Well Hello There, Dollface

The VIM and are fortunate to live close to several state parks, as well as a national historic site that has hiking trails, too.  This past Sunday, we took advantage of the incredible January weather and set out for a short hike.

As compatible as the VIM and I are in other areas, we don’t mesh perfectly when we go for our walks.  He tends to look at it as exercise, and will push himself to go farther, faster.  I look around a lot – up at trees, down at flowers at the side of the path – pretty much anywhere except where I’m walking.  I walk through a lot of mud.

On Sunday, I requested that we walk on one of my favorite trails.  Although you can never be TOO far from civilization on that trail, it feels like a different world to me. The beginning of the trail heads down a hill into an area that is like a big bowl.  Once you get down in, there are pretty steep hills all around.  In the bowl the trees seem bigger and gnarlier, and the water in the little brook that flows through it seems clearer.  I can only describe it as primeval.  It always strikes a chord deep within me.  I love that area so much that I always forget about the second part of the hike – the climbing back out.

The beginning of the trail twists and turns, then suddenly becomes perfectly straight.  And perfectly uphill.  That area used to be part of an inclined plane system that pulled canal boats over the mountain.  The system hasn’t been used since the mid 1800s, and some of it has been taken over by the national park service, which maintains at least part of it as hiking trails.  So.  To get out of the bowl, we started walking up the incline.  It’s not impossible, but it’s long.  And I’m out of shape.  The second part of the hike isn’t nearly as fun as the first half.

Anyhow.  Because I wanted to not think about how long the incline was, I kept my eyes focused on the ground right in front of my feet.  About halfway up, I almost stepped on something that looked like a peeled potato with roots growing out of the side of it.  At first I stepped over it and kept walking.  Then I realized that it wasn’t computing.  A peeled potato?  On this trail?  Why would it still have roots attached if it was peeled?  Do potatoes even HAVE roots like that?

I went back and stooped down.  At first, it still looked like a potato.  Then I turned it over and saw this:

Did that creep you out as much as it did me?

I still can’t really figure it out.  I guess it’s been buried for awhile – it was filled with soil, and some of that stuff on it’s head is grass growing out of the holes.  I’m not sure why the back of the head is clean – maybe it was not completely buried, and the back was kept clean by rain.

I showed the picture to a friend, and he said I should have picked it up and brought it home.  He collects antiques and said it could be an old doll head.  I guess it could be, but I said I didn’t think I’d be able to find it again even if I DID go back out.  I didn’t tell him that the first thing I thought of when I saw that face was the Brady Bunch episode where Bobby picks up the Tiki Idol and becomes cursed, and that I knew from the moment I saw it that there was NO WAY IN THE WORLD I was going to pick it up.  I’m not superstitious, but, well, it doesn’t belong to me.  But I’m not superstitious.

Nope.  Not me.

Happy Place # 31

Last year the VIM and I stayed at a Sandals resort in the Bahamas.  It’s absolutely the truth that the trip was technically a business trip for him.  It’s also absolutely true that while there were some meetings (for him) during the day, and business dinners during the evening, there was a lot of free time as well.  On our second day there, we took some of that free time and boarded a boat that was departing for the resort’s “private island.”  Although we had read about the island, we had no burning “have to get there now” urgency to get there.  I guess we figured it would be a fabricated, disneyland-like area (sort of how I think of Las Vegas.)  We went just to check it out and ended up finding a little covered hut with double lounges in an isolated, almost wooded area close to one end of the island.  It was the best surprise of the trip.  We spent the rest of our free mornings jostling for the best (closest to the exit) seats on the ferry to the island.  Once the boat docked, everyone hurried off and ran – RAN -  down the boardwalk toward the island.  It apparently is very important to go as early as possible to stake a claim on the best chairs.  Lucky for us, our favorite spot apparently wasn’t considered the best chairs.  Out of each day we went there, there was only one day that we weren’t able to sit in “our” chairs because a butler had reserved them for his guests.  We found chairs close by, and when the butlered coupled finally arrived, they asked if they could move somewhere else.  They didn’t like that area.  The butler happily moved them, and we happily swooped in.

The picture is the view from my lounge chair.  It was a little bit like camping because of the scent of the big pines trees around us.  Because of the way that area is designed,  we couldn’t see the people on the beach in front of us… although you can’t see it in the picture, there is a fairly wide sandy beach beyond that stone wall, just steps from the lounge chairs.  When the wind and shade got a little too windy and shady, I would just step down to the sand and find an empty chair there to warm my bones for a few minutes.  (The Bahamas in March wasn’t nearly as warm as I thought it would be.)

During the 4 or so days we spent in our lounge chairs – sometimes just a few hours, and sometimes most of the day – I was able to totally decompress.  Sometimes I read, sometimes I slept, and sometimes I just sat there are stared out at that blue water.  What I didn’t do was think about work, email, what I was going to eat for dinner, if my waistband was getting tighter, or what I’d pack in my carryon for the flight back home.  It was hours filled with nothing and everything.

When I’m stressed, or maybe can’t fall asleep as quickly as I’d like, I remember this view, then I remember the smell of the pine trees, and the feel of the brisk wind through my sweatshirt.  This is one of my Happy Places.

Dispatch from the Couch

I’m off to lift weights.  I haven’t lifted or really done ANY type of exercise in, oh, let’s just say months.

I just wanted to write this now in case I am unable to lift my arms above waist-level tomorrow.

Happy Trails to Me

In October I put in a six week notice to my employer and got down to the business of transitioning out of there and into a new position that I hope is a better fit for me.  I could write a novel about what caused me to do that, but in the end, it doesn’t really matter.  Let’s just say I ended on great terms with my supervisor, my co-workers, and those I supervised.

I spent much of the past four years in various unhealthy stages:  burning frustration, low-grade panic, hair-on-fire insanity.  I suffered a nasty case of insomnia for several months, and I gained a good bit of weight (hey, I’m a stress eater!).  My relationship with the VIM and with my family suffered.  Short tempered?  Heck yes.  Did I overreact to various and sundry situations?  Maybe.  Did I need to just put my big girl pants on and get over it?  Perhaps.  Was it me and not them?  Could be.  In the end, I recognized what was happening.  I was spiraling.  I looked into different types of stress relief.  I tried to talk to my supervisor.  I tried to use time off wisely (not checking email, etc.)  I started seeing a professional life coach.   In the end though, I couldn’t pull it together.  Looking for another job was sort of scary, because I honestly DIDN’T know if it was me or not.  What if I was never going to be happy at ANY job?  What if I were suffering from, say, depression, and I didn’t recognize it?  What if it were something as simple as menopause?  I did try to broach the subject with my doctor, but he just wrote me a prescription and sent me on my way.

But I did get a new job (I still can’t believe they liked me as much as I liked them!).  It’s a little closer to home, and I actually knew several of my co-workers already through professional affiliation.  So far so good.  Actually, so far, REALLY good.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

When I put in my notice, I gave a six week notice.  I worried that that time period was too long, and that I would really regret my decision.  New Job Remorse.  In the end, though, I didn’t even have a twinge.  I did hate to leave the friends I had made – I still miss seeing them everyday – but those last 6 weeks really just sort of confirmed my decision.  They were insane.  Unspeakable.

On my last day, a Friday, everyone else in my department left at 4pm.  Everyone else on my floor was gone by 5:30.  I was there until 7:30 tying up last minute items – email forwarding, notes to the person taking over my tasks, leaving gifts for the cleaning lady.  The entire building was quiet as I taped up my last box and gathered my stuff for the last time.  I had a moment where I wondered if I had stayed so late because I didn’t want to leave – that I was putting it off.  As I walked down the steps for the last time and headed toward my car, I knew that wasn’t it.  I stayed because I needed to.  The job needed to be done.  And it was.  To the absolute best of my ability.  I truly believe I left that department just a little bit better than I found it.  As I got into my car and started driving out of the lot, I felt like I might cry, but it wasn’t sadness.  It was relief.  For the first time in nearly four years I didn’t feel the weight of what I didn’t do or couldn’t do.  I wasn’t fretting over the to do list for tomorrow or wondering if I could get through Saturday without checking my work email.

The feeling as I drove away is almost indescribable, and it’s something that I hope I remember the rest of my life.  Whether that job was the root cause of so many yucky personal things for me or not, I’ll never know.  What I DO know is that I recognized that I wasn’t fulfilling my potential – either at work or in personal relationships or even in just living my life to the fullest, and I finally took steps to make changes.  The feeling as I drove away wasn’t relief because I was leaving something unpleasant behind.  It was relief that I was finally heading toward something healthy and (hopefully) happy.

2012: Ready or Not, Here I Come

I think I broke up with Facebook in 2011.  I still see it occasionally, but it just doesn’t hold the charm it once did.  2011 is the year that I finally stopped overlooking all the belching and farting Facebook does.  Overlooking all the ugly jokes and making fun of other people. Overlooking all the “I’m better than you, and my life is much more exciting, too.”  Oh, Facebook still has some fine points.  It’s creative and the life of the party, but in the end, it wasn’t the best fit for me.  I’m sure Facebook isn’t wasting anytime mourning the fact that I’m not around as much, and I’m sort of glad.  That gave me a chance to look back at this good, old faithful blog.  Waiting patiently for me to write something.  Anything.

At my last coaching session, I expressed fear that I couldn’t come back to blog writing.  That I wouldn’t do it “right.”

“What if I don’t have anything to write about, Coach?”

“What did you write about in the past?”

“I wrote about memories of childhood springtimes, when my grandfather would mow over new tulip shoots from bulbs that my grandmother had planted the fall before.”

“Are those posts ‘right’”?

“Yes.  At the time I’m writing them, they feel like throwaway posts.  Like I’m just typing for the sake of typing, but when I look back on the post six months later, or a year later, I realize that the post is saying something much deeper to me.  It’s like I don’t realize it at the time.”

So the Coach admitted that he doesn’t know if I can get back in the groove, or if I can do it “right.”  He can only ask me to commit to Just. Doing. It.  And I did.  I committed that I would try to write five days a week, and at least three days a week.  It’s a big commitment for me, because I’m afraid I don’t have anything left to write.

This is a big hunting area.  I’ve lived here all my life, so I get it, but I still can’t shake the sadness I feel when I see what was once a graceful, powerful animal tied down to the tailgate of someone’s pickup truck.

 

Vroooooooom

I’m not sure why, but Christmas this year was like a race car.  I could hear it coming, engine revving, gearing up, then suddenly it was here right in front of me – loud and chaotic.  Then it was gone, with only a few pieces of (wrapping) paper fluttering down through the hot exhaust left behind.

I really am enjoying the holidays this year.  We hosted the VIMs family (mom and brother’s family) for a Polish feast, then then next day visited my mom for the traditional turkey dinner.  WAY too much food, but just the right amount of hosting and being hosted and talking and laughing and being together.  I just seemed to happen so much FASTER this year!

Last night the VIM and I took a walk around a nearby town to look at Christmas lights (that’s one of the few bad things about living in the sticks…we have to drive to take a walk).  During the walk we talked about New Years Eve plans.  Although we’ll have some friends up for the Steelers Game, we will spend most of the weekend by ourselves, and we’re coming up with all kinds of ideas on how to make it special – a picnic, a car ride, a walk in our favorite state park, a round of Scrabble and some homemade cherry brandy, crepes and fancy coffee.  The possibilities are endless.  One of the things I am most grateful for in the world is after all this time, the VIM and I still love spending time together, and although we search for ways to make it “special”, we are both content to just be.  Together.

 

Dashing through the House

I think I have officially hit Holiday Warp Speed.  How in the world did Christmas sneak up on me like that?

For the next few mornings and evenings after work I will be cleaning, laundering, rearranging, fretting, fluffing, and generally getting ready to host the VIM’s family for Christmas Eve dinner, then gathering everything for dinner at my mom’s house the next day.  When I’m in the thick of such things, I enjoy it.  I do.  I enjoy the process of preparing, and I love spending time with both of our families, but it’s this present moment I always disklike – that moment where I feel like I’m standing on the starting line waiting for the starter’s pistol, and my coach Santa is standing beside me giving me last minute performance advice for the upcoming sprint.

My Editor

This is Strummer.  He enjoys long, lazy afternoons in the sun, Mixed Grill Pate in his bowl, and ANNOYING THE CRAP OUT OF ME WHILE I TRY TO WRITE A BLOG POST.

Christmas Meme

I started this Christmas Meme in November, 2008.  2008! Better late than never, eh?

1. Wrapping paper or gift bags? Gift bags, please.  With lots of curling ribbon.  I actually don’t mind the process of wrapping gifts with paper, but I hate the big rolls of paper themselves.  They’re bulky, and between the crumpled edges from storage and the cutting down to size, I feel like I waste more rolled paper than I use.

2. Real tree or Artificial? I don’t really have a preference. I’ve had both and both have pros and cons. The VIM and I haven’t put up a tree in years because of the cats.  Actually, we don’t do any decorations in the house at all because of the cats.  Actually, we don’t have anything breakable or important to us out because of the cats.  Actually, our house is a barren empty shell, void of anything except cat-fur tumbleweeds because of the cats.

3. When do you put up the tree? When I was growing up my family did it on a Saturday between Thanksgiving and Christmas. When I was living on my own, I’d do it on a Saturday evening. I’d make some tea or hot chocolate, put on some music, and spend some quality time with the ornaments I put on the tree as a child.

4. When do you take the tree down? As soon as humanly possible.

5. Do you like eggnog? Hate it.  Just thinking about it gives me the shivering huhs. There is something about creamy alcoholic drinks that freaks me out.

6. Favorite gift received as a child? Big Mouth Singers.  I have a lot of great childhood Christmas memories, but the Big Mouth Singers – what a rush!
7. Hardest person to buy for? Most adult friends or family members.  I guess it’s the fact that most people I know just get what they want, so there aren’t many opportunities to find that perfect gift.

8. Easiest person to buy for? My uncle, God love him.  He had a stroke a few years ago and has some problems with his right hand, and therefore some problems tying shoes.  Every year he asks for a new pair of sneakers with velcro closurers.  That and a gift card from the local supermarket and he couldn’t be happier.

9. Do you have a nativity scene? We don’t.  I know I sound like a scrooge, and I’m really not.  I just didn’t grow up in a family that was big on decorations, and VIM didn’t either, so we don’t do much other than some lights outside and a little snowman flag at the front door.

10. Mail or email Christmas cards? Mail, although don’t spend too much time looking in the mailbox this year for a card from me.  Yet another thing I’m not very good at doing.  The VIM and I always joke around that we should dress the cats up and have our picture taken and use that as our Christmas card, then write an incredibly fictional year-end summary for the letter.  Some year we’re going to do it.

11. Worst Christmas gift you ever received? I honestly can’t think of one.  I guess in general I’m less enthused about gifts that were obviously picked out because the giver felt an obligation to give a gift, rather than one from the heart.  In the end, though, I understand that feeling, too, so never get too bent out of shape about  such things.

12. Favorite Christmas Movie? It’s a Wonderful Life.  Every year on Christmas Eve, the VIM and I have our traditional Christmas Eve dinner, a few glasses of wine, then we settle in to watch It’s a Wonderful Life.  Every year I fall asleep right at the part where George comes to visit Mary when she comes back from college, and every year I wake up right at the end to find the VIM crying.  Every Year.  Best tradition ever.

13. When do you start shopping for Christmas?  I move into it gradually and slowly.  I’m not a big Saturday-Go-To-The-Mall kind of gal, so I tend to hit one store either on my lunch break or after work.  I often wonder what it’s like to do the whirlwind Black Friday shopping trip, but I’m pretty sure that would make me cranky.  Really, REALLY cranky.

14. Have you ever recycled a Christmas present?  Honestly, not that I can think of.

15. Favorite thing to eat at Christmas?  The traditional turkey dinner at my mom’s house.  There isn’t one favorite food – it’s all of them together that makes it the best.

16. Lights on the tree?  I don’t have a preference between white or multi colored lights, or even small lights or big lights.  I just like lots of them.  When I was younger, my grandmother went through a stage of putting all blue lights on the tree, which was sort of cool.  This year, the VIM used all blue lights on our outside trees, and it’s a nice change.  I love to sit in the living room in the morning with the room lights out and just look out the window at the lighted trees.  Good way to start the day.

17. Favorite Christmas song?  Oh wow.  There are so many!  I tend to lean toward traditional hymns like Angels We Have Heard on High, and I love to hear them in simple 4-part harmony.  Just thinking about it gives me chills.  I also love the song “The Toy Trumpet”, and I just realized this morning that I like it because it sounds similar to “Powerhouse”, which is one of my all time favorite Songs That Get Stuck in My Head.  I just googled them and found out they are by the same composer, Raymond Scott.  Go figure.

18. Travel at Christmas or stay home?  I’m very grateful that I do very little traveling.  We go to my mom’s house for lunch, which is about a 20 minute drive.

19. Can you name all of Santa’s reindeer? ummm… let’s see – Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen and Rudolph.  Yay!  I can!

20. Angel on the tree top or a star?  Always a star.

21. Open presents on Christmas Eve or morning? This has sort of changed as I got older.  When I was a kid it was always always always Christmas morning.  Now the VIM and I exchange on Christmas Eve (although this year we exchanged a wide screen LED TV about a month ago), and then we exchange with my family Christmas afternoon.  This year we are hosting the VIMs family on Christmas Eve at lunch, so there might be some exchanging going on then, too.

man, this is a long meme!

22. Most annoying thing about this time of the year?  The increase in traffic and rude people in parking lots.  Grrrrr.

23. Favorite Ornament theme or color?  I’ve never done a theme or a specific color.  My favorite ornaments are the ones that my family hung throughout my childhood.  I still have them all, and I hope someday that I can put them on a tree again.

24. Favorite for Christmas dinner?  Turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, noodles (we’re a german family, we eat noodles with everything!), baked corn, sweet potatoes….yum!

25. What do you want for Christmas this year?  I can’t think of anything I really want or need.  I guess what I REALLY want is some quiet time with family and friends,.