myjourneysinsight

I KNOW I’M LEARNING, “WRITE” OR WRONG

Posted on March 7, 2010 by Judy

Cover page from my 6th Grade Autograph Book.

I woke up early again, bursting to write. I have found that releasing what has been inside is so cathartic; it is like throwing up and feeling better after. Although I am gathering thoughts for my more difficult essays, I don’t feel compelled to write about those traumatic memories yet.

My healing through writing has progressed at lightning speed. “I’m Taking Off” is my new title for my blog. I am taking off, as in taking a break. In addition, I am taking off in new directions because I am implementing into my life “new and different” concepts. I give credit for these new ideas to hypnotherapy and my willingness to learn from it. It has taken me awhile to understand what “up and out” really meant. My floodgates are completely open for the first time in thirty years!

This blog all came about due to a suggestion by my hypnotherapist, Connie. I find it interesting that I have peeled back all the layers and revelations that have happened to me in no specific order. I do not decide what I’m going to write about until I feel compelled to release it. My subjects of writing from the very beginning of this blog are in whatever order they have been revealed to me.

My school picture from 5th or 6th grade.

The post title, “I KNOW I’M LEARNING, “WRITE” OR WRONG,” refers to the fact that I was always the “good girl.” I was used to being told that everything was clearly either right or wrong. I never wanted to disappoint my parents, and I have had a lot of difficulty allowing myself to see things differently than them.

My father has a severe hoarding problem. Honestly, it’s very severe. It has been one of my mother’s greatest aggravations.

As far as hoarding goes, I am well aware of the burden my father is leaving me to clean out his and my mother’s former residence. It will be a huge job for me. I am certain, there are special mementos for me there. That is because my father has saved every bit of schoolwork and correspondence from all three of his children.

I grew up never having my own closet available, beyond a small area for hanging clothes. Some day, I’ll sneak in a picture of my old bedroom. The posters are still on the wall, and the trundle bed with the pink bedspread is still there. Those things are invisible, because the room is filled from floor to ceiling with junk.

I am very organized and can throw things away. I am also selective and have always known what is important for me to save. I have several “memory boxes.”

When I am gone, I realize that my children probably won’t look at my boxes; even if they did, the meaning and memory from those items are locked away within me. Writing about my life, is something that will help them understand some day more about me; it is something very precious. I am grateful that I saved so many special things.

I have a box from my elementary school days. Today when I opened it up, there was so much exciting stuff inside! I always thought I would open it when I was older and had more time.

There was my autograph book from elementary school! I have wanted to look for the exact wording of the message from my sixth grade teacher regarding my “writing career.” I looked through the entire book with pleasure.

There it was! This was my absolutely, favorite message; the one I have embedded in my memory all these years:

“Dear Judy, You’ve really been a great asset to the class. You’re such a talented girl with so many things going for you. Be sure to send me an autographed copy of your first book!”

Love, Cindy Fritz 1971

My favorite message from my 6th Grade Teacher

As I flipped through the pages, I saw a message from my childhood friend, Joni. She wrote something very funny. Her last name was Lee, and we knew we would someday go to Grant High School, which was across the street from us. She wrote:

“Remember Grant, remember Lee, the Hell with them, remember me!” Joni

For a moment, I wondered what I wrote in my fellow, sixth graders’ autograph books! I am certain it was nothing that profound. Actually, one of my sadder memories was writing some bad words in a friend’s junior high yearbook. She was very upset with me, and scratched it out. I can’t believe that I did that! With that pang coming over me, I once again remind myself that, “I am so human!”

Joni’s message in sixth grade.

Only one friend listed, Joni

I had a good laugh; there was a message from my father that was signed, your dad, “Lee Goodman.” How weird was that? When I read my father’s message I was hysterical. In addition to being a math and history teacher, my dad was a high school counselor.

My dad’s message in 6th Grade.

My father’s message:

Summer, 1971

Dearest Judy, Congratulations upon graduating from Monlux! You have done very well in your elementary education. You are now about to embark upon your secondary schools. You are a wonderful artist. Always try to take art courses in addition to college preparatory. Take Hebrew at Grant, and perhaps French in ninth or tenth grade. Always think of other people and listen to Norman and Howard who both love you. You are a darling sister and beautiful daughter.

Your dad, Lee Goodman

I’m not sure what occasion this is where I’m dancing with my father.

As I read my dad’s message, I realized there was nothing my brothers could tell me that I would “listen to.”

Because I am the “baby” in my family, my brothers were viewed as my advisors. It didn’t turn out like that. The reality has been that my brothers have not really been able to help me much with my parents’ care. However, I know they love me and are very appreciative of what I have done for our parents.

I also saw where my father had decided what classes I should take. I was glad to know that I refused to take French. I did not have any talent for foreign languages.

The tears welled up when I read this message from my mother:

To my dearest daughter Judy

I’m so proud of your accomplishments in grammar school. I love reading your stories and looking at your artwork. I hope you will be my happy girl all through life. Mom

My mom’s message to me in 6th Grade.

I have just let out an audible sob, and the tears are streaming down my face. My mother cannot read my writing now, and I did not turn out to be her “happy girl.”

I took a deep breath. I stopped and went to the “grateful place.” My mother is still alive, and she has lived to see me happy again. That is the truth. Although I am grieving the loss of our former closeness, I do not need to prepare myself all the time to deal with her death. The most “interesting” thing is that her illness and deterioration has caused me to totally re-evaluate my existence. It was actually the catalyst for me to find happiness again!

The last five years have been especially difficult, due to my parents’ decline and childrens’ challenges. The fact that I provided little or no income as my career slowly dwindled, was another great source of stress.

However, not having any illustration work allowed for me to advocate more for my children, which was a blessing. When my parents moved in, I had to shop for food almost every, single day.

For a year, my parents were on a waiting list to for a nursing facility that was perfect for them. When they were accepted, I celebrated! I couldn’t have gone on as a full-time caregiver much longer. I developed Microscopic Colitis, and other stress-related ailments.

It was ‘interesting” that I never received a single, free-lance job during the time my parents lived with me. I did not have time to think about anything except my parents’ care during that time.

I have struggled a lot with my career declining. When I worry about the size of our debt, I become depleted. I have let go of that. I am grateful my husband has faith in my creative abilities; something I have only recently begun to realize and appreciate him for.

It was when my parents moved in with me three years ago, that I first came to see Connie and began hypnotherapy. At one of our first hypnotherapy sessions, I told Connie, “I want to be a columnist; a writer!” I told her I had a lot of ideas and topics that I could write about. If I were disciplined, I could write something each day and create a whole, new portfolio. I appreciated the opportunity to brainstorm.

I left that session, and I never wrote a thing. I knew I had a writer within me, but it was a long time since I had written anything. Until this morning when I opened my elementary school box, I had completely forgotten about the short stories I wrote back then.

I knew I had written speeches and, of course, there was Jason’s eulogy. All of my recent writing began as a result of email updates when my mom was on life support for two months. That was the catalyst!

But what I really remembered was how much I used to love to write song lyrics and music. It has been thirty years since I last wrote a song.

My typing skills have been a huge asset for me. In high school, I won a secretarial award!

© Judy Unger and http://www.myjourneysinsight.com 2010. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Judy Unger with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Tagged "sandwich generation", Aging Parents, childhood friendship, childhood memories, creativity, elementary school memories, Friendship, high school memories, Hypnotherapy, memorabilia, Ordinary Life, writing | Leave a comment

I AM THE SANDWICH – PART 1

Posted on March 6, 2010 by Judy

My illustration of a sandwich describes me perfectly!

Random thoughts:

Killer came running to me and licked my face. I love the fact that I never hear complaints about “morning breath!”

That dog is a huge distraction – even more than email. Today, while I was working on an art job, Killer came to keep me company.

He just ate the newspaper I put down for him to pee on. What should I do? It’s such a mess! If I take away the newspaper, where will he pee and poop?

Then I caught him chewing on a rubber part – it was from a fountain pen that one of my children had left out. I am not up to baby proofing this house for a dog!

Oh my god! Now the dog is chewing on an “Ant Bait Hotel.” I won’t tell Michael. He would say (because he always exaggerates), “The dog ingested poison, and he most certainly will die a slow and painful death over the next two weeks.”

Rosa would say, “A dime a dozen; I’ll find you another Chihuahua. I’ve already had two – it’s easy!”

I noticed that one of the cats was eating the dog’s food. Wow, they both liked to switch foods! Wasn’t that interesting. That thought left me quickly as I realized how I’d feel if the cat threw up again!

I couldn’t even go to the bathroom alone. All the animals have followed me.

I could hardly believe I was able to get any work done! I rested a short while, until the front door slammed as my oldest son left to go to class.

At that moment, the dog let out a shrieking, soprano coyote howl. Then “smarty-pants remembered” – there’s that “other lady” upstairs resting. He barreled up the stairs and started howling at my bedroom door.

I was done resting, for sure. Killer licked my face. I noticed that I could almost fit his head inside my mouth. Why didn’t I have a dog instead of kids? All this love, and no aggravation!

More random thoughts:

Can dogs have Asperger’s Syndrome?

Is that a rawhide toy or a poop on the carpet?

Killer is barking at our cat; the cat is hissing back. I shout, “Stop fighting you two!” Oh my goodness; it’s just like my children. Turn off that nagging horn; the animals are not listening and don’t understand English!

Could this dog have a cardiac defect? I haven’t yet shared that I’m very capable of detecting arrhythmias and low blood oxygen.

Aha – my mother termed this phrase for me perfectly: The dog is just having a “Happy Heart Attack!”

This morning, I realized I never brought in yesterday’s mail. That has happened a lot, lately. I saw the dog across the room and figured, “I’ll just slip out the front door and get the mail.”

Lesson learned: NEVER try to get out the door without the dog. It squeezed by me, like a bolt of lightning; the door slammed shut and I heard a huge yelp! OMG, OMG – did I kill it? I couldn’t handle any more grief in my life right now!

Thank god, the dog rolled on the grass and was still alive. This was too much excitement for me. It’s not like “getting away with” breaking the garage door. I would never be forgiven if this creature were maimed for life.

Michael came in. I mentioned that Killer had chewed everything in sight. I said that it started with the newspapers, but stopped at the little, rubber pen part.

Did you know that little part could kill the dog?” Michael yelled to our kids. (There he went, exaggerating again).

I have learned so much. I did not mention the Ant Bait trap. I went back to work, and Michael and our son went for a stroll with Killer.

I am sharing a picture below. Notice how clever I was; I managed to catch that half moon hole I made backing out of the garage with my trunk open!

Oops!

Even more random thoughts:

A few days ago, Killer saw a vet. He did not have a microchip and we were able to officially adopt him. Killer was 3 ½ pounds, and approximately four months old. He was not a Teacup Chihuahua and would definitely grow bigger. He was still too young to be neutered. The big news was that it would cost $200. Sigh.

I found out the real story about how Michael and our son found Killer. It’s too good to be true; I couldn’t have written a better story. This was definitely a “Touched by an Angel” episode. If it were still being filmed, I could send them a script.

Here was a Killer of a story:

Michael was driving and one block away from our home, when a little dog was running in the street. Michael stopped the car and our son jumped out to chase the dog. The dog ran to a house where a frantic owner was waiting. He said the dog had been abandoned and he asked Michael if he wanted to adopt him.

After hearing that story, I realized that I needed to be more careful about Killer running out our front door.

Killer has become a therapy dog for our broken family.

After lunch, I took a nap with Michael. When I woke up, I decided to go downstairs. I noticed Killer was lying on top of Michael, who was still asleep. Killer had his head snuggled into Michael’s armpit.

My husband had someone to give him attention, finally. It was a very, good thing.

I decided to go play my guitar and let Michael hear my youngest son and I singing together in harmony. For the first time, my harmony did not throw my son off. It was such a perfectly, beautiful moment.

It was also the first time in a very, very long time that I have played my guitar again for Michael.

It felt as if I were finally in a healing phase of my life. Finally.

Killer says, “I can’t pee on demand. I’d rather pee in the house!”

“Just another manic Monday!”

I knew that title had been taken for a song, and I could hear it running through my head all morning!

Getting my children off to school was extremely hectic. After my last child left for school, I drove to see my mom at her nursing facility. I ran in breathless, and she was eating breakfast. My mom was so happy to see me! There is nothing better than a mother’s love – I am perfect in her eyes.

She reminded me to be sure to add something about her when I write about Jason. She wanted me to share how she dropped out of her last semester in college in order to help me with Jason. She was so close to graduating. I was glad she reminded me; I had completely forgotten about that.

I stopped to see her dietician, because my father told me her food has still been “chopped.” I fixed that mistake.

I went to watch her physical therapy. The therapist reminded me to find out about a second opinion regarding shoulder surgery to remove the screws. She told me that my mom’s shoulder was “frozen,” and she would probably have more mobility with that surgery.

Another problem came up to add to my list. I must call the nursing supervisor to complain. My mom told me she was using her diaper because the nurses were too busy to take her to the bathroom. Everyone loves my mom because she smiles and doesn’t complain.

I said goodbye to my mom, and called my dad on the way home. I was feeling very competent.

Suddenly, I was irritated because the dog began wailing and whistling. I was obviously not good enough. This was a morning that I did not need this.

I made another phone call to refill three medications. Will that damn dog shut up!

The doorbell rang; it was UPS! It was a package for Michael, which of course meant more charges on the credit card. I opened the door to get the package, and out went “Killer.”

He chased the UPS guy and almost jumped into his truck. This was another OMG moment for me. I wasn’t sure how the hell to catch that little rat! I must have looked incompetent (how quickly we go downhill), because that creature was running in circles while I bent over trying to catch him. Finally, he jumped into my arms and I carried him into the house while he licked my face. I guess he finally warmed up to me.

I felt like I had a baby again. He finally napped, so now I could actually concentrate. I did paperwork and damage control all morning.

I spoke to the nursing supervisor where my mom was. She agreed to make sure that no nurse would ever be too busy to take my mom to the bathroom.

Still have to:

2. Call the roofer.

3. Balance two checking accounts

4. Enroll my daughter for the SAT and ACT

5. Remember to pick up medications for members of my family

6. Be sure not to step on the dog

7. Email Mike’s doctor

9. Let Mike show me where he put those emergency keys. I wasn’t listening.

One of my children just told me that he’s really hungry, but rather than fix himself food, he decided to “wait for me.” I am fine with making lunch for him today.

These are precious times!

Celebrating my mother’s birthday five years ago.

My mom smiling despite her circumstances

Tagged "sandwich generation", Aging Parents, Caregiving, Daily Life, Humor, humor children, humor daily life, Ordinary Life, parenting, Pets, writing | Leave a comment

EVERYONE’S DEPENDING ON ME!

Posted on March 3, 2010 by Judy

Only four years ago, my parents were independent

“Do I have the poise?”

The other day I confused the word insure with the word Ensure (calorie booster for the elderly). These things are happening to me quite often. I’m not hearing as well as I used to. Recently, I heard another friend say, “I have to pick up some Poise.”

Well I jumped in and said, “Me, too! My mother needs some Poise, also!”

The woman had said “TOYS,” not Poise. It was for her grandchildren.

I guess, as we get older and are part of the “Sandwich Generation,” our thoughts turn from being previously about our children to things associated with aging. It doesn’t escape me that instead of pushing a stroller, I’m now pushing a wheelchair! So that is why I’ve chosen this title. DEPENDING on me represents those “Depends” diapers, and it also represents the fact that you can’t imagine how many people are depending on me!

Unfortunately, although I have two brothers, a lot depends on me with my parents. Perhaps that is more the burden of being a daughter; I’m not really “ENsure.”

I sent the following message to my brothers in an effort to “keep them in the loop” regarding my mom. I also wanted their support, because it was recommended that my mother have surgery to remove the screws from her last shoulder surgery. The last surgery she had was where she ended up on a respirator. Although removing screws is considered minor surgery, understandably, I have a lot of trepidation around it.

I was the baby in my family. My brother Norm is on left, next to Howard.

Message to one of my brothers:

On Mar 3, 2010, Judy wrote:

Mom just called me because she was wondering why it’s taking so long to get that second opinion. I think she is doing better, but I am concerned about why they ordered oxygen for her just yesterday.

I know you want mom to have the surgery, but she wants to proceed more carefully than last time – Can you blame her?

Honestly, I am working right now and it would be helpful if you could arrange the second opinion. Can you talk with mom more about it? I am not faulting the surgeon, however, he wasn’t too savvy about mom’s respiratory problems when he rushed to do that first surgery.

Even with a shoulder block, mom is very fragile right now. Also, she’s not complaining as much about the shoulder pain. She is doing more therapy right now. The doctor didn’t allow for range of motion until recently, which may be part of her problem of “frozen shoulder.” Maybe with more therapy she’ll be better.

We were told she absolutely needed the first surgery because the bones where shattered. Well I spoke with one of mom’s friends. And she said that she fell and had her shoulder shattered. She opted not to have the surgery and is doing fine. Remember, they didn’t even see the shattered bones initially on the x-ray, so it couldn’t have been so horrible.

All that being said, I’m not a surgeon. I’m just not going to rush mom into this!

Love, Jude

It is almost lunchtime and my mother called to say, “Honey, I want to see that doctor in LA that my friend recommended.”

I told her:

“That’s great, mom! I think it’s such a terrific idea. I’m with you 100%. It’s difficult for me to transport you – you can’t get in my car, and the wheelchair is too heavy for me. Why don’t you see if my brothers can arrange it?”

My mom said, “Honey, great idea. I’m not very good at asking, but I will.”

I got off the phone wondering if she would.

Asking for help was something I’ve only recently learned to do.

I was there every single day when my mother was in intensive care. I haven’t had a job in so long (or a vacation). I needed to work on an art assignment, and taking my mom to this appointment was additional pressure.

It’s never too late to try something different. I actually don’t think my asking is going to make anything happen. But it does feel better. I hate to disappoint anyone, especially my mother.

“Last Night”

Last night, Michael weighed the dog, Killer, on a postal scale! It was a funny sight to see. Killer weighs all of 3 ½ pounds! That dog is so small the bird could kill him. Unfortunately, it turns out that Killer is not as silent as I thought. He does have an annoying yappy bark. When he’s upset, he sounds like a soprano coyote.

Thank goodness there wasn’t any cat vomit to step on today. I came into the kitchen and I heard meowing coming from my studio. I always close the door to my office. I don’t want any cats in there at night. I don’t need extra cat hairs on my printer, scanner, tablet, or computer! Well guess what? I locked the cat inside my studio, last night! OOPS! Here I was trying to keep them out, and instead I kept one in! That smell this morning could be yesterday’s puppy poop or now it could be something the cat left for me.

Speaking of morning smells, today it was the horrible odor of burning cat hair. The cat was waiting on the counter for her wet food, and her tail got a little too close to the teakettle. Fortunately, the cat wasn’t hurt because I patted it out quickly. But the smell of burning cat hair was simply awful! My poor son walked around all morning with a towel over his nose and mouth.

It was time to drive my daughter to school. I said one of my usual silly things to her. Because she had volleyball tryouts, I asked her if she wanted to take Motrin before she left, as a “preventative.”

She gave me one of her “withering looks,” because it was an arthritic, older person’s idea! I guess I forgot that she doesn’t have those “old bones” like I have. I always take “preventative Motrin” when I play tennis. Otherwise my bunions on my toes might bother me.

I have to thank one of my children for those bunions. Someone (emphasis on one) of my children dropped a piece of ice on the floor about 12 years ago. It melted, and I slid across the kitchen floor when I hit that little puddle. My toe was twisted a bit, and the bunion developed soon after that. It became contagious and spread to the other toe, as well. (I guess maybe I can’t blame the fall then!)

Speaking of bunions and bare feet, I have a confession to make. Yes, I like to be barefoot – just like my kids. I know I shouldn’t do this. I had to go to the ATM right after I dropped my daughter off. I bemoan the fact that it isn’t a drive through. So there I was in bare feet, a bathrobe, and the worst part – without a bra! I did park and wait to make sure I wasn’t next to anyone.

I came home and I pushed the button to go into the garage. The stupid part was that I pushed the button twice. I was zooming into the garage as the door started to come down again!

I was going way too fast to stop. I simply accelerated and zipped in hearing a slight thump. Whew! That was a whole lot better than the time I backed out with the rear door up. There is still a half moon hole in the wood frame at the top of the garage door. I wish I had the time to patch it and paint it. Michael forgave me, thank god, but he would be upset if I’ve done something else!

I went upstairs to get dressed. Now that annoying dog named Killer is dancing around me. He has just run off with one of my socks. I thought it was cute, until I tried to get it back! Well it is finally time for me to go to work.

I have less and less time to write now that I am working. I keep saying, “I’m going to disappear for a while.” I just can’t stop. It has been so much fun doing all this, even with the more tragic recurrences of memories.

Tagged "sandwich generation", Aging Parents, Caregiving, Daily Life, Friendship, Humor, humor children, Ordinary Life, parenting, writing | Leave a comment

FROM LAUGHING TO SOBBING

Posted on March 3, 2010 by Judy

The sign is self-explanatory.

9:00 a.m. Just Another Manic Tuesday now!

Unfortunately, I started off my morning by sending a fax regarding my mother and an upsetting incident that occurred at her nursing facility. I was very disappointed; because I’ve always felt her care was attentive. Just as I have with my children, I have advocated for my parents. Writing is an important and powerful tool for advocacy.

I went shopping at Costco. By the way, I love Costco – have I mentioned that? They have the best return policy of any store. They never bat an eyelash when they see me coming! The most embarrassing time I returned something was when I returned an unopened container of peppercorns (at least it wasn’t opened; opened items never stop me anyway). They looked it up and said it was from 1994! How could that be possible? That item they did not take back!

Don’t tell anyone this! I’ve had a microwave break that was about six months old. I bought a new one, and returned the old one in the box! That’s so much easier than dealing with a warranty. The only problem happens when they stop carrying the same model. If it’s breaking that quickly, I probably need a different model. Not too many microwaves can stand the “door slamming abuse” that my teenagers engage in. I admit it; I slam the door, too!

So I did my returns, and then I received the second call. It was my mother. I was nice, even though I was carrying five boxes of strawberries. I was bumping into people; at least it’s not with my car. So my mom says, “Honey, they’re trying to force something into my nose. Do you think you can help with that?”

It took a few minutes for me to figure this one out. Aha! It was oxygen that would be administered with a canula in her nose. So I say, “No problem, mom!” That’s what I do – I take care of things! This was perfect. I could take care of two things now. Not only the response from the memo, but to find out why my mother required additional oxygen.

Third call. By now I had gone from the produce section to the meat section. It was the nursing supervisor I had sent the memo to regarding my mom and her “accident.” She was extremely apologetic and attentive. She didn’t feel my letter was “too strong.” She said her own grandparents were at this facility, and she totally understood how upset I might be. It would certainly never happen again!

I asked about why my mother needed oxygen; that was concerning. It turned out that it wasn’t absolutely required, which was a relief. I told her that my mother was notorious for pulling tubes out that bother her – even when her life was at stake, she couldn’t stop herself while she was in the hospital.

So I’m glad that my memo produced the desired effect. I let this supervisor know how much I appreciated her call. Showing appreciation is very important to me. So much can be accomplished by recognizing positive results. Still, dealing with things like this adds heartache to my life. I love my mom so much!

I left Costco, and came home with a headache. There was a lot to do. I should have bought more Tylenol. My kids have used it all up. The dog yapped like a soprano coyote! He was killing my brain. Why was he so quiet when I was debating whether to adopt him? I’m wondering how much money I could sell him for. I could bribe my kids with a video game and sell him; that’s what I should do!

Lastly, I came home to a message from my dear husband. He has never called me in thirty years to actually ask how I am. It wasn’t hard to figure out; he was calling to see how the puppy was! What a softie he is. Why can’t he be that cuddly and sweet to his family?

He looks like a rat to me!

Is this a dog or a mouse?

9 p.m. The dog is eating cat food.

I never started on my art job, because my client is procrastinating (or is it me?).

No one could hear anything during dinner. It was a cacophony of noise between the dog barking, the parrot shrieking, and everyone laughing; no one could talk.

My mother told me she needs new shoes and a pad of paper with a pencil. I am sure I gave her the pad and pencil before. She’s forgetting that she can’t write. How many times will it take me to buy shoes without her that fit? Answer: too many, I am sure.

I gave my husband something fun to do – something he really loves doing. I want him to order something from the Internet. He is going to get me a good microphone, and a digital recorder. I am living it up.

That reminds me, Michael loves his new car. For ten years he drove a car with roll up windows and locks where you had to reach across to open them (Translation: we saved $3,000 on that car – but what a pain for ten years). That booming voice is in my head, “EVERYONE, MAKE SURE THE DOORS ARE LOCKED!”

Maybe that’s why he looks so much happier, lately. I think he is dreaming of retirement if I hit it big. I hope he’s not disappointed if that doesn’t happen. He was describing his new blue tooth that connected to the car’s radio at dinner. All I could think of was, “How much did that cost?”

Michael is outside hammering chicken wire against our pool fence. Michael loves this little dog, and doesn’t want it do drown in our pool. Is he exaggerating again; would it really drown, don’t dogs swim? I never am sure if I should believe him.

I can see this dog is going to cost more than $500, and quickly too. Who was I kidding when I thought it would cost less because it was tiny? Why do tiny poops cause that much trouble? Why didn’t we get that big screen TV we’ve all been wanted. Easy answer; mom doesn’t watch TV!

I am wondering why I am writing when I have so much work to do. I should be sorting the chocolate squares that I need to photograph, and the vanilla bean pods, too. They cost me $12 at Costco (the vanilla); and I had to go to Whole Foods for the chocolate. Will I need to taste the chocolate? The answer is no – but Reggie is waiting in the wings.

I have an illustration assignment and I am full of anxiety – as I always am. It is a form of stage fright. No matter how many times I’ve “performed,” I always worry I will “fall on my face.” I’ve had some contentious jobs in my career; they are few and far between, but I always remember them.

Here’s the old question: Oh my god. How in the hell am I going to do all this work?

Here’s the new question, “If I do the work, how can I find a way to play tennis?”

I sure wish I could. I’ve cancelled for a week. I can always swim, though.

I had a nice chat today with my childhood friend, Joni.

It was when I hung up that I had a traumatic memory overwhelm me. It was huge. Her and I have not spoken about it in many, many years. I will write more about it later on. Joni’s oldest daughter was born three months before Jason. While I was in the hospital, without my child (he was in neonatal intensive care), I called Joni at 3 a.m.

“Joni, this is unbelievable. Remember how you called me three months ago when your daughter was born? Your daughter had a severe heart defect. Well, now it’s happened to me, too!”