#Reverb14, Day 15

1. What are you really proud that you made happen in 2014, despite the gremlins? And what will you do anyway in 2015?

2. Soul food: What food did you discover this year?  Or maybe you discovered a new way to prepare your favorite food.  Or a new cookbook.  Or a new restaurant.  Tell us about your culinary adventures.


1. Here's the broken record again....I went to the cardiologist and EP for tests and monitors and an ablation...despite HUGE fear and anxiety and what-ifs and gremlins. Yay me!!! And I will continue to go in 2015. 

Seriously, that was an enormous step for me, overcoming 12 years of fear because of a misdiagnosed heart attack  that turned out to be a gangrenous gall bladder back in 2002. Finally instead of waiting until I actually DID have a heart attack or something else, I actively sought out a cardiologist who did testing and worked with me to determine what my issues are, and then went to an EP for the ablation which, hopefully, has fixed the afib and aflutter. If I still have issues surrounding the heart -- and that's likely, given my high blood pressure and family history -- I'll deal with them, one at a time. I want a quality of life and a freedom from that kind of unreasonable fear enough to continue to do that. 

2. Oh, I do love to eat and cook.  But I don't recall finding a new food this year. I did some stuff with quinoa again this year and liked it; I found a couple of good bread and muffin recipes using winter squash -- which we're not fond of as a veggie. But new? No.

So I'll share some of my favorite recipes, the ones I use often, or that are my 'go-to' recipes for potlucks and events.

Favorite dessert (although I seldom meet a dessert I don't like): Tiramisu Anacapri. As reasonably healthy as tiramisu can get. Everyone loves this stuff.

Favorite way to eat brussels sprouts: Addictive Brussels Sprouts Salad. Addictive might be a bit too enthusiastic, but this is a wonderful way to serve sprouts as a salad.

Favorite green salad: Apple, Bleu Cheese, Pecan Green Salad. From the Pioneer Woman. Big yum, and very easy to throw together.   

Favorite pasta dish (although I love pasta): Angel Hair Pasta Delight.  Use rotisserie chicken and you've got a very quick, easy, delicious meal. Especially good with fresh tomatoes and spinach from the garden. 

Favorite appetizer to take to gatherings: Marinated Ham and Cheese Buns. This always gets great reviews although there is nothing low-fat about it. I usually use whole wheat buns at least! 

Favorite cookie: Taku Lodge Ginger Cookies although with my own additions: I use slightly less ground ginger and add about a tablespoon of freshly grated ginger and 1/3 cup of chopped crystallized ginger. They are FABULOUS cookies. We got to eat them at Taku Lodge in 2001 and I've been making them ever since. These are best made as is -- they don't healthify with the same good results. 

We eat a lot of fresh food. I never buy frozen or boxed meal starters -- too expensive, too much sodium and other bad stuff, and it is very easy to cook from scratch, or nearly so. I confess I do use the ubiquitous 'cream of ...." soup in some recipes although I usually use the low fat low sodium versions. I do not use salt except in baked goods, figuring we can salt at the table if necessary. We eat a lot of fresh veggies and salads and fruits. I like to bake bread in my wonderful Zojirushi breadmaker -- better control over what goes into it -- although I do buy bread too, mostly based on carb counts and fiber. 

We eat a combination of a diabetic diet and an atrial fibrillation diet, and we are very consistent with the amount of veggies every day (the afib part of it), and also the carb counts per meal (the diabetic part of it). I'm grateful for the number of products now that are high fiber/low sugar.





 

Reverb 14, Day 3

1. It’s all too easy to put off loving where we are until everything is perfect. What can you love about where you are now?

2. Coulda woulda shoulda: What didn’t you do this year because you were too scared, afraid, unsure?  Are you going to do it next year?  Or maybe you don’t want to anymore?

1.  Y'know, I figured out a long time ago that if I waited until things were perfect before I did anything, I'd have put off my whole life to this point. I am trying to use the 'good' stuff -- the china, the silver, the crystal -- and not wear the holey undies because they still have a shred of stretch left in the gaping waistband but toss 'em and buy new ones. I am trying not to wait 'until' to do anything I want to do, because, honestly, we simply don't know when our last breath will be. 

That's the overarching thought that brought me to California 17 years ago now: I knew I didn't want to look back at my life when I was 80 (or 70, or 65, or EVER) and say 'I wonder what would have happened if....' So I up and left a marriage, a job, a whole life, and came here. It was THE BEST THING I ever did for myself. 

And I love where I am now. I love me, mostly. Oh yeah, there are things I don't like much, like the 20 or so extra pounds, the hitch in my getalong from a painful foot and hinky posture for several years, feeling so out of shape -- but I know what to do to change those circumstances and am doing it, step by baby step. It doesn't stop me from wearing clothes that fit and feel good and look cute, regardless of the damned size label. I wear makeup and get my hair cut and styled because it MAKES ME FEEL GOOD. I eat chocolate if I want it (okay, not in the quantity I sometimes want, but I will NEVER be one of those women -- and yes, I've actually heard friends say this -- who say, proudly, "I haven't had a Snickers bar in five years." Oh Lord God, that will NEVER, EVER be me. I eat dessert. Every day. Who wants to die on a day when you haven't tasted something sweet and delicious? 

Don't settle. Don't deprive yourself of something you love to eat or drink or do. Eat or drink in moderation -- a taste, not a ton. You are absolutely unique and amazing. Count your blessings.There are ALWAYS blessings, even if it is simply for hot water in the shower, or being able to turn on a tap and get a drink of clean water. Even when you are having a tough time, there are blessings. Find them. Love where you are.

2. Well, then. As I said yesterday, I think this year was HUGE for me in conquering a major fear, the one that when my doctor initially suggested an ablation, I shut down, determined to do ANYTHING other than climb onto a surgical table and invite a team of doctors to burn scars in my heart. Yeah. No. 

I did, though.

And I was calm, relaxed, and confident through the whole experience,, thanks to a lot of help from my local circle of reiki practitioners and friends, and my own determination to GET BETTER and feel better, and live my life on my terms as much as I can.

Stuff still scares me....mostly health-related possibilities, and people who I love getting sick or dying or becoming incapacitated. This year I've learned of one acquaintance who has gotten Lou Gehrig's disease, out of the blue, and is rapidly declining -- albeit with a positive outlook, from what I understand. Just this week I learned of the death of a high school classmate, an unexpected death, apparently, on the day after Thanksgiving, her favorite holiday, and days after celebrating her 45th wedding anniversary with the love of her life. Our 50th class reunion is less than a year away now, and she won't be there. 

I have no idea how long I will live (and don't really want to know) -- but I don't want to waste time worrying and being afraid or unsure, either. If I want to do something -- go somewhere -- and it is within my financial and physical abilities to do so, I intend to DO IT, and sooner than later. I don't want to put off anything, because nobody gets out of this life alive, and because we rarely know when it is our turn.  Carpe diem!

 

Reverb13: Day 3. Listening to my heart, bravely....

Today's prompts:

1. Today, I want to share with you a life-changing practice I discovered with the help of Rachael Maddox during her gorgeous Do It Meaningfully challenge.
     Each day for 31 days, I sat quietly for a few moments with my eyes closed and my hand on my heart and asked, “Heart: what do you need?”   And then I listened. Sometimes the answer cam in the form of a word. Sometimes an image. Sometimes a sensation.

Try this today. What does your heart have to tell you?

2. Brave: What was the bravest thing you did in 2013?  


 The first prompt is going to take some practice, although I have been working with my chakras, especially the heart chakra, over this last year. This exercise is an insightful, powerful meditation, however, not unlike the one where you stare into a mirror, focusing on your left eye, and saying, "I love you, Beth," -- obviously substituting your own name. That one will often bring me to the puddly state in only a few minutes, and it is renewing and reaffirming and loving. I suspect the heart exercise will reveal similar feelings.

I think my heart needs more regular exercise, more loving thoughts rather than scary, stressful worries, and more activities that make me happy. I'll let you know what I discover.


The bravest thing I did in 2013 was to resign as my daughter's representative payee for Social Security Disability. That put an entirely different vibe on our relationship and drew very specific, explicit boundaries for how I deal with her.

A lovely friend sent me this quote the other day: "Boundaries. I have to set limits for my own wellness, and even though I may say no to you, it doesn't mean it's even about you. I'm just taking care of me."

 We are nearly through this separation process and I am trying to be supportive without enabling, loving without expectations, and to accept that her wishes do not necessarily coincide with my own. By resigning that last bit of control over her life, I have allowed her to move forward on her own path without me hovering, and allowed me to follow my own desires and wishes without feeling obligated to save her first -- a mother's instinct, to be sure, but one that needs to end with the child's adulthood. That act of separation was hard. IS hard. And it is absolutely essential to both of our spiritual journeys. ''

Light a candle for each of us, please. It helps to know I am supported by friends and family, and that she also is in her own journey, wherever it may lead. 

The courage to let go

Giving up does not always mean you are weak — sometimes it means that you are strong enough to let go. ~Author Unknown

I am in the second week of a wonderful writing e-class titled Writing and Spiritual Practice, one of several offered here. It comes at a time most needed for me, something I could not have known when I was notified by Kat and Meredith (of Once in a Blue August Moon '13) that I had won a drawing for a free class. Because we were traveling in September, and because I am a spiritual seeker, I chose this class which began Oct. 4.

You'll not likely see my writing for this class on this blog: it is deeply personal and painful (and you already know a lot about me anyway!). There are only eight of us; I believe I am the only US resident; most -- if not all -- live in the UK. 

The first week was about faith and included an essay, some writing suggestions and inspirational materials. We learned how to write 'Small Stones,' a challenging exercise in paying attention and then capturing that moment. And we shared our efforts, giving us intimate insights into the others' worlds and experiences. 

I have never lacked faith in a higher power, in a Universal Wisdom, in whatever you want to call the oversoul that is the collective repository and source for our life energy. It has taken on different faces and dimensions as my spiritual path has evolved and changed, but it always has been there. This class is an opportunity to really examine that spiritual path and where it is taking me.  

I am in a crisis of sorts in dealing with an adult child who is in what I believe to be a dangerous living situation but refuses to do anything about it, and paying such attention to what I am feeling and experiencing has been therapeutic for me, if extremely difficult. Indeed, the second week's theme is "Clear Seeing," and there have been moments where I have clearly received reassurances and messages that I need to remove myself so that both of us can move ahead to whatever is next. Thank you to this writing group and to friends and family who have listened and encouraged and loved me through this. We aren't done but we are moving forward.

We never know from one moment to the next how our lives might change. Being aware of Small Stones help us to stay in this moment and to notice and treasure what is here right now. I wish my efforts weren't so full of roiling guts and heart-breaking fear and worry; I am working to see the other gemstones in all my moments and remember with each breath that “All shall be well, and all shall be well and all manner of thing shall be well.” ― Julian of Norwich

Once in a Blue August Moon: Day 10 -- The Wish

The prompt: If you had one wish – guaranteed to be fulfilled by the end of 2013 – what would it be?

This is not an easy prompt. Most of the August Moon posts I browsed through also had difficulty with it.

I wish for....

Nope. That one is for somebody else. So's that one. And that one -- well, it isn't really one that could be fulfilled by the end of the year. That one is too vague. World peace? Huh uh, Miss America. Try again.

I have so many blessings already in my life that it is hard to think what to add, at least anything very specific. And I'm grateful that I am grateful!

I want things for my children ... not things, really, but financial and emotional and mental and relationship security and stability, and most of all for them to experience the kind of love Tony and I have -- that is the rock solid foundation for me, really.

But those kinds of wishes are not mine to make, not for them nor for anyone else. What do I want that is not already in my life?

I want a clean bill of health. Mostly I think I have it -- routine tests have all come back showing normal. The only one hanging over my head is heart health, and that stems primarily from the false diagnosis in 2002 of a heart attack (turned out to be gangrenous gall bladder, yuk). Even though I was checked out by a good cardiologist afterwards, the prospect of a heart attack has frightened me. It is time to check it out again and either get treated or reassured that I'm okay.

For the rest of everything, I have always wanted enough.  Just that.

May you also always have enough.

Scintilla#13, Day 15

1. Tell the story of how you got the thing you are going to keep forever. Include an image in your post, if you can.

2. Fears come in different sized packages. Tell the story of a time you had a face a fear, big or small.

Oh, let's just comment on both of these today.

The thing I am going to keep forever, hm. Well, nothing lasts forever, for sure not this life, although I hope I've got a bunch of years still to go. And I'm much more in the mindset of getting rid of 'things' that I no longer need/use/want, although I have a long way to go on that front.

I wear rings that I probably will keep forever, or at least until I leave this body. Three were given to me by my dearest love, my husband. The other two, on the same finger, are my mother's engagement ring and my grandmother's wedding ring which my mother wore along with her wedding rings.

But things are things: we imbue them with emotion and sentiment from our stories about them. They do not have emotion of their own, although I do think gemstones can absorb energy both positive and negative, and would always cleanse a stone that had been worn by someone else. Things can clutter up a life and certainly a home, and I am ready to simplify and pare down papers and books and possessions. It is a process, though, not a mere spring cleaning. I'm simply done with too much stuff.

And then fear: oh come on. All of us face daily fear in one size or another: is that twinge normal or is it cancer/heart/stroke? Who is in that car in my driveway -- I'm not expecting anyone? Will I have enough money to pay bills/retire/survive a crisis? Will my children be safe on their way to and from school today? Is my job reasonably secure (understanding that in today's world, NO job is secure)?

There are a thousand and one little fears that stress us every day whether or not we acknowledge them as fear -- but that's what they are. How we handle them is the key to living a good life, a life that is what we want it to be. When we allow fear to paralyze us into inaction, we endow it with power over everything, our heart, our brain, our courage, our health, our peace of mind, our quality of life. And sometimes we need help in figuring out how to walk through the fear and find our true life -- from a friend, from a spiritual practice, from a doctor or therapist. But the important thing is that it can be dealt with. We do not have to live in fear.

My health is probably the most fearful thing in my life right now: learning to walk and balance again on a new ankle, hoping that I will eventually be able to take walks again without pain, hoping that my afib does not mean anything more than a broken natural regulator which can be controlled, hoping that I will not fall and break something, or get cancer, or get Alzheimer's, or any one of many other maladies. To cope, I try to eat properly, take prescribed medications that will diminish symptoms, strengthen my muscles and balance through PT and yoga, spend some time in gratitude and energy work, and live life one day at a time, which is all any of us really have anyway.

When I allow myself to go 'off in the ozone' and feel fearful, I talk to my honey, or to my doctor, and I find something to do that will shift my focus. The wee small hours of the night are a perfect breeding ground for the ice weasels that snake up your spine and dance into your belly, and magnify fear and anxiety. When they happen -- not often -- I sometimes picture myself surrounded by angels in white light, with the light repelling the dark fear. Or I drink a cup of hot tea in our quiet, dimly lit living room, often with a sleepy cat who comes to inquire why I am not in bed and stays to purr in my lap, further quieting the weasels (cats definitely hunt ice weasels, by the way). And then I go back to bed and to sleep.

 "To fear is one thing.  To let fear grab you by the tail and swing you around is another. " ~Katherine Paterson, Jacob Have I Loved

The Scintilla Project - Bonus Day 2

What is it that you're sure you'll never forget about being this age, or an age of your choice?

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I've never been one to remember exact years or even exact ages, unlike my ex-husband who could tell me exact years and sometimes dates of certain events. Oh I remember some milestones -- date and year and place, if applicable -- and usually they are dates I'd prefer I did not remember.

This year I am 64, and I'm sure I will not forget it: it began uneventfully enough in November, but just after Christmas I was put on a heart monitor for a month and we discovered that I have atrial fibrillation, certainly not untreatable but nevertheless frightening.

And then my beloved husband retired from work near the end of February -- after being in corporate life since 1968. We'd been planning and talking about this day for literally years, and it had been delayed more than once in the last year because of situations at his workplace.

 He'd gotten his own smack-upside-the-head moment shortly after I'd gotten news about the afib: he has type 2 diabetes. (He's written about it in his own blog, Cat-E-Whompus. Triple whammy here: both of us with health issues, and retirement -- the latter certainly anticipated and welcomed, but an event which ranks right up there on the stress level with marriage, death, and childbirth.

Early in March, I was finally getting used to the afib meds, adjusting as blood testing deemed necessary, and beginning to feel more like I could resume a 'normal' life. He was getting used to his new meds and we'd adjusted our diet somewhat both to lose weight and for his diabetes. We planned a quick ocean getaway.

And then on March 5, I was gobsmacked with what we think was a kidney stone: a thoroughly unpleasant experience that reinforced the feeling of how quickly life can change. And Tony got the green crud infection that has taken so many people out for weeks, feeling sick and weak and coughing up crud.

Four months since we turned 64, and all of a sudden we both are feeling fragile and old, vulnerable, unsure of how much I dare do, how far we dare travel, and wondering what is next.

I want a do-over.

Slowly I'm coming back to the place where I feel good, that life is resuming its more predictable pace. Tony is nearly over the cough and is feeling much better. We've both lost weight, a good thing. My meds are working, and as I've talked a bit more about the afib, I'm discovering how many people have it and continue to work and play and just 'carry on.' And many others know first-hand about kidney stones. I am not the first person to face these challenges, and I'm learning from others how to do it.

So there are two choices here: I can slow my life and activities down in fear of illness and stay close to home and doctors, or I can do all I can with medication and sensible management and do the things we want to do in retirement. At 64, I'm choosing the latter. But this is a year I'll never forget. And I hope it gets better than it has started.

Reverb 11- Day 4

#1 Prompt: Addition through subtraction. What have you let go of this year and how has it affected you?

#2 Prompt: Fear. If you could take a pill to *cure* just one of your fears from 2011, which one would you choose and why?

#1: Letting go of things I cannot control or change has been a key element for me this year, most especially as it has related to our children and their lives and choices. I wrote more extensively on this here and here, although I can really see it in other posts from 2011 (and back...)

The poem "Letting Go" in that first post helped me to understand that by letting go of my fears and apprehension and the faint hope that I might affect the dreadful outcomes that the ice weasels whisper to me nightly, I am not giving up on my children nor on my love for them. I can love them as I always have, but I am not responsible for their choices nor outcomes resulting from those decisions. I cannot prevent them from making mistakes and figuring out how to live their own lives. And that part about nagging, scolding or arguing hit home big time. I wasted so much energy doing all of the above in the vain hope that it will make a difference!

Letting go is a daily activity for me and the effort, honestly, sometimes colors my days more darkly than I'd wish. But I am making progress. I am focusing more on my own life, "... determined to save the only life you (I) could save..."

#2:  Fear. I've had way too many ice weasel visits this year about different things going on in my life and in the lives of those I love (yup -- see above!) I think one of the most paralyzing fears, however, is cardiac neurosis: rapid heartbeat, palpitations, and extreme anxiety, but without any evident physical abnormalities. I'd happily take a pill to cure that particular fear!

It stems from 2002 when I was misdiagnosed with a heart attack. What I really had was a gangrenous gall bladder which the doctor finally figured out several days later when my fever did not subside. After I'd recovered from surgery and a nasty wound infection, I was thoroughly tested by a very competent cardiologist in the Bay Area who found no evidence of a heart attack.

I've had hereditary high blood pressure since I was in my early 30s and I know I don't exercise enough, but I do take care of my health and diet. But when my heart starts racing or palpitating for any reason, my anxiety just soars. Yuk.

Five weeks later, another five on Friday!

Yegods. I wrote last on Oct. 1. And while I've been gone, been busy getting ready for and hosting my brother and sister-in-law, going to doctors and meetings and taking kitty boy McMurphy to the vet, my mind hasn't stopped churning -- until this week, anyway, when I just stopped everything. I've been doing stuff, just not on anyone else's timetable. I've loved it.

So let's go back to the Friday Five today, since it's FIVE weeks later and approaching Halloween.

What gives you the heebie-jeebies?

Heights, hands-down. I get queasy and light-headed from practically any height and always have. I could never stand on the back row of risers in choir because I'd be too afraid of falling to think about singing. I don't do glass elevators either, unless I'm huddled close to the door and facing it, vast expanse of bottomless pit at my back. I can paint from a stepladder, oddly, but not a tall one.

I'm not fond of snakes, spiders, rodents, etc., but nothing in the animal realm truly makes me shudder with fear just because they are in sight. My daughter V, on the other hand, can't even bear to see PICTURES of snakes because they terrify her so.

And then there are the unseen fears, the mental gymnastics of 'what if' that nearly everyone deals with, usually in the middle of a dark night. Those can truly give me the heebie-jeebies, even when I know there is nothing I can do about whatever situation I'm obsessing over.

When were you most recently in double trouble?
I'm practically perfect in every way, so am never in trouble. Well, rarely. Hardly ever. Really.

What puts you in the mood for some hanky-panky?
Sometimes just snuggling up to my honey in bed will do it because it feels so good to touch him and be so close. Sometimes it's reading (or watching) something particularly romantic or, um, lustful. Sometimes it is just thinking about past hanky-pankys...

What easy-breezy task is still a pain in the neck to accomplish?
Dusting and vacuuming the floors. It's not a hard chore, but I just don't get it done as often as I ought to-need to-want to. I swear we could make a fur coat for another whole cat with the cat hair I vacuum up when I do.

What area in your life seems especially rife with mumbo-jumbo?
Probably the biggest unknown in my life is my daughter's health, especially emotional health. Helping her deal with mumbo-jumbo providers and uncertain financial aid and the issues all of them encompass is akin to winding your way through a dark, vast, and scary maze, and you don't know when it will end nor what will be the reward if you find your way out. And if *I* feel this way, reasonably healthy and sane, I can only guess at how very unsettling and distressful it is for her.

Getting sucked in

I'm tired of reading the many posts on this blog that deal with our daughters and their respective issues. I'm tired of seeing the same behaviors in them over and over and over. I'm tired of seeing the same behaviors in ME, over and over.

I resent that I worry about them, each of them, at different times. That they tell me about issues, either their own or the other's, and then leave it hanging, so that I am fretting over stupidity or health or stability or money.

I want to stop that.

I don't want to get sucked in to their drama anymore.

I'm not quite sure how to accomplish that and make it stick. Ignoring it doesn't make it go away. I love them and don't want them to feel that I'm deserting them, but I'm not sure how to maintain some balance here.

Actually, I've been doing pretty well at doing things I love to do and meeting my commitments, but I worry nonetheless, and I know it isn't good for me.

I guess I just need to remember, yet again, that I am powerless over people, places and things, and that they will do what they will. But....I do believe that my words can make a difference to them....I've seen that happen.

Either that, or they're blowing sunshine at me, and I'm falling for it, yet again...

Eh.

So let me talk about rain. It's not a lot, but it is nice to have gray skies and even occasional raindrops. It's good to have a fire in the woodstove to take off the chill: it is not particularly cold, just chilly. I did see trees in bloom downtown yesterday, though, and that is not good. We have had such unseasonably warm weather that things are waking up, and they need to stay put a little longer.

I'm longing for the ocean these days, to hear that deep, calming heartbeat thrumming through my whole body, to feel the cold sting of the water on my feet, to watch the endless series of waves, and the shorebirds running to meet each new ruffle as it breaks on the beach. To see pelicans swooping and diving in perfect formation. To smell the salt-fresh air and take it deep into my lungs. We need a trip, even a day trip.

I'm reading eclectically: right now it's Broken Open by Elizabeth Lesser, who I saw on Oprah. I'm barely into it, but like what she's saying and agree that in our breaking open our pain and silence that we become who we are, even if we can't even see the possibility of happiness when we're so caught up in the pain of the moment.

But I also have read the latest of Diane Mott Davidson's cooking murder books, Sweet Revenge -- just a fun read, although I get hungry when I read her very rich recipes. I read Anne Rivers Siddons' new one, Off Season, set in Maine of course, and loved it until the ending, which I did not love at all (unusual for her books). I finished the latest Nora Roberts trilogy, truly a beach-read-style book and just plain escape. And I also read one titled I'm Still Your Mother, which was okay, but doesn't really speak to how to parent grown children who have 'issues'.

That's in addition to the various O magazines -- still a great read for the money -- Newsweeks, Business Weeks, various blogs, two daily newspapers, and assorted others that come in here.

It's been good to really read again. I always read something before I turn out the light, but often I have very little time during the day to read. One day over Christmas that was all I did, other than fix a few meals. It was wonderful.

I'm feeling the need to move -- to get some exercise of some kind, just because I'm so aware of diminished strength in my body and legs from doing so much sedentary work! I finally settled on a pair of good athletic shoes and they offer good support, so that excuse is gone. I just wish I liked something physical well enough to want to do it often.

It's already February. I am determined to make the most of every day, every month, and not spend useless time in worry or fear. I can change only one person -- me. And I'm working on that.

Cherish the moments

First, a quick note about the previous post with the political fun stuff: this year's election is not fun and must not be taken lightly. Unless you're living in a sterile room without exterior communication of any kind, you have to be aware of the serious financial problems that have surfaced this week on Wall Street. These are not fun times.

I wish there was a clear choice for president, someone who clearly could lead the country out of the muddle we're in. Each candidate has some serious drawbacks. Please. Watch the debates, read the newspapers and news magazines. Tony has links to a number of good Internet resources on his blog. Read. Listen. Watch. And then vote. Whatever your choice, make it an informed one. (Remember that it is Obama and McCain, not Obama and Palin.)

Okay, enough.

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I read a lot of blogs daily, none of them political. I found Getting Past Your Past recently and have just begun to dig into some of the author's previous posts. For anyone trying to resolve past issues and dig into a deeper understanding of what motivates us to make the choices we do, this is a wonderful resource. The comments, often in the hundreds, so clearly show that so many others have also traveled this route. Youc an read about the author, Susan J. Elliott, here.

Her poignant and shocking story yesterday about her husband's very sudden plunge into a life and death struggle reminded me yet again that today is all we ever have, regardless of our age or stage in life.

Last fall, my only brother had a major seizure that threw his whole life into a state of turmoil and angst. It was the first and only time this had happened to him (and may it always be so), but in the seizure's ferocity, both shoulders were damaged and one required surgery to fix. Because he travels in his work, he had to rearrange his entire work flow and life rhythm. Of course my dear sister-in-law was worried sick, as we all were, and that takes its toll in how we live each day as well. He has pretty much recovered from that, but I can see in his face what it did to him emotionally.

He's had another big life blow lately too -- the big C word. We are of the generation that remembers a death sentence being handed down with the diagnosis, and while this is emphatically NOT the case here -- his is tremendously curable, treatable, and has not metasticized -- you can never quite shake off that fear. It is a reminder, not a gentle one either, that none of us are going to get out of this alive, and that some of us go more quickly than others.

He is in treatment and will, I am sure to my core, come out of it cancer-free. But it will change him. I know his ice weasels must be partying like a fraternity on spring break, and I pray he will find a place of peace as he walks through this valley. We walk beside him and are holding him in our hearts, but ultimately we each have to face our own fears and griefs by ourselves.

One of my college classmates, a very well-known businessman, died a few weeks ago at only 60 years old. I hadn't seen him in years, and we were never close, but his death is another reminder that life is short, often too short. I am sad for his wife, who I also knew, and for his children who are about my children's ages.

Randy Pausch, the Carnegie-Mellon professor who is famous for "The Last Lecture," died a few months ago at age 47. In his last months, he left a legacy to his children, and to everyone who will read his little book. It isn't profound truth -- it is simply to treasure your days, try to remember and realize your dreams, and cherish what you have and the people you love.

I'll tell you, at 60 I am SO not ready to contemplate dying. I feel like there are so many things left that I want to do -- places I want to see, that book to write, lots more fun and parties to attend, photos to take.

And in all of it there is the overarching lesson: CHERISH THIS DAY. Do all you can where you are with what you've got. Tell people you love them. Be gentle with yourself. Be loving to your friends and family. Tell them the things you want them to know NOW. Let go of anger and resentment. Treat each day kindly, and seek help to get through the hard times.

We never know what the day may bring. Give thanks for everything you experience, even the hard stuff. You're still alive to deal with it. You have second chances and new beginnings. Again. Thanks be. Blessed be.

Keeping the faith

The Universe continues to stir the pot with various nastinesses rising to the top, alas. I still have no clue what's going on; I know that we are not alone in feeling its effects.

We are working in our family's house to keep our power, to take it back from those who would reduce our effectiveness, our talents and gifts, our self-esteem, our control over our own destiny.
Part of it is learning to feel empowered even when roadblocks are put in your path. Part of it is learning to be patient with circumstances beyond your control, and to try to maintain a balanced mind, to focus on clarity and calm in the midst of troubling thoughts and feelings.

Take a breath. Another. A third.

Purposeful breathing helps to break the hold of troubled thoughts, of fear and anger, and refocus your attention. I've been doing a lot of that. Probably will be doing a lot more.

We are dealing with illnesses right now -- cancers of the mind and body that want to take control over what is not theirs, but into which they have moved anyway, not because of anything we did or didn't do. It simply is what it is.

Those of us who love them would gladly share the burden of the illness, but you can't take some things onto yourself. So we hold their hands, we walk beside, we offer strong, loving words and voluminous prayers and encouragement and steadfast optimism for a positive result.

And we hope it is enough. We can't know what they think and feel other than what they choose to share, but we can guess -- we guess at how we ourselves would feel if in the same place -- but it is not the same.

All that's left to do is love them as much as we can, and to ask for the prayers of other family and friends and prayer chains and readers and strangers that pass them and us as we walk on this new journey.

We pray for healing. We pray for patience. We pray for strength and courage and faith that all will be well.

One of my mother's favorite hymns was "It is Well with My Soul." The lyrics, in part, are:

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, You have taught me to say,
It is well, it is well, with my soul.

I suppose that's the goal: to be able to be well in your soul, in your deepest self, with whatever is going on outside that. That's a hard goal.

So we breathe. Again. And a third time.

And focus on being all right there, in that moment, with these circumstances. We are keeping the faith that all will be well.

Telling the story....

We have a plan

NOTE: this is what I wrote several weeks ago, but did not want to post lest the offender somehow see it. So here's what was going to happen....

And sometime in the next month, give or take, we will have two daughters living in the North State.

It's time to bring her close before she sinks even further. Her dad is good with it, we're greatly relieved, her sister is over the moon, and she can't wait. And I .... I have wanted her closer for a very long time, and she has wanted to be closer to me.

It'll work.

Now she just has to be a very good actor until we can get there.

Keep the prayers coming, my dears. I am filled with gratitude and relief, and am bone tired tonight.

Happiest moment of the day: when I asked and she said 'Oh yes, momma."

And then there was my "I need a girlfriend" moment, and dear Lucy was right there for me.
It was a good day. Not an easy day. But I am blessed with wonderful friends who have lots of good ideas and who offer help without being asked even. It just doesn't get better than that.

Frustration and fear

Frustration on many levels. Partly because I can't figure out why the post below insists on publishing in that large size. Partly because I'm concerned for my daughter and feel very powerless.

Which brings on the fear. And boy, it is there.

I am hesitant to say too much right now in this venue.

But I can ask for your prayers, your most fervent, loving prayers for her. And for me.

Practicing what I preach

It's one thing to philosophize about creating our own destinies....to reiterate that we, only we ourselves, are responsible for how we live our life, that the choices we make will dictate what happens to us and that if we don't like what we're getting, we'd best get off our collective duffs and change things.

It's another to accept it as fact. Especially when you love someone, like your kid, and nasty things are happening to her -- some of which is NOT her fault nor because of any choice she made or didn't make.

And it's even harder to accept that I cannot fix it. Mom the magnificent is powerless over people, places, and things. The ice weasels have been out buying party supplies.

She is not a child..definitely a grown woman, quite capable of making her own decisions (actually, that applies to all of them). They're all where they are because of choices they made on their own -- two of 'em with men who we've tried to accept that they love and see something in that isn't quite apparent to our parental eyes (rather more the opposite, if you wanna know).

And one of them demonstrated beyond a shadow of a doubt that he has a mean, cruel streak and anger management issues. Fortunately, I guess, the daughter who's with him (it wasn't physical abuse) is seeing things a little more clearly and is talking about finding another roommate. Her illness, however, which is NOT her fault and for which she in treatment, leaves her in a very vulnerable place financially and emotionally.

So I'm trying to suggest possible resources and encouraging her to talk with her doctor. But what I want to do is rush in, get her out, and unleash a mother's fury on the guy.

And I can't. And I won't.

I'm telling her -- just as I have for years, and just as I've told her sister over and over again -- you live one day at a time. You do what you can with what you've got. If you don't like where you are, you find ways to change it. You ask questions of your doctors, your friends, of social agencies, of nonprofits that are there to help. You fill out applications and follow directions. You keep on doing that until you get the answers you need, the help you need. You CAN do it. You ARE strong and resourceful and smart. You can do whatever you decide you need to do.

And I pray that they are all safe, that they are strong enough to handle the grief, the anger, the embarrassment, the endless probing questions, the illness, the fear, the loneliness.

You are NOT alone, I tell them. I am here to make suggestions, to listen, to love you, to give you pep talks, to say 'there there', to cry with you sometimes. I will always be here to do that. I will always want to fix it for you. And I will never be able to do that. But YOU CAN.

That's what I say.

And then the ice weasels turn up the boom box so I can't hear myself say it to myself.

But I know it's true. At my core, I know that only they can make things different. And I just pray for them and hope they are strong enough to get through it.

Feeling out of sorts? You're not alone

As I mentioned a few posts ago, things seem very unsettled and uncomfortable in the world now, both in my little personal sphere and the earth as a whole.

I start nearly every time the phone rings, hoping it's not one of the princesses with yet another crisis and health issue. The youngest has not only delivered a baby -- young Gabriel -- in the past three weeks, but also ended up in the hospital with pneumonia last week, exacerbated I'm sure by all the smoke and nasty air that we've had in these parts from the fires. (it's smoky again today)

And the eldest is battling big depression and mental health issues far away from me so that I can't even put my arms around her and just cry with her. So I try to do it via phone. She's talking to me -- a good thing -- and is getting help, but it seems like one big crisis after another, impacting finances as well as job and emotional health.

All of which invite the ice weasels, which so far I've managed to stave off from a full-fledged attack. I can feel them nibbling, though.

And I'm not the only one who is having these feelings. Lunaea posed the question a few days ago and got some good responses. And Joanna offers her own suggestions for dealing with emotional issues today.

There are good ideas here to cope, and I've done most of them at one point or another. For now, I'm trying to stay in the moment and focus on what I need to do here. I'm trying to remember that I am powerless over people, places and things, and that there is really not one thing I can do to fix this for either princess. They must do the work. I am the listener, the comforter, the suggester. I try to make solid suggestions and hope the seeds grow. They each must find their own way through their dark and stormy times, but I hope that while I talk to them that I can be the lighthouse in the darkness.

I am grateful for my lighthouse, my wonderful husband, and for his sane and loving touch. I am grateful for my own sense of self and strength. The ocean renewed some of that for me this weekend. I watch the hummingbirds and water my plants and harvest the good veggies, and am thankful for life and for its constancy. As the old fades, the new takes its place. My daughters have to find their own paths through the darkness, just as I have found mine.

From the dentist's chair...

Sort of as the next step after getting my braces off, I went to my regular dentist's office today to get my teeth cleaned.

So what can I say. It wasn't fun. It also wasn't a repeat of the tears-in-my-ears
drool-down-my-chin experience I had last time -- which was almost a year and a half, and yes, I do know I shouldn't go that long, thankyouverymuch.

It never fails: when I walk into any dentist's office -- save that of my orthodontist,weirdly enough -- I am that nine-year-old girl who sat trying with all my heart to focus on the joy of brand new shoes on my feet rather than on the high whirrrrr of the drill and the pain in my mouth and the tears in my eyes while the old dentist drilled and filled a tooth sans novocaine. (It didn't work well.)

And despite the fact that I haven't ever had work done without novocaine since, I feel that fear and dread and pain every single time I go. When I know and like the dentist, I can stifle most of it, although there are always a few moments of feeling sorry for myself.

I went to an endodontist in Indianapolis -- a father-son duo, actually -- for a crown, and had the son do the first root canal. He was kind and very good, and my fear was greatly calmed. Unfortunately, I needed another one a few years later, and the son was on vacation, so I ended up with the father, who proceeded to shame and mock me because I was so apprehensive, and I was too intimidated to get up and walk out. So I had it done by him -- and it wasn't painful: he did use lots of novocaine -- but I was a wreck emotionally, and never went back, and told my dentist to never recommend him to anyone.

Another dentist in Birmingham, Ala., was extremely kind and gentle with me when I began blubbering in the chair before he'd so much as taken a look at my mouth. He and his wonderful staff -- and his nurse was absolutely the best I've ever seen -- did fairly extensive work on me that summer, right before I left there for California. They used nitrous oxide, putting me at ease, but not out of it. I would have been okay, I think, even without it, but it sure helped. I got sick one time after a long session with it, but we were never sure if it was the nitrous or if I had a stomach bug -- I had to ask my ex to come pick me up, and I tossed my cookies several times. (The reason I remember it so well is that later that evening, my ex woke me to tell me that Princess Di had been killed...) That, and the fact that I lived on Wendy's Frosties for the next three days because I was swollen and sore.

I've actually had good dental care throughout my life, and have been personal friends with a couple of my dentists, so I'm not anti-dentist. I'm just afraid of the drill and the noise and the potential pain, and it all goes back to when I was a kid. No matter that I know it won't hurt, that I know they will be kind and caring. I'm still always, inevitably, horribly apprehensive.

Getting teeth cleaned has turned into a far more rigorous process than it used to be, however. Today, for instance, I had to gargle for 30 seconds with a prescription mouthwash before I even opened my mouth. Okay.....I guess I understand that.

The hygenist used topical anesthetic on my gums to help ease the discomfort, and began with an ultrasonic machine on low, which is efficient at flushing out pockets of bacteria around the gums.

Did I mention that for some time now I take the Advil-Tylenol combo an hour before to help ease pain, and usually will also take a low dose of an anti=anxiety medication to help that? Uh huh. And I bring music, preferably fairly loud and lively. Today it was Gustav Holst's The Planets, but I also bring Grateful Dead, Little Feat, and usually some choral music from John Rutter. Symphonies tend to work well too.

So I'm laying back, sunglasses covering my eyes, trying to relax into the medication and the music, and it's working pretty well. And then she hits a pocket. Oh, I know it's there. It's where everything gets stuck and I have to dig it out with floss or a proxi-brush, and it is like picking at a fresh scab.

Well, she dug a new basement on that molar today, and my knuckles were white on the CD player, but I just kept breathing and listening to Jupiter, Bringer of Jollity. It has a lovely section in it that is the basis for the English hymn "I Vow to Thee My Country," which I've written of before, but I never tire of hearing it. It helped.

Only two self-pitying tears escaped into my ears; no drool at all this time. I am grateful. It's been worse. (and all the braces cement is completely off now -- yay!)

I am grateful that my very kind and gentle dentist pronounced my teeth to be in pretty good shape after three years in braces and more than a year since cleaning. I am grateful for my wonderful Oral B electric toothbrush and the great flossing heads, and for those teensy little proxibrushes that clean between teeth and that were a godsend when I was in braces.

I'm grateful for all the work of all the dentists I've had (well, maybe not the cranky endodontist) that have helped me keep my teeth in good shape for all these years.

And I'm really grateful that the next time I am scheduled to sit in a dentist's chair is six months from now when I go back and get it done all over again. It'll be November, cold, rainy. That suits me fine.

Monkey mind

I've opened the "New Post" window half a dozen times in the last week and closed them each time after sitting here staring at the ready-and-waiting blank text box.

My mind is swirling with fragmented thoughts, many of them anxious, and I don't seem to be able to put them into words that are going to say anything to me or to you. Usually writing is very therapeutic for me, but I think some of my thoughts lead to dark places that are speculative and unfounded, and home to an entire megacity of ice weasels, and I have tried to stay away from them.

So let's see where this takes me.

My uncle's death made me feel very disconnected from family, and I've touched a few of them via e-mail, but that's not tremendously satisfying. It has made me very aware that while my cousins and I share some DNA and some common childhood memories, there really isn't much else, at least in recent years. We had a big family reunion in 2001 -- a month before 9/11 -- and every sibling except my mother was there (she was too fragile to travel). Most of my cousins were there, some with their children and children's children. It was at once fun and stressful: I missed my mother and dad very much, and felt that my mother's sibs should have called her during the event, which they did not, although I talked to her daily.

In fairness, two of her sisters and their daughters visited her just weeks after to share pictures and stories, and in fact got stranded because 9/11 happened the day they were to fly back to the West Coast and nothing was flying. I very much appreciated their visit to her, and she did too, especially with the subsequent events.

I felt then that there were many twigs on that family tree that I would never know -- in fact, would be hard pressed to recognize some of them outside of a family setting. It's a big family -- six sibs, 17 cousins, and a whole big bunch of seconds and thirds and in-laws. They have lives, busy ones, with young children and careers, and few of us live near each other.

On the other side of the family there were four sibs, with only one still alive, far away from here. We never had a reunion, and there's at least one cousin I'm not sure I'd know by sight. Nine cousins there, and I stay in fairly regular touch with a couple of them. And none of us live nearby.

So I've been working on wrapping my arms around the fact that I have acquaintances who are relatives, that everyone has busy, involved lives, and that their extended family is their immediate family -- their parent(s), children, grandchildren. Oh, we still share that heritage, but the connection gets buried underground for the most part.

I think too that I've been dwelling perhaps overlong on family because mine seems to have fragmented in the past few months, and it is painful. Right now communication with any of our children is zip, and I miss them very much. The choice to communicate or not is theirs -- and to be honest, we don't understand the whys and wherefores.

One is going through painful personal growth, including a divorce, and has chosen for the time being not to stay in touch with us. This is a child neither of us raised, although she was loved, and with whom we had established an adult relationship within the past 10 years -- but it was at a disadvantaged distance of some 2000 miles, and with unspoken expectations that were not met -- by golly, it's hard to read minds at 2000 feet, much less 2000 miles! We hope -- and believe -- she will come out stronger and better, and that we will eventually be in communication with her again. We are sending her occasional cards and letters to let her know we love her.

Another has chosen not to communicate since that late-night phone call a few weeks ago where we finally were pushed against the boundaries we'd had to set -- for our sake, and for hers, although I'm sure it doesn't feel like that to her. We don't know the outcome of that crisis, and yes, it is cause for ice weasel parties. Her cell phone is not working. We've written a letter to her last address. We believe she will be okay because she is resourceful, street-smart, and has experience and credentials to find a decent job. But not knowing is hard. We love her too. We believe she knows that deep down. And we believe she will call us when she is on her feet.

The third is the one that has me completely at a loss to understand what is going on. She is a beautiful, competent, talented young woman who has owned her own business, bought and fixed up a house, gathered a following of fans for her work. And she's battling depression now, possibly more, and she's not talking to me nor her dad. I found out this weekend that she moved to a new place a few weeks ago and that she is working. But not from her lips. Not from her fingertips via e-mail, or even snail mail. Just silence.

We saw her just about six weeks ago, and while all was not well, it was a wonderful visit, and we talked openly and candidly, and she seemed to miss me as much as I do her. I've talked with her only a few times since, and received an e-mail three weeks ago -- and then nothing. She has removed herself from a very toxic work situation -- yay for her! -- but I have many, many fears -- most of which have only a tenuous foundation. For instance, I wonder if she continued health insurance, and if she's still on meds. And if not, what effect is it having? Where is she working (I know she's working in a restaurant -- but I've only found that out in the last couple of days)? How is she feeling? Does she feel secure with her roommate? Does she have enough to eat? Does she feel secure at ALL? IS SHE OKAY!!!!???

and why. Why, oh why, is she so reluctant to call me and tell me? To talk to me? Or her dad?

So last night the ice weasels had a party. I knew the invitations were out, but I wasn't sure when it would take place. jAnd they partied hearty until -- oh -- I stopped looking at the clock after 2 a.m.

And I realized that while I know how to deal with physical illness or many other life issues, I have no clue what to do with major depression issues, or similar personality disorders. I know enough to know that it varies wildly from person to person, that I mustn't take it personally and that I neither caused it nor can fix it. I don't know whether to give her space and write notes (I don't know if she checks e-mail -- I've been sending those, but also have done snail mail card -- all just supportive generalities), or to call her now that I have her phone, to let her come to me or to go to her, to just show up at her door, or what.

And the ice weasels considered all of those last night, in addition to a whole darker side that I don't want to even consider talking about. They danced around all of it. Made up new angles that I hadn't thought of. Partied hearty until I finally -- finally -- fell asleep.

And I guess that's what I needed to get out, hm.

I'm sure I'm not done with this topic. I have more questions than answers -- and I also have enough sense not to bombard any of them with questions, but to work on patience to allow them to tell me what they need to say at their own pace. So the other lesson here -- AGAIN -- is patience. My never-done, never-completedly-learned life lesson.

*sigh*

May your ice weasels go into hibernation for a very long time.

Worry doesn't make anything better

I've been concerned about daughter number 1 in recent days, who is on the verge of making a huge change in what she's doing and where she's living. I believe it is a good thing, as Martha Stewart would say, and have encouraged her to make the changes --

But she's also been struggling with some personal stuff and is, I believe, somewhat fragile -- although I keep hoping that the assertive three-year-old who put her little hands on her hips, glared at me and emphatically directed, "You cook!" is in there someplace and is waiting to come back out.

What has been scary is that she's 2000 miles away and I haven't been able to reach her by phone or e-mail. Like so many others of her generation, she does not have a land line, just a cell phone. And she's been using her work cell phone in recent months, allowing the other to expire, and has just quit her job. Although she has Internet service, her email addy (through a domain name) is no longer valid. Bottom line: she's been unreachable at a time when all these changes require some communication with her dad and me to make them happen.

I've really done a fairly good job of not getting wrapped around the axle for the most part, but as I get tired and the day is at a close, my over-active imagination overpowers my rational self, and boy-howdy, it's off to the races.

I've stifled it enough to sleep soundly, thanks be. And I've been so busy during the day with various writing assignments that I haven't obsessed to the point of paralysis. But I've sure done a lot of talking to the Universe about it.

She's okay. Through my own persistence and the Internet, I managed to find some contact info for a friend she's spending a lot of time with, and sent him a message. I talked with her tonight. I hope communication will get better so that we can make this move happen.

Accepting adult children for who they are is very hard to do sometimes, especially when their behaviors seem to put them at some risk, or they make choices that seem to lead them down the most difficult paths when another appears to be so much more beneficial (okay, okay -- so I think I know what way might at least be easier and better for them -- controlling? Moi???)

I worry. I want my children to be happy, to have enough money to pay their bills and live in a decent place and to have regular, nutritious food, to enjoy life, to have a normal life. I don't want them to allow others to take advantage of them, to spend all their resources caring for some deadbeat guy who will never be in a position to take care of them.

I want them to be okay. I don't want to be afraid when the phone rings at night or early in the morning that I'm going to hear some horrible news. And I have been, justified or not.

The key to dealing with their mistakes and my fears is to let go. I am powerless over people, places, and things, including my daughters. They get to make mistakes, life-changing ones even, and no amount of worry is going to change anything for either of us. I can offer advice (oh, yeah, I do, but I've even cut that waaaayyyy back, believe it or not). We are no longer offering money -- not a good solution, we've found out the painful way. Sometimes we offer help to accomplish a goal -- but we've learned to draw our boundaries too, unfortunately.

But worry: it's about as useless as guilt. Neither of them help. The only person they imact is the worrier -- me -- in lost sleep, increased stress, and time.

I'm appealing to their angels: guard and protect this child. Guide her safely through this maze. Help her find happiness. And grant me serenity. Please. Again.

Health insurance is expensive...IF you can get it at all

The state of healthcare insurance is just dismal unless you're around 20 years old, don't drink, don't smoke, have never been sick or seen a doctor for anything other than routine vaccinations and checkups, are perfectly proportioned height and weight, and have an incredibly perfect genetic background. And you make tons of money doing something you simply adore doing.

Otherwise you're gonna get hit with a big bill -- unless you work for a large enough company that your healthcare benefits are great and the employer portion foots most of the bill. And then, of course, there's always a good chance you'll eventually get laid off and have to find new insurance or choose expensive COBRA. And if you choose self-employment ... well, prepare yourself.

Blue Shield has notified the group with which we have our (self-employed) health insurance that it will not renew the contract. While the association is seeking an injunction to buy some time to find other insurance options for the 8000+ members who are going to be dumped, there's no guarantee that'll happen. So we've been looking at other options.

Like nearly everyone who is baby boomer age, we have our health issues -- they're fortunately not terribly scary ones, but we've seen doctors faithfully for years and continue to be successfully treated. About five years ago, I came down with a gangrenous gall bladder that was misdiagnosed as a cardiac incident -- and that lurks in my healthcare file like some bomb waiting for the hair trigger to be tripped. I defy you to find anyone in my age group whose arteries DON'T show *some* plaque.... it's just that mine happen to have been investigated and documented.

Oh, it had an enormous effect on me (fear will do that). I eat healthily, I lost weight, I walk, I'm careful about stress. I get regular checkups. Far as we know, the doc tells me, I'm healthy. The couple of issues I have are controlled and cause no problems long as I'm continuing to do the right stuff.

But it's fairly unlikely, I'm told, that an underwriter will approve my application for health insurance because of this, and because it's happened within the last five years == I'm three months shy of that fifth anniversary.

I know I'm not alone in this. Millions of Americans are uninsured because the premiums are so high -- if they can get it at all -- that they can't afford to have it AND have things like food, shelter, transportation, clothing. Every political candidate agrees that something MUST be done about healthcare, about the high cost of insurance, about the difficulty in getting insured. But nobody seems to be able to come up with a plan that will stand up to the deep pockets of the insurance lobbyists.

Pardon my cynicism, but our Congressional representatives don't see this from the same perspective as do their constituents. Our elected representatives are set with health insurance for life. And it's GOOD insurance... no $7500 deductible for them -- at least from what I understand. Oh, they know their districts may be concerned about the high costs of healthcare and want them to support legislation that will reform the industry -- and okay, okay, some of them are very proactive about it and really have tried to make a difference.

But it doesn't hit them where they live. It doesn't affect them personally. Politically, yes. But they have insurance.

We'll get insured one way or another, although our premiums may soar and we may have higher out-of-pocket expenses. But some serious illness or accident without insurance would wipe us out otherwise -- just as it has so many, many thousands of Americans.

It ain't right. It's not fair. It's depressing to work hard at keeping yourself healthy and then get slapped with a rejection of coverage.

I suppose I'm anticipating gloom and doom -- it hasn't happened yet (this time). I'm trying to think positively and find that nugget of gratitude -- but it's covered right now under piles of medical records, I think. Maybe tomorrow I can see more clearly. On my two-mile walk...after my high fiber oatmeal and skim milk breakfast...because I'm trying to stay healthy and live long (and prosper...)