Monterey Bay

Driving down the coast from Santa Cruz to Monterey, we passes amazing bike trails that traversed farmland and dunes. This was my ride, a year and a half ago, when I rode solo down the coast. It was funto relive that adventure a little. Sometimes, life makes no sense, until you chuck it all to the side and view it from a new angle. I'm so glad I had that opportunity.

We spent the morning at Monterey Aquarium and really enjoyed just being together. It seems that our vacation is finally coming through for us. Once we left Utah, my congestion cleared and I stopped coughing almost entirely. Could it be that I am sincerely allergic to Utah?

Yesterday, we drove across Utah, Nevada and California-856 miles of fun which translates to about 15 hours of driving. The highlights were waking at dawn in what I thought was a snowfield at dawn. JE stopped at a rest area and we ran out onto the salt flats if western Utah. They were somehow serene and beautiful, and altogether magical. The distant hills were golden and the salt was very white in a continual sheet that stretched across the valley, perfectly flat. I'd seen photos of the salt flats, but was surprised by them in real life. Not as surprised as I was to look out the window in Nevada and see a crazy wood and stucco structure embedded with bottles and faces made of clay. The Thundermountain Indian Monument was standing alone on the side of the road as we drove past. I asked JE if we could stop, and he conceded. This place was one of the creepiest places I had ever even. Here and there were old rusted out engines, cars, statuary, rotted furniture, and heaps of rocks and junk. The structure it's self was made of bottles and rocks stuck together, some was stuccoed over.

Reno was just plane strange. We stopped for lunch and decided that if you peppered a bit of Vegas into Cleveland and sprinkled in a few mountains, you'd get Reno. Admittedly, we werent there long, but a first impression is a first impression.

Probably the best thing about the trip was checking into our hotel and going for a run to remove some of the stiffness in our bodies. We ran along the beach trail, north to the lighthouse, south and then to the end of the warf. The fog was so thick! And having just left one of the driest states, it was nice to be surrounded by water.

Tonight, JE and I ran south, past the boardwalk amusement park and down to a beach my friends brought me to when I was traveling through on bike. At the north end of the beach is a long spine of rock. It seemed inevitable that we run around the point of the rock, race the incoming waves, but get our new shoes doused with seawater. We continued along the beach, heading north, until we were cut off by a river flowing into the sea. At that point we ran toward the rock, JE was going back to the point, I went for the face. There was a skinny trail etched through the bits of scraggly flora that clung to the rock. Climbing was easy. The rock was barely wider than the trail which traversed from the cliffs at the top of the beach to the point if rock jutting into the sea. We sat at the point, until we got cold then started our run back to the hotel.

Did I mention the trestle bridge? Remember the river? Well, on the way we crossed a bridge. With railroad tracks. And trestles. And graffiti that claimed, "this bridge will fall!" and places where that bridge had fallen. Literally.

I was focused on making sure my feet were centered over the middle of each tie. As a kid, my dad would take my family hiking on the newly built, but not yet operating, railroad trestle bridges that clung to the mountains in our area. Imagine "stand by me" minus the train-track. We would walk the bridges, always afraid we'd fall through the slats. At one point, my sister wedged her foot between the ties and lost her shoe to the hundred foot drop. Those bridges were sound, still scary, but not falling apart.

The trestle bridge tonight was in no way sound. Dry rot and age had deteriorated the ties, and some had fallen to the river below. But, we were halfway across the bridge before we realized this fact. What brought it to my attention was my gut dropping out from under me as I stopped. My next step could have been through a gap wide enough to slip an entire person through onto a rocky riverbed 50 feet below. JE grabbed my hand and reminded me that I could do this. I pointed my flashlight so that it displayed only what was in front of me, not below me, and continued walking.

Most happiness is about perception. Seeing what you have vs seeing what you don't have. I have this sweet, patient, amazing man in my life. He is my best friend, wise advisor, and witty counterpart. He makes me laugh, consoles my sorrow and takes my hand when I am afraid. Does life get better than that? For some, sure. But for me? He is my everything. Others have different means of happiness: nieces and nephews, moms and dads, children or pets. Work? Friends? A place to call home? Maybe money makes you happy. But the lack of any of the desires of your heart, should not be a means of unhappiness. This will be my something to work on in the new year. Changing my attitude and finding my gratitude.

That, and running a marathon.

Later we went to dinner and a funk concert at the Crepe Hut in Santa Cruz. So much fun. OTS which stands for On The Spot, a funky Medeski, Martin and Wood style trio. JE loved it. He was a bit jealous of their equipment.

Swam my mile today. And though it was rhythmless and fragmented, it felt great. Between the altitude and this ailment, I really struggled for it. Half way through, I played my game of elongating my entire body and holding that position while I kicked to maintain my position at the surface of the water. There were a few good stretches, when I did find my rhythm and maintained my speed.

Dinner with friends, Matt and April. Matt made tandoori chicken pizza on homemade naan bread, with a cilantro based pesto and a tamarind balsamic glaze. It was so good!

Crater

The day began with me, alone in bed, waking up to nightmares. JE had left very early to take out car to the dealership in an attempt to find out why it has been overheating. Nightmares gave way to wakefulness and coughing. Nasty stuff. I haven't been sick for this long in years.; is it Utah?

The car is fine, by all accounts. The mechanic test drove it three times and could find nothing wrong with it. So we drove up to Sundance. While we were walking around, we passed a family taking pictures. Someone called out, "hey Larry, want to come be in our family portrait?" I looked over and saw Larry King running into frame. I turned to JE and told him I wanted to ask for a photo with my aliens. Yah, they go everywhere with me these days, for just such occasions. JE was adamant that I had to be the one to ask, no way was he going to do it! No sweat. Mr. King had no qualms with my taking a photo with him, even when I introduced him to Nuni and Sassathorne. One of his entourage asked if it was like a flat stanley, and I said yes. He reached for the dolls, but I explained that if I hold them, they look life sized. He joked that it was the first time having a photo taken had to be explained to him. But when I was done and showed him the photo, he laughed, said it was cool and passed it around to show his wife and family. Fun.

We continued our drive up the canyon, making it to the Timoanogas trailhead without overheating.

The drive up is so beautiful. The mountains are cragged and massive icicles drip out of them, where springs fall in the summer. There is little snow right now, so the foliage near the river is still autumnal in color. Everything is radiantly gold and green from the evergreens. At the top, near the trailhead, silvery birch trees up to their ankles in snow, line the entrance.

One of the things we anticipated doing while here, was to go to the Midway Crater. This is one of the truly unique experience to be had in this area. It is a lump in the landscape with a hole on top and a hot spring inside. In 1995, a tunnel going into the crater was dug. It is now one of the few places in Utah to offer scuba diving year round. JE and I spent an hour luxuriating in the warm water. We were the only ones in the crater, besides a few divers below. It was peaceful to just float.

When we got home, we were both so tired that we went straight to sleep. Now I'm up and it's 3:30 AM.

What the Dickens

I think Charles Dickens had it about right: Christmas Eve is for reflecting the past and present, to determine the future of our lives. Christmas Day is for the living.

JE and I were alone for the better part of the morning. We opened presents and reheated cinnamon rolls in the oven (which we overheated, causing to frosting to become a thick caramel glaze--far too sweet for my sugarless palate. However, when paired with left over Brie and ham, this was a perfect breakfast for a celebration day!) I got new Brooks running shoes! These will be my long distance trainers. I need to run, or swim. Something! Anything! Being stuck inside because of the car or cold or being sick--SUCKS! I'll be polite and not mention what it sucks...

Later, we drove up to Meri's and hung out with her family. It was fun, playing faux-Barbie with my little nieces. I have to admit, I wasn't playing right. My faux-Barbies kept fainting because they were too skinny and needed to eat something. They were just too weak to hold themselves up, even when Prince Ken came to ask them to dance. I am a terrible person...

Nuni and Sassathorne have a book which we gave as gifts to JE's mom and sister, Stephanie. It is a pictorial of Nuni and Sassathorne spending a day in Los Angeles. Super fun, and well received.

Dinner was traditional turkey and ham and all the fixings and all the family. We brought our grain and fruit salad, which seemed to be well loved. I also made a pie--peanut butter. It was good, made with real sugar, and caramel, and chocolate. It pretty much rocked, and was incredibly sweet. Half way through, I was finished. But it's Christmas, and I don't get to glut on sugar like that these days. Please notice that it is nearly two AM. Yah. Sugar...

Games and movies followed, but I was feeling poorly again and lay as a lump on the couch.

We dropped by Matt and April's on the way home and shared our 2011 playlist. These are the friends who showed us around Taiwan. It's nice to have them home. Love them.

Merry Christmas Eve

JE and I drove out to Springville for part of our family Christmas celebration, this evening. It was a simple gathering, with JE's sister's family and his mom. Dinner. The nativity as performed by my nieces and nephews. A game called Things. And dessert as supplied by yours truly (it's so disappointing to spend do much time preparing something that no one eats).

I picked up my great niece tonight. She was crawling into the next room to relieve her brother who was bawling his head off for being punished in a time out. Generally, I don't pick up babies. I've become excessively gun shy, so to speak. But life is about making choices, and living with the consequences. If I want these little people to be in my life later, I need to be in their lives now. How many fears have I come over in the past little while? I can do this. Admittedly, this first interaction with her was to hand her off to her father, my nephew. But I did play with her later. And her brother.

On the way home, JE and I stopped by the cemetery. As we were driving past, on our way to dinner, many families had gathered at the cemetery in the brilliant golden light of sunset, to decorate and place candles on family graves. On our way home, the cemetery was filled with luminaries and Mylar Christmas trees. It glittered and shimmered in the cold night air. We parked the car and walked the perimeter, outside the tall iron fence, and looked in at the lights. It was still and very cold, the stars were magnificently reflecting that light right back at us.

You know that song by Hugh Martin and Ralph Blane: Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas? And remember when Judy Garland sang it to Margaret O'Brien just before Margaret went stark-raving and ran out to dig up her dead dolls in Meet Me in St Louis? Remember the sweet melancholy and strange nostalgic feeling in that one song? That just about sums up this Christmas for me. Thoughts of my dead family filled my mind and how very blessed I am because I knew them. JE's father is buried in that cemetery. Someday, we should go light candles for him. Way up in Portland, Oregon, my family muddles through their first Christmas without my mom. Wish I could be there with them.

I talked to my father this evening. He is very happy in Portland and exercising daily at the gym. So far he has lost 26 pounds.

It's twelve degrees outside right now. I am snug inside with a space heater and a humidifier. No way on God's grean earth will I be running today. Weather is so much an issue on this trip. But also, I'm still sick.

At six this morning, I woke with a pounding headache. My sinuses are fully clogged and miserable. I've been trying to take it easy, relax and get over this thin but it feels like its just settling in further. I started coughing in earnest last night. The problem with HMOs is found here: the closest facility is in Colorado. That's a hell of a drive for a fifteen minute visit to get a few pills. And I'm not sure our car could make it anyway.

Yesterday, JE and I were trying to get see some of the beauty of the area. We drove up Provo canyon, on our way to Sundance and the car began to overheat. JE pulled off and called a tow truck. He and a brother in law worked the rest of the day changing the thermostat. As he drove home from the shop, it started to overheat again. He thinks the water pump is going out.

I wonder if we will ever make it to Santa Cruz for the reception. Maybe we will breakdown on Donner pass and go cannibal. Seems right in keeping with the tenor of this trip.

My iPad memory got wiped out. Hateful. We were on our way to Utah when I realized this, so there is no way to know if my backup worked. That was a rough day. The same day JE forgot to bring his suit to Utah for the wedding.

Could things have gotten worse. Yes, they did. But just briefly. But we a choosing to ignore that And now we are still in bed at twenty after one on a Tuesday. Gotta love the holidays.

Hoping for snow today, so that it will warm up here. It was so cold when we arrived, there was hoarfrost on the trees. So pretty.

Hoping for a swim sometime today or tomorrow. It's so cold, my lungs hurt when I run.

Monkey see, monkey do

When I awoke this morning, the sky was still dark with a heavy set of storm clouds. The weather channel app said that my area was on alert for severe weather in the form of thunderstorms and torrential rain. How fun! It cemented my thoughts of going for my long run today, before my week heats up exponentially. 

My trail runs riverside, next to one of those big concrete ditches that usually only hold a trickle of water and a medley of wildlife in the soft bottoms. As the river passes under the 405 freeway, the river is sent into a concrete channel, almost narrow enough to straddle, with a wide cement sidewalk on either side. Just below this bottleneck, is a series of large concrete teeth used to catch the debris before it enters the ocean,  a few miles away.

The river was fast and full of debris. Not garbage, so much as leaves and branches. Probably left over from our wind storms of last week. The channel was full and spilling onto the walkways in places. It excited an instant of fear at the realization of the power and swiftness of that river. Already the guardrail had sticks lodged in it from earlier in the day. The water must have been at least a foot deeper. 

I ran in my bike brights, a neon green zipper front jacket with back pockets across the rear. As JE was driving to his work with me in the passenger seat, I looked over at a truck next to us and saw the driver sporting bike brights. I started looking around at his vehicle to find his bike and realized that both the passenger and the driver were looking at me and looking around the car to find my bike. Completely recognizable as bike wear. But, it saved me. My ten miles was fun, but wet and cold. My inner thermostat kept my core warm, but my limbs were all wet and chilled. But, I felt invigorated by the rain!

I was the only person running out there today. I passed two people on bicycles, but that was it for my entire ten mile stretch. When I think about how many people live here and probably ended up at the gym today, I have to laugh. Can you imagine the humidity from the sweat generated by all those bodies? Yuck! And you're breathing that stuff...

When I got back to the freeway underpass, the river was impassable. I sent JE a text asking if he would pick me up at a nearby store. My phone battery went dead even before I knew if he had gotten my text. But when I got to the store, he was waiting for me in the car with the heat cranked up and the seat heaters on. That is love!

I was so cold and hungry, we stopped by the closest burger joint and got lunch from the drive thru. As we were waiting in line, we watched several people going in and out of the store. Most of them hunched over, bending their knees and squinting with their foreheads ready for spring planting. It was sort of comical at first and uproariously funny by the end of lunch. My favorite was a woman in a raincoat and goulashes clutching a bag of food to her chest as she huddled over to protect it on the way to her car.  We parked, facing the entrance, to eat--just so we could watch people's response to the rain. Some Californians do not do well in wet weather.

Maybe this sounds sort of mean, but I grew up in Seattle, where rain is a given. So, seeing so many people interacting with these rare southern California rains, was an experiment on culture!

After lunch, I was still frozen, so JE took me to a coffee house to get a cup of something hot. As we got out of the car, JE called to me that I needed to hunch down and furrow my forehead to stay dry. We both took long steps, coming from the hip, with our shoulders bent toward our knees. JE was fast in that position, and I called to squint his eyes if he wanted to stay dryer.

JE's quote of the day, in reference to anyone who may have seen us playing fools: those guys are smart. In that position they are likely to get less wet!" well, I was belly laughing...

The one problem with these big runs is how remarkably calorie deprived I feel afterward. I'm not entirely sure it isn't the cold making me feel like this. In Nar'yan Mar, in the sub degree temperature, I sought high calorie foods all the time. Tatiana Ivanovna owned a countertop deep fat fryer. Perhaps arctic Russia is one of the truly excusable place to own one of these things. Often, after a long day at work, she would turn on the fryer and 'boil' hotdogs in it until the skin turned golden and split. I never developed an affinity for this. My high calorie food was French toast fried in endless amounts of butter topped with black current jam. I'd eat it with a piping hot cup of peach or blackberry tea with a healthy dollop of sweetened condensed milk stirred in. Yum.

Severe weather alerts for this morning. How exciting! I'm going for my third ten miler, with the anticipation that this rain and possible thunderstorms will be energizing for me. I asked JE if he wanted me to wait and run with him tonight, and at first he said yes, then we both realized that I'm going to have to get lost in my day today. On top of my self induced commitments, I'm also working this week. Today is my only truly free day and I'm going out to enjoy it. I love this!

Cold

JE's comment as we finished our run tonight was poignant, "Why is it that 48 degrees feels colder than 48 degrees here? In Utah, 48 degrees is nothing!" I was shaking by the time I got into the car. Thank goodness for heaters! Even still, my lips were blue by the time I got home.

Earlier in the day, I made a huge pot of borscht with far more beef than would be found in any authentic Russian soup. But it was so good and nourishing, accompanied by a good dark Russian sour bread. The bread was a far cry from the black heavy loaves speckled with bits of seeds, nuts and raisins that I had up north, but still delicious. Especially after a solid 10 mile run.

Ten miles.

JE keeps asking me if I ever dreamed that someday I'd be running 10 miles with so little effort. I wanted to smack him when he asked that. My run tonight was such hard work, so much effort for me to keep going. If it hadn't been so damn cold, I think I would have walked a lot more often. But it was cold, so to keep from hypothermia, I ran.

Some days are just stronger than other days.

JE has an effortless ability to just keep going, to run and not seem to feel it. Some days, he runs circles around me, literally. But match us on a pool or on a distance bike ride, and I can kick his trash.

Small change

As I swam back and forth in the pool this Arvo, my mind was engrossed with all the motivations for change. What is change? What motivates it? How do people find the motivation to continue on a new chosen path? What is a life changing event?

For some time now, I've been consumed with the notion that life changing events are drastically smaller than most people think. If I call some small little thing, "life-changing," people giggle, get uncomfortable, think I'm being overly dramatic. But really, when do true changes occure? Where is the trailhead? If all my life I have been on a chosen path, for me this was being negligent of my health, and I remain on that path, I will eventually end up at the destination of poor health. Because consequences follow actions. Period. One day I wake up and see where I am heading. I have to make a choice: stay on that path or change. But change is hard. Change takes work. Life is comfortable. But the seed is sewn, that thought exists, and an intelligent mind will keep working out how to change. The change is already underway.

Tiny changes begin to happen: choosing the broth soup over the cream soup, salad instead of fries, walking up the stairs rather than the elevator, go for a run just because it feels good to move. The mind gets happy with these changes, endorphins begin to arise and clean out the cobwebs of sadness and loneliness. The world gets brighter. There is time to think and sort and figure things out. Life looks better and better. Suddenly, I wonder how on earth I ever lived without sweating everyday?

It started with a salad.

As I stepped from the shower, I could hear them chatting animatedly. These two kind men who grace my life. I have no idea what they were discussing, but it was fun to be privy to their tone of voice. Dad had gone to a Family Home Evening organized for seniors at my church. He was in high spirits, all night long. His body doesn't seem to ache so much, when he feels good. 

JE and I went running tonight, ten miles. That was a first. In reality, we went a bit further. Each time I stopped to stretch, walk or wait to cross the street, JE would pause to odometer/speedometer/calorimeter/chronometer.  We had completed our seven mile loop, and were heading west on the trail. At mile eight, I was ready to be finished. But, when things are broken down into manageable sizes, it's tough to argue against it. We knew we had a mile and a half out, then the same distance back. So, when we got to mile eight, and only had half a mile of that leg, it was worth  it to just keep keeping on and finish that leg. And then the return... But I had already run an mile and. half, and if that that was all that was left, I could do that. Except when we arrived at the trailhead and still had just under half mile to go. It took JE asking me if I was really going to quit with only .38ths of a mile left to complete our goal.

I did it. I finished. I am nowhere near comfortable with it, but I did it! In less than two hours.

Afterward, JE treated me to Chipotle. Getting in and out of the car was painful. Chipotle now serves brown rice, and not just white rice! Awesome

Plan for the Week

It is more difficult to write these days, and I'm not sure what shifted. Things feel so much more internal than external. And yet, as when I put forth the energy to run or swim or cycle, I am rewarded with the ability to see more clearly, be more vibrant in living, accept my life and see the beauty in it.

Writing is important for me, but publishing it, is becoming less so. And yet, one drives the other.

Last week I ordered a pair of pants, the same size I wore before I was married. They came last week. They are a bit tight, but by worldly standards they fit fairly well. This no sugar, no fried, whole grain thing is kind of awesome for that.

Wednesday to celebrate finishing his project, JE took me out for dinner and we tried what we thought was somewhere new. Several years ago, we went to a little place called 101 Noodle company in La Hambra on the recommendation of a foodie show on KCRW. They have these amazing beef sandwich rolls, unlike any beef sandwich I'd ever tried. The meat is dark and salty and there are lots of herbs and garlic. The whole thing is rolled into a Chinese pancake and cut into 6 big chunks. Amazing! Any time we were in the area, we dropped by for one of these rolls. This is also where I tried chicken feet for the first time (they are fine, except for the large talons...) Well, we now have a 101 noodle company within 10 miles of our home! We could bike there!

Loads to do this week and next. Work at home: list some of my projects on Etsy. I need to finish JE's suit, get a book done for my sisters (a mom photo album), order Nuni and Sassathorne books for JE's family, make a Christmas cd, write my annual newsletter (or not--no offense friends, but sometimes I get so many Christmas letters I can't read them all until I take them down to put them away. And who would really want to know about my year who doesn't already check in here anyway?), send out cards and cd's, and just plain cards, and get my groove on in my running. I also have a beautiful piece of black lace and a length of oyster colored silk I'd like to magic into a lovely gown to wear to my nephew's wedding in Utah this Christmas. I wonder if I'll have time. Where is my fairy godmother?

Friend BC recommended taking an ibuprofen after running to cut the inflammation. Friday, after we ran, I did a series of double dip walking lunges and added a triangle pose followed by a warrior two pose, then finished the lunge, really focussing on opening my hips and stretching my hamstrings, calves and quads. When I got home, I tried the ibuprofen trick and applied heat (probably should have been ice) to my trouble hip. No pain, at all. Awesome!

Plan for the week:
Monday: run 10 miles with JE after work
Dinner: turkey something... Probably salad
Dad goes to FHE for seniors!

Tuesday: swim with dad. Shoot for a mile
Dinner: sloppy joes (I have a terrible feeling beef will be the next thing to take out of my diet)
class

Wednesday: run, hill repeats 45 minutes
Dinner: vegetarian chili and corn bread

Thursday: cycle go for a nice ride somewhere pretty
Dinner: grilled cheese and soup
Laguna Beach Christmas fair, Creches from around the world with Kim and the kids

Friday: run, short and sweet and pretty, about four miles
Dinner: JE requested pork loin with baked apples, sweet potatoes, and salad/greens
Lisa arrives

Saturday: dry pac canning of wheat, choir at Segerstrom hall in the Arvo, and a fun run with JE at night. To the beach with dad if there is time.
dinner: out!

Leftovers

Yesterday was Thanksgiving, here in the States. We celebrated with my Gram at her retirement community. The meal was typical, turkey with stuffing, candied yams, mashed potatoes and gravy, Brussels sprouts and some form of cranberry something. All followed with your choice of pumpkin, pecan or mincemeat pie.  The company was extraordinary.  There are few topics  my Gram cannot intelligently converse. At ninety-two, she is still learning her art of watercolor, and told us about a painting class she recently attended. It make me happy to know her in my adulthood,  and I can't help but think that if she and I were peers, we would have been cohorts mischief. 

I recently told my dad about a story Gram shared with me. She attended art school in Boston during the Depression. She and her rebel friends were called into the dean's office for smoking corncob pipe at one of the public fountains. Dad said he had never heard about any of this. Not really something you tell your kids, no.  But your grandkids? Heck yes!

Today I singlehandedly made a complete turkey dinner for three. I'm good. I'm really good. All my prep time was about two hours, scattered here and there. I even brined the bird and made my own stock for the gravy.

The food was really good, and even reduced fat and sugar free. Some tricks I picked up in my prep: 

Don't mash the potatoes. Serve them whole, boiled, with the gravy you'd be serving with them anyway. No salt, cream or butter- we did not miss it.

Yams: pre bake and peel them. I squeezed an orange over them and melted a tablespoon ( or two) of butter in a saucepan. I added chopped pecans, toasted unsweetened coconut and a couple minced dates. That mixture went on top of the yams while they reheated. Best candied yams I have ever eaten.

Stuffing: I added fresh chestnuts this year and a handful of dried cranberries to my traditional stuffing. It was amazing what a difference that addition made. I also used less than half the butter of my usual recipe.

Turkey: it brined for an hour in two cups of kosher salt, two cups of white wine, and about a gallon of water. Then I dried it and basted with butter. The gravy from the dripping turned out really well.

Brussels: I treated them the way I treat my collard and chard: sauté onion, bacon, and garlic. Add balsamic and stock, bring it to a boil and add the sprouts. Cook until tender.

Pumpkin pie: sprinkle 1 tsp unflavored gelatin over 2 tablespoons water and microwave for 30 seconds.  Whip one package low fat cream cheese with half a cup of Stevia in the raw, one teaspoon vanilla, and 3/4 cup pureed pumpkin. While beaters are still blending, add the gelatin, all at once.  Fold in whipped cream (from 1 cup whipping cream, whipped). Pipe into pre baked mini pie-shells. Refrigerate for a few hours before serving. I took these down to Gram's as a sugar free option for dessert. They need to sit overnight, so the Stevia can mellow a bit.  I also made pecan tarts using date syrup and coconut sugar, but I cannot vouch that they were really glycemically sound, but they were damn good.

So much for no-moving movie day. While the turkey roasted, we all went shopping and picked up a large area rug for the now movie room.

Thanksgiving bellies are stressful. So much rich food and nowhere for it to go. JE and I waited a few hours and went for a 10k run. My time per mile is down half a minute per mile. Partly because he took time-outs when I walked--less than half a mile. Awesome. We each burned over a thousand calories. Nice.

Groggy this morning, and barely aware. JE left while I was still snoozing. Sleep and sleep and a melancholy heart.

Nasty little virus took up residence in my nose, but finally gave way after I flooded it with elderberry tincture and sleep. Feeling better and like I could really be on the mend.

Tonight, I introduced dad to a board game called, The Farming Game. He loved it. We drink a lot of herbal tea around these parts, lately. It's pleasant with him here, it makes thing more real. Delial stage gave way...

It's after one in the morning and JE is still working. They moved his deadline up by a day. He might be home at a normal hour on Wednesday. Strange st see him in the daylight, these days.

Plan for the week

Nights have suddenly grown cold enough that the cat wants to sleep under the covers in the morning. He knows better than to wake me up during the night to beg his way under the duvet. Lately, I've been waking with Moncha, our twenty pound cat, curled in a snug ball at my feet. This still surprises me; how many times have inadvertently kicked him off the bed while he slept. Be careful, kitty...

JE is on his final count down. Three more days, one big push. In honesty, it has been a good thing that JE has been working so much lately. Dad likes to watch JE work and offers advice at each turn. If JE weren't the patient, kind man that he is... Tonight, while JE was changing the taillight on our car, dad was standing in the garage offering all sorts of advice. Finally, I rounded dad up the stairs and gave him the assignment of making us all tea. He forgot his assignment by the time he was at the top, but JE was back inside within five minutes, task complete. He just needed a bit of quiet. I'm not sure how this whole thing is going to shake down once I have a husband back in the house. This Thanksgiving weekend should be interesting.

In preparation, I've reclaimed part of our storage area in the tomb,the basementy part of the condo which sits behind the garage. It's an unfinished area, with floor joists for the ceiling, plumbing pipes though out, and ten feet of subfloor which runs into a dirt wall. I've never been so excited to have this space, but with a bit of work, some serious dejunking, a good rug and an air purifier, the giant beanbag chair will have a home again! And JE will have a little place to claim as his own again.

I'm also working on getting rid of The Great Pile in the garage. Dad has been parking out back and using the back door in our bedroom to get to his car. Saturday morning,  JE was getting ready for work, I was sleeping, when dad walked into our bedroom without knocking. Understandably, he was trying to get to his car, but not really ok. So the removal of the crap in the garage just got expedited. Stairs, or no stairs; bad hip or no hip; our backdoor just became off limits.

I'm excited for this week. Thanksgiving day, JE and I will start out with a big run. I hope. I'm fighting a tiny little cold, which keeps trying to sneak into my lungs. My hope is to be done with this nasty thing before Wednesday. 

Monday: plan food for week and shop. Finish organizing garage, and tomb. Little run, four miles or so. 
Dinner: Thai curry
Tuesday: bike ride if it isnt raining. Work on suit for class. 
Dinner: veggie  soup and walnut bread with cheese
Wednesday: swim a mile. prep low GI pie to take to Gram's
Dinner: chipotle 
Thursday: run a lengthy run, eat a lot of food and be so very grateful. 
Friday: watch movies and eat yummy, healthyish snacks and leftovers. Bike if we feel like it. Swimming is also a possibility. Whatever we like for the next couple of days. 
Dinner: leftovers
Saturday: enjoy the day. Set up the Christmas tree. 

Dreams

Each time I wondered if I could do this in such a short time period, it stopped me mid-stride. Less than six months. Part of this is planning, part of it weighs in heavily on my conscious of doing things wholly and well. Is six months enough to make this a comfortable part of my being? To allow this to be more than a crash course? It took a year to earn this four miles, and to suddenly and wondrously lunge forward into my now comfortable seven mile run. But twenty-six point two? Careful planning is required to achieve this dream.

I've started to run hills, in an attempt to pick up my speed. Yesterday, JE woke early with me and we ran up and around the hills in our neighborhood. We passed a trash truck, and realized we hadn't set the garbage cans on the curb. We raced up the hill with a new found urgency with the truck making it's way up somewhere behind us. When we crested the hill and started down, we ran hard, leaping the speed bumps on along the way. We could hear the truck close behind, and getting closer. We ran big, trying to keep him from passing us. As we rounded the corner to our front door, and hauled the trash cans out, the truck passed our place. It was not our truck. Our truck came five minutes later. We stood at our entry, breathing hard and laughing. JE told me that I can really haul ass, when I want too...

My tulle skirts complete, I was able to leave work early today. All this rain that we have been promised over the next couple days is taking it's sweet time to get here. It was warm and sunny, with clouds that herded like sheep across the sky. Perfect for a mid arvo run. I added a hill to my six and a Half miler, and ran though a lemon grove and a field of sage, scented heaven.

About a mile from my goal, I stopped and watched those clouds for a few minutes (when was the last time I did that?), and calculated. If I add three and two thirds miles each month... But that thought is what kept halting me in my run today. Could I run some of the twenty-odd miler routes I have been cycling over the past couple years? Do I want to? How bad do I want to achieve this crazy dream?

Warm ups

Running through the trails of Irvine at night with my sweet JE is one of my favorite things to do these days. Six and a half miles later, and I'm feeling so good. Tired and tight, but good. The Great Park Balloon shown its orangy self, like a great big harvest moon with a flashing red beacon attached at the top.

It is a strange thing to me, that four miles is a warm up for me. My peak run happens after four miles. I feel lithe and strong after a long warmup. How like my whole life...

Mile markers

I'm not quite sure when, during my race in May, I stopped freaking out and just started swimming. But I remember lifting my head out of the water to see those big yellow buoys so close. Rounding the second buoy, I remember thinking that I was more than half way done with my swim. There were two more legs of the race, equivalent to a couple hours, and I intended to enjoy the experience.

Some things are not so easy to see the immediate direction, nor the mile marks. Progress is slow, but the journey can be enjoyable. My circumstances have changed drastically in the past month (I can not believe it is one month tomorrow since dad came to stay). My freakout session is over and I find that the journey is enjoyable (though I'm still finding it a challenge to keep my temper when I see dad running around my house in his underwear, or worse... Especially since I have had ro reliquish my right to do the selfsame thing--and in my own house! But some boundaries will keep us all happy.)

Mile markers for my life all seem to involve getting my father into some sort of fitness and social level. Weird. Is this how moms feel? Like they give up most of themselves, as a sacrifice for the betterment of someone else? Strange that it's my father. In reality, things have tempered around here. Dad's blood sugar is now in the normal range, nearly always and he just weighed in at 298 (as opposed to 315 when he got here). What we eat is how I have always thought would be a happy healthy way to eat: homemade bread with tons of seeds and cracked grains, fresh produce galore, lean proteins, no sugar nor fried foods, most meals at home at the table together. My exercise routine is engrained in me, my body doesn't function well without the expenditure of energy, and I need those endorphins to stabilize me. Socially, I finally reached out, and guess what? Friends were there, reaching back. Tuesday and Wednesday, I had lunch with friends I'd not seen in ages, so fun and good for the soul! Work is good--sixteen remakes of the same exact costume, ballet skirts with extra layers sewn in. I'd say ick, but I'm kind of enjoying it. My Christmas "shopping" is in progress (I usually only make gifts, and this year finds a couple of my gifts well under way--as opposed to my usual procrastinated state of frenzy).

It wasn't a long run this morning, in the predawn hours, and the rain began during my last 100 yards. I did one lap around the neighborhood, then scared the cat at the backdoor as I opened the door to snug my JE, who was still warm in bed. Time with him is scarce and has become more important than anything else. He took off early from work, and took me and dad out to Korean tofu soup (soondubu). This is now one of dad's favorite meals--this from a man who, until one month ago never tried kimchi nor ordered anything but fried rice at any Asian restaurant.

Umami

I've been a bit of an emotional logjam, lately. This morning, as I was finishing my 6.4 mile run, my sister called to chat. She asked me how I'm doing with dad being here and told me that she is worried about me. I burst out crying. It's just a lot, all at once. I'm so grateful I have running, riding and swimming to assist with fighting back some of the more overwhelming
Feelings.

JE is working solid 12-16 hour days for the next two weeks, including weekends. There is talk that his company could be sending him out of the country for a couple weeks for work (those of you who don't know my JE, don't be suspicious of him. He is true and pure and loyal). I'm dying to go with him, if he gets to go. But what about dad?

I keep thinking about that 8 year old me, listening to the radio giving away vacations and wanting for my family to be able to go on a vacation. But even at that age, I knew I'd have to come back to the destitute situation of my family.

Even so, I sneak time away. My runs are getting longer, allowing me to escape for an hour or two, just to be on my own; with my only care: my breath. And sometimes, late at night, I run with JE. And other times, dad goes to the family history center.

I love having my father here, I love his intelligence, kindness and laugh. He is a sweet person and helpful when he can be. He has learned so much about how to take care of himself lately; from his glucose and exercise, to brushing his hair, putting on clean clothes and taking pride in the way he looks before he goes out. I don't really know how to explain who my parents are/were: they lived together for 44 years and didn't really pay much attention to what was happening around them. Dad lived under a tyrannical and abusive rule for most of those years, so right now he is learning how to be a person again. I think it's very difficult for him to be alone, even to go to the grocery store. I've been trying to encourage him to get at least one meal for himself each day, but I have to be so careful because some days he just does not eat. He spoke about his hoarding problem today, he owned that he hoarded and never wanted to do that again.

Tonight, halloweeners came to the door and got a scare. Outside the door, Dad sat perfectly still holding a big bowl of candy. As kids came into range, dad surprised them. I listened from the balcony as one boy told his friend, "you go first, don't be such a baby!" But neither of them would get anywhere near dad. So funny!

My bread is getting better, JE is earning extra dough, dad's blood sugar is stable--it has been in a normal range for a while, I'm caught up in my class, and suddenly have 4 people calling me for work (just small jobs). There is a bitter sweetness in my life, a full mouth feel, a richness. Umami.

Carbs

My kitchen has become a laboratory for bread baking.Today I baked a beautiful fluffy cracked wheat sandwich loaf. A while ago, I received Rose Levy Beranbaum's "the Bread Bible," as a gift. I confess that it sat unused since that time. But it's now on my nightstand, open to a page about biscuits. As with Joy of Cooking, there is a lot of useful information. This book, however, is far more scientific in it's approach. Rose is the sort of baker who does not sacrifice taste for health benefits, so wading though the vast amounts of information to find the details I need, is a worthwhile but lengthy process. Using what knowledge I have of baking, I know that I can substitute up to half the white flour with whole-wheat. But until today, I'd not been able to get a fluffy, moist, satisfying wholewheat bread. Thanks to rose and her OCD, I've learned a few tricks in regards to bread making. Namely: sponge starters, autolyse, three risings and vital wheat gluten (1 tsp per cup of wholewheat flour--my recipe).

Since dad arrived, and my no-sugar pledge was installed, I've been plotting a way to make really tasty treats, using natural sugars-as unrefined as I can get them (think dates pulverized with the pumpkin as a sweetener in quick breads).

Several years ago, I went with no sugar for about ten months, only using honey, maple syrup, and date sugar very sparingly. At the time, I did a lot of experimenting, and now I lament that I did not keep a record. Admittedly some of my recipes were pretty desperate, utilizing what was on hand to concoct some pretty atrocious sweets. But there were a few things that remain true, and generally those are the least tampered with:

Frozen banana, drizzled with a tiny bit of dark dark chocolate and pressed with toasted pecans.

Fruit, particularly grapefruit.

Dates, medjool. One or two at a time

Milk, 2%

Dark dark chocolate

Things I'd like to experiment and find a more suitable low glycemic index alternative: pumpkin pie, banana bread, pumpkin bread, carrot cake (for dad's upcoming birthday), frozen yogurt. What seems odd, is that, while I'd like to do some experimenting with this and perfect some recipes, I have not really missed sweets. Well, once I got over those nasty little cravings...

With my increase in distance, I've been craving carbs. But with dad around, who struggles with portions, it would be a cruel punishment to know that somewhere in the house, someone is eating his favorite meal--noodles. So, the past couple days, I wait for him to leave and then pour myself a bowl of cereal. I'll say this, I got my will power from somewhere, and I'm coming to understand that it is from him. He has set his mind to loose weight by eating right and exercising, and he is doing it. I had a celebration today when dad told me that his blood sugars were at 90, right in midrange for him. This is the second straight day of in range blood sugars. When dad reaches for a snack, he now reaches for nuts, turkey and cheese with rye crackers, or celery with a french onion yogurt dip I made for him. He has learned to avoid the high carb/sugar snacks he used to rely on.

JE has been working so much lately, I asked if we could run together on his dinner break. For four straight miles, we chatted and talked. It was so nice to be with him as the sun was setting.

He laughed pretty hard when I told him about what I want to do for our Halloween handouts. I'd like to take a photo of my dad's foot, he is missing his big toe and his nails are black. On the photo, I want to put the words: this is what happens if you eat too much candy! Ok, I know I'm starting to sound as crazy about this subject as Rose Levy sounds about her baking, and she sounds like a real nut job! So...

Swam today, also. I think my flip turns are doing me in. I'm often very dizzy and have a hard time completing my mile. Today was just 1,300 yards.

Butts

Having my father around is a big reminder of the heritage of genes. When I trail behind my dad, as he goes up the stairs, my eyes take in that thing I want the least to see--ok, maybe the second thing I want least to see--his butt. My father is wide through the lower extremities, his belly is full and round, his shoulders almost slope. But, when I see his butt, it reminds me of the male equivalent of my butt: long and full. I used to hate my butt. But, last night I read an article in Runners World about our prehistoric ancestors chasing prey for huge long distances, upheld in part by their enormous butt muscles. It was grounds to change may attitude about my butt. This morning, I put that bit of knowledge to the test and ran 6.4 miles. I felt strong and unwinded as I finished my run, I ran almost the entire way, taking two 30 second walking breaks. This is a big jump,in distance, as I've only been running 4 milers for the past couple months.

Better today, no unleashing of temper tantrums and cuss words. Peace reigns in the city again.

Agro

I do not deserve the faith nor praise I keep hearing from people right now. This past week has caught up with me and I feel extremely overwhelmed. My tempest broke again today, when I ran into the kitchen to pull our burnt breakfast off the stove. Dad sat in a chair ten feet from the stove, JE sat across the room preparing his lesson for church. I ran in, wondered aloud (very loud) that I seemed to be the only one able to do anything about the smoke which filled the house. I had been in the bedroom getting ready for church, big mistake. I haven't been a yeller since I left home, but all of a sudden, there it came. My character is in question here. Yelling, fine. If that had been where I left it. But door slamming followed, then worse still: I started "sorting" the closet (dejunking is a great de-stressor for me) jerking the hangers off the rack. Clothes hit the floor and seemed to explode; there were coat hangers and shirts everywhere. I had accidentally pulled down the upper closet bar. Grrrr...

This past week has been incredibly trying. JE's mom was supposed to come last Thursday, so much of my week was spent in anticipation of giving up my sewing room or my bedroom to her. Then Gram asked dad down to spend the weekend to open up bed-space at my house. On Thursday, just as I was getting ready to send dad off, we called Gram to let her know he was running a bit late. When she learned that he was driving himself down, and not having me drive him down, she panicked and told him not to come. Freak out number one on my part: I took to bed and played words with friends with Cori, who was miraculously online. Dad took off and went to the family history center. I called JE to let him know the new circumstances. Cori and I chatted, and she finally got me to a point that I was excited about mom coming and feeling like a break from my sewing room would do all of us good.

JE called his Mom to see if she needed a ride from the airport. She was waiting to board her flight, but told JE that she wasn't really feeling well and that she was thinking about not coming. She called Meri and got a ride home from the airport.

Someday soon, I'll just go put on my runners and take off for a power agro-run. Let all this frustration flow into something I know what to do with. Of course, right now, I'm just grasping for anything that resembles my old life, when I didn't have this intense new reality of someone really really relying on me and my decisions. Will I ever be able to look at food the same way again?

Friends came over to help quell my storm. Debbie, my friend who is a nurse dealing with diabetic kids, was among them. She brought a book used in her field. My hope is that it is simple enough to not overwhelm dad. He gets a vacant expression every time I talk about balancing carbs and insulin and claims that his body is different. No, dad. Not that different. Part of all of this is helping him to understand what a normal blood sugar range looks and feels like, without badgering. I'm afraid I feel like nothing more than a badger at times.

Still training, and doing a bit of research for another event.

Did you know there is a marathon in Antarctica?

Flip Turns

Back and forth across the Poole, I swim. The sun causing refractions of light through the water. It is beautiful, the way it sparkles against the white floor. At either end, I duck below the surface, summersault so that my feet hit the wall, and kick off, propelling myself back in the direction I just came. For a solid year, I rarely did a flip turn. It was more important to not allow myself the luxury of propulsion, figuring in an open water swim, I'd be hard pressed to find a wall. But now, with no race pending, I flip turn at each time I approach a wall. Just like with all the other elements I've learned over the past year, it took some getting used to. And practice. Now, I can't imagine having wasted so much time, dawdling at each wall. With the flip turns I get in and get it done, maintain my rhythm, and learn to balance my breath.

Dad paces back and forth in the pool. He has gained strength and some agility. Somedays he can stand without his full weight pushing on the arms of the chair or table. His blood sugars are beginning to balance out, his highs are nowhere near the highs of when he first arrived and he is able to navigate them a little easier. We have both mostly stuck to our no sugar pledge.

There is a new and tricky thing that I have discovered about my father. He loves a good story as much as I do. So, the other day, I put on an audio book from the library and invited him into my sewing room. He sat with me for hours, listening while I worked. At one point, I turned to say something to him, he held his finger to his lips to tell me to be quiet and mouthed the words, "I'm listening." I was able to get caught up in my class and begin another project (namely a dressing robe so dad can cover himself when he goes to the loo. Will he use it? Perhaps). When JE got home around 10:30 from work, both dad and I were so invested in the story (Catching Fire), we hardly notices. I wandered into the bedroom a couple hours later to discover JE asleep, his ears covered with a pillow.

Sewed today, for JE. There is a really great toile print of 18th century people doing very the century things. On closer inspection, the people are fleshless skeletons. I used this print to make a cabana style shirt for JE, and used antique bone buttons with extremely large eyes as the closures. It's kind of awesome. I'v been sewing so much the past week. I'm not sure what has possessed me, but it feels good. I've also been really active, running, biking and swimming. I haven't missed a workout, but don't feel the need to put it all down on paper. I've been allowing my new circumstances take precedence over a steadfast plan. It is a needful alteration, but one that I'm hoping won't become permanent, it's nice to have a plan, a wall to kick off...

Gratitudes:
1) music, for when the story runs out and the next book isn't available yet.
2) good stories
3) the increase of Monarch butterflies I've seen lately. I need to go see where they sleep.
4) heavy, moist fog
5) dad got a great old car today, and drove himself to the family history center. No need to call for directions, he got it on the first try- home again too!
6) all the times I get to see JE, and how much I miss him when he has so much work.

Spilled Milk

It was the kind of morning when the milk fell out of the fridge, dousing both feet in the process. I slid to the sink, lifted one foot and then the other into the running water. The floor wasn't so easily taken care of.

Running this morning was great, until I was struck with a pain in my gut and needed a restroom fast. We still had a half miles to go to get home. Good grief. My outlet ran out.

Dad had a hard time getting out the door this morning. He loves going to the family history center at my church, but this morning had me take him to a new, bigger location. Having never been there before, I mapped it and even then, got lost. Wrong address... It's nice to have this as a means of entertainment for him. He loves it, I love that I get a little free time. Play school for geriatrics.

My friend Tiffany and I met at Breaking Dawn for brunch. It was great to be there, so so great. Good good skillet...

I love having dad around, but dad is a constant. The other night, I tried to get some of my sewing in for my class. There was a set of instructions I was trying to make out, and having little luck with. Dad came in to keep me company, which meant chatting. I put my things away and chatted. I'm so far behind in my class.

So tonight, when I got to the pool, I decided I would and could be entirely selfish. Swim a mile, no matter if JE and dad were ready to go after the first twenty minutes. Dad did his workout, walking the width of the pool, forward and back along the tiled line dividing the shallow and deep areas of the pool. I swam laps.

JE counted the times dad and I nearly collided: five times. But I did it. My mile. The last six yards were killer. My energy ran out, and left me walking the last half lap. It's been too long since I've done that. I just need to maintain. In the beginning of my swim, I had a really discouraging thought about going nowhere with my training. I looked up and saw my father's slow moving frame and realized that I am running away from that kind of destiny. Diabetes sucks. Just keep swimming.

Punched in the gut feeling every time I think I should call mom.

20.8 miles on my trusty bike this morning. It feels good to move like that, and get lost in the scenery. Lots if migrating birds passing through the back bay, accompanied by lots of watchers of migrating birds.

This Arvo I made bread with dad, showing him the steps to add the ingredients. He then kneaded the dough for about ten minutes, not an easy thing for him, but he got some exercise. Spoke with his diabetes councilor who hopes with some help and weightloss, dad can stop using insulin. She also thinks he shouldn't be alone.

Tabula Roso

The are things I'm learning about my father that I had no idea of in my previous life with him. Number one: he is a night owl. Number two: he likes to stay up late, chatting. It's really fun and nice to have him here, but at some point, I need my shut down time. I need to be able to put this well of thoughts onto paper--so to speak. It helps me feel that my life has some sort of organization and process.

Starting in the middle of something has always been difficult for me. When faced with an ugly alteration, I'd so much rather begin fresh and new. But fathers don't come fresh or new. As I try to learn as much as I can about how to help him manage this disease, I am faced with the reality that it is his disease. There are certain elements that he claims he has never heard before; like the link to kidney disease or balancing carbs, fats and proteins to achieve a blood glucose level below 200, or a sliding scale for an insulin dosage. But it is tough for me to believe that in all the time he has been dealing with this problem he hasn't heard of these things. I'll call his doctor Monday and find out a few things about her plan for him and how I can help.

We spend a good portion of the day at Crystal Cove watching dolphins swim around the newly placed lobster traps. Dad went into the water, cold though it was. As he was coming out, the surf swelled. He dove under the first big wave and began to make his way back out. He is a slow moving person. With his back to the oncoming swells, he had no idea that a wave twice as tall as he was about to knock him over. It pummeled him. He used the surf to get back to shore, but once he was in the shallows he couldn't stand on his own. He was elbow deep in water, but laughed when the first thing I did was pull up the back of his pants when JE and I went to his rescue. We got him to his feet again. Poor guy! Not much worse for wear, but he laughed about it all afternoon.

I have this ideal about what my diet should look like: lean proteins, whole grains, no sugary sweets, loads of fresh vegetables. Most of the time I think I do fairly well with this. But this week with dad here, has opened my eyes to the truth. Anything I eat, he will eat; so I have had to get strategic with my food. There are a lot of little things I do that he cannot, and perhaps I should not if I wish to maintain my current state of health. My peanut butter and honey on multigrain bread for my mid afternoon snack isn't ok for dad, not when he tells me his blood glucose is 280!

I just can't figure out how to help him get a grasp on what normal blood glucose should feel like.

JE and I ran tonight, 4 miles. The first two were fine. The last two I ran from bridge to bridge, allowing myself to feel scared at the thought of loosing toes, feet, feeling, eyesight because of diabetes. Today is a week without sugar--there are some very powerful inspirations to help me with that one.

Gratitudes:
1) my toes, all ten. Even though they give me grief sometimes.
2) my sweet pancreas.
3) a sweet spouse who sits up and talks with dad while I escape to write
4) an ever positive father
5) books, the internet, and the expertise of so many who have shared how to handle this disease
6) wise words from JE tonight: set little goals, just like when we were training for races

I can do that...

Navigating

There are big seas ahead for a little while in my life.

I'm learning the art of being a supportive badger. Dad is diabetic and seems to know about as much about his disease as I do, which isn't much. We are learning about carbs, sugars, insulin, and compassion.

Tired, so bone tired at times. Talking with my little sister, we decided that this is how our family mourns: sleep and forgetfulness. Apparently both sisters have been as forgetful as I was last night during class. Before dad arrived, I was cleaning the house and completely forgot that vacuuming the floor is part and parcel of doing that. Good grief.

Ran today, not far, but enough for today.

Focus

Rain today, so I had a great run this morning, instead: about 3.5 miles on dirt trail. I'd set out to run four miles, but knew I was done at three and a half At times I forgot I was running, thinking, making plans,remembering. How much changes in an instant.

Class was nice. It was good to be in public again, doing something that had nothing to do with travel, funerals, or even family. When I got to class, they were in the middle of making single welt pockets. If I could show you some of the pockets I have made for shows... There is a bit of magic in making pockets disappear completely, or featuring them. I've made dozens of them. But, as I sat down to sew, I could not for all I was worth, remember how to make a welt pocket. Eventually, I just picked up my chalk and scissors and zoned out, letting my auto-responder take control. It all worked out. I've been far too focused on other tasks at hand.

Transitions

Transitions

We spent Saturday in San Francisco, walking around town, looking at stuff. No offense to those who love that city, but I don't love that city. Having grown up in Seattle in the 1970's, I understand what happens when a city becomes gentrified and turned over to the tourists, so I can see beneath the façade of San Francisco. But the more JE and I discuss what we experienced there, the more we feel like we may have missed the big tado in that city. Yes, it was lovely, and the were some neat elements there, but the soul of the city was missing. Which is funny, because that is what people say about Los Angeles. And yet, I've seen the multifaceted, brilliant gem that is the soul of LA, gleaming in the Korean BBQ and spas in Korea town, radiant in the murals that coat the city in the Latin districts, succulent in the pastry of the street vendor selling churros. This city pulses with life. From what I saw in San Francisco, I need to see more, and yet there is no draw there for me.  Don't get me wrong, we had a great time, but I wonder what makes people go there on repeat visits.

 I had a moment as I was picking s fe postcards, when I realized I was looking for a postcard to send my mom.

We returned home yesterday, feeling like I needed to get home and take care of some things. It's been almost two weeks since I left. It feels like a lifetime.

Watching dad hobble around makes me want to be ever so careful with my health. It is so painful to see how much he hurts. I spent the day trying to ensure that he will have the things he needs to make him comfortable while he is visiting. And some things for him for my sake, as well: a few new polo-style shirts and some Hawaiian print button downs, not exactly his style, but not terrible. If he likes them, I'll replace the buttons with tiny magnets. Diabetes sucks. Dad no longer is able to use buttons because he has lost feeling in his fingers.

My house underwent a few changes today. My cabinets that held mixing bowls, now hold a few easy cook canned items. Just rearranging things so that dad will have easier access.

I'm not sure how this will work. I'm not sure how autonomous dad can be these days. Though, doubtless, he want to be completely independent. 

I think I need to pledge to myself to take care, always. Watch those rascally pounds that want to creep on; be so careful of the fat and sugar that can steal the feeling from hands and feet, sight from eyes; keep moving and bending and stretching so that arthritis has no invitation. 

One of my main motivators in training was to overcome the stagnation of my health. Just thinking about a stagnant pond and what happens when there is no fresh water going in or out of it. So much of my body is made of water. If I remain stagnant for any period of time, I'll turn green and grow algae, or worse... What do I want my future to look like? Not like my parents... And so there are things which I need to do now, like watch my intake and my output.

So, on that note, I need to rethink my expectations. With dad coming, I will have another big something in my life. And work is coming up this week (thank goodness.)  an hour a day? Best time for me is early morning. (in honesty, I luxuriated in bed this morning, with a cat purring contentedly in my armpit and the sun peeking through the curtain. Who could blame me, although there was a great deal of inner turmoil, knowing that if I didn't get my swim in at that time, the likely hood of fitting it in at all was diminishing by the moment. In the end, I'd never did get my swim in today. Nor my run. Nor my yoga or anything much but straightening the house in prep for dad's arrival. And also in honesty, I'm feeling so gooey and gross, I had to give myself pep-thoughts as I was walking through HomeDepot: it's ok, you're still doing well, give yourself a break, you just lost your mom, you can get back into your exercise routine soon, because you know how good you feel afterward, but right now what you are doing is very valid!)

Self love and forgiveness is important. I need to remember that about now.

Plan for the week October 2-9

Monday
Swim a mile
Prep house for dad:
Handicap bench for shower, bars for toilet, raise bed 
Grocery shop
Dinner:  Chinese chicken salad

Tuesday:
Bike around back bay 
Clean fridge get rid of anything not wholly healthful 
Get ready for class
Rent car
Pick dad up at airport
Mark map for dad
Dinner to go:  tuna sandwiches

Wednesday
Run
Nike club fit
Pool time with dad?
Show dad around town 
Beach time? 
Spend time on jacket
Dinner: Thai curry

Thursday:
Bike to work
Work
Bike from work
Dinner: Steak, asparagus, brown rice
Yoga

Friday:
Bike to work
Work
Bike home
Dinner: Tuscan bread soup and grilled cheese
Swim

Saturday:
Take dad on a field trip
Run a bit

Travel

This body of mine is a pile of organized goo. Every bit is dedicated to some purpose. Like clockwork, my circadian rhythms tend to the keeping me on a functional track.

The past couple weeks, those rhythms have had very little home. I feel off kilter. This week and a half seem like a month and I'm tired. This trip home is supposed to feel like a mini vacation.

We stopped by the Capitol building in Olympia this morning. It's marble halls and Tiffany glass, every detail in brass, such a beautiful place!

Tonight we had Tia's plum pork. She braised pork in broth and white wine, adds plums, onions, and a bunch of herbs. Nice, with nice bread and minty, cheesy beets. Yum

Tomorrow, the Redwood Forest

Journeying

We woke early, sleep was elusive. Put on our running shoes and took off up the hill. It felt so good to be out in the cold morning air. It was so cold, JE kept us running. He cooled down too fast otherwise. It's nice to have this very female second layer of fat, sometimes. 

The route that I ran last week had been closed to traffic. This morning it was wide open and full of big trucks with big dogs. It had been such a blessing to me that it had been closed. Nice.

Lisa came to say goodbye, and we dropped by dad's to take the left over food from the week. Knowing he is on his way down in a week is a huge consolation. I don't know that I could have left him there otherwise. 

JE and I drove a little further to get to Roslyn, the town where the TV show, Northern Exposure was filmed in the early-mid 90's. It was fun to see some of the places we grew up. Roslyn has a huge history beyond the show. We  really enjoyed the museum. They let me investigate some old historical garments- hands-on! Crazy! One of the bonnets was literally falling apart in my hands. 

At this moment, we are on a ferry, crossing Puget Sound to get to Bremerton where we will stay with JE's aunt and uncle. They live on one of the little lakes in the area,a sweet peaceful home.

I finally have time to feel the gravity...

New adventures

If you ever find yourself in this neck 'o the woods, go check out Stan's Merry Mart. Awesome. Just awesome. It's cowboy/rancher/mechanic all rolled into one. It's a heckuva lot of fun. I'll be dreaming of snap-front western-style shirts.

There Have been so many loose ends that have needed attention. The number one being: what do we do with dad? It's up to him, but he needs some care. JE and I bought a one way ticket for him to our house. The condition is that there is always a roundtrip in the future. He is excited to bring down his snorkel and mask for the sea, his swimsuit for the pool, his appetite for my cooking and himself for the new adventure. it's a temporary arrangement, but a good one for now. I'm just relieved he is willing to fly down rather than drive his old jalopy.

Still aching for a run, and feeling like a pudding. I need some routine.

Eulogy

Rochelle Dawn was born to Cecil and Iris in Australia, on September #, 19##. She is the second of three daughters. Her older sister is Margaret. Her younger sister is Noelene.  She is survived by both sisters and many cousins.  She had the good fortune of knowing her grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Mom was often ill as a child and spent time on her grandparents farm in the country and with her extended family.

At age fifteen, a friend invited Rowie to start attending activities for youth at the LDS church. Rochelle loved the social scene, the activities and the Gospel. She invited a lot of friends to come to activities, who later were baptized.  After she graduated high school and moved to Sydney, she worked as a data entry specialist, feeding large manilla punch cards into a computer.  She continued to attend church at the local ward.

Rochelle loved to tell her stories. When mom was 21, she was an important    part of her church community.  She was the ward organist, sang in the choir and taught primary. One day the stake president asked Rochelle's bishop who the young lady was playing the organ. When the bishop explained that Rochelle was not yet a member of the church, the stake president told the bishop, that if mom wanted to keep her callings, she needed to be baptized. Mom was baptized two weeks later. 

One night mom was walking on a cobble street in Sydney, on her way to choir practice. She clicked down the street wearing a flared pencil skirt, a cashmere twinset, pearls and stiletto heels. She was tall and elegant, with a cute pixie cut and sassy attitude. An American sailor, on R&R at Sydney harbor, stopped and asked her if she knew where the LDS church was. Rochelle told him to follow her, that she was going there herself. Dad's little joke is that he has been following her ever since. 

Dad wasted no time in his attempt at courtship during the three days he was stationed in Sydney, but good Australian girls had nothing to do with American sailors. Dad finally succeeded in taking mom on a date to the Sydney Zoo, but with mixed results. He asked her to marry him, which she refused, but he did get a kiss, which he recalls as akin to kissing a clam.

They communicated by mail for the next year, but dad seemed to disappear. He recounts being  a very active dater and was engaged or nearly engaged to three girls at the same time.

Dad was in the navy, stationed in southern California, when mom jumped on a boat with her friends. Mom docked in Los Angeles, and though she looked everywhere, could not locate the Statue of Liberty in the Port of Los Angeles. Rochelle and Andy were soon dating. Rochelle worked for the Australian Government Trade Commission in Pasadena, California. 
Andy was soon deployed to the Vietnam war, where he served for  nearly a year. Rochelle moved to British Columbia, closer to her friends. I am told that there were a lot of steamy letters exchanged.

The day Andy was honorably discharged, he jumped on a plane and went up to Vancouver where he took a taxi to Rochelle's flop house and gave her a ring. She accepted. They were married civily on November 3, 1967, and sealed in the Los Angeles temple a year later. 

As newlyweds, Dad worked  in Seattle. Mom got her green card and worked for Dairy Gold in data processing. Two years after they were married, they were blessed with their first child, Lisa Rachel. Two years later their second daughter, Amanda Iris. And two years after that Anna Tia Marie.  Everybody came home to a sweet little house in Ballard. 

Briefly, the family lived on Queen Ann Hill near Seattle. Then bought a little house in Falls City. These were a lot of happy times, when we went camping in the Cascade Mountains with the ward.  Mom loved to get in her car and drive, taking her kids with her, as far east as Idaho, north to Vancouver, and south to Oregon. She was quick to point out beautiful views, mountains, trees, flowers, animals and buildings. She loved the quaint and lovely and the delicious. 

Before church was changed to a three hour block, we met in the morning for Sunday school and later in the afternoon we would have sacrament meeting. Between the meetings, Rochelle would find a quiet place by a stream and feed her family with a picnic lunch she had brought. Sometimes, she would pick up French fries to make "chippy sandwiches." She loved sweets, particularly black licorice, and Cadbury chocolate. Anything that reminded her of Australia. 

A couple times a year, she would phone home. She missed her family and often lamented that she lived so far away. When her husband was away, working in Alaska, Rochelle often felt entirely alone in her life.

As Rochelle's health began to decline, she moved her family eastward, trying to escape the cold wet of Seattle. Cle Elum had been a sweet place to camp, so we stayed there for a bit, but soon moved on to Ellensburg where Rochelle opened a candy store. She loved the interaction with people, but the shop was not open long. We soon moved on to the Wenatchee Valley. 

Wenatchee seemed to hold a lot of answers for mom. She had a family of friends she could trust and rely on, there were good schools for her children, there was bread on the table. I think coming here afforded the first real sense of security she had felt in years.

Rochelle worked as a nanny and a receptionist when we first arrived in Wenatchee. Andy continued working in refrigeration and air conditioning. There are a lot of great memories from this period of time.  Missionary dinners, parties with friends, camping trips and dances. Rochelle was a busy mother, chauffeuring her three teenaged daughters around the town. She was always supportive of our interests, allowing us time for our theatrical pursuits, friends, church activities, karate lessons, gymnasts and dance. She joined the ranks of the mothers who never miss an activity in which her children were involved.

One of my favorite memories of my mother is when I was just learning to drive. We were on our way up the steep hill on Kentucky road. As we approached a stop sign, she told me not to stop and became a bit frantic as I pulled to a stop in our old stick shift Fiat. But I was stubbornly a follower of the law and knew that I was a better driver than my mother thought. Try as I might, I couldn't get that car to go forward. Mom was laughing herself silly in the passenger seat,  begging me to stop and let her drive. My pride wouldn't let me and in the end, the car rolled backward past two orchards down the hill before I could get it going forward. This time, as i approached the sign, I slowed down and kept on going, laughing hysterically beside my mom.

Rochelle began making her Mylar halos to sell at street fairs and festivals in 1987. Rochelle got a lot of happiness putting her halos on her customers heads, she loved that.  She sold her products along parade routes all over Washington, Oregon, Idaho, Utah, and even at the Rose parade in Pasadena, California. She had an insatiable travel bug which took her far and kept her going, even when business wasn't very good. It was really about being able meet new people, and see new places.

People loved Rochelle. And she loved people. She was quick to recognize a kindness and say a heartfelt thank you.  She had a great sense of fun. 

Mom could be unexpectedly kind and empathetic. Many of you have some memory of something mom did for you, which was wholly selfless. This was who she wanted to be. And who she was in her heart. 

As she grew older, she became more and more ill. Sometimes her illness prevented her from a lot of the things she wanted to do. She spent time in a nursing home. In January last year, she was hospitalized after she had respiratory failure. After a week in the intensive care unit on life support, her family and friends gathered around her to bid her farewell. We watched sadly as we expected her next breath to be her last. She motioned Lisa over to whisper a dying wish in her ear.  Mom's raspy voice rattled the words "on the bottom shelf, in the freeze at Fred Meyer. Popsicles, Mango orange. Go get them." Mom recovered quickly and was moved home within the week.  

During this past year, mom mellowed. She had learned to communicate her feeling without so much fire. She appreciated the things she loved a little more and longed to be with her family. She traveled to Portland Oregon many times to visit my sisters. She went to Portland for her birthday three weeks ago, and had dinner with her family at a Chinese restaurant. She had a great time.

The night before mom passed, she was surrounded by her family. We chatted with her for a while, and while she wasn't able to speak or open her eyes, she communicated with us by blinking her closed eyelids. Her sweet loving spirit was so strong and she let us know over and over again how much she loved us and was glad we were there.

The next day, mom passed quickly. She was surrounded by her husband of nearly 44 years and her daughters. We will always remember mom with love.

Wake

I love the pace of these days, just hanging out with my family, remembering the good times and sometimes the bad. Forgiveness is key to joy.

JE and Tia's Matt arrived just after we settled into the house. It is good to have my JE here. He is my strength and support.

This evening, I finished moms eulogy, just as dinner was finishing. Renting this home is the vest thing we have done since being here. We were able to gather together and fix a healthy dinner and sit at our leisure to eat. We watched the sun go down over the mountains.

I'm aching for a run, or a bike ride, or a swim. Or a massage. I may need to collapse a for a bit after the funeral. It has been a long week.

Tomorrow...

If you are squeamish, skip this entry

I slept poorly, having been cajoled and strangely warned by my sisters that dressing mom would potentially destroy me. I prayed hard last night for a bit of guidance and woke in the night thinking: oh, that's all it is? No big deal, I can do that. But when I awoke in ernest, the fear flooded me again. When do I let fear stop me?

As I pulled into the mortuary, I was greeted by a couple women who were mom's friends. They hugged me and smiled. We sat in the lobby and they listened as I talked about mom's passing. We cried together and communed. It was precious time. I thought seeing mom would be difficult, but she looked so peaceful and rested, untormented and the sadness was gone from her face. As I was about to touch her, I braced myself, reminding myself that her flesh would be cold, and then laid my hand on the soft skin of her shoulder. My mother. Her hair had been cleaned and brushed, her face was clean and smooth. No makeup, no embalming, just her. She looked beautiful.

My thoughts on why I wanted to do this: it was the final personal act of service I could do for her physical body.

The four of us dressed her, with Russ the funeral director assisting when he was needed. We had just finished dressing her and I had situated her arms to look a little more peaceful, when dad walked in. He saw mom completely dressed and lying in state. Such a tender mercy that he hadn't walked in while we were dressing her. Yes, it was sweet, but also a bit intense and I'd have hated for him to have seen all of that. On Thursday, it was a tender mercy that dad walked into moms room the very moment she relaxed into death, and missed the difficulties she had had just before that final moment.

She visits my imagination, free and dancing. A woman blasted out of bondage and liberated from so much suffering. I'm so happy for her. Those last and final moments of her life seemed like they hurt really bad.

Tonight dad, Lisa and I, went out for Thai food. It was so nice to have a meal together in a quiet place. I am in charge of writing and reading the eulogy, so I needed to spend some time with dad, asking timelines for things in our lives. It was fun to hear him talk like that. It surprised me how many addresses he could spit out from 45 plus years ago. Lisa retrieved a book I made for mom and dad's 25th wedding anniversary. It was a family history class project at college. I transcribed mom and dad giving their life histories (it took me about 200 hours to transcribe 8 hours worth of tape. Essentially, that was how I learned to type!). There are old photos laced around the book, some very old photos of both mom and dad. It is interesting reading back over this. I can hear mom's voice as I read, because they are her words.

I've got a lot of work to do on her eulogy. There are so many things I want to share, but really want it to all go together in a positive and uplifting light. Mom had a great sense of humor, I want this to be fun, and do her justice. I think some of her early years will shock those who knew her in her later years. Your prayers please!

Longest day

It seems impossible that I've only been here a couple days. Time is a strange thing.

I ran this morning, half heartedly, and mostly just to get to a place to be able to make a few phone calls. It was beautiful and hot by the time I got back.

Most of my day, I spent with my sisters, visiting a funeral home and cemetery. Mom's friend has given my parents a plot. Mom will be buried there, in a pine box under a shade tree overlooking the peaceful valley. She would be very happy. There is a local coffin maker who makes beautiful pine coffins.

Russ, at Telford mortuary, was really a helpful and even conceded to laugh at my family's often inappropriate humor. Lisa asked if mom wakes up, can we get a refund? Is there a reshelving fee?

I've been very busy. Aside from fundal arrangements, We are trying to convince dad that he needs to come stay with us in California "for a little while." He needs a psycho analysis, and to establish a routine for himself. He needs care, a home and some proper nutrition and a hand to get exercising. His weight will come off if he comes swimming with me often, and controls his food addiction and diabetes.

We rented a house for Sunday, through Tuesday nights. It will be really good go have a place where we can hang together as a family, and also a place to receive visitors. The problem with hoarding is how badly it alienates family and others from lives.

There is just so much to think about and do. My sisters are trying to convince me to not go dress my mother tomorrow morning. It was difficult in life to touch her because of her lack of self care. Tomorrow will be difficult with a possibility of amazing. I hope my conviction that we should tend our own dead, holds true in the face of it.

Despite the Difficult and Distressing circumstances that surround death, today was a sweet day. Mom's spirit was with us often, and there were times of sadness, but most of the day was spent rejoicing in just being able to be together as a family.

BitterSweet Goodbye

AM:
There are some things in life which require big boots. Today is one of those days, when I wish I had a giant pair of broken in, uber comfortable, soft and supple, protective, stabilizing boots. Instead, I have a ballet flat, which is soft and comfortable on most days, just not comforting.

But this morning, I slipped on my running shoes, and ran. The world shrinks when running. These vast stretches of road I saw as a kid were suddenly shrunk into laudable distance on which to run. The view was of the great Columbia river and the confluence of the Wenatchee river. Clouds rolled in as I ran, but the hills surrounding the town shone gold in the early light. I ran for about an hour and some, pausing to admire the view, rest and talk to God. This enormous feeling of needful gratitude hung about my heart, and I needed to thank Him for my family and our trials, all the things that have made us close together and bonded. When I told him that this is too hard, he questioned the 'too,' reminding me of all he puts up with from us down here. I corrected myself, admitting that this is hard, just right hard--as hard as it should be. A tender mercy happened then, JE sent me a text letting me know that he was safe and sound at work, and that he loves me. Loosing him right now, would be too hard.

I love that I have running. When all the world feels like it's crashing and colliding, I have this gift, this one amazing way to relieve the stress, tame the crazy, and get the good feelings flowing. It lasts so much longer than stress eating. Running has become a very useful tool. Today will be hard

PM:

At the hospital, we all gathered and prepared to go in to see mom. She felt different than last night, so much life was gone from her. Her heart rate was really low, she was so pale and almost yellow.

On the final day of summer, At 1:43 pm, mom passed away. She was 68 years, 15 days.

One of the worst parts of this is not having somewhere in which to gather together as a surviving family, without all the bustle of everyday life. We are all staying with different friends who all have lives and loved ones. Where do we go? And so with strong emotions brewing, we sat at a table and tried to act acceptable to the environment of a restaurant. 

As we were leaving the restaurant, my moms cousin, who is visiting the US from Australia, called. She may be coming up for the funeral, bringing some photos of moms younger years with her. Priceless. I'd love to see and know my mother before she was so gripped by mental illness. 

My words are failing me. I am exhausted.  And sad. 

Travel

After four hours of sleep, I woke up. Knowing there would be no returning to sleep, unless it was detrimentally late, I got ready for my day and was on the road before seven. Miles went by quickly, as I watched exits heading to various beach cities. As I drove north, I was amazed at how quickly I had been able to travel by car. What took me a month by bicycle, took me less than 17 hours.

When I got into Portland, I drove immediately to Tia's work. There was a wine luncheon: a host of wine representatives bring various bottles to the restaurant. All the staff and owners of the restaurant were there. There were several pasta dishes, an eggplant dish (really amazing, honest to goodness, eggplant parmesan), and a few salads. Considering that the only food in had eaten in the past thirty hours was prepackages and/or very gringo (the kind of food that politely goes about minding it's business of being wholly uninterestingly edible), this was an amazing treat. Actually, even if I had been eating this stuff for days, it would still have been awesome.

Tia drove the long way from Portland to Wenatchee. Our route follows the broad Columbia River, a massive river, flecked with dams. The golden hills of the Columbia Plateau drop dramatically off into the river, and waterfalls dot the arid landscape. This is God's country. 

We played madlibs and told stories, wondered what we would find when we got to the hospital, complained that we don't want to do this, marveled at the unfairness of having to remove life-support from a parent not just once, but twice. 

Lisa called, in a dither about when we were going to be there. When I asked what was wrong she said, "I'm exhausted and cranky and I don't want to be here, and she isn't even dead yet!"

When we arrived in Wenatchee, we went to see dad. Mom and dad's apartment had been as full of junk as their old home. Mom has been lying to us for months about cleaning checks, visits by friends, home health care, etc... As Lisa showed us a few of the find from this new place, I recognize that each object was a replacement for something which she had lost from the old place. Such as: piles of paintings in frames, old broken jewelry, brass plates, various silver plate objects. All thing she had deemed of great value and had lost forever during our 'Big Dig.'

Lisa and I sat on the bed, chatting. Causally, I asked what she though was going to be our Christmas presents this year. She replied that she thought she had actually discovered them and produced a plastic bag filled with three jewelry boxes. On box had a smoky quarts pendant, another an adventuring pendant, and the last box, Lisa claimed for herself: a piece of petrified pooh. Mom knows us well.

Lisa tried hard to prepare us for our hospital visit, letting us know that mom wasn't able to move much, talk much, or communicate at all. And that mom was in sorry shape. But after we roped and gloved up, we walked in to discover a mom who looked like she was very peacefully sleeping. We talked to her a bit with no response whatsoever. My intuition told me that she knew we were talking to her, and when I mentioned Popsicles she started sucking her breathing tubes. Her heart rate had increased, and we, began noticing that her eyelids would blink if we asked her questions. We asked if we could have a bit of her her hair, and she started to cry. She calmed when I told her she wasn't going anywhere, but that we just wanted a piece of hair. Her mind is still present, but her body is failing miserably. She can't breath on her own any more.

Tomorrow, we are meeting over at the hospital to unplug her breathing tube. I'm not sure this is the best option. It hurts that her mind is still so sharp. She knew I was there, and it probably is killing her that she couldn't open her eyes to see me. Makes me really sad.

First leg: Medford Oregon

As I was driving today, I continually wrote. The trouble was, that was driving...

Last year, as mom lay dying, I lost my voice. It began as a runny nose, and stopped there except that my voice ran away with my nose. I have been feeling like I have lost my voice again, with this next phase of mom.

Mom is on life support, and touts an untreatable and contagious infection in her kidneys. Unlike the previous experience, mom is not fighting the restraints kept inlace to keep her from pulling out her feeding and breathing tubes. My sister Lisa, who opted to go be with mom rather than come down and has been up there since Friday, says that mom's eyelids are dark, she is sinking.

Tia, flew from Long Beach, Monday night and I felt I should fly with her. I didn't follow that intuition and stayed home. Last night, I knew I needed to get there, so this morning I got in the car and started driving.

Around four pm, my phone rang. It was my sister calling from the hospital. It was time for a conference call with the same social worker who walked us through the turning off the machines the first time. She asked really hard questions, things that for most people might be easy to answer about a parent.

For my family, mom has been such a challenge. Of all the ailments and diseases she has been treated for in the past years, she never sought help for her mind. My hope is that when she passes, and her mind is clean of her body's ailments, she can open her mind and feel the amazing love that was there being offered and is being offered. It's tough to walk on eggshells because there is no knowing if the rational mom or the irrational tyrant will answer.

The drive was beautiful. It was dusky for a long time, something I miss about living in the north. Russian sunsets in the spring, last for hours. Before I left orange county, I grabbed baggies of veg, something to snack on when I get sleepy. I crossed the Siskiyou pass in the dark, chased by fear of deer and bear crossing the freeway. Tonight, I'll sleep well, the sound of road noise still blaring in my head, and the jitters of a very large Coke finally wearing off.

The abyss

My mother and my grandmother (my father's mother) hate each other. There has been a schism between them since I can remember. As a child, my grandmother was known to me only by rumors and poorly placed bad names, like: old broad, battle-ax, grump and dump (gram and gramp), and in moments when I wasn't supposed to hear The Bitch.

When talking about this schism, my grandmother refers to a period of time when my mother demanded that she buy my family a house. One house wasn't enough for my mother, she wanted another and if she did not get it, my grandparents were never going to see their grandchildren again. I was 16 when my sister began demanding to see her grandparents. Until that point, we had been hidden away in Washington State.

My mothers version of the story says that my great grandparents had willed money to my parents who used it to buy a home. The home was foreclosed, so my parents went to my grandparents for help. My grandmother refused, but my mother insisted that she had bought both her other children homes and was not treating my father fairly.  

To be fair, my grandmother isn't fair to my father. There is no love lost in that relationship. But moms reactive way of dealing with things often creates hard feelings that are not easily overcome. If dad had chosen someone else to be so very loyal to, things between he and his mother may have been different. 

Thus a schism, a rift, an abyss. 

In 2003, I moved to southern California, within 50 miles from my gram and gramp. At least once a month since then, my husband and I have been visiting them on the weekends, usually for Sunday brunch. Most Sundays, I talk to my mother on the phone and generally she asks if I have been down to see my grandmother that day. There is a bit of a jealous edge to her voice when she asks, but I try to dispel it as best I can. Both my gram and my mom vie for my affection. I do my best to play Switzerland, but mom often hurls mud, claiming my heart to be disloyal.

Time and time again, I hear of people living to the next major milestone in their lives and then kick-off soon afterward. My gramp passed away five days after my grandparent's 65th wedding anniversary. Gram turns 92 on Saturday. She has been planning a party for months, but has also been getting more and more feeble. Though, in a conversation today, she sounded perky, alert, and hoped that my sisters and I make it to her party. But just last week I was concerned that she may not make it, herself 

Meanwhile, in a hospital bed in Washington State, my mother is in the intensive care unit. She is heavily sedated and on life-support. Both sisters in portland, Oregon, are wondering if they should get on the plane to come here or fly to Washington.  

But we have done this before. An year and a half ago, under similar circumstances, my whole family gathered around my mothers deathbed as we pulled the plug on her life support. As my sister bent in to hear my mothers final request, mom demanded that someone bring her popsicles. At Popsicle number 13, the nursing staff pulled the plug on the inflow of popsicles, took moms blood sugar and Told her no more Popsicles for the day. Mom was out of ICU within 24 hours.

My sisters and I are all reluctant to go back to the hospital. It was really traumatic the first time, and to have to live through that again seems unbearable. I know it sounds terribly selfish, but I don't want to go there and relive that.  My parents were just in portland for moms birthday, so their memories are fresh of an upright and living mom. A year ago in the ICU, mom looked nearly dead. It is difficult to see someone you love like that. And to smell her like that. I didn't know it at the time, but I was about a month pregnant when all of that went down, and my sense of smell was magnified.

Mom cried when I told her, but I didn't know until I was two months along. "A new life!" she said. She was so excited. I told her because I was so afraid that she would die without knowing. My due date was her birthdate. I miscarried after 11 weeks and thought I was going to die, as well. We had been trying to have a baby for ten years, at that point.

After I miscarried, I couldn't talk to my mom for months. I blamed her, her filthy house which I had spent days and days cleaning up so that they could have somewhere safe and clean to move back into. My parents are hoarders to the highest degree. I cleaned a cat box that had been dumped on their carpet a decade previously, as well as mouse poop everywhere. After waiting for so long for something to happen and being so disappointed to loose it, I blamed every possible cause. 

Mom and dad never did move back into their house. They got into an apartment paid for by the city. They still live there.Well, as of this minute, they are both living.

Moms heart is failing to pump the liquid out of her lungs. Heart failure. Moms lungs are failing to absorb oxygen. Lung failure. Moms kidneys are not filtering her blood. Kidney failure. Her doctor says that he has some hope for her, and that my family should come and enjoy my grams birthday party. And I think that's what we will do. Enjoy it knowing that there is a bitter pill waiting.