Another Dumb thing, exhibit B

I bought a four pack of symphony tickets, thinking that it would be a great way to entertain myself and Get Out There.  All four tickets reserve the same seat for four shows spread out from now thru May of next year.  I didn't realize that the symphony would be playing the score along with a screening of the movie, but whatever, the music is so good and you almost forget that a live symphony is playing along to it!  The four shows are Return of the Jedi, Home Alone, Pirates of The Caribbean, and Video Games Live! (think Final Fantasy)
 

Got ready to go, drove downtown, secured parking, found my ticket on my phone, got a drink, then settled into my seat to people watch.  The lights go down and we are 5 minutes into the show when someone comes up to my seat saying its their seat.  Nope.  I pulled up a picture on my phone of my ticket to show to him. Both of us are confused.  He and his wife finagled myself and the two guys sitting on my right to scoot down 1 seat, so we agreed for the sake of minimizing the interruption.

Do you see where this is going?

I had the right row, right seat number, WRONG SECTION OF THE CONCERT HALL.

I was supposed to be in the upper balcony.

At intermission, the woman who asked me to move made small talk with me, asking me if I were there alone.  Perhaps she thought my group of nursing home seniors had lost one of their own.  I excused myself to go potty and asked a very nice usher about my ticket, and he pointed that that I was supposed to be in the balcony section, but told me to "sit anywhere there is a vacant seat because the view is better in this section".  So I did and enjoyed the rest of the show, having annoyed basically everyone on either side of me.

Ooops.

I will not repeat that mistake for the next three shows in this ticket pack...and I hope no one remembers me!

How I spend weekends now

Back then: I prepped all the weekend food and gathered supplies/gear/cargo on Friday. We packed up and left early on Saturday (no matter how physically hard the week was) and traveled to Burnet.  Breakfast at a favorite Mexican restaurant, then straight to Highlands. We worked on whatever projects we had going - anything from yardwork to building to painting to clearing out trash.  Hard stop at noon.  We showered, then traveled to a winery/brewery, picking up lunch on the way. We normally headed back to Highlands in the late afternoon to shower and nap.  We enjoyed a bottle of wine while we admired the sunset, building a good firepit.  I made dinner, we drank more wine, stargazed, and listened to coyotes, sometimes falling asleep in our chairs.  Next morning, I got up early to make coffee and watch the deer until Mark woke up, then I made breakfast. Normally we finished up a project or chore... in the afternoon, we either visited another winery/brewery, or stayed close to Highlands listening to music and sunbathing in our lounge chairs, always with adult bevvies. We ate snacks, did more napping, returned back to Austin in the late afternoon.  At home we unloaded the truck, I got dinner made and cleaned the kitchen, we ate and went directly to bed. I started my 40 hour work week the next day dehydrated, with bug bites, sunburn, and muscle aches.

 Life felt exhausting.

Highlands was lovely, but not the Shangri La for me that it was for Mark.

It felt like a punishment to have to work so hard on the weekends after a week of being on my feet running around at a busy trauma hospital.

Now:  I prep myself for the "workweek" on Friday afternoon, fixing three breakfasts, three lunches, vitamins and snacks.  I clean the bathroom, make sure the kitchen is in order and get to bed on time.  I wake at 5:30 a.m. to get dressed and ready to go by 6:30, clock in at 7 a.m.  Home usually around 7:45 p.m. and Sunday follows the same schedule as Saturday.  Clock in time is 8 a.m. on Mondays, and by 8:30 p.m. I am home eating a snack and throwing a load of laundry in - I feel very ready for a day off, but not exhausted or overwhelmed.  Tuesday through Friday is spent taking care of my home, getting exercise, appointments for self care and health care, and sewing/reading/errands, or sitting outside on my deck. Cooking is minimal, as is housework. No one gives me grief for wanting time at home. I don't drink all that much. Headaches are rare.  The job situation is much improved.

Life feels good.

My home sweet home is my sanctuary

When I think back on it, I realize that the weekends weren't as fun as I remembered.  But today Life is peaceful, even as I sometimes feel lonely.  All the naps in the world didn't fix the exhaustion of trying to "go and do" as well as care for two homes, 7 days a week. I miss the beauty of Highlands and the Texas hill country, but I love the beauty of this life now, right where I am.

I am The Dumb, exhibit A

Recently I affirmed for myself that I am, in fact, The Dumb. Its not like I've never done dumb stuff before, but I thought I would start documenting it.  To take the sting out of it, I guess, and to make me laugh!

I signed up for the latest "Books and Brews" book club meeting but then hit a snag as the book I ordered for it never arrived.  So I thought I would attend the meeting anyway, just to listen in on the discussion and drink a beer with other adults out in public.  I made my way to the brewery on the scheduled day and time, found a table with a book club reserved sign on it, and sat down.

As people started to arrive, I thought, well, this is a different group of people than normally come, but everyone was so friendly.  And it wasn't until I had been sitting there almost an hour before I realized it was a completely different book club, reading a completely different book that I had never heard of, and at a different brewery than my group was meeting at. 

 What.

  So basically, I gatecrashed the other clubs' meeting and didn't even have anything to contribute to the conversation.  And no one there even questioned it.  But I did have a good beer.

And just to make up for my nonsense, I ordered the next book that this group is reading and signed up to legitimately attend the November meeting.

But I probably won't remind them I did that!

 

Not just a couch

Scout came over to help me move the brown leather sectional ca. 2005 out into the garage, in preparation for the new couch being delivered.

What. A. Beast.

Besides being a supremely uncomfortable couch, it was super heavy, bulky and difficult to get through the front door.  As it's last act of vengeance, one of its connecting posts managed to scrape the hell out of my knee.  I guess that was a small price to pay.  A couple of days later, I was able to slide it out onto the driveway by myself...

..where a group of what looked like 4 frat boys in a pick-up truck loaded it up and out of my life forever.  That was the second couch we had bought together, Mark and I.  I think we paid $1600 for it on sale and it did actually work for it's intended use for 20 years.  It was a beautiful chocolate brown and the leather was high quality.  But it was so big, and gave me back pain every time I sat on it, and I hated it about as much as he loved it.

Fast forward to the new couch being set up.

I have never bought a big piece of furniture by myself.  It felt weird, and maybe a little scary to not have someone to consult with on this purchase. No one else to help me figure out how long it should be, what color, what style, how to pay for it, etc.  In the end, I think I did a good job.  And maybe what this teaches me about myself is that I can do these things, like the adult that I am.

Its not just a couch.

Its a way to reaffirm for myself several things.

I am capable of managing the things in my home, making choices about how I want it to look, and deciding how to manage all of the specifics.  It would be so great to have him here to help me along the way.  But that's not possible.  So the next best thing is to move forward with clarity, determination, and faith in myself.  I hope he would be proud of me, but I am making myself proud, too.

Shoulder woe

...otherwise known as me documenting this problem.

The starting point was scrubbing the back deck this summer.  But I did plenty of other things in my burst of summer energy.

The pain progressed as I did more and more around the house.  Mowing, painting, lifting heavy things...all did me no favors.  I saw the ortho doc for a Kenalog shot and got referral for physical therapy in July, followed by PT for a month, then chiropractic and massage care.  At this point, I think I will need to scale back on activities until my shoulder pain settles down.  Maybe use my non-dominant arm more, as suggested by the masseuse.  The pain from this is awful - feels like bone on bone.  My entire arm and lower neck hurts - the aching going all the way down my arm, which I assume is referred pain.  My neck muscles on the right side ache.

My plan:

*take it easy on home painting projects for awhile

*use tylenol and motrin

*use cold and heat packs

*get back into home PT exercises

I'm going to drop the chiropractor because pain = inflammation.

  I would love to avoid a surgical solution, but I'm not sure that's possible.

This getting old thing....its not for the weak.

Hi, I miss you

Do you miss me, too?

what was he contemplating, I wonder?

Tomorrow would have been our 40th wedding anniversary, and almost 44 years together.  Its weird to me that we began so long ago, because I remember it well.  It somehow seems more recent than 44 years, and I feel like I do a better job of recalling those memories than I can of last week!  I wonder if Mark ever thought about everything we had weathered and marveled at it.  We hit year 35 and I thought we would be in it for The Long Haul, death do us part and all that.  Just not at age 60.  That plot twist snuck up on me.

I treasure the independent life I have built, but would gladly give that up to have him back.  No amount of closet space is worth it.

I think about him often, and I'm just now to the point where it doesn't make me yell.  That wasn't doing me any good anyway.

I'm still mad at him for not taking care of himself, and I often think how tragic it is that he was so obstinate at the end.  Didn't want me nagging him.  And it is 100% not my fault, but I shouldn't have backed down.

If there is a heaven (and I do think there is *something*), is he there, waiting for me?  Will he come right up to me, kiss my cheek, and welcome me?  Is he there now, waiting?  All philosophical questions, with no answers - I get that.

But how I would love to get a message to him:

I love and miss you, and so do your kids.  And we hope to see you again someday.

Happy Anniversary, Honey.

 

Dream feelings #17 - Mom's house

 We are coming up on the 2nd anniversary of Mom's death - tomorrow.  What a terrible time that was in  September of 2023.  My sister and I talk about it every now and then - still processing and debriefing.  And I'm sure that's where this latest dream came from.

I was standing in a shabby house with wooden floors, trying to tie the string on my scrub pants, which were very faded, just like my scrub top.  I really need new scrubs, I thought.  I stepped away from the front door, just in case someone came in while I was tying them.  Immediately, my sister and mother (wearing a nightgown) burst into the house.  My sister said nothing, just stood there with her keys.  Mother rushed from room to room checking it all out, and it was then that I recognized it as her house.  I offered to show her the back yard.  The door to it was through the kitchen which was filthy and had stacks of garbage and recycles sitting by the door.   Mixed in with empty containers of something was also trash.  I said, "I'll take care of those", and cleared it all away to open the door.  Then Mother stepped out from the house and braced herself against the doorway and the side of her house on a small ledge.  I was horrified at how dangerous that seemed.  To the right of the backdoor, in the yard, there was an excavated square of dirt that had tarps laying across it and some broken posts or planks of wood.  She said "oh, I did that".  It was almost like she had to assure herself that this was really her house.  Then the dream ended.

*****

Mother's house was always so dirty, so cluttered, so full of trash or recycles that needed attending to, and dirt everywhere from where she tracked it in after being in the garden.  I used to tell my kids not to take their shoes off at Grandma's.  She lived like she was out in the country, though her house was smack dab in the middle of town.   Even though Brenham had trash and recycle services, Mom regularly left things right where she set them - plastic soil bags and pots, broken furniture, empty Bluebell ice cream containers.

It never didn't stress me out, and I was always trying to help her put order to it, only to discover it was back to being a mess the next time I visited.  It seemed like she should have or would have wanted her home to be clean and tidy, but that was never the actual case.  For someone like me, that made visits stressful and confusing.  I'm going to file this one in the nightmare category.