Less than four weeks to go. It's a fact impending, though not certain. First babies can be early, can be late, but rarely are they exactly on time. :-)
Not that it matters; I will be here waiting, listening, caring, working. I will be here. Very little seems important now except this. Waiting for my first grandchild to arrive is carrying more concern with it than I remember with my own. Obviously that can't be true, but I do believe the uncertainty of this future is greater, as I will only be on the periphery. This life will be dependent upon my offspring and his spouse. For a person who likes to maintain control in all areas, what a tough prospect!
They are good, they are concerned, they will love this child with their entire beings. All will be well - all will be wonderful.
Grandparenthood: It's supposed to be wonderful, being able to spend time and then hand them back in time for baths, burping, bad times. There's an edge to the world right now, like I can't get a deep breath. I'm hovering on the edge of the next generation and not clear where the edge really is. All while I listen to Karen Carpenter's silky voice softly singing in the background. Raising children is really best done by the young; the old get lost in their memories.
What's the saying about seasons? To everything there is a season - and the birth of this child will knock me perceptibly into the fall of my life. Maybe I'm already there, but I've been unaware. It's all around me and yet I don't see it. But I am not alone here, there are others living in this season, too, thinking they're in another. It helps us to continue. We're not really delusional, but while deluding ourselves to some degree; not purposefully.
I love that I am here, I truly do. I can't wait to be called "grandma" or "nana" or whatever works best for this wonderful new person who will only be a quarter of me. And then not necessarily a whole quarter, more like a part of a half.
I must stop watching the old videos, they are making me somber.
Children. The best things in life. They grow so quickly. They procreate. A plan, a good plan, a way of life. A great, wonderful plan.
Now Sarah McLachlan. Building a mystery. How appropriate.
I can't believe how quickly the fall of life has arrived. The next thing I know, it will be winter. Ah, well, I do love the snow...
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
Monday, March 1, 2010
A Time Capsule
The house is in disarray, but is it possible to have "good" disarray? Ask me if I feel that way in a couple of days, when the mess is still here... :-)
Actually, my son, who moved back in a couple of months ago when he joined the unemployed - along with so many more - has tackled the bedroom he is supposed to be living in. Since it had become a storage room because I have no attic or basement space, there was a lot to be done! The room is looking better, but now there are significant piles of organized chaos throughout the rest of the house. Hopefully it doesn't take too long to get through them all, and hopefully, again, I can bring myself to let go of some of these things!
Why do we hang onto the past? What is it that makes us feel that it was a better time? Really, was it?
As my son and his girlfriend made their way through the room, they made it a goal to get rid of anything that they labeled "garbage," which to them many times meant paper products: newspaper, invoices, school papers, etc. They had spent more than a day filling plastic bags with this garbage when I came upon just a couple of examples where we might disagree:
The single most obvious answer for me is: Yes. Watching my mom deal with her Alzheimer's for just the short three months she's been here now, I can tell you that in time I won't even think about these things anymore, let alone be able to remember the details. I keep them as a sort of a "time capsule" - something I can pull out later, wander through and remember what was going on during that period of my life in a very specific way: they are dated! Even with photos it's becoming more and more difficult to do this. I have whole collections of photos that have no date on them, and those are the ones that have made it to be printed. I won't even talk about the ones stored on my computer, that, while they are dated, run the risk of hard drive failure.
Along with the two examples I've already cited, you can also find in my capsule: A spiral bound book of hand-drawings from my third child's 2nd grade class, entitled "Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed;" every report card I received in high school, and an assortment from other years; a copy of my SAT scores and my college transcript (two single pages, seriously!); notes from a Cub Scout planning session with info from each family (names!) on who would be responsible for what items at the upcoming camping trip; various assorted drawings and photos drawn or taken by my artsy kids; and two copies of my daughter's scoliosis x-rays, one early on and the other as her spine was beginning to resolve - much straighter!
Really, there's more. Obviously. My kids just roll their eyes at me, but I'm not ready to give up these things yet, if I ever will be. I am looking forward to the day when I pull out the - hopefully single - box that contains these precious items and can spend a couple of hours just perusing my past, remembering the teacher who went the extra mile and documented early drawings, the efforts that went into college, the 10 years as a Cub Scout leader (yes, I'll be remembering all three groups for whom I was den leader, as well as my three years with the Girl Scouts!), the wonderful fact that I gave birth to different kinds of people - some with artistic talent, and just how far we were able to come to better my daughter's life as she walks into adulthood much taller and straighter.
I can feel the warmth of it all already. The gratefulness of a life well-spent, the acknowledgement of the many years as a parent, and earlier as a young adult. For all of this I am thankful. And hopeful - in less than two months I will become a grandparent for the first time. Think of all the new things I can add to my box!
Overall, I would say it has been a good week. :0)
Actually, my son, who moved back in a couple of months ago when he joined the unemployed - along with so many more - has tackled the bedroom he is supposed to be living in. Since it had become a storage room because I have no attic or basement space, there was a lot to be done! The room is looking better, but now there are significant piles of organized chaos throughout the rest of the house. Hopefully it doesn't take too long to get through them all, and hopefully, again, I can bring myself to let go of some of these things!
Why do we hang onto the past? What is it that makes us feel that it was a better time? Really, was it?
As my son and his girlfriend made their way through the room, they made it a goal to get rid of anything that they labeled "garbage," which to them many times meant paper products: newspaper, invoices, school papers, etc. They had spent more than a day filling plastic bags with this garbage when I came upon just a couple of examples where we might disagree:
- In one pile of newspaper I located the group that had been saved of the coverage of my husband's dog attack.
- Located only by the obvious goldenrod color, my copies of a school newsletter I had worked on for many years had made it into the garbage bag already.
The single most obvious answer for me is: Yes. Watching my mom deal with her Alzheimer's for just the short three months she's been here now, I can tell you that in time I won't even think about these things anymore, let alone be able to remember the details. I keep them as a sort of a "time capsule" - something I can pull out later, wander through and remember what was going on during that period of my life in a very specific way: they are dated! Even with photos it's becoming more and more difficult to do this. I have whole collections of photos that have no date on them, and those are the ones that have made it to be printed. I won't even talk about the ones stored on my computer, that, while they are dated, run the risk of hard drive failure.
Along with the two examples I've already cited, you can also find in my capsule: A spiral bound book of hand-drawings from my third child's 2nd grade class, entitled "Five Little Monkeys Jumping on the Bed;" every report card I received in high school, and an assortment from other years; a copy of my SAT scores and my college transcript (two single pages, seriously!); notes from a Cub Scout planning session with info from each family (names!) on who would be responsible for what items at the upcoming camping trip; various assorted drawings and photos drawn or taken by my artsy kids; and two copies of my daughter's scoliosis x-rays, one early on and the other as her spine was beginning to resolve - much straighter!
Really, there's more. Obviously. My kids just roll their eyes at me, but I'm not ready to give up these things yet, if I ever will be. I am looking forward to the day when I pull out the - hopefully single - box that contains these precious items and can spend a couple of hours just perusing my past, remembering the teacher who went the extra mile and documented early drawings, the efforts that went into college, the 10 years as a Cub Scout leader (yes, I'll be remembering all three groups for whom I was den leader, as well as my three years with the Girl Scouts!), the wonderful fact that I gave birth to different kinds of people - some with artistic talent, and just how far we were able to come to better my daughter's life as she walks into adulthood much taller and straighter.
I can feel the warmth of it all already. The gratefulness of a life well-spent, the acknowledgement of the many years as a parent, and earlier as a young adult. For all of this I am thankful. And hopeful - in less than two months I will become a grandparent for the first time. Think of all the new things I can add to my box!
Overall, I would say it has been a good week. :0)
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Diagnosis...
As a blogger, I really am terrible. Trying to get a handle on expressing myself, it's difficult to find the time in the day for this. However, it has been pointed out to me that to take proper care of oneself, you must do it every day. For example, walking is great exercise, but not if you do 20 miles one day and then don't do it any more for three months. Half an hour a day will do ya! But you really do have to make the time each day. So here I am again, planning a specific half-hour period to force myself to participate in thinking about my day.
I suppose most bloggers have a much better plan in mind, but I'm really here to maybe touch the lives of others or be touched back. Specifically, I started out thinking that I could just talk about everything, but really, I need to talk about two things: Alzheimer's (my mom) and RSD or CRPS (my husband).
My mom made the move back up to where we'd grown up, and where I still live, just a little over two months ago. I'd made the arrangements for her to live in an independent facility; a place that offers the ability to move to assisted and further for her care as we move forward. She is now fully installed, new doctors have been found, and we're beginning to settle into a routine. I see her two to four times a week, but mostly on Sundays when I take her to church, then to brunch, and after that we do something of her choosing. Life with mom right now isn't bad: she's bright and intelligent, though having trouble with her memory, but the biggest problem appears to be paranoia. It's not terrible, but I can see that it is the one thing that causes her the most grief - and those around her.
I've begun reading books on Alzheimer's and hope to better educated about what to expect as we move through this process. I had a close friend at work whose father lived for nearly ten years with his diagnosis, and towards the end it was very difficult for all concerned, but it helps me to have some perspective.
My husband was diagnosed with RSD (reflux sympathetic dystrophy, now more commonly known as CRPS-chronic regional pain syndrome) five years ago. Unfortunately, the diagnosis came late for us, as if it's caught early there's more help for the patient. Most likely his disease process came about as a result of one of the many surgeries which followed an initial injury more than ten years ago when he was attacked by two dogs, Rottweilers. He had actually recovered fairly well, though with significant pain and problems in one forearm, but was back to work and a contributing member of society. He began having more serious swelling in his lower left leg, one of the other serious dog attack sites, which progressed rather rapidly and later moved to the other leg. As anyone with CRPS knows, there are other symptoms, but it's not really my intention to educate people here about the disease, there are much better sites for that information!
So here we are today: my husband spends more than 23 hours a day in his bed to keep his legs elevated and help alleviate both the swelling and the pain. He's on significant medications, which have really changed him as a person. I don't think even he realizes how much. Though he has a reasonable disability package through his last job, he has become addicted to online purchasing. He's run through quite a number of items of choice but nothing which I'll be able to make much money off of in return.
Though I have tried not to go there, I am now taking over everything - though with much struggle. He doesn't feel like he's contributing and so doesn't want to give anything up: paying the bills, etc. Our relationship has deteriorated to the point that I don't even know whether we can save it, or if he really wants to. I don't plan to leave him, but I do have a young daughter for whom I'm responsible and I will do whatever I have to in order to make certain she has what she needs to thrive - and that includes a good atmosphere in the house.
Recently having hit a real wall in the relationship, we came to agreement on four specific items, one of which was me taking over responsibility for most things. Assuming he follows through, then I will stay, but I have nearly reached the point of no return. I have to be able to know that the bills are being paid and that we are at least solvent, or I will go and find a place where I can be solvent on my own.
That seems like enough for today! I've danced around these two topics for a while now, and now they're really out there. Maybe tonight I'll be able to sleep - something that's eluded me for a long time. From here on out I hope that I'll be able to just talk about our daily activities and how we're dealing with the two significant health issues in our lives - and looking for any insight as to good ways to deal with them!
I suppose most bloggers have a much better plan in mind, but I'm really here to maybe touch the lives of others or be touched back. Specifically, I started out thinking that I could just talk about everything, but really, I need to talk about two things: Alzheimer's (my mom) and RSD or CRPS (my husband).
My mom made the move back up to where we'd grown up, and where I still live, just a little over two months ago. I'd made the arrangements for her to live in an independent facility; a place that offers the ability to move to assisted and further for her care as we move forward. She is now fully installed, new doctors have been found, and we're beginning to settle into a routine. I see her two to four times a week, but mostly on Sundays when I take her to church, then to brunch, and after that we do something of her choosing. Life with mom right now isn't bad: she's bright and intelligent, though having trouble with her memory, but the biggest problem appears to be paranoia. It's not terrible, but I can see that it is the one thing that causes her the most grief - and those around her.
I've begun reading books on Alzheimer's and hope to better educated about what to expect as we move through this process. I had a close friend at work whose father lived for nearly ten years with his diagnosis, and towards the end it was very difficult for all concerned, but it helps me to have some perspective.
My husband was diagnosed with RSD (reflux sympathetic dystrophy, now more commonly known as CRPS-chronic regional pain syndrome) five years ago. Unfortunately, the diagnosis came late for us, as if it's caught early there's more help for the patient. Most likely his disease process came about as a result of one of the many surgeries which followed an initial injury more than ten years ago when he was attacked by two dogs, Rottweilers. He had actually recovered fairly well, though with significant pain and problems in one forearm, but was back to work and a contributing member of society. He began having more serious swelling in his lower left leg, one of the other serious dog attack sites, which progressed rather rapidly and later moved to the other leg. As anyone with CRPS knows, there are other symptoms, but it's not really my intention to educate people here about the disease, there are much better sites for that information!
So here we are today: my husband spends more than 23 hours a day in his bed to keep his legs elevated and help alleviate both the swelling and the pain. He's on significant medications, which have really changed him as a person. I don't think even he realizes how much. Though he has a reasonable disability package through his last job, he has become addicted to online purchasing. He's run through quite a number of items of choice but nothing which I'll be able to make much money off of in return.
Though I have tried not to go there, I am now taking over everything - though with much struggle. He doesn't feel like he's contributing and so doesn't want to give anything up: paying the bills, etc. Our relationship has deteriorated to the point that I don't even know whether we can save it, or if he really wants to. I don't plan to leave him, but I do have a young daughter for whom I'm responsible and I will do whatever I have to in order to make certain she has what she needs to thrive - and that includes a good atmosphere in the house.
Recently having hit a real wall in the relationship, we came to agreement on four specific items, one of which was me taking over responsibility for most things. Assuming he follows through, then I will stay, but I have nearly reached the point of no return. I have to be able to know that the bills are being paid and that we are at least solvent, or I will go and find a place where I can be solvent on my own.
That seems like enough for today! I've danced around these two topics for a while now, and now they're really out there. Maybe tonight I'll be able to sleep - something that's eluded me for a long time. From here on out I hope that I'll be able to just talk about our daily activities and how we're dealing with the two significant health issues in our lives - and looking for any insight as to good ways to deal with them!
Tuesday, August 18, 2009
Assisted living...
And so it begins...
Today is the day my mom returns to California, to spend her time relinquishing herself of as many personal items as she can bear to part with. It appears that over the course of the last two weeks, as we've visited assisted/independent living facilities here in our fair city, she has finally come to terms with moving back into our "rainy" environ.
You see, she hates the weather here. Absolutely loathes it, really. She is convinced she is a sufferer of SAD (Sun Affective Disorder?), the condition where she gets depressed unless she has a healthy dose of sun every day. Each and every place we visited, she asked whether she would be allowed to install lamps with vitamin D lights -- of course, we had no detractors.
But she has come to terms, at least it seems, that she must return to Tacoma. While one could argue the point, since three of her children, plus five grandchildren (and 2 spouses), live here, she really is just hoping to reconnect with her family in her later years.
She has spent the last 12 years in California, living near to her eldest child. However, with her husband's passing three years ago (is it really that long?) and her 81st birthday having arrived this year, plus the addition of an Alzheimer's patch to her medical regime, even she can't deny that being closer to the bulk of the family is the best choice.
I am saddened. It's difficult to believe that these are the times we find ourselves in. It's a bit overwhelming to know that in the next few years I will become pretty accustomed to the terminology that surrounds the physical/mental and care tactics for an Alzheimer's patient. I am looking forward, though, to being available for her medical visits. At this time, being long-distance supporters, we are at the mercy of HIPPA (spelling?), where most of the information we get comes from mom. It's impossible to argue with the medications she's being given, or the fact that over the last few years she's undergone more surgery and chemotherapy for breast cancer. One doesn't need to speak with the doctor to understand these things.
But that being said, I really want to talk to a doctor. Her doctor. Most of my information comes second and third-hand, from mom, from my sister, from the internet. I want to sit in the room when he/she explains to mom the possibilities for progression, what can we expect, what should we/she do for her. And I know that once this happens, I will be sorry that it's what I wanted. There will be no denying at that point. But doesn't having more and better information allow a person to be more proactive? At least with knowledge in hand, you must make a move. A move can be to "not move." But it's still a choice at that point, an informed choice.
Today's blog is about Alzheimer's, breast cancer, old age, assisted living. But today's blog is also a celebration of sorts. One that speaks of 81 years of real living, of making it to a point in a life where you can say you didn't leave too many stones unturned. My favorite card on the planet is the one that points out that the alternative to having a birthday is to not be here to have it. 81! 81 birthdays! And, no, we're not done yet.
Here's to many more happy ones...
Today is the day my mom returns to California, to spend her time relinquishing herself of as many personal items as she can bear to part with. It appears that over the course of the last two weeks, as we've visited assisted/independent living facilities here in our fair city, she has finally come to terms with moving back into our "rainy" environ.
You see, she hates the weather here. Absolutely loathes it, really. She is convinced she is a sufferer of SAD (Sun Affective Disorder?), the condition where she gets depressed unless she has a healthy dose of sun every day. Each and every place we visited, she asked whether she would be allowed to install lamps with vitamin D lights -- of course, we had no detractors.
But she has come to terms, at least it seems, that she must return to Tacoma. While one could argue the point, since three of her children, plus five grandchildren (and 2 spouses), live here, she really is just hoping to reconnect with her family in her later years.
She has spent the last 12 years in California, living near to her eldest child. However, with her husband's passing three years ago (is it really that long?) and her 81st birthday having arrived this year, plus the addition of an Alzheimer's patch to her medical regime, even she can't deny that being closer to the bulk of the family is the best choice.
I am saddened. It's difficult to believe that these are the times we find ourselves in. It's a bit overwhelming to know that in the next few years I will become pretty accustomed to the terminology that surrounds the physical/mental and care tactics for an Alzheimer's patient. I am looking forward, though, to being available for her medical visits. At this time, being long-distance supporters, we are at the mercy of HIPPA (spelling?), where most of the information we get comes from mom. It's impossible to argue with the medications she's being given, or the fact that over the last few years she's undergone more surgery and chemotherapy for breast cancer. One doesn't need to speak with the doctor to understand these things.
But that being said, I really want to talk to a doctor. Her doctor. Most of my information comes second and third-hand, from mom, from my sister, from the internet. I want to sit in the room when he/she explains to mom the possibilities for progression, what can we expect, what should we/she do for her. And I know that once this happens, I will be sorry that it's what I wanted. There will be no denying at that point. But doesn't having more and better information allow a person to be more proactive? At least with knowledge in hand, you must make a move. A move can be to "not move." But it's still a choice at that point, an informed choice.
Today's blog is about Alzheimer's, breast cancer, old age, assisted living. But today's blog is also a celebration of sorts. One that speaks of 81 years of real living, of making it to a point in a life where you can say you didn't leave too many stones unturned. My favorite card on the planet is the one that points out that the alternative to having a birthday is to not be here to have it. 81! 81 birthdays! And, no, we're not done yet.
Here's to many more happy ones...
Saturday, August 8, 2009
New neighbors!
An older couple (what does that mean?) has just moved into the middle of the three new houses on the corner across from us. Too bad I'm not really good at baking pies! I do need to come up with a gift to take over and introduce myself, but what? If the roses didn't have bugs, I could take them some flowers. Being allergic myself, I flinch at that. :-)
Funny that I feel the need to connect with this couple, as I've lived here almost 9 years and I hardly know the rest of my neighbors. We kind of live on an isthmus, facing no one, with a house behind and one to the side, but far back. There's no actual house right next-door. I've had conversations over the years with the two houses closest, but there's a guy across the street and behind us who has been nothing but non-neighborly. I think he's the reason we just haven't gotten involved in the homeowners association. He really is mean and kind of weird. Was only nice when he wanted us to help him sue someone (which we didn't).
So maybe the new people are a light in the dark? Haha. I do like my neighborhood, but really because we live kind of separate. I work so much, I don't have time during the day to get to know my neighbors. This way there's no expectation.
So... Do I bring a pie? Some brownies? Or do I just let this pass and not get involved? Not sure yet, but I'll keep you posted... :-)
Funny that I feel the need to connect with this couple, as I've lived here almost 9 years and I hardly know the rest of my neighbors. We kind of live on an isthmus, facing no one, with a house behind and one to the side, but far back. There's no actual house right next-door. I've had conversations over the years with the two houses closest, but there's a guy across the street and behind us who has been nothing but non-neighborly. I think he's the reason we just haven't gotten involved in the homeowners association. He really is mean and kind of weird. Was only nice when he wanted us to help him sue someone (which we didn't).
So maybe the new people are a light in the dark? Haha. I do like my neighborhood, but really because we live kind of separate. I work so much, I don't have time during the day to get to know my neighbors. This way there's no expectation.
So... Do I bring a pie? Some brownies? Or do I just let this pass and not get involved? Not sure yet, but I'll keep you posted... :-)
Saturday, July 25, 2009
Where are my neighbors?
Busy, busy, busy! Big project at work -- so I'm going to have to work all weekend. Send any positive thoughts you have, so it goes well! It's all right, I believe all of the i's have been dotted and t's have been crossed; we've done all of the appropriate homework and everything should run smoothly. Having said that, one never knows. :-)
Taking on the management of another division has provided me the opportunity to see this project through, though I didn't get to pick the third-party consultant who is responsible for the real work. They do seem to be good, I've been pleased so far with their progress. It would have been nice to be the one to choose who would do the project. Que sara, sara. Or is it Que cera, cera? If I had the time this morning, I'd go check!
I love the internet, it has so much information. I'm the person who sits next to you at work who, when a question comes up that no one really is certain about the answer, my favorite thing is to be able to enter the appropriate Google search string and give you the answer as quickly as possible. Not that I do it very often, I don't, but I love that it's all available to us. And, though for most people this is a negative, I also love that it's up to each person to find the right answer, that not all of the answers are right, that you have to use your head to make certain you go the right direction and follow the right trail of breadcrumbs.
My husband will pose random thoughts just to see if he can bait me to hit the internet and give him the info he's seeking. He doesn't really need to know, he just likes to see me get excited when I can find it in less than 10 seconds. It's something that I really love about him.
It's only a matter of time before someone coins a phrase for this disease, if they haven't already! See, now I really am feeling the need to go out and see if there is a "moniker" for those of us who are continual researchers of the digital variety. But not this morning! Got to get to work!
Well, if anyone knows, maybe you can look for me? I know you guys are out there on the internet, too, and you're obviously kind of addicted -- isn't that why we're here? Or is it that we're here because we're trying to connect to other people in the new online era that has replaced people talking to each other over the back fence? Where we used to feel comfortable knocking on our neighbor's door and stopping in for a cup of coffee, now we rely on our laptop to connect us to friends, online neighbors, and others with interests like ours. Is there harm in it?
Seriously, while I do believe that it's good to be able to connect to people like me, there was a special talent or learned ability to get along and be friends with your physical neighbors that I believe we've lost as a people. When our neighbors all the way down the street and back up the other side were the people we related to, we made it a goal to get along with them. Now I don't even know their names. I have never borrowed a cup of sugar from any of them. I don't know whether they have children.
When we parked our motorhome in front of our house for a day to get ready for a trip, though it is legal to do that for three days, a neighbor of ours -- and we don't know who -- took the time to type up a letter to each of our neighbors complaining that we were blocking the view at his intersection. The only reason we knew that this was true was because he also posted it on the window of the RV.
What has happened to being nice? Why do we have to antagonize? People are going out of their way to pick fights, to make a point, to create an issue.
After we received the lovely letter, we packed as quickly as we could and moved the vehicle, but seriously, it was very inconvenient for us. Not that anyone cared. The blocking of the view, really, wasn't that bad. I checked. It's like this person just needed something to complain about. Or were they really just reaching out to make contact?
We may never know. I will go to work today, spend all day there, and go back tomorrow. When I come home tonight, and tomorrow night and the day after, I will come into my home and spend the evening with my family -- and my computer. I won't go next door, I won't borrow sugar, I won't learn their names, and they won't do the same for me. Where, after all, has the "neighborhood" really gone?
Taking on the management of another division has provided me the opportunity to see this project through, though I didn't get to pick the third-party consultant who is responsible for the real work. They do seem to be good, I've been pleased so far with their progress. It would have been nice to be the one to choose who would do the project. Que sara, sara. Or is it Que cera, cera? If I had the time this morning, I'd go check!
I love the internet, it has so much information. I'm the person who sits next to you at work who, when a question comes up that no one really is certain about the answer, my favorite thing is to be able to enter the appropriate Google search string and give you the answer as quickly as possible. Not that I do it very often, I don't, but I love that it's all available to us. And, though for most people this is a negative, I also love that it's up to each person to find the right answer, that not all of the answers are right, that you have to use your head to make certain you go the right direction and follow the right trail of breadcrumbs.
My husband will pose random thoughts just to see if he can bait me to hit the internet and give him the info he's seeking. He doesn't really need to know, he just likes to see me get excited when I can find it in less than 10 seconds. It's something that I really love about him.
It's only a matter of time before someone coins a phrase for this disease, if they haven't already! See, now I really am feeling the need to go out and see if there is a "moniker" for those of us who are continual researchers of the digital variety. But not this morning! Got to get to work!
Well, if anyone knows, maybe you can look for me? I know you guys are out there on the internet, too, and you're obviously kind of addicted -- isn't that why we're here? Or is it that we're here because we're trying to connect to other people in the new online era that has replaced people talking to each other over the back fence? Where we used to feel comfortable knocking on our neighbor's door and stopping in for a cup of coffee, now we rely on our laptop to connect us to friends, online neighbors, and others with interests like ours. Is there harm in it?
Seriously, while I do believe that it's good to be able to connect to people like me, there was a special talent or learned ability to get along and be friends with your physical neighbors that I believe we've lost as a people. When our neighbors all the way down the street and back up the other side were the people we related to, we made it a goal to get along with them. Now I don't even know their names. I have never borrowed a cup of sugar from any of them. I don't know whether they have children.
When we parked our motorhome in front of our house for a day to get ready for a trip, though it is legal to do that for three days, a neighbor of ours -- and we don't know who -- took the time to type up a letter to each of our neighbors complaining that we were blocking the view at his intersection. The only reason we knew that this was true was because he also posted it on the window of the RV.
What has happened to being nice? Why do we have to antagonize? People are going out of their way to pick fights, to make a point, to create an issue.
After we received the lovely letter, we packed as quickly as we could and moved the vehicle, but seriously, it was very inconvenient for us. Not that anyone cared. The blocking of the view, really, wasn't that bad. I checked. It's like this person just needed something to complain about. Or were they really just reaching out to make contact?
We may never know. I will go to work today, spend all day there, and go back tomorrow. When I come home tonight, and tomorrow night and the day after, I will come into my home and spend the evening with my family -- and my computer. I won't go next door, I won't borrow sugar, I won't learn their names, and they won't do the same for me. Where, after all, has the "neighborhood" really gone?
Friday, July 24, 2009
Some photos from my trip...
Zebras abound... This is a photo of a Grevy's zebra.
Native to Kenya, they are more delicate with skinnier stripes than their cousin.
A view from our tent in Samburu, looking towards the "Brown River" or, in Swahili, Uaso Nyiro.
My favorite, the giraffes. A learning opportunity for me, I never realized before just how beautiful they are. This photo is also from Kenya, showing the reticulated giraffe, which is one of Kenya's "Big 5."
My favorite, the giraffes. A learning opportunity for me, I never realized before just how beautiful they are. This photo is also from Kenya, showing the reticulated giraffe, which is one of Kenya's "Big 5."
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