I think.

I was talking to my daughter today about blogging. She is an English major and is a senior in college right now. She is a wonderful writer, and can consider herself a "writer" in the true sense of the word, unlike me. She is smart and witty and can be very opinionated. She always has something to say, certainly always has something going on in her head.

I mentioned to her that she should blog, if for no other reason than to use her skills somewhere other than school, or because it can be an incredible networking tool. She didn't seem too thrilled with the idea of creating her own blog but did say maybe she could do a guest post on mine. What a wonderful idea! But she wants me to give her a topic. That's where I draw a blank.

Dani is very mature and always has been. She is young and playful but she is very thoughtful and thinks things through with a logic which can be intimidating sometimes. She is incredibly sensitive and I would say more empathetic than your average 21 year old. I taught her not to grow up too fast, to enjoy her childhood and not hurry to adulthood like I did. For me everything was about when, when I move out of the house, when I get married, when I have kids. While Dani is planning for her future in the way of a career and forming the values she will live her life by, she enjoys now. She took one of my lessons to heart.

She is simply a good kid. Level headed and sweet and caring. So much ahead of the game than I was at her age, and I feel for the parents who have kids who give them trouble with driving, drinking, boyfriends/girlfriends and what-have-you. My children are not perfect but I can honestly say they have not given me trouble beyond not doing household chores when asked or being lackadaisical about grades from time to time. I'm happy to say the grades are very good now, grammar and sentence structure and all of the things I find so difficult with the English language come easily to both of my kids. Go figure.

I could suggest she write about ridiculous things Mom has said or done, which I am sure she has several examples of. Hmmmm. She's a vegetarian, a feminist and a lover of Harry Potter and Brussels sprouts. Not necessarily together. She likes roller blading and riding her bike, playing four square and camping. She has many, many interests and is always open to new ideas. In some ways she is so very like me, in a much improved kind of way, but in more ways - she is not.

She is Dani. She is my daughter. I know she must have ideas. She should write here at least once, don't you think?

I think.

Addicted for sure

Addicted to blogs. I admit it. I love to read blogs. I told myself that I was going to put a limit on myself, that I would check my regular blogs once (okay maybe twice) a day and maybe take a peek at a few I don't have links to but are in my favorites. So I looked through the list this morning. Not a whole lot of new posts, so when I looked again late morning I told myself the earlier check hadn't counted because I hadn't found new posts. (rationalizing)

Early afternoon when I checked again I justified it by saying to myself that I did not want to miss any new posts from my favorite bloggers - a lot could happen in a couple of hours!

Couldn't it?

Early this evening when I clicked through my list again I told myself it would be the last time today, yes it would, the last time. But it bothered me that one or two of the bloggers I admire hadn't posted in a couple of days and I was just waiting for them to post again!

By 8:30 this evening I was looking again, if somewhat furtively, I wouldn't have been surprised to have found my palms sweating as I satisfied this urge that I was helpless against. I. have. to. know!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Does anyone know of a program, a self help group, anonymous meetings, a sponsor perhaps? Is this normal in any sense of the word?

I'll just tell myself it is - yeah, everybody does this, everybody likes reading about other people's lives, hanging on every word, relishing every well turned phrase, and delighting in every humorous passage! They do!

They don't? Do I need help?
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I'm posting some pics of earrings here, this is a style I like to wear as a casual every day type earring, I have made them with many different stones and in many different colors. Please, have a look!

Love it!

5 Minutes for Mom is Giving One of You a 37″ Flat-Panel LCD HDTV!!!
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WOO HOO!! What better than a contest where you don't even have to exhibit any kind of talent what-so-ever, you just have to sign up! They got me - I'm there!

They are giving away an Insignia® 37″ Flat-Panel LCD HDTV!!! This incredible prize is valued at $799.99 and is courtesy of Best Buy.

So - since I have never won anything - and if I have I don't remember it - I have my fingers crossed. Wouldn't it be awesome!??

Wait. Before somebody rats me out - I recently won a post-it dispenser for my desk at work. Lovely green heavy thing with our company logo on it - I felt like I was voted homecoming queen! So - if I win this TV it would be my 2nd big win in a year. Maybe I don't deserve it though, after winning my post-it holder. I mean - it IS a major desk accessory. :(
I hope they don't count it against me.

Getting back to basics

Realized today - okay - maybe I've been thinking about it for a few days - anyway - I have been paying a lot more attention to my blog, reading blogs, and generally goofing off online than I have been to making jewelry or the bane of my existance - cleaning my house.

I always have these designs in my head for fabulous pieces too - so I really need to get back to it. My work space is pretty cramped so there isn't much ambiance in that room, but there is a TV and there are beads. Lots and lots of beads. I am obsessed with beads. I need to start using them more!

These earrings are the first I have made using my handmade earwires, the tutorial for making them came from Tamara at McFarland Designs. How nice of her to share! And they were super simple to make! My ability isn't perfect yet, but I am continuing to improve.

This bracelet is something I love, although I think I am moving away from the chunkier beads right now, it's a style I will always be attached to. This bracelet has some beautiful natural agate beads, faceted, a couple of citrine crystal beads but what I really love is the natural fire opal in the center. Such a deep golden color it almost seems to be liquid inside.

I am feeling the need to try some newer techniques, try my hand at some different styles, although I am pretty sure I will never completely leave the chunky focal beads I like to use in necklaces and bracelets. There is room for different types of jewelry in my shop so as I continue to grow and improve - my shop will certainly reflect that.

I do know I need to pay more attention to my shop, I haven't been promoting much (anywhere) lately and you don't sell if you sit on your butt and expect people to come to you.

But oh how I love reading blogs!

.... long time since I posted a pretty picture - I believe this is Ireland.

What good are they?

I smoked cigarettes for many years, quit about 6 or 7 years ago. One of the side effects left over from smoking, is that my sense of smell isn't as great as it could be. I mean - I can tell if I smell bad - at least I hope - and I can smell rain and flowers and onions - all the normal things. But I cannot locate cat pee with my nose to save my life. It's not a skill that's in great demand from what I understand. But it sure would come in handy around here from time to time!

My cats are generally well behaved little buggers, each with his/her own quirks and habits and personalities but they all generally eat what I feed them and relieve themselves where they are supposed to. They come and pay me my due as the alpha female in the house, lay at my feet and purr appropriately when I pet them. One of them is evil and bites but it's not completely her fault because she was abandoned and not socialized and is probably possessed by the ghost of Lizzie Borden. For the most part they are perfect pets. Except for the fact that I should pass out lint rollers at the door - I love having cats.

So I've been walking around the house asking my daughter "I smell cat pee, do you? Can you kind of go around the house and sniff and see if you can tell if there is cat pee somewhere it shouldn't be?" That would be anywhere outside the litter box for those of you not familiar with the care and feeding of said animals. I could smell it - I could not tell where it was coming from. There's nothing worse than walking into someone's house and smelling animal smells! Dani kept saying "I don't smell it. I don't smell anything." So I trusted her 21 year old non-smoke affected nose and just figured I was out of my mind like usual.

Last night she finally smelled it. It wasn't behind the antique chest the TV sits on in the living room. Not coming from an empty never looked in corner of the bead room. It wasn't coming from any place I had been thinking of or imagined. It was coming from a pile of clothes under the chair which was under the desk in my daughter's bedroom!!!!!!! She was almost immune to it because she had been sleeping in the same room with it! Nothing like washing clothes and picking up pee saturated pieces of paper and the random sheet of pee soaked bounce right before bed!

So next time you doubt your over 40 nose or ears or eyes and subsequently try to rely on one of those younger humans who lord their smooth skin and perfect vision over you - don't!! They may have good memories and maybe they have enough energy for 10 of you.

But they can't smell cat pee worth a damn!!!!!!!

There is just nothing easy about it. Part IV

It's a bit bewildering and can be very frustrating trying to find the right medication for depression. First you have to stop denying something is wrong and get diagnosed which is a huge step. In my case, talk therapy helped with immediate issues like damaged self-esteem and all the other gifts that go along with divorce. But when the talk stopped helping, it was time for drugs. For me anyway.

My therapist was a psychologist which meant he could not prescribe drugs. He wrote a request for me to bring to my regular doctor who is an internist, asking that he prescribe an appropriate medication for someone with dysthemia. Low level, chronic, depression. My favorite description for that is "a lack of joy."

I remember sitting on the chair in the exam room that day when my doc walked in. He is an excellent doctor (driver, excellent driver, buys his underwear at K-Mart) and he is also a smart ass. A gi-normous smart ass. He asked me the usual, how was I feeling, anything new, why did I come that day, etc. I handed him the note from my therapist feeling every bit the little girl handing a note from Mommy to the teacher. No, maybe the principal. He read the note and said "I won't be anybody's prescription pad. Hop up on the table."

After taking my blood pressure and listening to my heart, thumping on my back and pushing on my belly, he finally said something else. "So. What makes you think you are depressed?" I think he was sorry he asked. I immediately burst into tears. I tried to tell him about my divorce and my husband sleeping with half the western world and how I had anxiety attacks and would get diarrhea and I could barely leave the house and I was afraid I was a bad mom and.. and.. and .. by the time I took a breath I saw my doctors face with the look a lot of men get when women cry. The - 'I will do anything if only you would stop crying!' face. That may have been the only visit to his office, ever, that he did not make a crack about his wife, tell me how brilliant his son was or give me a tip on the ponies.

I left with a prescription for Prozac. It was the drug of the moment, everyone was doing it. It was not necessarily the answer for me but it was a place to start. Unfortunately the only way to find out if a med will work for you - is to try it. And if you don't know what you should feel like, don't know what "normal" feels like - it's an arduous and sometimes very long process to find the right drug for you. I tried many many drugs, some for as long as a year, some for as short as a week or two, and when I was asked if it was helping my answer was generally close to the same thing. "I don't know. Maybe. It's hard to tell." Which I know now, for me, meant NO. Because when I did find the right medication - or actually - combination of meds - I knew it.

It was night and day for me. But first I went through going to the OB/Gyne because I was sure I was experiencing peri-menopause and was put on the pill for a while. I tried drugs that made me physically ill and some that made my mouth so dry I could not spit. I took meds that did seem to help. A little. When I found the right med it just so happened it was at the same time I was on the pill. I thought hmmm, why not find out if it is the birth control pill or the anti-depressant that is helping me. Hormones on one hand, depression on the other. I'm a nutcase on one hand, I'm a normally hormonally crazy woman on the other. Hmmm.

I went off the anti-depressant first. I realized about 2 weeks later that there was this sort of darkness creeping in. Irritability, apathy, the hopelessness was starting to envelop me. It wasn't as bad as it had been - but I recognized it. It was almost like pulling a light blanket over my head, just enough to dull the world around me and put up a barrier. I knew for a fact that the blanket over my head would become heavier and more than I wanted to bear again. I went back on the meds. A few weeks later the light started to show through again. Ah-h-h. Picture a hammock, sunshine, and drinks with umbrellas ahh-h-h-h-h.

When I say it was like day and night for me - I do not mean the change was apparent immediately. It was a gradual thing, I needed to recognize 'happy' - and learn how to not be frightened to apply the word to myself. Surprisingly, coming out of depression can be a scary experience in it's own right. Sadness may be the only thing some people remember feeling. Being happy - or knowing just what that is and how to BE it - can be a daunting task when all you have known is NOT. It doesn't happen overnight but it is so worth it. It's much easier to learn 'happy' when you don't have bad feelings dragging you down. Hope becomes something you can feel - and oh what a gift that is!

I still have days when I get in a mood, feel down or sorry for myself, but the difference is that those days don't last. Everybody has those days and they don't frighten me anymore. I wish I could say now this is what you have to do to feel better. This is the way to achieve happiness. I don't hold the key, or any keys for that matter. I just know what I went through.

As far as trying different meds and wondering how to tell if one is effective or not? My advice - give it at least four or five months if it doesn't have side effects that bother you. Then ask yourself how you feel. If your answer is "I don't know" or "okay I guess" - and not - "good!" - then move on. You should know when you feel good. You need to have faith that you will recognize 'happy' when it hits you.

Some people never need medication, and some people suffer from a much more debilitating depression than I ever have. It's a complex thing, there isn't one answer for everyone and God knows I'm not a doctor - hell - I don't even play one on TV. So that's always the first place to start. Your doctor. And if your doctor doesn't listen to you - get louder, say it again, let them know you're serious. If that doesn't work - find a new doctor.

Being happy is not over rated I'm telling you. If you think you may need to seek help - you probably do. Just like millions (and I do mean millions) of other people out there. We aren't alone. It just feels like it when you are depressed.

Nite. :)

Misery for love

My Mom moved to Michigan last October. We, my three siblings and I, have been struggling a bit with where Mom should be now that she is alone and at loose ends, and not quite as sharp as she used to be. She was with me for a while, but me - two kids - cats - and one bathroom were a bit much for her. She had money from the sale of her house in Colorado and decided to move to Michigan where she is from. She was going to buy a house and my 50-something sister was going to live with her.

The house was purchased, the move was made, but my sister did not stay. That is a story unto itself that is neither here nor there at this moment. My Mom doesn't want to live by herself. I did not realize that she has never done it - ever. While I revel in a quiet house with only me to mess it up - it terrifies her. We needed to figure out what to do after my sister moved out. Mom decided to try in on her own for a while, her brother lives a few miles away, we were hoping she would enjoy the freedom of being on her own after always living in a situation where she was controlled by the man she lived with.

I received an email "I fell down the other day, hit my head on the end table and there was blood on the paper towel so I must have hit my nose too. But I am fine this morning. Love, Mom." Then came others here and there - always beginning with the trauma and ending with the - but I am fine disclaimer. In other words - get me out of here!

Discussing the situation with my brother, the one closest to me in age, he decided it was time for Mom to go and live with him. He lives in New Jersey in a small 3 bedroom house by himself. He has a good job, is recently separated and his daughter lives not too far away. He is a realist and is fully aware of the impact this will have on his life but chooses to do it anyway for Mom's sake. My sister is a non-issue and my older brother lives in a condo with his teen aged son, and isn't really the demonstrative, compassionate type. My Mom chose not to stay with me - so that leaves my brother and he is willing to take Mom on.

She isn't that easy anymore, at 78 she has COPD and a back which is constantly paining her. She says she weighs about 120 but I swear she can't weigh over 100 pounds sopping wet. She's a tiny little thing who is vain enough to think she needs to lose weight because she tends to get a little bit of a tummy - regardless of the fact that she has bird like legs and barely there arms - she worries about her belly. She believes chocolate is a food group all on it's own and will reach for that first - every. single. time. Then she won't eat anything nutritious because the chocolate has taken care of those few hunger pangs she felt. She is wobbly and tends to list to the left some, or is it the right? She will be walking and all of a sudden will stagger in one direction a bit until she cannot regain her balance and she will go down. Hard. It's a frightening thing to see. Yet we could not get her to stop going down very steep basement steps to do her laundry on her own because she did not want to count on her brother to come get her so she could do it at his house which is all one level. Stubborn, thy name is Ma.

Mom doesn't like confrontation at all so she will agree with you to make you happy, then complain about you to someone else. She tells one story to one of us and another story to another, or part of a story to one and then thinks she told the whole story to everybody. Which leads to emails or conversations where she starts out in the middle because she thinks you already know the beginning. It can be very confusing for us - and disheartening to her to discover that we all have trouble understanding what she is talking about sometimes.

For my brother to take this on is pretty amazing and one of the most selfless things anyone in our family has ever done. He is flying to Michigan on Wednesday to pack Mom up and drive her car with trailer attached back to New Jersey and her new home. He has been concerned that she actually has things packed up, or may need help getting it all together before he actually gets there, so he asked if I could go up and check things out - see if I could help getting things straightened away so he could get to her house and worry more about loading up the trailer - than actually packing up items from cabinets and drawers. Living in the Chicago area I live about four an a half hours away from my Mom by car. With my 23 year old son as my navigator, we went to go see Mom this past weekend.

Getting there was no problem, Andy loves to drive, loves to stop at all the rest stops where I surreptitiously tucked my Etsy postcards in with the various pamphlets and maps - throughout Indiana and Michigan. Michigan has some of the loveliest "care stations" I have ever seen by the way. We arrived at my Mom's in late afternoon on Saturday and started work right away.

Turns out there was actually very little to do. Mom was true to her word - she had her furniture at a consignment shop - all that was left was whatever she was planning to bring to my brother's house which was a very good sign. She had boxes scattered throughout a few of the bedrooms and kitchen, but mostly they were full and just needed to be closed and moved to one central spot. Andy and I took care of that - moving some twenty plus boxes out to the garage which seemed to be the most logical spot to make it easy for my brother. I wrapped up a few glasses left in the kitchen cabinets, but almost all of the cabinets and drawers were empty, Mom had done a really good job. The only thing I left for Sunday was finishing up her laundry and vacuuming the house.

We brought an inflatable mattress for Andy to sleep on in the living room with the big flat screen TV, and my Mom already had an inflatable mattress for me in the guest room. Mom and I stayed up till about 11:00 Saturday night, doing jigsaw puzzles on my laptop which she loves to do. I left the program up on the computer so she could play with it if she got up before me in the morning, she wouldn't have to hunt for it, when she opened the laptop it would just be there.

Sunday morning I awoke with a start. Something was wrong but I didn't know what. I had been dreaming about people dancing I think, I remembered full skirts spinning and spinning, Gypsy dancing maybe. Spinning. I crawled off of the mattress and rolled to a position I could stand up from. Felt odd. Went into the kitchen where Mom was on the laptop doing puzzles and sat down at the table. Rubbed my face, shook my head back and forth, what was wrong? Mom was looking at me and I finally managed to say - "I don't think I feel very good." I left to go into the bathroom.

TMI alert!!! - Sitting on the toilet I wasn't sure what I was going to do there. I felt disoriented. I peed I guess, but I just felt wrong - so I sat. Looking at my feet against the linoleum I couldn't get past the idea that they just looked wrong - my feet were purple or something, and a little blurry maybe. What was wrong with my feet? I sat some more and finally decided I needed to get up, flush, etc. As I stood up I felt a coldness start at about my waist and move up my body - particularly the underside of my arms were really cold all of a sudden. I stretched - thinking I needed to move my limbs but then my legs started to tingle. I bent at the waist and put my head on my arms on the sink. Random thoughts like - is this what it feels like to have a stroke but after people have one they can't remember this part or can't verbalize it so no one knows about these symptoms - ran through my head.

I moved out of the bathroom - sluggishly - like walking in water - past my Mom at the table across the room to the basement door where there was a small garbage can. I took the lid off the can and pulled the bag out and grabbed the can. I turned around and made my way back to the bathroom answering my Mom's questioning gaze with a garbled "I am SO sick". Back to the bathroom, sat back down on the toilet and proceeded to vomit into the can. I never throw up into the toilet directly because with me I usually have both ends going at once so I learned a long time ago to prepare for that, and have enough warning that I can get the required bucket, garbage can, whatever is closest and will work best.

Nothing in my stomach, nothing but bright yellow bile. Ugh. Why am I sick? Please no, I'm not at home! I have to leave, to make a four and a half hour drive home, the thought of which was akin to getting back on the boat while still feeling sea sick. No. Being sick away from home is the stuff of nightmares for me. I finished purging what wasn't there, rinsed out the can and flushed the toilet. Rinsed out my mouth, wiped my face with a towel. Went directly back to the guest room and crawled back onto the mattress, covered up, and fell asleep again after a last thought - "the ceiling fan - spinning and spinning...". I was out.

Throughout the day I got up and tried to sit with my Mom for a while, but always got up and went back to bed and to sleep. I was feverish. Mom was feeling bad - what could she do - she didn't even know where her thermometer was, would I like some soup - she could find some she thought. No thermometer, no soup, sleep, just wanted to sleep.

Halfway through the day I was able to get up and start sipping some 7-Up. It was so good. I kept sipping, Mom kept worrying, till finally about 5:00pm-ish - I was able to shower and think about not going back to sleep for a little while. I got a load of laundry into the washing machine feeling very stoic and brave, and directed my son to do the vacuuming. Before we left I was able to get the laundry into the dryer and then upstairs where I helped Mom fold it. Look at me! I am walking an talking and sipping 7-up and I may live after all! Still - I was feverish and not quite right, but so much better than earlier in the day.

Andy and I were able to get on the road to come back home by about 8:00 - maybe a little earlier, and I was okay for the drive. Although I did have to ask Andy to keep it down to 80 - I was feeling a bit nervous about approaching 90 mph. We arrived safe and sound almost exactly at midnight, Andy as if he had just been out to 7-Eleven and back - and me - feeling pretty beat-up and ready for bed.

Mom is ready to go to my brother's house now. Physically and emotionally I think. I left her a note to make sure she calls her doctor to get a referral to a wonderful COPD heart and lung facility near my brother's house, and I think that's all the preparation that needs to be done. She has arranged for her telephone, cable and Internet to be disconnected, her house is up for sale and her brother has a key to check up on things now and then. She's ready. Now the question remains - is my brother?

I spent 24 hours with my Mom this visit. Big deal. She lived with me for about six months about a year ago. My brother is opening up his home, planning to spend at least one day a week dedicated just to Mom - doing whatever she wants to do. She is our Mom, not maybe quite the same Mom, but she is our Mom. Somehow it feels like whatever we do it will never be enough but my brother - my brother is on the right track. I have to give him a lot of credit because not only is this a wonderfully loving thing for him to do - he was recently diagnosed with quite a serious ailment of his own. He has not told my Mom yet because he does not want her to change her mind or be afraid she will be a burden.

He was the wildest of us as a teen, the most 'normal' of us as an adult, and in a time of need of his own - he is proving to be the most compassionate and giving as well. Mom can be proud of the job she did with him.