Words from The Crone

Since the beginning of time man (and probably women too) have been battling insects of one kind or another – spiders, creepy crawlers, beetles, palmetto bugs, mosquitoes, you name it. My insect battle this year has been with ants. Some of them are so tiny you can hardly see them and others are your ordinary average picnic ant size. But, none of them are the giant carpenter size ants, thank God.

This year the ants must number in the ga-billions. They are coming at me from everywhere – under the toilet, under various places along the baseboard, in the dishwasher, in the refrigerator, under the bathtub, out of the a/c ducts, over my desk, down my walls, they are simply EVERYWHERE!

The battle was on! We started with a strong commercial spray – nada. A neighbor gave us some commercial strength “Ant Bait” guaranteed to wipe out the colonies (yes, plural) within 30 days! Oy, 30 days, that’s a long time to have to eat, sleep, and dine with the ants. We scrubbed every dish clean before we put it in the dishwasher, we wiped the kitchen counters and stove top so much they cried “Uncle.” The poor dog had about two minutes to eat his food or it was swarming with hundreds of the little ant buggers. I think he lost two pounds. Some days we gave up entirely and just watched the twenty-foot long trail of ants coming and going. Industrious little suckers, they are.

Outside the house was much worse, so that was a blessing. However, when they found the hummingbird feeder and covered that, I flipped out! Out with the hose, wash down the feeder, move the feeder, fool the ants, try again. Didn’t work – ants found the new installation within minutes, maybe seconds. Then we discovered that a line of chalk will not be crossed by ants. And so, we used up several sticks of chalk on the pathway to our bird feeder. Worked – sort of, but at least there are a lot fewer ants.

Our condominium association kept answering my pleas for help with, “That is not an association problem since the ants are not a detriment to the property.” Not for them, maybe, but crunchy ants in my cereal was a detriment to the enjoyment of my meal. Ants everywhere in my house were a detriment to my mental health. They were driving me nuts. Time for the big guns.

Off to Lowes. Daughter bought 20 pounds of some ant poison granules. Sprinkle all over lawns, decks, grounds, foundations. Water, water, water. Wait. Fewer ants. Woo Hoo.

Next, heavy duty ant poison spray that won’t harm humans or animals when it dries. Spray, spray, spray, baseboards everywhere, including inside closets. More fewer ants. Double Woo Hoo.

Final step – clear silicone caulk. Seal all holes in the baseboards, around sinks, toilets, tubs, any hole or crack found inside or outside the house! Caulk, caulk, caulk. Haven’t seen an ant all day, inside or out! Triple Woo Hoo! Maybe, just maybe we’ve won the battle of the ants! I sure hope so because I think they were even crawling into my scalp at night and nipping away. Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

For weeks now I’ve been listening to those who don’t want the “the mosque” built at ground zero. For weeks now I’ve been listening to those who want “the mosque” built near ground zero. I’ve even heard the President’s viewpoint on our principles of freedom of religious worship. And, the mayor of New York, and my FB friends, and my spouse, and on and on. It is a complicated situation.

On the one hand we do have the right to worship as we please, or not. We have the right to build a place of worship on privately purchased property. We have many freedoms not found in many other countries. Thanks be to God! But, along with those rights, goes the responsibility of every American citizen to see that they are upheld and honored, even when, or maybe particularly when, we disagree. If we don’t, we’ll lose those rights and then where would we be? Next time it may be where your house of worship is going to be built to which many people will be object.

On the other hand, while “the mosque”is not being built on ground zero, but some two blocks away from the site, it is uncomfortably close for those families and friends who lost loved ones in that terrible terrorist attack by Islamic radicals. They grieve still as does our country. We must remember however, that it wasn’t the Islamic religion that flew those planes into the towers, but a small group of sadly misled, irrational, Muslim terrorists. Remember that word “Terrorists.” Other faithful Muslims are being labeled and discriminated against because of those few terrorists. We have become an Islamophobic country and this is so sad because this great country was founded on the principle of religious freedom, but our attitudes no longer seem to reflect that basic tenet.

The question of what is appropriate to build at, or near, or close by, any place we consider sacred ground is never answered by a simple, yes or no. All parties involved need to consider not only the facts but the feelings associated with such decisions. I pray that those involved in this decision are doing just that. But, the best answer that I’ve heard to “the mosque” dilemma is to build that huge community center two blocks from ground zero and within its walls put a Christian chapel, a Jewish synagogue, an Islamic mosque, and perhaps even some sacred space for all the Shintos, Hindis, Buddhists, Confucians, atheists, agnostics et al to sit and meditate. Wouldn’t that be wonderful? It might even make God smile!

Last week I bought an e-reader. I am a gadget freak anyway and this was just a natural addition to my vast array of gadgets. After doing my research and talking to friends I decided to buy the Barnes and Noble “Nook.” So far it has been a good choice, but I have also spent over six hours learning all the machinations of what touch-screen to touch and what button to push and where to go for what. I am still learning. I am told that I can get my email on it, but so far I have only figured out how to get Google “Search.” I have also downloaded free e-books, bought two e-books, and transferred a PDF file from my laptop to my nook. A friend downloaded our lectionary readings, the prayer book, and the book of occasional services for me. Not bad for six hours, I figure.

At any rate, my “Nook” comes with a plug-in-the-wall adaptor so I can connect it to my USB cable and charge the gadget. A nice little piece of crafted hardware but mine didn’t work. So, rather than read the instruction booklet I called the nice lady who sold it to me and asked her what to do. Here is what I heard:

“Just call 1-800-The Nook, and tell them your problem and they’ll take care of it.” How simple, I thought. Well, I dialed 1-800-The Nook and was I surprised. This sexy woman’s voice began telling me which buttons to push to hear whatever type of kinky sex talk I wanted to indulge in at the moment! I couldn’t believe that this would be Barnes and Noble. I was so shocked I even put it on speaker phone and said to R, “Listen to this!” He did. I think he liked it. I hung up!

Rather than call my nice Barnes and Noble lady back and ask what was going on and/or humiliate and embarrass myself, I decided it was time to delve into the instructions (not my forte). Sure enough, right there under the heading “Technical Support” was the instruction to call 1-800 The BOOK! I did, I got my replacement adaptor thingy sent to me and hung up. I am now off to get a hearing test!

Some days I have what I call “To Do” meltdown. I think it is a mini-panic attack, but I don’t really feel panicked or even attacked, but I do feel overwhelmed and out of control. Now being out of control for me is worse that a panic attack. I have been called a control freak and I call myself a recovering control freak, but I suppose, given my past life that I will always want a modicum of control over my life – who doesn’t? And, according to R, over him too! Well, yeah, that’s where the expression “If momma ain’t happy ain’t nobody happy” comes from. Because “Momma” controls and is therefore, “happy!” Every man, married or in a relationship, should know that.

But, back to my meltdown. In my early twenties I learned to write everything I needed to do down in my appointment book. When I graduated to my PDA and now my Smartphone, I still had to write down my “To Do” list in a modest 5” x 7” spiral bound notebook. I carry it everywhere and every time I think of something I have to do I write it down. If I don’t, I forget. I’m old. When I complete one of my “Do” things, I check it off. It is a system that works for me. You must have something like it too or else you have one of those photographic memories that I either envy or hate depending on which day it is.

Yesterday, I checked my “To Do” list. It was three pages long and this sudden wave of hopelessness and despair washed over me. “How will I ever get all this stuff done?” I lamented. I thought I was going to cry and, eventually I did when R asked me to drive him to one more meeting this week. It has been two plus months since I started doing all the driving and, according to the doctor, it will be four more months into the future. Meeting two schedules has put me on “Overload.” For every hour I have to drive Mr. Daisy (See blog of 5/26/2010) it is an hour I don’t have to accomplish those three pages of things to do. But, rather than soaking in my misery, I collected myself, wiped off the tears, and forged ahead with preparations for a party I was giving that evening for a departing colleague.

This morning however, I still feel somewhat overwhelmed and so, I am going to take my own advice. Slow down. Prioritize. Breathe. Sort out what really needs to be done today. Put those “I would like to do” items at the end of the list, and put those “Better be done or else” things up front. Finally, relax and take one thing at a time. Breathe.

Realistically, if I were to drop dead today the really important stuff would get done, or not, and the planet would not stop turning. In fact, even if I weren’t to drop dead today, the planet would survive if I never got them done! WOW, what a great idea! I’m going to go and cross off some items on my list right now and I’ll bet I can get it down to one page and have enough time to go see a movie and eat dinner out this week! It’s all a matter of perspective. I feel better already!

Sometimes getting blogs can be tiresome and well, not quite user friendly. I used to hate having to open my explorer, type in my favorite blog URL and then wait for it to download. Not so anymore. I sign up for email delivery.

I’ve hear the same complaint about this blog. So, if you like to read my stuff (and I sure hope you do), but just don’t want to keep checking it every so often to see if I’ve written any new stuff sign up for email delivery.

It’s easy. Look over at the top right of this screen and see where it says “Pages” and then click on the third entry down “Get my blog my email,” and sign up to receive any new stuff by email. Then you don’t have to check anymore and you’ll only receive an email which includese my blog when I post (write) a new piece!

Oh, how I wish that all of my life was that simple. Thanks for reading my stuff – I love to write it! Peace and have a cool summer if you can.

It is painful to admit that my mother was right. I think the first time that I realized she was right was when I yelled at my daughter, “Don’t slam the screen door!” A phrase my mother threw out at me constantly. She knew slamming the screen door would weaken the hinges and eventually cause the screen to sag and need replacement. Or maybe, she just didn’t like the sound of the screen door banging shut forty-seven hundred times a day.

The older I get the more I realize how often my mother was right and how wise she actually was. Some things took longer to soak in than others. She always used to say about certain people that “Their taste was all in their mouth.” How weird I used to think, what in God’s name does that mean? Well, now I know that it doesn’t have anything to do with tasting something in your mouth but in your brain. I have even found myself using that phrase myself from time to time. How many times have you caught yourself saying things your mother said. Lots, I bet, at least I do.

There are a hundred ways my mother was right from which utensil to use when eating to how to dress like a lady not a tramp. But the one thing that keeps coming back to me time and time again was her admonition never to talk about religion, politics, or sex with friends, family, or anyone! I always thought that rather awkward because I’m a talker and if I can’t talk about those delicious subjects to anyone, I would be condemned to having those kinds of conversations with myself. What a bore.

Well, I have from time to time ventured into those arenas with mixed results. What I have found is that in general those are subjects you should avoid, particularly when talking to a stranger or someone you don’t know really well. They are also subjects you should avoid with folks you know really well and know full well that their views on those subjects are diametrically opposed to yours! That leaves broaching those subjects only with people you know really well and who agree with your views on religion, politics, and sex! A very short list perhaps. I have found that even when I discuss those subjects with my spouse (who generally agrees with my views) we often end up raising our voices at each other until we realize that we aren’t going anywhere and had better take a time out.

Upon reflection, I have to admit that my mother was right. You really shouldn’t discuss religion, politics, or sex with anyone. The weather is usually safe, or a discussion on the next family gathering, or perhaps some light chit chat about your health, or the latest addition to a family. Good things, not anything that could be considered controversial. Well, that certainly limits things! Guess I’ll go grocery shopping where I’m not likely to engage in conversation with anyone about those no-no subjects! Sigh, my mother was right.

There is so much mushy stuff out there about soul mates. So many folks say they found their soul mate, get married, and then five, ten, even fifteen years later, bye-bye soul mate! Off, I guess, to find another soul mate. Perhaps we don’t really stop to consider exactly what we mean by this soul mate thing. We romanticize this love of ours and hang pearls of perfection around them and envision this person as satisfying our every whim, desire, and demand. Thus, when those pearls break and fall all over the floor of our heart, this perfect soul mate vanishes and is replaced by some soulless mate with whom we can no longer live. Sigh.

I too found my soul mate. But he’s not perfect and I don’t expect him to be. I thought my first spouse was perfect and I idealized him to the point that when his pearls broke it was so bad that our marriage couldn’t withstand it. He’s a nice guy and we are still friends, but when I reflect back on our relationship I know he was not my soul mate and I never thought of him that way.

My second (and last) spouse, R, is my soul mate. But not in the romantic, you’re perfect way. He is my soul mate, and I his, because our hearts and thoughts and minds are in spiritual sync with each other. R says we are soul mates because our souls connect and I have to agree. It isn’t just that we are connected at the hip, it is deeper.

Well then, what does it mean when souls connect? Our first indication that we were soul mates came when we realized that we read each other’s thoughts. The most frequent sentence between us is “I was just thinking of that!” More often than not we both order the same food from a menu. We can also judge each other’s moods very well and empathize with them. We also bought the exact same anniversary card for each other twice and most of the time our cards to each other carry the same message. Our value systems never diverge and even our decision making process is the same. We don’t always make the right decision, but we at least agree on it! I also have a spiritual sense of R’s presence and when we are apart it is as if a part of my soul is away from me. I know he feels the same. After all, we’re soul mates!

When we hurt each other our connected souls bestow forgiveness that is deep and pure and honest. Thank God we have not set ourselves up on “Perfect Pedestals.” Our life is full of ups and downs, being good and being bad, doing right and doing wrong. We do not live on a flat plain, we live in a landscape of hills and valleys. And, it is our spiritual connection that allows us to soar and dip with each other in love and forgiveness in all things! Wow! We are so blessed!

This defining a soul mate is not an easy thing. It is sort of like defining God. You know it exists but our words fail us when trying to explain it. A friend once said, “How do you explain the unexplainable?” Right. You don’t. It just exists and our souls as soul mates dance together in a world all of their own.

Sometimes you just need to get away. Away from the iphone, the internet, the insidious interruptions that invade your space. Sometimes you just need to find some peace and quiet alone. Alone with nothing but you. Sometimes you just need to find that place where nothing happens and you can take a refreshing swim in your own thoughts. A place where you can imagine or dream or even dare to think of new things you never dared to think before.

I once had that kind of place. To a seven year-old it was a tree, but in actuality it was a huge overgrown bush. The thickest branch maybe measured six inches in diameter flowing out from a main trunk maybe eight inches in diameter. It was low lying very close to the ground growing out and up like an artichoke. The leaves were small and many giving the entire tree a feather-like appearance. And it was hidden between a row of thick pine trees and a grapefruit grove. No one but me even knew it was there – or so I wanted to believe. I called it my “Wine-dee Pine-dee” tree because the branches wound up around all through the tree and I guess the “Pine” part came because it was more or less surrounded by pine trees.

In my tree I would climb up very high, four feet or so off the ground (remember I was seven and that was high). At first I would just sit there and listen to the noises of nature; birds singing, crickets chirping, leaves rustling in the wind. It was so peaceful and it was all mine. I never ever invited anyone to join me in the tree. It was my alone place. Even my mother didn’t know it existed. If she called, I would creep down and run off to another place before I answered her.

Sometimes in my tree I would pretend I was someone else and close my eyes and live an entire life as this other person. Other times I would dream of things I wanted to do or places I wanted to see or just imagine who I would be when I grew up. One of things I remember doing often in my tree was reading. I loved to read books and in my tree I could read for hours and no one would interrupt me.

In some ways my tree was my little girl heaven-on-earth. I don’t have my Wine-dee Pine-dee tree anymore. I don’t even have a place like my tree where I can be alone and dream and think and well, just be. Life is full of people and places and particular things that need to be done. My calendar fills up quickly, and every so often I think about my tree and wish I was seven again and sitting there resting, restoring, and reassuring myself that life is good and all will be well. Hmmmmm…….I think I’ll go find myself a Wine-dee Pine-dee tree! If you don’t have one, won’t you join me and find your own? It has to be good for the soul.

“Could you hand me the clicker-dicker?” “Where is that thingy I just had?” “Would you please get me a pill from that squarish-round bottle on the shelf?” “It’s in the dark place where we keep the stuff we need.” That’s RitaSpeak, or so my spouse, R, says. Frankly, it is perfectly clear to me what I mean. In reality, it is probably part my short-hand (or long-hand) for stuff and the loss of memory that goes with aging.

For example, I can remember (now, of course) that once I could not for the life of me remember the name of the refrigerator. And so, RitaSpeak went something like this: “I’d like a soda, but not the ones in the pantry but one from the ???, place that is cold where we keep our food.” Have any of you ever done that or is this something totally unique to me? Sometimes when I forget a name I just keep thinking until it comes to me, but I’ve found that RitaSpeak works just as well.

Being products of corporate America both R and I use short-hand letters or acronyms a lot. We have two pantries and they are called “P1” and “P2.” Our upstairs loft/office is called the “L’office,” and our living room, dining room, kitchen, great room is called the “Groom.” I guess you might call that OurSpeak. We even have OurSpeak rules like rule one is “Keep the door to the bathroom closed,” and rule two is “Put the toilet seat down.” Saves a lot of words. I wonder if that qualifies as going “Green” with words? Does that lower our carbon footprint with less exhaled carbon dioxide?

The other day we were driving somewhere (doesn’t matter where) and the display lights on our dashboard were dim. R asked me if the round dial thingy for lights was up? RitaSpeak at its best! What that meant was “Is the dial that controls the dimming of the lights in the off position?” It was, and strangely enough, I knew exactly what he meant. R was astounded that he had even said that because he has never spoken RitaSpeak! I guess it is contagious. LOL.

My daughter thinks some of our RitaSpeak words shouldn’t be used like “Clicker-dicker” because it doesn’t seem to connect to anything. Well, I’m sorry, but “Clicker-dicker” is the remote control for the TV. Even I can understand the “Clicker” part, but where I came up with the “Dicker” part is beyond me. Or maybe not – it rhymes with “Clicker.” Oh, well, such is RitaSpeak!

We all have that “most embarrassing moment” in our life. You remember it, don’t you? I thought so. I have often thought about mine and wonder what is it about being embarrassed that etches such a deep memory in our brain cells. I can’t remember the balance in my checking account but I can sure remember my most embarrassing moment. You too, I’m sure.

Mine actually happened when I was six-years old, or 64 years ago. It was even in March of 1946 so you know I remember all too well. I was on the playground at the Isaac School in Phoenix, Arizona in Maricopa County. I have all these tiny details because I ripped off my science book and they are stamped on the inside cover. I love that book and don’t plan to return it. But, back to my “Moment.”

It was recess, a time when we are all supposed to have fun! Sure. Does anyone remember those things called “monkey bars?” They come in various sizes and shapes, but the one I was on was very large and very high and looked like the skeleton of a very big tent. It was so inviting to climb and climb I did. Up one level of rungs, up the second level of rungs, up the third level of rungs, and up the fourth level of rungs. Several of my classmates were climbing all over it as well and many of them were performing a myriad of movements, some swinging by one leg, others by a couple of arms, another by two legs hanging upside down.

I wanted to be one of them and so I decided that the two legs hanging upside down was easy. I didn’t stop to think that they were all boys and had pants on. I, like any proper little girl, had a dress on. Whoops – upside down I went and swoosh, over my head went my dress. I couldn’t see a thing. Obviously, this was not working. The boys were snickering of course, they could see my under panties! Good thing they weren’t from Victoria’s Secret! It was also obvious that I had to get out of this embarrassing position.

It got worse! As I tried to use my torso to lift myself up to grab an upper rung and get down off this monster, I got one gawd awful cramp in my left calf. It hurt so much I couldn’t lift myself up to get off. And so, I hung there upside down, dress over my head, with my not-so-sexy under pants showing. Talk about being mortified.

It got worse. The recess bell rang and all the kids ran inside. The playground was empty except for one little six-year old girl hanging upside down on the monkey bars. I was so embarrassed I couldn’t even yell or cry or whimper. I just hung there.

What seemed like a lifetime passed and finally, thanks be to God, my teacher came out and rescued me. It was really hard going back into the classroom, but well, we all know that we have to face our embarrassment whether we like it or not. And so I did. I learned a valuable lesson that day however. No one laughed at me or tormented me or scolded me. In reality, they couldn’t care less it seemed. They said, “Hi,” and back to our classwork we went. I learned to laugh at myself and recognize that while our embarrassment is very personal and ego-bruising to us, to others it is just another minor event in this huge event we call life! I learned to get over it – quickly!