Abulia

Dictionary word for today was "abulia". It means the inability (or impairment of the ability) to act or make decisions. Gee, I could use this word on a daily basis!

We are cleaning out 17 years of storage in our basement. Two tvs and several computer monitors and 50 plus board games and building toy sets. There's a ping pong/pool table combination holding craft supplies and unfinished projects from when the kids were in scouts, magazines and paper records and record albums for which we no longer have a player. There's an electronic double keyboard organ which is promised to a Sunday school class, and clothes that can go to the thrift store....and there's also bits and pieces that we have no clue what they went to or if they would still work if we knew what they were part of!

There's clothing we will never wear again, and yards of fabric that never were used, or large scraps that don't match their original. Some of this stuff can go to the thrift store and much of it will go to the dump. Once I figure something is worth keeping, I have to figure out where to store it! And unfortunately, I have an amazing ability to take less stuff and make it spread out to cover the same space as the more stuff! What I like to do is buy plastic containers and shelving to store stuff in. I get as excited shopping for container boxes as some of my friends do over shoes and jewelry! The boxes don't have to be color-coordinated, just stackable. And I love to use my labeler! Its my favorite tool during organizing season.

My abulia has been just getting started on this big project, and now trying to decide what to do with everything. We are planning to redecorate once we get down to the floor and walls, so there is a carrot dangling to make me want to get this stage done...that and the idea that I may someday be happy to invite friends over again to shoot pool or watch tv with us. That's the plan anyway.
And once that project is underway, I am thinking of seeking therapy for my hoarding... if I can just decide to act.

Bionic

My Dad is 76 years old.
I'm still learning things about him. For instance: during WWII, he had a job in a dry cleaning store forming wire clothing hangers. They couldn't get the hangers from the factories, but they could get rolls of wire, so my dad made hangers, using a wood form.

As a teen, my dad worked in a textile mill, and when he was old enough, he enlisted and served in the Air Force (first as a cook and later as a flight line mechanic and supervisor) and later he returned to school and then worked at a top secret (he still doesn't tell us much of what he did except that it was in a VERY BIG room) uranium enrichment plant, and later on he wrote safety procedures at another plant....but now he's finally retired for real and he rides his tractor mower and sometimes has to cut down trees, and he scouts out interesting restaurants to try with my mom in the different states they visit.

He tracks hurricanes on paper graph maps each year.
He can sit all day long watching football or baseball games on TV but he really loves the Lady Vols.
He works crossword and mental puzzles, and computer mahjong, and he takes thousands of photographs every year. (He still prefers "real" film though my mom has converted to digital.)
He searches for old service buddies in computer telephone directories, and sometimes gets to visit them. He has traveled 800 miles to attend a funeral of one of his old friends.
He writes messages to family members online.
He finds really wonderful birthday cards that make you feel special.
He is generally quiet, but has a quick and kind wit, and he is reliable.
He's really pretty cool, and he's one of the people I respect most in this world.

He quit smoking many times, and I think the last time he smoked was about 10 years ago, which makes me very proud too.

He has a pacemaker and an artificial hip and dentures, but he is the most "together" and "real" person you could ever meet. He got the pacemaker a few years ago because his heart just got slower and slower, and almost forgot how to beat. He got the artificial hip when the pain got too great to let him do the activities he enjoys doing, like climbing ladders and fixing his roof and crawling under sinks and fixing dishwashers.
He can repair almost anything but he bruises easily.
Mom wants him to dig out an area of the front yard to build a koi pond and fountain, with a nice shaded bench area, but he is a little resistant. I think maybe its because there are three young children next door who could sneak over, and be at risk. I think Dad is waiting until they are a little older and can be careful around the water. The children come to visit him often and when they are away, he feeds their horse. Dad may also worry about cranes and other birds eating pet fish in the pond Mom wants.
Dad gets a little frailer, smaller, every year, and I keep forgetting that he takes a "small" instead of a "medium" size shirt.
He gives some of the best hugs in the world.

Belongings

Reading stories of people picking through the litter that their possessions have become in the Katrina flooding makes me realize that very few of the objects and small treasures I have so carefully collected since my migratory days are truly important. Sure, I would miss many things were I not able to look at them or bring them out for holidays, but I doubt they are what I would miss most.

What's really important, and priceless to me, are the photographs and the letters and documents that represent the milestones of my life and my children's lives... the banner my daughter wore as a poster child, the wedding pictures of my son and pictures of my parents as young adults starting their own lives...the toasting crystal goblets we bought for our 25th Anniversary, those are the items I would mourn the loss.

The many little knick knacks that adorn my shelves, the many roosters and hens who infest my kitchen, and the Asian boxes and baskets and rattan tables I have artfully placed in my living room...they are just pretty things. They represent my need to nest and to feel that I have created something lovely and peaceful. They are not me. At least not a permanent me. They may have been a part of me for a moment.

I wonder as I think about all the things that those Gulf Coast families must do without or try to replace, if these are things that can be replaced (NOT the people and pets who are gone), how do these Gulf Coast souls feel? Will they find and salvage the special things of their hearts? Will they be able to move past the pain and experience something good after all this begins to fade? If they have held onto some tokens of their lives before the storm, I pray that those tokens will help them endure the pain, and help them to move on. I pray that those tokens can represent something truly important in their lives.

Breathe

"Mahatma Gandhi, as you know, walked barefoot most of the time, which produced an impressive set of calluses on his feet. He also ate very little, which made him rather frail and with his odd diet, he suffered from bad breath. This made him... what?
Answer: A super calloused fragile mystic hexed by halitosis."


Ok, its not original, but still kinda cute. I was sent this and some other puns back in October of '03, and saved it. I have just recently realized that not only am I a pack rat in my physical life, I am also a pack rat in my computer life. Parade (Sunday supplement newspaper) Magazine had a little essay this week about hoarders and pack rats and how they can get help for their illlness. I think mine is genetic. Paternal grandmom was a hoarder, world class.

Tomorrow we plan to make at least five sets of glasses for evacuees who have been temp-settled here. Another private OD is donating the exams (his wife works with Red Cross and she set it up.) Our docs are a little leery of tying up their chair time with folks who can't afford to pay for replacement glasses, but I have to give our docs credit in that they donate over 50 exams a year to indigent people in our area. Maybe they will kick in some more exams if we find a lot are needed.

It feels good to be able to do something as well as donate money. I can't go to the gulf coast, but maybe I can help make life a little easier for some who move up here.

Boundaries

"Cleaning your house while your kids are still growing is like shoveling the walk before it stops snowing." -- Phyllis Diller
Now that the kids are grown, Phyllis's philosophy is so much a part of me that I am hopeless. If you come to visit, expect to see some cobwebs and some dog hair, and very cluttered kitchen counters.

Tonight I stitched little elastic loops into my fancier red chappeaus.
I had an exam this afternoon (history, weight, blood pressure, ekg, blood, etc) for an insurability test.
Also went shopping at the thrift store and got NEW designer shorts for 99 cents!!!!
Daughter had a dental appointment for a filling early this morning. The first filling she's ever needed. In all her 20+ years.
For someone who has difficulty brushing her teeth well, she has been lucky.
What else?
Oh, we sat out in our swing on the deck tonight, almost the first time this year because of the rain and the heat and the mosquitoes, and we sipped *cranberry/lemonade/raspberry rum* slushies. And daughter blew billions of bubbles that have some kind of bondy additive stuff that allows them to just sit forever, or til you have to walk through them and they pop guey and look like spiderweb leftovers. She had a blast. The dog remembered how to jump up into the swing and agreed to sit quietly while we "swang" and sipped and enjoyed the bubbles, and talked about how we don't feel comfortable donating money for Katrina victims online and I will have to drive down to the bank tomorrow morning to give them our checks. (Daughter wants to give some too.) We look at the news web sites and watch the tv, and we have so little comprehension about what those people are going through, and we are just so glad that our families are not there.

Artificial

I am a sodaholic. Especially caffeinated and sugared sodas. When my weight exceeds my 5 additional pounds limit (I have a limit as to what I will accept so that I don't feel the need to diet continually during holidays and family visits and times of great stress) I break out the diet sodas. (Diet Cherry Coke is acceptable right now, and Diet Dr. Pepper was ok until I ran out of those.) But with all the chatter and "research" on aspartame, et al, I am trying to cut calories in other areas and just drink the regular Dr. Pepper.
I get migraines on a regular basis, and the diet drinks are becoming a trigger for the headaches. Caffeine helps though, so I can't go totally off the sodas. And I don't like 7-up or Sprite unless there is some alcohol mixed in with it!
Breathing unfiltered air when the honeysuckle and crape myrtle are blooming is another trigger. For the last couple of days I have been able to drive back and forth to work in our repaired A/C'd van, allowing me to enjoy the blooms without the pain.
I have long thought that the migraines I get before major rain and thunder storms were related to pressure changes, but tonight I think worrying about all the people in the hurricane path may be more of a trigger than the pressure change. Lack of sleep is a migraine trigger. I like to read to settle my mind to make it easier to fall asleep (Patricia Cornwell is my writer of choice just now) and as I am about ready to drop the book and pull up my quilt, my husband will come in all excited and upset about something financial. Or he will be talking about the possible starters for his favorite college (American) football team, and quoting weights and how often they work out, and I totally tune out except for his voice keeping me awake. He really needs some male friends he can talk and discuss these things with. He needs a "red hat society"-type group designed for aging/graying or balding men. In his case, they can wear bright orange. I "like" football, and I enjoy watching the games on TV with him, but the pre-season stuff, or the politics of conferences and rankings leaves me weary. And migraines are always waiting to pounce! I went 3 days last week without needing a decongestant or my migraine pills or even aspirin, and tonight I feel like they are at my brain's check-in desk and are demanding a room with a view. Maybe even a suite!

I need to try posting more often as I have been forgetting the procedure between times! It might also help if I tried posting earlier in the evening, instead of early in the morning! And I might get to that sooner if I wasn't caught up in surfing through other blogs, and following the links they post (tonight's surfing led me to reading about several post 9-11 groups: The Brudenhof Peace Barn & Peter M. Goodrich Memorial Foundation were 2 I felt very inspired by; and several Philippine bloggers...I read some of those to see if they mentioned places I visited as a military-dependant teenager. Totally different times and locales from when I was there. But interesting just the same.

Angst

My dictionary defines "angst" as a feeling of dread, anxiety, or anguish.

When you are anticipating something that you have no control over, whether it be a good thing or not, you may feel angst about it.

The "anxiety" may be about whether the event or situation will evolve the way you desire, or whether you will perform an action in the best manner, or if someone else will do or say or be what you expect, and if the outcome of the event or situation really matters to you, a feeling of angst may precede the event or situation.

You may feel angst about a reunion. You may feel angst about a business meeting or interview, or a speech, or a sale, or a class, or an examination, or even a party or holiday.

You may feel angst about telling someone something that you know they will be unhappy to hear about.

You may feel angst when you expect to hear someone tell you something that you don't think you will enjoy hearing. It may be angst or it may be barely contained hysteria.

When you feel angst about too many things that typically occur in your day (starting up the car, driving down the highway, answering the phone, opening a bill, discussing finances with your spouse, turning out the light and trying to go to sleep), then you need to get help. Just talking about it isn't enough. Just writing down how troubled you feel isn't enough.

If you don't have someone you trust to tell your anxieties and worries to, someone who will listen uncritically and help you decide what you want to do and just help you get through the angst of it all, you can blog.

And then later you can delete.