An Invincible Summer - A Woman's Journey

I’ve mentioned before that I watch the sun rise most mornings. I have a few spots from which I do this, where I get a pretty good view of the mountains to the east and also where I feel safe to sit in the dark before the new day breaks. One of the spots is a parking lot where the view is mostly unhindered but I am still aware I am in a mall parking lot.  In this parking, a couple of times a week, there is an odd exchange that takes place. An expensive white crossover usually shows up first and parks. Sometimes it’s quick, other times it waits a good long while. Eventually a mini van arrives and two children, one being a young teen and the other a few years younger than that, get out of the minivan and make their way to the other car. That is the usual exchange. A couple of times the kids do their routine and then the two drivers get out and have a heated exchange. I’m not close enough to hear, I am just an observer of a dance of two angry women. The dance of hurt, pain and resentme...

A couple of the people that have made this move of ours so much more tolerable and even delightful have been our new friends Kelli and Drason. They are quite a few years younger than us but we’ve connected in a sweet way. We met Kelli a couple of weeks before we even bought the house. She was walking her dog Keeney in the street. I stopped the car because her pup looks so much like our Scruffy, who is a bit rare. It turned out the they are a related breed but not quite the same. Scruffy is a wire-haired pointing griffon and Keeney is a drahthaar.  That day I noticed that something was a little off as we spoke. I wondered if she was learning disabled or perhaps on the autism spectrum (just guesses). As it turned out it there was something wrong. Two years previous, Drason found that he couldn’t wake Kelli from a deep sleep. Eventually they took her to the hospital where the doctors discovered a large tumor in her brain. Surgery was done, and 3 more followed, and since that time Kell...

The job is fine. It is not much of a challenge, so I won't be getting any stress headaches from it. The people are nice enough. It is close to home. I pick my hours. It is fine. I am hoping it stops feeling like a giant demotion. I am hoping that I can start to care a little. For now, I am resigned.

My youngest texted me the other day to say she wanted to facetime in an hour. She lovingly let me know it was nothing bad, just something she wanted to share. When we finally get connected, my Gigi said that she had a client that was processing so she called her Pop and asked him to come over and visit for awhile. They went next-door and got a coffee and then went to the salon's back room to chat. She says to me, "Look what he gave me." and points to a necklace that is a tiny wrench with a little gemstone. She smiles and says that it doesn't matter what her father gives her, that she loves it no matter what because she knows he puts thought in to it. She puts that wrench right around her neck to show him how much she loves it. This girl is so tender with that man. I do not believe that she has one ounce of resentment about what happened. She accepts, has forgiven and loves him completely. Amazing! The subject of our trans daughter comes up in their conversation. He sa...

Spring is showing up all over the place. We are excited to be experiencing it for the first time in Portland.  We've not only survived the winter but I'd even say we flourished. Every once in awhile one of us will ask the other, "Are you tired of the rain yet?". Thus far we've been able to say no.  I think much of that has to do with the fact that we left a 22 year long drought. One has to wonder when a drought stops being a drought and just becomes the new reality. Twenty-two years is a very long time. Those years of getting rid of lawn, picking plants carefully, pulling out established plants that suck down too much water and trying to create as much shade as possible to protect the tender beings trying to eke a life out of the ground, those years got old. Supposedly, up here in Portland we are also in a drought but it's all relative isn't it. We've spent the last 4 months where hardly a day goes by without some type of precipitation.  Happy happy! O...

I am waiting to go in to start my new job. I am not thrilled and certainly not feeling comfortable. Killing time I’m looking through my documents and look at my birth certificate when I notice that the attending physician was a women. 58 years ago, I think that must have been fairly uncommon.  I did a quick little google search and find only one entry for Hildegarde Wilkinson The article said she would accompany her doctor father when he treated the poor on Beaver Island Michigan. Later she was the first woman to be accepted at Stanford University Medical School. She was unable to attend because he mother had been in a very bad car accident and needed special care.  She delivered me in 1963 and in 1969 became the Chief of Staff at the hospital I was born in. She was called Dr. Hildegarde and was known to be warm and very generous. In the article of the Glendale newspaper, it gave the death of  “Dr. Hildegarde” at the ripe ole age of 97 in 2001. Took my mind off of “other”...

I saw him again today, like I’ve seen him so many times before. In his red jacket, his shorts (despite the temp being 34° F) and his shocking white beard. But today was different. Today I decided to get out of my car and go say hello. His name is Shodo and what I found out is that he runs 16 miles a day before returning to his RETIREMENT HOME.  I had decided that I was going to start training for the Portland marathon that takes place in October. I had decided to see what my body thought about that and let that be the guiding factor in whether I actually sign up.  Shodo runs every other day, so he basically runs either 48 or 64 miles per week. Amazing! He shared his wisdom with me about the absolute necessity of the stretch. Before his run he does easy stretch, mid stream he does a good long stretch of his legs, knees and feet, and again after a cool down.  I asked if he runs in full rain and he laughed at me, saying you have to run in the rain in Portland or you would no...

Yesterday I talked with the daughter of my estranged brother. I hadn’t spoken to her in 15 years. It was an emotional and heartbreaking call.  That man, who makes it impossible to be in his life, is dying. Barring any tragic accident, he will be the first of the six of us to go. At the ripe ole age of 60. Anger, a two pack a day habit and enough weed to supply a small state has its way of taking its toll.  I am numb. Not sure what I feel. When I think of the little boy that was my childhood companion, my heart squeezes tight and the throat threatens to close up but that boy hasn’t existed for 50 years. He was fearless and reckless. Somewhere, I have a newspaper article of him, on some fancy bike my dad had purchased for him, jumping over 8 of his friends at a park. I think he took my fathers abandonment harder than the rest of us. It damaged us all, installing within us maladaptive life skills, but him far worse. He quickly aligned himself with kids that were getting in troubl...

I am not having a crises of faith. I am on a spiritual journey that does not put limits on where I can look and who I can learn from. The God of my youth in the Mormon church has been completely unacceptable for more than 40 years. The God of my young adulthood was a little better but it no longer fits well. I think it has more to do with the evolution of the Christian church in America than it has to do with my insides.  It is my firm belief, although I am not a biblical scholar, that if the Jesus from New Testament was to come right now he would be overturning the tables in many of the "evangelical" Christian homes in this country. Are they really that different than the Pharisees with their legalistic and heartless ways? What I see is a largely insular, intolerant, uncompassionate, hate spewing group of people who will fight to keep their guns and to keep ALL women (not just their women) in their places by legislating another generation of the poverty stricken and underedu...

I may have written about this before but I am getting along in age so I will proceed as if I have not.  Months into our relationship, that started exactly 8 years and 364 days ago, the Boy Scout and I were off to some unremembered destination. The memory of the trip is gone but one little event was seared into my memory (and also his).  Driving down the 101 Freeway, I noticed my gas gauge is on empty. I quickly exit the freeway and there is a gas station at the end of the exit. I stop, turn the car off, wait for few seconds, grabbed my purse, retrieve my credit card, wait a few seconds, and then get out to pump the gas. It was cold, I remember that. I get back in the car and Boy Scout is doing something on his phone. I look at him and then state clearly, "When I need gas and you are in the car, I don't ever want to pump that gas again". He looked surprised and then nodded his head with understanding and said, "Fair enough". BOUNDRY SET! He's honored that bou...

While contemplating surrender and other exercises that aid in achieving inner peace, I breathe deeply and look outside in order to greet the new day. The thick mist sits so low today that only the tips of the tallest trees reach high enough to watch the sunrise with me. I am in good company. The surrounding mountains are keeping watch, softened by a grey haze that is promising to lift before that great golden ball peeks over the top.  The fruit trees are starting to bloom all over town and I feel the excitement of what will be our first spring in Oregon. I’m told it is beautiful.  It’s freezing outside, quite literally 32°, and there is smoke billowing from chimneys here and there, a still foreign sight for this Southern California girl. Loads of homes have fireplaces back home but the bulk of them go unused or very rarely fired up. Many of them get filled with decor. Mine was a nifty bookshelf. Not here though. After getting my gas bill I understand why they are so popular....

“I’ll pick you up at 10:00”, she said. “You sure?”, I ask, feeling a little uncomfortable.  “See you then.”, she says.  Ten o’clock, on the nut, she shows up ready for an adventure. I thought the adventure was the hike but little did I know the adventure began there and then. This tiny woman is nearly sitting on the steering wheel, the seat is that close. She pulls out onto the highway, a little too slow for the flow of traffic. Staying in the middle of the lane is a task she is not quite up too. I try to be quiet to allow her to concentrate but she’s a talker and talk she does. She brakes a little slow, has trouble on curves and the parking job was abysmal.   Relieved we are at our destination, I get out to allow her to park close to the barrier. We exit and walk away when I remind her she forgotten her gloves. It’s chilly out. We head back, she searches all her pockets for her keys. No where. “Are they still in the car?”, I inquire. She has a surprised look and opens th...

  WORD FOR THE DAY It is enough to be grateful for the next breath. BR. DAVID STEINDL-RAST Let me be that person. the one who finds something to be grateful for no matter what.

The Boy Scout and I have found some pretty good restaurants in and around Portland. No surprise there as Portland known for being weird, having a large homeless population and for great restaurants. We found our pizza joint and are really happy with it but we kept passing by a pizza place that had, apparently, been calling the Boy Scout's name.   We did not check reviews, we just showed up. The parking lot was PACKED. Going in I was surprised at how many large groups were waiting for a table. I was thinking maybe it was the end of the day for kids sporting events; grabbing a quick dinner. What a shock when we went around the corner to be seated and it turned out to be a sort of "Chucky Cheese" type restaurant. A place to have kiddos parties. The kind of place I have avoided like the plague despite having 4 of my own kids.  Picture large picnic style tables, kids running everywhere, games binging and boinging loudly from the corners, party favors, many happy people, barely...

The other day I saw something that I just had to take a picture of. I missed it that day but went back later and got the shot. Unfortunately it had been raining so the original sign isn't there but basically it  had said: Dear neighbors: Please check this line for stuff that belongs to you. Our cat is an unrepentant thief. Apparently a few people had come by to make a claim because there was a lot more stuff there on the first day. Gone are the golf hats and the thongs. I, personally, would not reclaim a thong. I'd let it stay if for nothing else but a good laugh. Makes me wonder if there was a cat thief at my old house because I was always missing a work glove.

I was offered and have taken a job. Veterinarian office bookkeeper. Pros: part time flexible hours dogs and cats everywhere very close to home the vet seems very friendly I can work from home part of the time employee discount no hearing fatigue cons: part time no health benefits low pay I think it will be fine as long as the state will still pay part of my health care premium. It's hard to know for sure. Much like a hospital visit, there is not an easy to find chart that gives the income cut offs for the working poor.

I'd like to say that: I love my blogging community!  You are the best.  Thank you, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

I have to laugh at myself just a little. At the audacity of thinking I would need to choose one job over the other. At my subtle judgment of the people who would, of course, see that I could do the job effectively and efficiently. A shoe in.  As it turns out, another candidate was chosen…..for both jobs. I remain nearly 60, nearly deaf and jobless.  Last night I had to process. Process what I felt, where it hurt and what I was going to do with it.  In the past, what I did was either to turn it on someone else (usually whoever is closest) or inward at myself, or both. It has been second nature to tell myself how unworthy, how ignorant or that I am an imposter.  Truthfully, it took me a good 6 or 7 hours to work through it. I realized I felt seething anger. How I wanted to punch the wall. The thought of job hunting in a cast prevented that. Not angry at anyone in particular (or at least not anyone who deserved it) but more at the situation, feeling impudent, insignific...