Namaste
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Exodus from home, desperately seeking manna from heaven
I have to say, the past several weeks have been maelstrom of spring cleaning.
A time of renewal.
Outdoors, the gadda is coming back into glorious bloom following February's hard freezes.
We have been painting, moving, removing, moving around, moving back, boxing, passing along as well as good old fashioned trashing.
Once again, nature becomes a metaphor for my personal spring cleaning (nothing to do with finding a sparkling washcloth either!)
For the past several years, a stronger, more mature self has been crying for hearing. She has been tearing at her own skin from the inside, in order to get out.
So, during the fifth month of the next chapter of my life, I found myself being wholely affected by the longer days, shorter nights, thoughts that ambush me during my quiet times ...
A perfect storm has come together, creating optimum conditions for very accute panic attacks. The kind that have you holding onto a heavy object just to stop yourself from being swept away by the tornado of visions, thoughts, memories, longings.
It's called mourning. That is what I am told.
It fucking sucks!
Can't believe Mummy has been here for a week already, less than a week left. Her visit coincides with an extended spring break.
Translation: no kids!
Our babies are Florida beach kids, all the way. Volleyball, fishing, swimming, friends, music, soda, pizza & cell phones.
Life is, indeed, a beach!
I have missed writing but it is not that I have been without Good 'n' Plenty to say. Just to busy puking or holding my discombobulated head or digging myself out of a potential Vesuvius of paperwork.
In the meantime, should Lili & I eat in, go out for sushi just the two of us or should we find out if our beloved children care to grace us with their company ...
As I said before, life's a beach!
A time of renewal.
Outdoors, the gadda is coming back into glorious bloom following February's hard freezes.
We have been painting, moving, removing, moving around, moving back, boxing, passing along as well as good old fashioned trashing.
Once again, nature becomes a metaphor for my personal spring cleaning (nothing to do with finding a sparkling washcloth either!)
For the past several years, a stronger, more mature self has been crying for hearing. She has been tearing at her own skin from the inside, in order to get out.
So, during the fifth month of the next chapter of my life, I found myself being wholely affected by the longer days, shorter nights, thoughts that ambush me during my quiet times ...
A perfect storm has come together, creating optimum conditions for very accute panic attacks. The kind that have you holding onto a heavy object just to stop yourself from being swept away by the tornado of visions, thoughts, memories, longings.
It's called mourning. That is what I am told.
It fucking sucks!
Can't believe Mummy has been here for a week already, less than a week left. Her visit coincides with an extended spring break.
Translation: no kids!
Our babies are Florida beach kids, all the way. Volleyball, fishing, swimming, friends, music, soda, pizza & cell phones.
Life is, indeed, a beach!
I have missed writing but it is not that I have been without Good 'n' Plenty to say. Just to busy puking or holding my discombobulated head or digging myself out of a potential Vesuvius of paperwork.
In the meantime, should Lili & I eat in, go out for sushi just the two of us or should we find out if our beloved children care to grace us with their company ...
As I said before, life's a beach!
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Humor me! Please.
Something is in retrograde. Something is off or amiss. Or something may be right on.
It's all too confusing.
I get so frustrated with myself & the outside world. There is an expectation that surrounds me ... "it's so boring without you..".
Entertain. Amuse. Regale.
Yet who steps up to the plate to make me smile? Who volunteers to make things unboring around me?
Vic's mother once said that I could not save the world.
That always befuddled me. Then I had to remember the source of the comment: at age 17, all Mantell children had, HAD to leave home. As in kicked out. As in "enlist & get out." and don't let the door hit you in the ass, either!
There's some serious karma waiting there. I guess losing 2 out of your 5 children might be considered rough enough.
According to Judaism, he (or she!) who saves one person, saves the whole world.
That sits much better with me.
I don't usually ask for things from my friends & confidantes. I am always grateful for any consideration I get.
But I really can't bear to carry the mantle of entertainer when I am just feeling well, sad. A deep sadness.
As the song says:
"I don't mind the quiet
or the lonely nights.
I don't miss the funky attitudes
& I don't miss the fights.
But sometimes out of the corner of my eye,
I see that adorable ghost
That's when I remember
The things I miss the most.
The talk
The sex
Somebody to trust ... "
The start & close of each day is the same: an empty space.
And silence.
No one to talk to.
No sex (what's that???)
Who to trust but myself?
It's all too confusing.
I get so frustrated with myself & the outside world. There is an expectation that surrounds me ... "it's so boring without you..".
Entertain. Amuse. Regale.
Yet who steps up to the plate to make me smile? Who volunteers to make things unboring around me?
Vic's mother once said that I could not save the world.
That always befuddled me. Then I had to remember the source of the comment: at age 17, all Mantell children had, HAD to leave home. As in kicked out. As in "enlist & get out." and don't let the door hit you in the ass, either!
There's some serious karma waiting there. I guess losing 2 out of your 5 children might be considered rough enough.
According to Judaism, he (or she!) who saves one person, saves the whole world.
That sits much better with me.
I don't usually ask for things from my friends & confidantes. I am always grateful for any consideration I get.
But I really can't bear to carry the mantle of entertainer when I am just feeling well, sad. A deep sadness.
As the song says:
"I don't mind the quiet
or the lonely nights.
I don't miss the funky attitudes
& I don't miss the fights.
But sometimes out of the corner of my eye,
I see that adorable ghost
That's when I remember
The things I miss the most.
The talk
The sex
Somebody to trust ... "
The start & close of each day is the same: an empty space.
And silence.
No one to talk to.
No sex (what's that???)
Who to trust but myself?
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Transitioning ...
I remember watching a British version of "The Apprentice" about 2 years ago while visiting my Mother & Peter. One of the challenges issued by the host, the Sir Alan Sugar, a self-made nice-Jewish-boy-from-the-East-End-of-London was for the team to come up with a line of greeting cards.
One of the groups were inspired to pick February 13th. The Loneliest Day.
How totally ridiculous is that? A Hallmark line of cards, lauding the day before Valentine's as, well, basically something akin to Eleanor Rigby!
Pshaw! What a load of rubbish.
Fast forward to January 13, 2010. Here I am the day pre-Valentine's - the dread Loneliest Day of the Year.
Am I sad? Am I bothered?
An afternoon spent with an insane group of adults, all participants in Vero Beach's First Annual Olympiad was the best box of chocolates & roses imaginable.
Nothing better than grown ups being silly. Mad grapefruit & spoon races. Grass skiing & citrus toss. Hammer throwing (I got a Silver for that!).
Our Olympics included the brining in of the Olympic flag, followed by the torch carried by toga sporting Grecian goddess who passed the flame on to Eros, I mean Eric who shot the flame into the Olympic firepit!
Foods celebrating the different countries & Olympic trivia made the glorious afternoon.
Vic comes to me in such different ways. The obvious does not trigger me. It is in the most unexpected of times that I get caught unawares.
When I think of Valentine's Day, I remember that I was told every day for 20 years that I was the highlight of Vic's life. Feb 14's just another day ...
One of the groups were inspired to pick February 13th. The Loneliest Day.
How totally ridiculous is that? A Hallmark line of cards, lauding the day before Valentine's as, well, basically something akin to Eleanor Rigby!
Pshaw! What a load of rubbish.
Fast forward to January 13, 2010. Here I am the day pre-Valentine's - the dread Loneliest Day of the Year.
Am I sad? Am I bothered?
An afternoon spent with an insane group of adults, all participants in Vero Beach's First Annual Olympiad was the best box of chocolates & roses imaginable.
Nothing better than grown ups being silly. Mad grapefruit & spoon races. Grass skiing & citrus toss. Hammer throwing (I got a Silver for that!).
Our Olympics included the brining in of the Olympic flag, followed by the torch carried by toga sporting Grecian goddess who passed the flame on to Eros, I mean Eric who shot the flame into the Olympic firepit!
Foods celebrating the different countries & Olympic trivia made the glorious afternoon.
Vic comes to me in such different ways. The obvious does not trigger me. It is in the most unexpected of times that I get caught unawares.
When I think of Valentine's Day, I remember that I was told every day for 20 years that I was the highlight of Vic's life. Feb 14's just another day ...
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Tool Time Tessie
OK, a whole new page has been turned. Look out lumber. Watch out, water. Who balanced the ph in the h20?
Yep. Tool Time Tessie!
Daniel & I finally cleaned the empty hot tub. Used the shop vac (yeah baby!)to empty residual puddles of sudsy water & sand. Making sure the drainage valve was righty very tighty, we filled it up & followed instructions according to the manual.
See, what I found out is that Vic kept meticulous files on EVERYTHING - including all appliances, equipment, etc., for the house.
When in doubt, head first into the filing cabinet.
If that doesn't reveal the answer, I sit & simply ask Vic for guidance.
Next thing you know, I find myself opening a drawer, moving stuff & bingo, there is the answer!
Next on Tool Time Tessie's agenda: charge up the drained battery on the Ryobi 18v electric screwdriver!
What a trip that will be. I already found an old coffee tin full of miscellaneous nails, screws, plugs. This is important because there is an entire drawer of at least 25 boxes each containing job specific hardware. WTF? I just want a simple generic screw!
Hey ho. With a built-in spirit level, Ryobi-san, Mr. Coffee's miscellany & I might become very good friends. I feel the need to hang things. Now that I can, that is ...
Even though the discoveries are fun & exciting, the fact is Vic left a gigantic crater in the middle of my life. The children seem to be handling things better than I am at the moment.
I hear him, feel him, remember him in things all the time - but random things. The triggers I avoid are fine.
It is the unexpected flashback encounters that are ambushing me.
3 months into "the process" & the battlements are feeling the wear & tear of the sieges. Reserves feel like they are depleting instead of being restocked.
Vic was the sails, the rudder, the engine of this family.
Right now, this particular boat is has a body, map & a compass.
Unfortunately, it is just out there, bobbing away. Just to make things worse, the crew (yours truly) is mutineering against the captain (also yours truly).
What a joke!
If only to be one of those people for whom life is black or white. No grey. Simply this or that.
Sadly, for me, I live through all the spectral shades.
Sometimes simultaneously.
Oy vey.
Yep. Tool Time Tessie!
Daniel & I finally cleaned the empty hot tub. Used the shop vac (yeah baby!)to empty residual puddles of sudsy water & sand. Making sure the drainage valve was righty very tighty, we filled it up & followed instructions according to the manual.
See, what I found out is that Vic kept meticulous files on EVERYTHING - including all appliances, equipment, etc., for the house.
When in doubt, head first into the filing cabinet.
If that doesn't reveal the answer, I sit & simply ask Vic for guidance.
Next thing you know, I find myself opening a drawer, moving stuff & bingo, there is the answer!
Next on Tool Time Tessie's agenda: charge up the drained battery on the Ryobi 18v electric screwdriver!
What a trip that will be. I already found an old coffee tin full of miscellaneous nails, screws, plugs. This is important because there is an entire drawer of at least 25 boxes each containing job specific hardware. WTF? I just want a simple generic screw!
Hey ho. With a built-in spirit level, Ryobi-san, Mr. Coffee's miscellany & I might become very good friends. I feel the need to hang things. Now that I can, that is ...
Even though the discoveries are fun & exciting, the fact is Vic left a gigantic crater in the middle of my life. The children seem to be handling things better than I am at the moment.
I hear him, feel him, remember him in things all the time - but random things. The triggers I avoid are fine.
It is the unexpected flashback encounters that are ambushing me.
3 months into "the process" & the battlements are feeling the wear & tear of the sieges. Reserves feel like they are depleting instead of being restocked.
Vic was the sails, the rudder, the engine of this family.
Right now, this particular boat is has a body, map & a compass.
Unfortunately, it is just out there, bobbing away. Just to make things worse, the crew (yours truly) is mutineering against the captain (also yours truly).
What a joke!
If only to be one of those people for whom life is black or white. No grey. Simply this or that.
Sadly, for me, I live through all the spectral shades.
Sometimes simultaneously.
Oy vey.
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