you really should …
The Staked Plains – (when I got an ARC I FLIPPED out!)
And – my favorite ….
Bottom line I guess … I want to be real. I don’t want to delete a moment. I want to share EVERYTHING with you. Was watching a movie today (can’t remember which – I got Netflixbewitched) and one of the quotes went something like … I can’t remember. But it was important. And hey, mid-forties, cut me a break. Maybe THAT’S why I share everything? Because a year from now, Facebook is going to remind me I have a memory.
Musings from the Laundromat: Don’t Stand So Close To Me edition.
The irony in Glaucoma Man telling me he keeps the lid down on the machine next to him so people don’t crowd him while he’s less than a foot from me as I’m stuffing MY laundry into a machine was certainly not lost on me.
I had grocery store flashbacks. You know, when you’re not finished with your turn and you have someone practically leaning on the little pay counter as you’re trying to swipe your card? Breathing down your neck as you take your receipt from the cashier? Those people. The cashiers feed into it too! Start ringing up the next person before you’ve even managed to put your store card and change away.
Back OFF!
Yesterday I had someone so close to me her onions were rung up with my bits and pieces. We laughed about it – discussed sharing an onion and what not but – be patient and get off me!
I’m a little grumpy today clearly.
Not because it’s Valentines Day and I don’t have a valentine. I think mostly because I just woke up, threw clothes on in a very sleepy state and was immediately bombarded with Glaucoma Man.
I’m not really a morning person – and I’m definitely not into being talked at such a rapid and energetic pace until all of me has woken.
I have big plans today. Sushi grade Ahi ready to be cut into slithers of delicious sashimi. A fruit tart for me (Nic picked a cannoli.)
So, basically, my big plans are food. Oh, and … THE WALKING DEAD is back tonight! So I was sure to take tomorrow off so I could stay up late and watch it.
I already know what’s going to happen – just not how exactly it’s going to play out.
Yesterday I did have actual plans. Went to a local town with a dear friend and her granddaughter and Nic. Pet everything furry with four legs and ate a delicious lunch.
Nic & a town dog
My sweet friend and her granddaughter
Me & a burro. I wanted to kiss it on the eyeball, but it was eating.
If not for my friend, I don’t think I’d ever leave the house, except to run errands and work. She forces me to ‘people’.
And now I’ve had a couple of polystyrene cups of coffee and am in a better mood. Chatted some more with Glaucoma Man sweetly since my good nature finally woke up.
And now that he’s gone I’m scanning the room and wishing my clothes were dry and folded.
(Also very glad not to have anyone in my comfort bubble.)
Anyway, Happy Valentines Day to all of you and here’s wishing you love, sweetness and no grocery store shovey people!
Musings from the Laundromat: Laundry Lady’s Absence & the Gadfly edition.
My Laundry Lady isn’t here.
(She does have a name – I just try to keep my ‘characters’ somewhat anonymous.)
I asked the owner about her, knowing she’s had some health issues lately.
“Oh she’ll be back to mornings – she’s covering nights until I can hire someone new.”
Phew!
But strange isn’t it when someone or something that is a part of your routine, your life is suddenly not there.
Much like the divot I keep running my tongue over after having broken my tooth Friday – there is a tangible feeling of absence.
I look forward to our Sunday mornings. I’ve been coming here for over 5 years now. 52 weeks a year. Over 260 mornings with my Laundry Lady.
Crap, if I think about it – I’ve spent more Sunday mornings with her than any one man other than my son. How’s THAT for an example of my ability to have a relationship?
Of course, there’s Glaucoma Man – who, was Chatty Charlie again this morning.
He compared someone in his RV park to a ‘Gadfly’ and proceeded to show me by example what that was.
He switched topics so quickly and so energetically that we (by we, I mean ‘he’) had covered almost a subject for every item I retrieved from my laundry baskets and placed in the washing machine.
(As I was typing that last paragraph, he visited my table to read me something.)
Let’s face it though, I’d miss him too if he weren’t here. Which, he is – again, showing me his new stun gun and telling me about his sniper rifle that he still has.
Good to know. Gooooood to know.
And suddenly I’m very glad I’m kind to him.
Debauchery Soup 