Packing frenzy

We're a day from leaving for a short vacation in Florida. What's important now is to pack well. The passports, the water-proof fanny pack for when we go canoeing in the Everglades. The bathing suits, sandels, boat shoes, shorts and jeans, slacks and a dress or two. Sunscreen and bug repellent. Lightweight jackets. Medication, toothbrushes. Camera, binoculars, pocket knifes and a snake-bite kit. When we get home I will post a picture of an alligator taken from the canoe. And a picture of Sal to prove to the world he really did live through that recent illness.

Practice of the Week

This week's practice is being courageous. Being courageous is distinguished by recognizing your fear and taking action anyway. So, I asked my younger brother to read what I have written about growing up in our family.

He replied that he wants to read my writing that is ready for publication in the family writing collection. He doesn't want to read anything but that. Which of course, I don't think I can write until somebody in my family validates me by reading the gritty and painful story of what growing up was like for me. I think if somebody in my family will just get present to what it was like for me growing up, the validation will give me a measure of freedom...freedom to write about something else besides the horrible stuff that happened.

It was courageous to ask him. Since he did not say yes, the next practice that comes up to be applied here is the practice of being peaceful...and taking what you get.

I'm protecting my family, by moving the posts about my painful childhood to a different blog.

But overall, my experience for today is disappointment.

Snow

We should change the name of this town from Spokane to Snowkane. It snowed again last night. Nobody thinks it's pretty anymore. Oh sure, there is this thin layer of pristine whiteness on top, temporarily, but what's under it is grimy gray ice berms, filthy stuff impervious to anything short of a pick axe. We are not amused.

Well, Valentine's Day arrived, and for all my humbuggery, I am pleased to have a dozen red roses gracing the table. Just to check out my skewed interpretation of what this holiday is all about for men (see yesterday's blog), I asked him last night what he wanted for Valentine's Day. He didn't know. Well, I suggested, how about candy? Yuck! Okay, jewelry then? No, definitely not! Flowers? Well... Okay then, how about sex? Do you want sex? Absolutely! I rest my case.

Valentine's Day Rant

Valentine's Day is tomorrow and I haven't gotten my husband anything, not even a card. When I tell him I am going shopping for him later today he says, "Valentine's are for men too, aren't they?" He seems surprised. We've been married for 20 years, and for 20 years I have given him a Valentine card and gift every year without fail. Yet he acts like he's surprised by the idea.

Have you noticed how time flies when you have dementia?

What I know is that he hasn't gotten me anything either. I mean, we are almost always together. When do we have time, or is it space for such things? It was easier when we were still working. In some ways, life itself was easier when we were still working. Harder on the body, but easier on the mind.

There was certainly less time to think, although even then I thought way too much for my own good. It was convenient that I was paid to think about things. I was so good at it. Maybe one of my problems with retirement is not knowing what to expend all these mental resources on. I suppose it would be a good idea to spend just a little time thinking about what to get the man for Valentine's Day.

It's like this every time. I never know what to get him. Usually I break down and just ask him what he wants. Then it's no surprise and what the hell, he may as well come shopping with me, right? At least that way we can both be sure he gets it.

So here we are again at Valentine's Day. The stores are full of big red paper hearts, boxes of chocolate and cut flowers. And of course the jewelry store is buzzing with tokens of undying love, little hearts being the main attraction. Little hearts with diamonds, little hearts with rubies, little hearts with emeralds. Hey, whatever stone you want, they have a little heart for you.

On another note, the porno store has a huge banner across the front, right over the door: Shop Here: We Are Your Valentine Headquarters.

Candy, jewelry and flowers for the women. Sex for the men.

I mean, I'll give you two guesses what would happen if a man showed up for Valentine's Day in a pair of sexy underwear. "Hi Honey, look what I got for you?"

But if a woman does that, it's a sure thing to be a hit. Well, you can bet he doesn't want candy!

Over the line?

Today I read "Following The Testosterone", one of my blogs, in my writing class. It's a senior class, so everybody is 55 or older. You would think at our age words like "tits", "orgasm" and "lust" just wouldn't be shocking anymore. But while most of the class was laughing hysterically, there were two people in the room who weren't. They weren't laughing at all. The look on their faces was pained. It was the look of someone trying not to look a certain way. There was just a hint of horrified in that look. Like they couldn't believe their ears. One thing was clear, the humor was lost on them.

After class, each of them approached me confidentially to say, in hushed tones, they liked the piece. It was very good even though I didn't laugh. Well that's one way to tell a comic they just flopped. One of them told me that she and her husband always reserved Tuesdays. It was my turn to be stupefied. I mean jeez, it smacks of time management. Not to worry, I'll get to that Tuesday. Meanwhile, I'm busy with other things.

Which reminded me of something I had long since forgotten. During my first marriage, I would wear a certain nighty when I was available for an amorous encounter. I hasten to point out that my first marriage didn't last. There was far too much formula and way too little spontaneity in it. Maybe the problem was that I only had one of those nighties.

Crocodile Eyes

I don't know what it is about February in Spokane, but everybody gets a little weird. Maybe it's the full moon. All night last night, it was like a dreamy version of daytime outside. The world never really settled down. Tre and I stayed up late, reading books in our sleeping bags by flashlight. This morning we were tired. The sky clouded over and a few snowflakes fell. Even Tre, who is five years old said, "I can't wait for Spring." This afternoon we visited the crocodile at the pet store. He never even blinked his eye. He's waiting too.