I think what anyone who has gotten through a long but not terribly happy marriage to wash up on the shores of being single at an advanced age (I won't tell you how long but still) would hope for, and think they knew all about, Successful Relating. You know, believing that all those stupid pointless fights they'd had with the first, inferior, spouse; were just about being young, uninformed, insensitive.
Thinking that you would NOT make the same mistakes, given a partner who REALLY loves you and is on the same page. (because in the OLD marriage, that was never the case)
It's a seductive idea but not remotely true.
The old stuff comes back. You hear your sweet new beloved yelling at you (in the heat of argument, but still) you always do that! You're mean to me!
- and your heart quails, remembering ancient arguments and pointless battles repeated . . .over and over. Things you had almost forgotten - but the sad sinking in your abdomen; not forgotten. The old painful refrain of . . why do this, why even try? is too familiar, and way too depressing to hold on to. So what am I saying here, exactly?
Not sure. I think I am just pointing out that even new beginnings by well-meaning oldsters (those who think they know the drill) are fraught with the same crap we all encountered as beginners. What a drag.
As I write, my dear friend C is in a hospital, waiting for her husband, who has rectal cancer and has, together with her and the rest of his loving family, fought it for the last two years, with every bit of energy he and his family could muster on his behalf. His youngest daughter is my younger girl's best friend. Both are freshman year programs at different schools. He is brain-dead, apparently. My heart fails me. .. Claire, dear friend, how to understand this; the loved husband and father. .. .
For the two (youngest) kids : One of them mine: What can I say t o a child losing a parent?
To her (Charlie and Claire's girl): Darling girl: Your father and your mother want you to be YOU, nothing less, nothing more. My girl ( C & C's best friend, since kindergarten) Please my darling, You are a good friend to Colleen, and I am glad that you are. Being a friend to one who is in pain, or trouble, is a special blessing.
As your momma (sic) I worry about your - mind set, as it is -are you okay? Happy? willing to talk to dreary adults who love/worry about you?
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Tuesday, September 28, 2010
The Enchanted (or Enchanting) Thai Restaurant - Posted by Harry
On our first date (Date 1, not Date 0 which was a getting-to-know you meeting at Starbucks), Sally and I ate at a Thai restaurant in her town. The restaurant is a small, unpretentious, family-run business that has a very neighborhood feel, meaning that locals tend to dine here more than visitors. The food is not brilliant, but it's often very good, and reasonably priced. The decor is eclectic southeast-Asian and whimsical: full-sized wooden statues of Buddhist figures, pulsing light balls, temple prints, family photographs, etc. It's a family-run business.
Something happened on that first night. I felt so at ease and close with Sally as if I had known her all my life. The restaurant was casual and packed with diners, and yet somehow intimate, conducive to talking, to learning more about one another and simply feeling romance, intense attraction, desire, joy. It may sound cliched but there was incredible energy and magic between us in that place, in that moment. I felt blessed and grateful, deeply grateful, and I have felt that way ever since.
We have returned to the restaurant many times in the nearly three years since we first ate there (we met in early December), and every experience is concatenated from that first time. We ate there again last Saturday, and I always feel the mood and charm of our beginning, and the present moment, as we talk, and drink wine, and share our duck and seafood dinners. I'm reminded of paleolithic tribes carrying a coal or embers from their last fire as they migrated across frozen wastes to the cave or outcropping where they would then light their next fire. This ember was our first night at the Thai restaurant, and even though we've had warm fires ever since, I always sense the glow of that ember whenever we enter through the screened door.
Something happened on that first night. I felt so at ease and close with Sally as if I had known her all my life. The restaurant was casual and packed with diners, and yet somehow intimate, conducive to talking, to learning more about one another and simply feeling romance, intense attraction, desire, joy. It may sound cliched but there was incredible energy and magic between us in that place, in that moment. I felt blessed and grateful, deeply grateful, and I have felt that way ever since.
We have returned to the restaurant many times in the nearly three years since we first ate there (we met in early December), and every experience is concatenated from that first time. We ate there again last Saturday, and I always feel the mood and charm of our beginning, and the present moment, as we talk, and drink wine, and share our duck and seafood dinners. I'm reminded of paleolithic tribes carrying a coal or embers from their last fire as they migrated across frozen wastes to the cave or outcropping where they would then light their next fire. This ember was our first night at the Thai restaurant, and even though we've had warm fires ever since, I always sense the glow of that ember whenever we enter through the screened door.
Friday, September 17, 2010
Barking Dogs
I (Sally here) am not really a dog person. I do love dogs; I love their smartness and willingness to please, their apparently endless capacity for submitting to all of a human's whims with not just grace but joy. . .their ability to forgive. . .where I work there is a lovely young Labrador who was grossly abused in puppyhood. (I couldn't really attend to the story her owner, who rescued her told me: too horrific. But she has big ugly scars on her back from being whipped.) And every time she sees me, she sidles over delicately and asks, very sweetly and anxiously, to be petted. . . in some part of her brain (I can see terror as she rolls her eyes) she cringes because she can't help thinking I might hurt her. This dog weighs almost as much as I do, has big powerful jaws; she could definitely take me out.
So sad, and so touching, that this nice animal who has good reason to distrust humans, wants nothing more than a little commonplace affection. So yeah, it does make me a trifle, I don't know, weirded out that this sweet creature is so willing to risk everything for acceptance. . .at the same time I feel honored by the trust.
Still as I said I am not a dog person per se. I was bitten by my grandparents' Schnauzer at about two, I still sweat remembering a recurring childhood nightmare featuring a large German-Shepherd-looking demon dog. . . but then I had a sweet little collie mix called Lady when I was very young who followed me everywhere and hung on my every whim.
I'm a cat person. I think I love cats with another personality; what I love about them is exactly opposite to what is nice about dogs. They're independent (or at least they're good at pretending they could care less what you think) Everything is on their terms. And they are lovely, sensual, low maintenance and generally silent.
Which brings me to the title. Harry and I have two dogs, both inherited. He got his (terrier mix) in the divorce. I got mine (Pom/Chihuahua) when my youngest went off to college this fall. Both are nice animals in many ways, but they BARK.BARK.BARK. all the time, at any conceivable prompt. Someone walking past. A dog barking three blocks away. an alarm clock. My cell phone, announcing with a discreet little beep that I have a new email. . .
Drives me crazy.
So sad, and so touching, that this nice animal who has good reason to distrust humans, wants nothing more than a little commonplace affection. So yeah, it does make me a trifle, I don't know, weirded out that this sweet creature is so willing to risk everything for acceptance. . .at the same time I feel honored by the trust.
Still as I said I am not a dog person per se. I was bitten by my grandparents' Schnauzer at about two, I still sweat remembering a recurring childhood nightmare featuring a large German-Shepherd-looking demon dog. . . but then I had a sweet little collie mix called Lady when I was very young who followed me everywhere and hung on my every whim.
I'm a cat person. I think I love cats with another personality; what I love about them is exactly opposite to what is nice about dogs. They're independent (or at least they're good at pretending they could care less what you think) Everything is on their terms. And they are lovely, sensual, low maintenance and generally silent.
Which brings me to the title. Harry and I have two dogs, both inherited. He got his (terrier mix) in the divorce. I got mine (Pom/Chihuahua) when my youngest went off to college this fall. Both are nice animals in many ways, but they BARK.BARK.BARK. all the time, at any conceivable prompt. Someone walking past. A dog barking three blocks away. an alarm clock. My cell phone, announcing with a discreet little beep that I have a new email. . .
Drives me crazy.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Sally's Knee - Posted by Harry
I like Sally's knee, just as I like all of Sally's body parts, however the knee has been giving her trouble for some time. She has difficulty walking or being on her feet for too long a time, and obviously climbing up and down the 3 sets of stairs in our house causes pain and problems, especially if any of those stairs are being used to carry laundry or furniture. Originally Sally had problems with her hip but the knee has superseded the hip problem and may have even contributed to the hip problem.
Sally saw the doctor last week and he is starting her on a topical pain medication and anti-inflammatory, and she will be starting physical therapy. The doctor's diagnosis was encouraging because Sally may not need knee (need knee?) surgery, which she wasn't looking forward to in the first place. We still don't know for sure, and we don't know how it will all work out with co-pays because of my health insurance. Sally'll be seeing a PT on Thursday. I don't want to see her have to go through the ordeal of surgery, and would love it if we could take walks together again. :)
I'm pretty okay with aging except for physical discomfort (ask Sally -- she doesn't complain, I do) some of which may result from my belonging to the male of the species and not having experienced childbirth. But physical discomfort seems to come with the latter-part-of-my-50s territory, and maybe I should get used to it. After all, I have a good lifestyle, I exercise regularly and eat pretty well and I'm rarely sick --- be thankful for your blessings. But as I'm typing this post, I have an excruciating pain in my upper arm and shoulder, a pain that is periodic and the cause of which I've never been able to determine. It comes and goes as they say. I hear 60 is the new 40. So 58 must be the new 55! (I don't mind revealing my age, it may have been mentioned in an earlier post).
Looking forward to Sally feeling well and with a healthy knee......
Sally saw the doctor last week and he is starting her on a topical pain medication and anti-inflammatory, and she will be starting physical therapy. The doctor's diagnosis was encouraging because Sally may not need knee (need knee?) surgery, which she wasn't looking forward to in the first place. We still don't know for sure, and we don't know how it will all work out with co-pays because of my health insurance. Sally'll be seeing a PT on Thursday. I don't want to see her have to go through the ordeal of surgery, and would love it if we could take walks together again. :)
I'm pretty okay with aging except for physical discomfort (ask Sally -- she doesn't complain, I do) some of which may result from my belonging to the male of the species and not having experienced childbirth. But physical discomfort seems to come with the latter-part-of-my-50s territory, and maybe I should get used to it. After all, I have a good lifestyle, I exercise regularly and eat pretty well and I'm rarely sick --- be thankful for your blessings. But as I'm typing this post, I have an excruciating pain in my upper arm and shoulder, a pain that is periodic and the cause of which I've never been able to determine. It comes and goes as they say. I hear 60 is the new 40. So 58 must be the new 55! (I don't mind revealing my age, it may have been mentioned in an earlier post).
Looking forward to Sally feeling well and with a healthy knee......
Friday, September 3, 2010
Gadgets
Back in my twenties I (Sally) had a boyfriend who was addicted to audio equipment. So quaint it seems now.
I remember there were little screens that told you how many hertz, or decibels, or how clear the sound was, or whatever. It was all very expensive, and I would have preferred to spend what little money we had on albums (yes Virginia, albums) rather than on machines with little screens (and, in those pre-digital days, ENORMOUS speakers!) I loved listening to music; BF loved watching the little screens. Even he couldn't hear the differences, but BF called me a Luddite because I didn't enjoy spending hours in "stereo stores."
I don't think it was a fair assessment of me, even in my twenties - I did after all own an electric typewriter. But admittedly at the time my interest in technology per se lagged far behind my interests in, say, knitting, quilting or movies or macrame.
All that changed forever, in the space of one hour, in the early 80's.
I was pregnant with my first child, living in an unfamiliar city after being dragged kicking and screaming from my beloved rent-controlled apartment in lower Manhattan. My then-husband (NOT the bf) had acquired a desktop computer to write his PhD dissertation on. It was a large and unlovely machine. No Windows yet; you had to type things like
/sis.doc 76 exe/
dir/
del*.*
- before it would do anything. If you made a mistake, it also wouldn't do anything.
Then-husband (a.k.a. X) would occasionally ask me to read over things he'd written. I had been a freelance writer and editor, so he sometimes (rather grudgingly) would seek my advice when his sentences got so clogged with clauses and qualifiers he no longer remembered what he'd been working on saying. .
So I was sitting next to him at the computer, reading long sheets of green and white dot matrix printer sheets. I said something like "Why don't you start with this, it's a better opening," pointing to a paragraph halfway down the page. "Wait" he said, clicking a few keys. On the screen, the paragraph reappeared at the top of the page! Simultaneously disappearing from its original position! Everything else was unchanged!
I don't suppose there are many people currently living who will be able to understand the way I (veteran of thousands, millions of re-typed pages) felt in that moment. "Show me that again," I demanded, and I (who had failed to memorize a single programming command heretofore) found the sequence branded on my brain.
Word processing? I was SO THERE.
(only a scant minute before the rest of the world. By the time my daughter was born a few months later, I couldn't GIVE away the IBM Selectric I'd paid good money for a year before)
I struggled with that old Leading Edge PC for about a year until someone gave us a Mac Color Classic. I was already committed to the idea of word processing, but by the time I had mastered the double click, I was deeply, deeply in love. It was so cute! It was so easy to understand what should be done! I love Mac culture and I want bear Steve Jobs' children. Although I have come to embrace the Windows world as well I never forget where the lovely desktop design originated (and where it still works better.)
So, fast forward to now; Harry and me.
Harry is a network engineer. He makes his living (often our living) telling people what they need to do to make their computers/networks/software do what they want them to, and apparently a not inconsiderable amount of time explaining why what they want to do is not going to happen. And my darling Harry (who when questioned correctly knows EVERYTHING there is to know about computers while hating to admit it) is a Luddite! He has trouble with online applications. When I say "Kindle" he bridles and says "I have to hold the book, smell it; etc and etc." He doesn't care about gaming but loves the NYT crossword. He texts his kids and me; even while driving, despite my yelling at him for this; he writes this blog with me (and, I believe, others) but he would rather re-read a book than play a game or read a blog.
This post hasn't quite gone the way I envisioned. Ginny
(http://ginny-letyourlightshine.blogspot.com/
said she'd like to see more pictures. I was trying, in this post to explain how I came to technology, how my attitudes have evolved, and also to explain that while I would love to put pictures they won't ever be as gorgeous as hers. I know I haven't managed to do all this but it's where I was trying to go.
I have been fascinated by photography for years but only in the digital age have I dared to actually take a few pictures of my own. Right now I have no camera. I do have a phone! & I will try to share some of the shots I take on the blog. I have another blog, under construction, that will be mostly pictures. It's about my (younger) daughter's dog Moose who is living with Harry and me while she is in college. I'll share that link when I get it together.
I remember there were little screens that told you how many hertz, or decibels, or how clear the sound was, or whatever. It was all very expensive, and I would have preferred to spend what little money we had on albums (yes Virginia, albums) rather than on machines with little screens (and, in those pre-digital days, ENORMOUS speakers!) I loved listening to music; BF loved watching the little screens. Even he couldn't hear the differences, but BF called me a Luddite because I didn't enjoy spending hours in "stereo stores."
I don't think it was a fair assessment of me, even in my twenties - I did after all own an electric typewriter. But admittedly at the time my interest in technology per se lagged far behind my interests in, say, knitting, quilting or movies or macrame.
All that changed forever, in the space of one hour, in the early 80's.
I was pregnant with my first child, living in an unfamiliar city after being dragged kicking and screaming from my beloved rent-controlled apartment in lower Manhattan. My then-husband (NOT the bf) had acquired a desktop computer to write his PhD dissertation on. It was a large and unlovely machine. No Windows yet; you had to type things like
/sis.doc 76 exe/
dir/
del*.*
- before it would do anything. If you made a mistake, it also wouldn't do anything.
Then-husband (a.k.a. X) would occasionally ask me to read over things he'd written. I had been a freelance writer and editor, so he sometimes (rather grudgingly) would seek my advice when his sentences got so clogged with clauses and qualifiers he no longer remembered what he'd been working on saying. .
So I was sitting next to him at the computer, reading long sheets of green and white dot matrix printer sheets. I said something like "Why don't you start with this, it's a better opening," pointing to a paragraph halfway down the page. "Wait" he said, clicking a few keys. On the screen, the paragraph reappeared at the top of the page! Simultaneously disappearing from its original position! Everything else was unchanged!
I don't suppose there are many people currently living who will be able to understand the way I (veteran of thousands, millions of re-typed pages) felt in that moment. "Show me that again," I demanded, and I (who had failed to memorize a single programming command heretofore) found the sequence branded on my brain.
Word processing? I was SO THERE.
(only a scant minute before the rest of the world. By the time my daughter was born a few months later, I couldn't GIVE away the IBM Selectric I'd paid good money for a year before)
I struggled with that old Leading Edge PC for about a year until someone gave us a Mac Color Classic. I was already committed to the idea of word processing, but by the time I had mastered the double click, I was deeply, deeply in love. It was so cute! It was so easy to understand what should be done! I love Mac culture and I want bear Steve Jobs' children. Although I have come to embrace the Windows world as well I never forget where the lovely desktop design originated (and where it still works better.)
So, fast forward to now; Harry and me.
Harry is a network engineer. He makes his living (often our living) telling people what they need to do to make their computers/networks/software do what they want them to, and apparently a not inconsiderable amount of time explaining why what they want to do is not going to happen. And my darling Harry (who when questioned correctly knows EVERYTHING there is to know about computers while hating to admit it) is a Luddite! He has trouble with online applications. When I say "Kindle" he bridles and says "I have to hold the book, smell it; etc and etc." He doesn't care about gaming but loves the NYT crossword. He texts his kids and me; even while driving, despite my yelling at him for this; he writes this blog with me (and, I believe, others) but he would rather re-read a book than play a game or read a blog.
This post hasn't quite gone the way I envisioned. Ginny
(http://ginny-letyourlightshine.blogspot.com/
said she'd like to see more pictures. I was trying, in this post to explain how I came to technology, how my attitudes have evolved, and also to explain that while I would love to put pictures they won't ever be as gorgeous as hers. I know I haven't managed to do all this but it's where I was trying to go.
I have been fascinated by photography for years but only in the digital age have I dared to actually take a few pictures of my own. Right now I have no camera. I do have a phone! & I will try to share some of the shots I take on the blog. I have another blog, under construction, that will be mostly pictures. It's about my (younger) daughter's dog Moose who is living with Harry and me while she is in college. I'll share that link when I get it together.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)