Within the last 6 months, I have been required to work from the office (as opposed to working from home)...to make the concept (and the rush-hour commute) more palatable, I started cultivating this horrible habit of going through the McDonald's drive through for McCafe'. Then, as long as I was there, I would get a breakfast sandwich.
I knew that was a habit that I needed to break - both for health and financial reasons. Yet, I just couldn't; my car was sucked into the drive through like a magnet.
When I thought about why I was resisting...I discovered that it wasn't the food at all that I wanted - it was the coffee. The food got added because I have taken to carrying little/no cash on my person; I use my debit card. (this is how I discovered that I needed a separate budget line-item just for my nasty drive-through habit) And, when I used my debit card I would feel guilty (don't ask...I can't explain) "just" getting a coffee...like use of a debit card wasn't justifiable or permissable for "just" coffee. That is how the food got thrown in.
So...I set out to find a way to have the coffee that I enjoy in the morning while saving money and avoiding fast food. I bought myself a coffee maker for the office (because I didn't want to spend $4 on a coffee at the cafe here in the building, either) and started using it 2 weeks ago.
I am happy to say that, for the 2 weeks since I got the machine, I have not driven through McDonald's! I have saved $5.59/day on the coffee and McGriddle combo and avoided fast food!
Next week I'll be at the homestead in Michigan...safe travels to all this holiday season.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
Grieving through the "firsts"....
My Dad died in mid-October 2008. Fully a year ago.
"They" say that the first everything is the hardest after someone dies. First holidays, first birthday...you name it....if it's the first after the death, then it's the hardest.
Well, I am not disputing "them". But I will also say very honestly that I feel like the first holidays without my Dad - i.e., the holidays of 2008 - were a cake-walk compared to this second wave of grief that has swelled up this year.
Maybe it's because he died so close to Thanksgiving and Christmas...so that initial hazy fox with which grief blankets us in those first weeks or months after someone dies carried me through the holidays relatively unscathed....
Whereas someone whose loved one died early in the year might experience their first holidays without the loved one with more sadness and missing.
Now, a year out, I'm much clearer in my head....and the holidays this year, I'm finding, are a whole different ball of string. Seems like THIS round of holidays is felt with the same kind of magnitude normally reserved for the first round that "they" warn you about.
So it's sort of like when tissue goes into shock...the nerves sort of numb-up....and then, later, when stuff starts coming back to life tissues and nerves connect we are thrust back into the acute awareness of the pain that comes with healing.
I keep clinging to the fact that grief is a process - although admit to really wondering when I'll see the light at the end of this tunnel.
Mostly, though...I just miss my Dad.
"They" say that the first everything is the hardest after someone dies. First holidays, first birthday...you name it....if it's the first after the death, then it's the hardest.
Well, I am not disputing "them". But I will also say very honestly that I feel like the first holidays without my Dad - i.e., the holidays of 2008 - were a cake-walk compared to this second wave of grief that has swelled up this year.
Maybe it's because he died so close to Thanksgiving and Christmas...so that initial hazy fox with which grief blankets us in those first weeks or months after someone dies carried me through the holidays relatively unscathed....
Whereas someone whose loved one died early in the year might experience their first holidays without the loved one with more sadness and missing.
Now, a year out, I'm much clearer in my head....and the holidays this year, I'm finding, are a whole different ball of string. Seems like THIS round of holidays is felt with the same kind of magnitude normally reserved for the first round that "they" warn you about.
So it's sort of like when tissue goes into shock...the nerves sort of numb-up....and then, later, when stuff starts coming back to life tissues and nerves connect we are thrust back into the acute awareness of the pain that comes with healing.
I keep clinging to the fact that grief is a process - although admit to really wondering when I'll see the light at the end of this tunnel.
Mostly, though...I just miss my Dad.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Wow - a year (almost) has passed....
So, my good friend and amazing songwriter, Ellis (ellis-music.com) just uploaded her first video-blog on her blogspot site, and I wanted to leave a comment....which meant I had to log in....which led me to my own blogspot page....which led me to realize how dang long it has been since I have written. Wow! Almost a year!
Today is the first day of Nanowrimo, which stands for "National Novel Writer's Month" - a month-long challenge to write an entire novel in just one month. I attempted it before, and got about 2/3 of the way to the word limit on my novel - which was a meandering mess of epic proportions that I suppose would have had some sort of an arc if you stood far enough away from it...but it sure wasn't gonna reach the end of the rainbow by the end of that November or by the time I reached the word limit.
This year, I don't think I'm gonna attempt Nanowrimo. Rather, I think I'm going to be more mindful about blogging here and call it good. Probably won't get as fancy as Miss Ellis with a video-blog - or maybe I will. Some day. For now, blogging with words will be great.
Another great and inspiring friend of mine, Faith (my fitness guru ab-whisperer), has been talking for a few months now about just tackling one thing at a time..."just one thing."
Here it is....my one thing for this week: play my guitar every day, for at least the amount of time it takes for a birthday cake-sized candle to extinguish (that's about 5 minutes, as I recall....longer is ok, but at least 5 minutes).
What's yours?
Today is the first day of Nanowrimo, which stands for "National Novel Writer's Month" - a month-long challenge to write an entire novel in just one month. I attempted it before, and got about 2/3 of the way to the word limit on my novel - which was a meandering mess of epic proportions that I suppose would have had some sort of an arc if you stood far enough away from it...but it sure wasn't gonna reach the end of the rainbow by the end of that November or by the time I reached the word limit.
This year, I don't think I'm gonna attempt Nanowrimo. Rather, I think I'm going to be more mindful about blogging here and call it good. Probably won't get as fancy as Miss Ellis with a video-blog - or maybe I will. Some day. For now, blogging with words will be great.
Another great and inspiring friend of mine, Faith (my fitness guru ab-whisperer), has been talking for a few months now about just tackling one thing at a time..."just one thing."
Here it is....my one thing for this week: play my guitar every day, for at least the amount of time it takes for a birthday cake-sized candle to extinguish (that's about 5 minutes, as I recall....longer is ok, but at least 5 minutes).
What's yours?
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
On the precipice of a new year....
My friend, Kristin, sent this to me today via FaceBook (she received it via her team's chaplain at work)...I wanted to record it here, both for you to see (because I think it's filled with hope and inspiration) and because I want to have it some place where it's easy for ME to find as well....
Standing at the Gates of the New Year
Sacred Mystery, waiting on the threshold of this new year,
You open the gates and beckon to me:
“Come! Come! Be not wary of what awaits you as you enter the unknown terrain,
Be not doubtful of your ability to grow from its joys and sorrows.
For I am with you. I will be your guide. I will be your protector.
You will never be alone”.
Guardian of this new year, I set aside my fears, worries, concerns,
I open my life to mystery, to beauty, to hospitality, to questions,
To the endless opportunity of discovering you in my relationships,
And to all the silent wisps of wonder tht will draw me to your heart.
I welcome your unfailing Presence
And walk with hope into this new year.
Joyce Rupp
Standing at the Gates of the New Year
Sacred Mystery, waiting on the threshold of this new year,
You open the gates and beckon to me:
“Come! Come! Be not wary of what awaits you as you enter the unknown terrain,
Be not doubtful of your ability to grow from its joys and sorrows.
For I am with you. I will be your guide. I will be your protector.
You will never be alone”.
Guardian of this new year, I set aside my fears, worries, concerns,
I open my life to mystery, to beauty, to hospitality, to questions,
To the endless opportunity of discovering you in my relationships,
And to all the silent wisps of wonder tht will draw me to your heart.
I welcome your unfailing Presence
And walk with hope into this new year.
Joyce Rupp
Friday, December 19, 2008
The flake report - from my 3rd floor perch
Well, the weather-folk were right! The snow storm arrived as predicted. It's around when I started working at 7 am, there was 7 inches of fluffy white stuff on the ground. It shows no sign of stopping.
The flakes are a mixed crowd.
Some wander aimlessly...very floaty and light. Others make a bee-line to the ground.
Not much wind, either. So, the floating flakes seem to be floating of their own volition and not because they are propelled by wind. It's quite lovely.
I haven't actually been IN the snow yet, so I'm not sure if it's the right material for a snowperson or snowball. I'm hoping it's at least a little wet, though, because there is certainly enough of it to make a whole village of peeps.
For now, until meetings wrap for the day, I am enjoying it all from my bird's eye perch, with a cup of coffee and the sounds of neighborhood snowblowers filling the air.
The flakes are a mixed crowd.
Some wander aimlessly...very floaty and light. Others make a bee-line to the ground.
Not much wind, either. So, the floating flakes seem to be floating of their own volition and not because they are propelled by wind. It's quite lovely.
I haven't actually been IN the snow yet, so I'm not sure if it's the right material for a snowperson or snowball. I'm hoping it's at least a little wet, though, because there is certainly enough of it to make a whole village of peeps.
For now, until meetings wrap for the day, I am enjoying it all from my bird's eye perch, with a cup of coffee and the sounds of neighborhood snowblowers filling the air.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
I love weather.
I love that my Dad's family chose to live in the midwest when they came over on the boat from Italy....they chose it in part because of the offering of four seasons. Where we're from in Italy, it gets very warm in summer, but in winter, it only gets as cold as early spring does here in the Midwest. Never any snow in the valley where they live, only in the mountains. There were lots of other considerations, as well - having a job lined up, a support network close by, etc.
But, the ability to enjoy all 4 seasons was important to them, and I'm grateful.
Lately, it has been snowing a lot. And, I find myself observing the very different "kinds" of snow that are falling....feeling like the Eskimos have it going on to have so many wonderful words to describe snow.
Yesterday, for example...the flakes were falling with a PURPOSE. They had somewhere to BE. Big, heavy flakes, not much wind. The flakes were falling like rain....straight down.
Today, the flakes are falling more leisurely, with less purpose. They are smaller and more fluffy, somehow. They are floating more than they're falling...like the journey from sky to land is so much more important than getting to ground. Yesterday, the flakes had a job....today, they are playing.
There's another storm watch advisory through Friday now - although the really big part of the storm isn't going to hit until rush hour tomorrow evening. Since I have to go to the brick and mortar office, and yesterday a 40-minute trip took 2 1/2 hours, I'm sort of not looking forward to the hazardous road conditions.
BUT...I'm also kind of excited to see what kind of snowflakes I get to meet tomorrow, too....
I love that my Dad's family chose to live in the midwest when they came over on the boat from Italy....they chose it in part because of the offering of four seasons. Where we're from in Italy, it gets very warm in summer, but in winter, it only gets as cold as early spring does here in the Midwest. Never any snow in the valley where they live, only in the mountains. There were lots of other considerations, as well - having a job lined up, a support network close by, etc.
But, the ability to enjoy all 4 seasons was important to them, and I'm grateful.
Lately, it has been snowing a lot. And, I find myself observing the very different "kinds" of snow that are falling....feeling like the Eskimos have it going on to have so many wonderful words to describe snow.
Yesterday, for example...the flakes were falling with a PURPOSE. They had somewhere to BE. Big, heavy flakes, not much wind. The flakes were falling like rain....straight down.
Today, the flakes are falling more leisurely, with less purpose. They are smaller and more fluffy, somehow. They are floating more than they're falling...like the journey from sky to land is so much more important than getting to ground. Yesterday, the flakes had a job....today, they are playing.
There's another storm watch advisory through Friday now - although the really big part of the storm isn't going to hit until rush hour tomorrow evening. Since I have to go to the brick and mortar office, and yesterday a 40-minute trip took 2 1/2 hours, I'm sort of not looking forward to the hazardous road conditions.
BUT...I'm also kind of excited to see what kind of snowflakes I get to meet tomorrow, too....
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
What a ride...
Reflecting back on the past year, my head feels heavy with all of the grieving my family has done. Two of Mom's 4 sisters died - one, #2/5 - Paulette, died in April; the other, #5/5, Pat, died in September.
Dad's health turned a corner for the worse in June, he spent all of June in the hospital before being released with oxygen and a portable iv pump. He rallied a bit, but never turned the next corner to full recovery. He was home, getting used to the "new" normal and finding a groove....when his defibrillator fired in September. That seemed to mark the start of the final decline. He was in for a week, out for a week...and then in again until mid-October.
He had a usual blood draw on a Monday, and the Doctor called to advise him to go to the nearest ER to be admitted. His kidneys were failing as a complication of heart failure and the heart failure drugs weren't working any more. It seemed unfathomable that we were hearing "there's nothing more we can do".
I spent so much time on the road and in the hospital with him, that the months from June until he gave up the fight in October, are a blur. Stuff got done; bills got paid...but clearly, I was on autopilot.
Dad died very early in the morning, in his sleep, on Sunday 10/12.
They had tried one last thing - the addition of a 2nd inotrope, a "cousin" to the first - on Thursday. On Friday, he really seemed to rally, and we were hopeful that he would at least be able to return home the following week...although it was clear that he was closer to the end of the process, so we weren't fooled into thinking a full recovery would be had.
He was alert. He was talking. He laughed. He had a great appetite.
Then, on Saturday, his blood pressure dipped dangerously low in the morning. It came back, but stayed low-ish throughout the day. He was very weak and winded. He began having strange dreams and talking in his sleep. I got to feed him dinner Saturday night. He wasn't in any pain, but was increasingly uncomfortable.
He wasn't an outwardly emotional man, so we didn't really verbalize a lot....but we shared some long looks...and as I stared intently into the hazel-green-brown eyes that are remarkably like my own, it was clear that we both knew the score. It was very real and very surreal all at once.
I know how he really had a hard time dealing with others crying in his presence...so I did my best to wait until I got to the hallway to fall apart.
He called his Mom at 10:30. We talked until 11. Mom and I tried to negotiate with him to let at least one of us stay with him and then we'd switch in the morning. He told us he wanted us to go home so we could both come back first thing. We left around 1130. He died an hour and a half later.
I know there's always a debate over whether it hurts less when you get a chance to say goodbye with a gradual death or whether it's sudden and unexpected. I got to experience both this year. I can confirm: both suck.
I'm really at a loss for words. Some days are better than others - but really, the grief and sadness are still pretty raw and at the surface. I know all that I'm feeling is "normal" and "to be expected"...and that grieving is not linear....and I trust what "they" say about the process, and that it gets better. I'm trying to honor what comes up and process through to a better place. And...life is really miraculous and there is still so much to be grateful for here in the land of the living...I KNOW this.
But some days, I feel so overwhelmingly and profoundly sad that I do wonder if maybe they're wrong, because I can't see my way clear to the time when I'm not so sad. It seems so remote.
We spent our first holiday without him last week - and it was just weird. I kept looking for him at his usual spot at the end of the table, and when I didn't see him, I felt like he'd be coming in the door any second. His absence was clearly noticeable.
I feel like a homing or orienting device...like a compass or land surveyor's token is missing....and I have to get reoriented to navigation without the steadfast support and friendship of my Dad.
Dad's health turned a corner for the worse in June, he spent all of June in the hospital before being released with oxygen and a portable iv pump. He rallied a bit, but never turned the next corner to full recovery. He was home, getting used to the "new" normal and finding a groove....when his defibrillator fired in September. That seemed to mark the start of the final decline. He was in for a week, out for a week...and then in again until mid-October.
He had a usual blood draw on a Monday, and the Doctor called to advise him to go to the nearest ER to be admitted. His kidneys were failing as a complication of heart failure and the heart failure drugs weren't working any more. It seemed unfathomable that we were hearing "there's nothing more we can do".
I spent so much time on the road and in the hospital with him, that the months from June until he gave up the fight in October, are a blur. Stuff got done; bills got paid...but clearly, I was on autopilot.
Dad died very early in the morning, in his sleep, on Sunday 10/12.
They had tried one last thing - the addition of a 2nd inotrope, a "cousin" to the first - on Thursday. On Friday, he really seemed to rally, and we were hopeful that he would at least be able to return home the following week...although it was clear that he was closer to the end of the process, so we weren't fooled into thinking a full recovery would be had.
He was alert. He was talking. He laughed. He had a great appetite.
Then, on Saturday, his blood pressure dipped dangerously low in the morning. It came back, but stayed low-ish throughout the day. He was very weak and winded. He began having strange dreams and talking in his sleep. I got to feed him dinner Saturday night. He wasn't in any pain, but was increasingly uncomfortable.
He wasn't an outwardly emotional man, so we didn't really verbalize a lot....but we shared some long looks...and as I stared intently into the hazel-green-brown eyes that are remarkably like my own, it was clear that we both knew the score. It was very real and very surreal all at once.
I know how he really had a hard time dealing with others crying in his presence...so I did my best to wait until I got to the hallway to fall apart.
He called his Mom at 10:30. We talked until 11. Mom and I tried to negotiate with him to let at least one of us stay with him and then we'd switch in the morning. He told us he wanted us to go home so we could both come back first thing. We left around 1130. He died an hour and a half later.
I know there's always a debate over whether it hurts less when you get a chance to say goodbye with a gradual death or whether it's sudden and unexpected. I got to experience both this year. I can confirm: both suck.
I'm really at a loss for words. Some days are better than others - but really, the grief and sadness are still pretty raw and at the surface. I know all that I'm feeling is "normal" and "to be expected"...and that grieving is not linear....and I trust what "they" say about the process, and that it gets better. I'm trying to honor what comes up and process through to a better place. And...life is really miraculous and there is still so much to be grateful for here in the land of the living...I KNOW this.
But some days, I feel so overwhelmingly and profoundly sad that I do wonder if maybe they're wrong, because I can't see my way clear to the time when I'm not so sad. It seems so remote.
We spent our first holiday without him last week - and it was just weird. I kept looking for him at his usual spot at the end of the table, and when I didn't see him, I felt like he'd be coming in the door any second. His absence was clearly noticeable.
I feel like a homing or orienting device...like a compass or land surveyor's token is missing....and I have to get reoriented to navigation without the steadfast support and friendship of my Dad.
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