The Good Stuff!

OK, now that I have the previous rant out of my system, I can focus on the good stuff that DID make up the bulk of the trip!


1. Eating omelettes with Walter at the Holiday Inn in Nashville, TN. This man has been cooking for Holiday Inn for 24 years. His cooking and his cheerful presence are what keep me staying at this same hotel everytime I visit Nashville.


2. Meeting Teresa's cousins. They have encountered multiple family tragedies over the past few years, but this couple counts their blessings and they do what they can to cheer others. They opened both their home and their hearts to me and I am grateful.


3. The beautiful fall foliage that we saw in Kentucky and Michigan. Totally worth the price of admission.

4. Getting to meet a Weight Watcher friend in person. Sandy was warm and welcoming and let me have a glimpse into her life and work. She and her husband also introduced me to Greek food! Yummy!

5. Seeing my brother-in-law and his family. Dear me, where does the time go? I remember going to help take care of these children when they were babies! Now they are almost 18, 16, and 15. They are also nice human beings and that is a good thing to be able to say.

6. Seeing old friend Ruth again and being introduced to her husband, Bart. They introduced me to Antonio's, home of some of the best Italian food I have ever eaten anywhere!

7. Which brings us back to Nashville, where I got to record an "informal" CD of gospel songs and hymns for my little old lady card buddies. And, ONE more omelette with Walter.

Overall, a very good trip.

Hmmm...wonder when I can get back to Nashville?

Back to Reality

I am home! For the most part, I had a lovely trip, but I am glad to be back in my own space with my husband and my computer. I have made a vow never to leave home again unless I can buy a laptop to take with me.

This comes partly from my experience on Mackinac Island. To preserve the history of this lovely place, motorized vehicles are banned from the island except for a few necessary emergency vehicles. This is great, if one is able bodied.

However, I am not and I found myself "back in time" as far as disability friendly environs go. Island businesses are not required to meet ADA standards unless they are making major renovations. Public restrooms were poorly lit, up a hill, and unheated. Restrooms in restaurants were often down long flights of stairs or in the back of the building with tables crowded so tightly together, I could not get my walker through, let alone the scooter I had hoped to rent. The scooter renters, unbeknownst to me, decided to leave the island early. But, it would not have done much good in on the island in general. Things were simply packed too tightly together. Lunch at the Grand Buffet turned into a panic situtation as my walker was jostled by people trying to get to the buffet, nearly causing me to fall. There was one accessible taxi, but it could take an hour or more to get picked up. That is a long time for a weary MGer to wait in cold and wet weather. The indifference of many of the island merchants and businesses made me feel further marginalized.

I found myself spending the last 24 hours on the island staring at my walls in the tiny B&B room Teresa and I shared while she explored the island. My cellphone reception was practically nonexistant. There was no lobby to go to for people watching. I finished my book. And, although there was a connection in our room, I had no computer. I ended up eating chocolate and crying. After the first day, this charming and seemingly inviting place was largely off limits to me. I felt isolated as people must have felt before the ADA made handicapped access a requirement.

God bless my friend and traveling companion, Teresa. She gracefully agreed to forgo the last few hours on the island and drove us back to the civilization of Grayling, Michigan. One internet session and a hot tub dip later, I was feeling human again.

For once, I was glad to get back to reality.

But, next trip, I will have a laptop!

On the Road Again...

Is it any wonder that this is one of my favorite Willie Nelson songs?


I love to travel. This is a love that only came to me in the past few years, but, better late than never. I love seeing new places, eating in restaurants that can't be found in my part of Mississippi, and, best of all, meeting new people!


Tomorrow I head out with my best friend and longtime sidekick, Teresa to Mackinac Island, Michigan. This is the beautiful place where the movie "Somewhere in Time" was filmed. No gasoline powered conveyances are allowed on this island. People get around on bicycles and foot power. Fortunately, electric scooters are for rent and are allowed in this small slice of paradise.

One of the things I am anticipating the most is the opportunity to meet another member of my Weight Watcher online group. She will be number 11 if I am counting correctly. I have enjoyed every member whom I have had the pleasure to meet face to face from this group, and I am sure that Sandy will be no different.

Most of all, this trip is a chance to get away from the everyday things that can drag me down and will give me time to reconnect with myself.

And, to quote a popular ex-con, that is a "good thing."

Artist Date

I am currently participating in a book study with my Episcopalian friends. It is called "The Artist's Way" by Julia Cameron. The focus of this book is on getting rid of the things and attitudes that block creativity and keep one from achieving one's creative potential.


One of the suggested activites each week is to make an "artist's date." This can be any activity that feeds the soul and promotes the flowing of creative juices. Last minute cancellations of other activities today led me to drive to nearby Clinton where Wyatt Waters has his gallery.


Wyatt Waters is a watercolorist. His paintings of subjects that range from mailboxes to the Mississippi River are absolutely amazing. Most of his paintings depict local subjects. His use of color is unique and his technique has an impressionistic quality. The artist himself is a whirlwind of constant activity, while his wife, Vicky, is the practical, down to earth half of the enterprise.


In this gallery one is encouraged to pull up a chair and chat while pictures are pulled from drawers and brought in from the back room to be perused at leisure. There is something for every budget, from the originals that sell for $1, 400.00 hand framed all the way down to postcards that sell for seventy cents (my budget!).


After feasting my eyes on Wyatt's works, I peeked into a new independent bookstore across the street. It is a lovely place with an emphasis on Southern literature. Then, at Vicky's suggestion, I ended my morning at a nearby coffeehouse, called "Gravity", where a gentleman with a voice that sounded like a cross between Jim Croce and James Taylor (can it get any better?) crooned songs from my era while I enjoyed pimento cheese on homemade bread.


This day appears to have pulled me up from my recent bout of doldrums. It reminded me that as I remember to properly nourish my body with healthier food, nourishment of my artistic soul is equally important.

One More Day?

Tonight, my husband comes in from Pennsylvania. I love him, of course, and I am glad he is coming home.


But, I wish I had ONE more day alone. I am trying to clean out my office (also known as a natural disaster area). To clean out things here, I have had to put stuff in other rooms until I can sort it out and decide what gets to come back, and what can be donated to charity or simply thrown away.


Things like this take time. And I am not finished. I don't have the energy to get it all done before he comes home. I hate for him to come home to a mess. But, I don't want to put it all back in here before I sort it out.

I need ONE more day...

Mr. Grumpy

This is a nickname I have for my husband when he is being a grouch. I don't call him this to his face, just in my head. Some weeks it seems like he is grumpy more often than not.


This week has been such a week. I know part of it is having to work nights. I have done that and it makes me a grump too. Another part of it is his anger over his dad "inviting" himself along on his trip to Pennsylvania, which he had planned to take alone. My husband is not assertive enough to tell his dad this, so he is grumpy.


I know I probably do things to add to the general grumpiness. For the most part, I try to stay out of the way when he is like this. But, with my disabilities, I don't always have the energy to go somewhere.


My professional counselor self tells me that I need to be able to keep my own equilibrium, even when he is grumpy. Let him HAVE his grumpiness. For the most part, I can do this. But, some days, I allow HIM to get ME down. Like today.


My counselor self does not have any magic solutions. Today, I felt good enough to drive to the next town and get away for the afternoon doing pleasant things. My inner self tells me that when I love people, their moods are inevitably going to affect mine at times.

Hope this is a less grouchy week.

Wedding Fashion Do's and Don'ts

Last Saturday, I attended a traditional afternoon wedding in the Deep South city of Montgomery Alabama. The wedding took place in a Methodist Church, which views a wedding as a sacrament and the ceremony is considered a "worship service."


However, some of the attendee's attire was questionable for this occasion, from this writer's point of view. I know that this is NOT Earth shattering, and of course, I am glad that they chose to attend at all. But, I present some of my personal observations about wedding fashion here.

Now I KNOW this sounds old fashioned, but Hawaiian flowerdy shirts and baggy trousers are just not proper church wedding attire for men. I think that a sport coat and tie, or preferably a suit, looks nice and conveys a respect for the event and the church. Save the baggy, untucked shirts for a beach wedding.

The same goes for bare looks for ladies. Low cut, cleavage showing dresses are fine for a cocktail party, but NOT, in my opnion anyway, for a formal church wedding. The same goes for spaghetti strapped dresses with bra straps showing, halters, and excesssively short and tight ensembles. Whatever happened to wearing a tasteful shawl or light jacket for the wedding and then taking it off for the reception? Some of the ensembles I saw looked more appropriate for a street corner than a wedding.

I guess this all boils down to one word. Respect. Respect for the bride and groom. Respect for the place of worship. And most of all, respect for oneself.

No More Time

I was saddened today to learn of the death of one of my former clients. This man, in his early fifties, was multitalented, and quite a character.


He leaves behind a grieving life partner of 27 years. While things having to do with death are often complex and difficult to deal with, this man has extra worries. He is disabled with a rare, crippling, neuromuscular disease. He allowed his stronger willed partner to handle all financial dealings. Worst of all, because they were not "married", he finds he has no legal right to their home. He is at the mercy of his deceased partner's family. His future depends upon their charity.


I often urged this couple to do things like put the home in both names. I encouraged this now "widowed" partner to learn to handle the financial dealings. But, they put it off. I'm sure they thought they had plenty of time.

Time ran out.

Waterless

As I write this, my city is in the middle of a water outage. The water has been off for 7 hours and may be off as long as two days. It just depends on which line is broken.

All the restaurants are closed. Schools will likely be closed if the problem is not solved by in the morning.

27,000 people. No water.

Being without electricity is inconvenient. Being without the phone is a pain.

But, no water?

I predict there will be a LOT of stinky people in Vicksburg today.

Stay tuned.

Choir Practice

Last night I went back to choir practice.


Let me preface the following with this. I have been a member of this choir for over 22 years. When I was healthy, I was very faithful, rarely missing a Sunday service or Wednesday night practice.


But, due to the heat, I have taken this summer off. I decided that I did not want to spend every Sunday afternoon and evening nauseated and exhausted from sitting in the spotlit choir loft in a neck to ankle polyester robe. Not to mention the effects of getting in my hot van at high noon in the Mississippi heat.


Of course, during the course of the summer, I heard rumors about why I was not at choir practice. I was mad at the choir director. I was mad because I did not get to sing a solo one Sunday. I was going full time to the Episcopal church. And so on.


So, last night being cooler, I headed back to choir practice. I have to admit. I almost did not go. In order to go back, I knew I would have to be strong enough to deal with the hurtful comments that would come from a particular choir member. This man would give you the shirt off his back. He is active in many areas of the church. But, he can say the most awful things to people. I don't know if he REALLY means the things he says, or if it is more of an "engage mouth before putting brain in gear" thing, but when I am feeling vulnerable, physically and/or mentally down, they can hit me harder than I like to admit.

Last night, I decided that I WAS strong enough to deal with whatever he dished out. I went. He made his comments.

And everything was back to normal.

Sleepless in Mississippi

Tonight is one of those no-sleeper nights. I fell asleep for a couple of hours, but bad dreams woke me. I can't shut my mind down long enough to go back to sleep.

I saw my friend, Mr. Don, for the first time today since his first round of the really tough chemo. He slept through much of my visit and spent his waking moments in a non-comprehending haze. This is so unlike the cheerful, constantly busy (usually doing for others) man that I have known for 38 years. He does not even seem like the same person.

The sad thing is that this chemo is a long shot. This cancer is a rare type that did not respond to the first round of chemo, cannot be helped with radiation, and is inoperable. I have to wonder if this is ultimately going to be worth it, or is he spending his last weeks or months in misery for nothing.

And all I can do is watch.

And pray.

Torn

Today I went to two church services. I attended early service at a lovely Episcopal church a few miles from my home. Then, I went to 11:00 service at my "official" church, which is the "downtown" Methodist church.

Part of me feels like I need to choose between them. That I can't continue to keep a foot in each camp. But I have been unable to choose.

The Methodist church is the church of my ancestors. We have been Methodist for many generations and the Methodist church in Kentwood, Louisiana where my mother's family comes from, was built largely by my kin. I love the way that the methodist church conference helps keep us connected to each other. I love the music that we make at my home church. I love my choir director. As a musician, I need that musical component to worship.

Or so I thought. For the past year, I have been attending early service at the Episcopal church. This service has no music, but is satisfying because of the weekly Eucharist, thought provoking sermons from their first female priest, and the fact that the congregation is small and welcoming. I can use my non-musical talents at this church. Talents that are overshadowed at my "big" church.

So why can't I choose? I think that I would eventually miss the music at my own church if I were to leave for good. There are people there that I care for. I have been there for 22 years. Right now, the person who is serving as clergy is not filling my needs for a preacher OR a pastor. But, I know that he will not be there forever.

I love this Episcopal church, but I don't know if there would be enough there for me without this dear priest. And, I know that she will not be there forever. She is content to let me come to early church, book study, and hang around when I can. She is fulfilling both the pastor and preacher needs I have at this time.

It may be possible to be an associate member of both congregations. I may just continue as I have been.

I just can't choose.

A Year Ago Today

This was written a year ago. I had been staying with my sister in Clinton. We had 14 people, two dogs, and one cat all jammed into a single family home. And we were the lucky ones.

9/1/2005

I am home. We have electricity. That is good.

No cable TV or Internet connection. That is not good.

I am so tired. I feel like my mind and my body are shutting down. I want to cry. I don’t want to hear again how blessed I am or how I have nothing to be sad about. I know this. I do.

It is just that I AM scared. I can’t get gas. I feel so vulnerable. Not knowing whether I can get to the bedside of a sick relative or to medical care in Jackson if I need to. It is not that I want to go “gallivanting.” It is knowing I can’t that makes me feel strange.

The half-empty grocery aisles are another thing that just seem wrong somehow. I hear about how this is common in other countries, but not HERE. Not in a small city in Mississippi.

I am so spoiled. A creature of routine and habit, I don’t like having my daily doings upset in such a fashion.

But, I know I will survive. And, I will be stronger.

I just want a full tank of gas.

Katrina

It is almost impossible to believe it has been one year since Hurricane Katrina came charging onto the Mississippi Gulf Coast, changing the lives of many forever.


In Vicksburg, I was 4 hours inland of this storm. But, it's ferocity was such that it created havoc even here. DH and I restlessly paced the house as we heard the trees in our yard fall. I was more terrified that day than I have ever been in my home. It seemed as if the wind would never cease.


Fortunately, the damage to our home and property was minimal. We replaced fencing, had the 4 fallen trees removed, got our electricity and internet service back after a week or so, and life pretty much got back to normal.


Unfortunately, many of our coastal residents still live in a limbo of FEMA trailers, blue roofs, and hassles with insurance companies. My prayer is that they are able to rebuild their homes and lives before another anniversary rolls around.

Letters

Sam came over this afternoon as I was sorting through boxes of assorted "stuff" in my office. She pulled up a box, sat down, and proceeded to "help" me, primarily by taking some of this stuff off my hands!

One of the boxes contained letters written to me by my husband, Bill, when we were courting. We were both in college in cities about 3 hours apart. Sam asked why we wrote letters to each other during this time. I proceeded to explain to her that cellphones did not exist then and that home computers were a rarity, so e-mail was not an option. We also talked about the fact that Bill and I were "long distance" and such expensive phone calls between two "starving" students were not possible except on special occasions. Of course, now I have letters to treasure and re-read that I would never have had if all there had been were phone calls.

I could tell that this just blew Sam's mind.

Was 1982 really THAT long ago?

Disconnected

Grrrrrrrrrrrr


This is day three of limited connectivity to the internet and I am not happy.
As I have mentioned in previous posts, there are days (like today) that this is my only clear "voice" and my only way to interact with the world.


I am being the squeaky wheel. I have called Cablelynx repeatedly. They send the techs out, but they are not fixing the problem. I am waiting on a call from the plant manager. I hope my hair is not gray by the time I hear something.


I am reasonably certain that the core problem is with the equipment outside my house. But, no one wants to take the time to climb the pole and do the job properly. That seems to be the norm in most things these days.


So, I wait. I hope and pray my connection will stay long enough for me to post this.


Crossing my fingers...

BIBO

Just in case you are not familiar with this expression, it means BREATHE IN, BREATHE OUT.

I have been doing a lot of this today. For the first time in 9 years and 2 computers I had to do a total system recovery.

I have to admit, this is one of the scariest things I have ever done. I backed up all my data on an external hard drive, printed out my receipts with registration codes for my downloaded programs, took a deep breath and clicked that recovery button.

It is a bit frightening to think of how much of my life is on this machine. I do everything from paying my bills to chatting with my friends here. The thought of losing the ability to do all that caused me considerable anxiety. I hold my breath as I reinstall each program. Is is going to work?

So far, so good. I got my internet connection set back up, my Microsoft Money back up and running, and after a couple of heart stopping moments, my Palm Desktop software.

My monitor settings are still not quite right and my mouse is acting a bit strange. But, I have survived. I can put the rest of the programs on a little at a time.

One of my weightwatcher threadmates (thanks Marla) assures me that this is a character building experience.

She ain't kiddin'.

Speechless

This morning I woke up sounding like Otis Campbell from the old "Andy Griffith Show." Myasthenia Gravis has robbed me of my ability to speak clearly this morning. It will most likely be back in a few hours, but for now, I have to pretty much remain silent.

I find it amazing how much this limits me. I can't call up friends. I can't return my dad's call. I can't call up the pharmacy and reorder my meds. My only clear "voice" this morning is my computer keyboard. I thank God for it.

Yesterday, we had a citywide Cablelynx outage. This is the primary provider to this area, so most of my friends and neighbors were in the same boat. I was surprised at how antsy I became. Knowing that my physical voice can leave me at times, losing my "virtual" voice made me extremely anxious. I was shocked at how helpless I felt.

Fortunately, yesterday, I still had my physical voice. I called up a good friend (thanks Bev!) and felt connected to the world once more.

Midsummer Meltdown

I have officially hit my summer slump. Heat makes my neuromuscular disease worse and it has been hot in Mississippi this past week.

This is when I begin to go stir crazy. My mind is going 90 miles an hour, but my body won't keep pace. Just getting a shower can prove too daunting a task to undertake.

My husband does not complain too much, thank goodness. But neither does he offer any words of comfort or encouragement. Growing up with a chronically ill mother, he has little tolerance for sickness in himself or others. A hug or an "I'm sorry you're not feeling well" would mean so much. I have told him as much, but it is simply beyond him.

So, I look for other sources of support and comfort. My online Weight Watcher support group, my friends, and other family members give me most of what I need to get through.

And that has to be enough.

Here's to Old Friends

I had lunch yesterday with an old high school friend and her daughter, who is the age her mother was when I met her. Seeing this poised, confident youngster brought back memories for us. But, they were not of us being confident young women. The memories were of us being "band nerds."

I don't remember exactly how we all found each other. I met Becky, the girl who was to be my future sister-in-law on the school bus when I invited her to sit beside me because she was carrying a clarinet as well. She introduced me to Donna, who introduced me to Pam. We all played clarinet. We did let a token flautist into the group, another Becky.

As Donna and I talked today, we realized that our friendship was instrumental in getting us through the ups and downs of high school. We all came from dysfunctional families, but we did not even recognize that fact at the time. There was alcoholism, incest, mental illness, and abuse going on at home. But, at school, we had each other.

Today, we ARE confident women. Donna got her Master's and teaches art. The first Becky spent a number of years in agricultural missions overseas and is now a happy stay-at-home mom of a 4 year old. Pam is a successful professional musician. And, I found out today that the "other Becky" finally got the courage to leave her abusive marriage and take care of herself. I am pretty proud of myself for going back to graduate school in my thirties to earn a second Master's degree in counseling.

Better late than never for a bunch of band nerds.