Wow!

It is a beautiful 80-degree day in Indy, WITH sunshine. I'm loving this!

My daughter arrived in Chicago late last evening. Let's see if I can describe what is going on.
Denis (my son-in-law) had an interview appointment with a company on Thursday. He flew to Chicago and was to fly back to California that night, only to leave for Chicago again the next day with Megan for a second interview with another company. (The second company offered to fly Megan in and to put them both up at the Trump Hotel.) For the Thursday trip, he traveled with nothing since he was supposedly going to return the same day. (That's a LOT of flying, boys and girls!) Unfortunately, his layover flight from Phoenix to Chicago was 95 minutes late, so he/they decided that he should just stay in Chicago...and Megan would bring him his things when she flew in the next day. He found lodging that first night at a hotel (with no windows?) that was "only" $250/night. (Downtown Chicago, you know...) I guess he wandered around downtown before landing at the Trump. He found a McDonald's (which he loves) and managed to buy a bouquet of tulips for Megan for her arrival.

Meg arrived at Midway Airport without a hitch to the loving arms of her husband, and a limo driver holding up a sign with her name on it. It was probably after 11:00 PM by this time. The chauffeur went out of his way and gave them a mini-tour of Michigan Avenue. (Meg called it "Michigan Street". Uh...no. That's part of the city's "Magnificent Mile" and is DEFINITELY Michigan AVENUE.)

Friday nights, Denis and Megan reserve as Pizza Night at home. True to the tradition, Denis had ordered for a pizza to be delivered at midnight. It arrived right on time. I guess he had to do some talking with the gal at the desk to get something "original" to Chicago's infamous pizzas. The gal was going to order it from one place that is "only out of Chicago and the West Coast". Denis explained that he was from the West Coast and had already had that. Not sure what company the pizza came from or how good it was, but it all worked out.

Before Megan arrived with a laptop computer, Denis had ordered one to be delivered to his room. No problem! Megan took me on a Skype tour of their hotel suite this morning--which is larger than their apartment and my whole house. She showed me the water menu. There are bottled waters available for purchase. You can get "Bling H2O" in a crystal-encrusted bottle for a mere $25, or $10 for the lesser brands. Water, mind you! The hotel had delivered an X-Box gaming system and several games and videos for the children...plus hotel robes and slippers for the little ones. (Meg and Denis were already lounging around in the big ones!)

Okay...since Denis's appointment with company #2 isn't until Monday, Megan and Denis hoped to be able to meet up with the children who live north of the city in Zion, IL, just south of the Wisconsin border, for an overnight visit with them at the Trump Hotel. Apparently the Metra goes up that far....but not often on the weekends, which no one knew until they were trying to connect. (Megan sent me an IM that said they were in "transportation hell".) Before long, she sent me a message that the kids' father had agreed to drive the children to a Metra station further south because the wait for a train back to the city would have been out of the question. The children didn't know any of this, so a visit from their mother/stepfather was a total surprise. Meg sent me a picture of the two of them, cheek-to-cheek, on the train--looking very happy! Of course, I cried when I saw it...

In any case, this will be a weekend that none of them will forget...luxury lodging, surprise visit, needs fulfilled... I hope they are having a good time. They will be exhausted by the end of the weekend, but it will have been worth it. God provides!

Baby Steps

I am now on the second day of NO pain medications. This is good news. From the beginning, I was convinced that this was a case of muscles gone wild. I take so many medications that I am only allowed certain meds to relieve pain...but was having to overdose myself in order to get relief for more than two hours.

I'm not a pain weenie. Since my youth when I got migraine headaches (which I outgrew), I learned to endure. Complaining does no good. I was worried enough about the pain that I spent most of a day in the ER. I am just so grateful to be feeling better! I am still not willing to do anything stupid that might exacerbate the problem. I'm just glad to be getting by without pain now!

My daughter and son-in-law will be spending the weekend in Chicago at the Trump Hotel. La-de-dah! It's a long story. Suffice it to say that they will get to see the children, which makes it all worthwhile. Meg wanted me to take a road trip up to visit, but there were a couple of snags...not the least of which is that I am afraid to drive on Chicago city streets by myself.

I have done, basically, nothing over the last couple of days. My choice. I will be looking after my neighbors' cat while they are gone this weekend. These are people who have taken in my mail on my trips to California, watched my place, hauled off my yard trash, and plowed out paths in the snow for several seasons now without asking for a thing. The cat is aging. He needs love and attention, and I will provide that.

I called another neighbor twice today. He never hears from me...but I first thought I saw a bulge on his roof...then later saw that his "turbine" roof vent is broken. (He hasn't reponded to the latter.) I just try to be a good neighbor...whatever!

Made a big pot of goulash today. This is what I have learned: if you use low-fat hamburger, it doesn't taste as good, and using anything other than home-canned tomatoes is a waste! I have my sister's home-canned tomatoes but usually save them for when it's important that my stuff taste good. Unfortunately, today's goulash was less than good. I'm spoiled!

Please pray that my daughter's flight to Chicago tomorrow goes well. California is too far away!

This Will Be Deep...

I am reading Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert, and found this:

"This is what rituals are for. We do spiritual cermonies as human beings in order to create a safe resting place for our most complicated feelings of joy or trauma, so that we don't have to haul those feelings around with us forever, weighing us down. We all need such places of ritual safekeeping. And I do believe that if your culture or tradition doesn't have the specific ritual you're craving, then you are absolutely permitted to make up a cermony of your own devising, fixing your own broken-down emotionals systems with all the do-it-yourself resourcefulness of a generous plumber/poet. If you bring the right earnestness to your homemade ceremony, God will provide the grace. And that is why we need God."

Wow.
Anytime I "endure" a holiday or special occasion, it's all about rituals...and broken rituals...and having to create new rituals to fix the conditions that broke the old ones. Through the years, I've had to do this several times. It's hard, at first, but gets easier over time. The reasons for the change fade as the new rituals begin to feel more comfortable.

My sister and I have had several conversations about this over the past few years. Her husband sometimes complains, for example, about all of the work and fuss over having the family Thanksgiving feast at their house. "Next year, we're just going to go out to eat." "Nooo..." my sister replies. "We'll do it here because that's what we've always done," (and that's what she wants. She figures that, as long as she is still able, there is merit in the tradition. I agree!

Over the past 18 months or so, in the absence of my daughter and grandchildren who have been in my life forever, I have to adjust to the feelings and situations of trying to make something good out of occasions when we USED to be together. I used to look forward to the summer when I could take the grandchildren to Plainfield's Splash Island or to my sister's in IL during their pool season, or let them play in the sprinkler, or go to the local park for fireworks on the Fourth of July. Now, I am in competition with my daughter because summer is her visitation time with them...and she's in California! Either I can be out there with them, or I can be home alone. But what's the fun in planting flowers and trying to make the yard nice if no one will be here to see/enjoy it? I'm still thinking about that one...

Okay...so we just celebrated Easter. I got lucky in that my grandchildren were allowed to come here for the weekend, to visit with me and their paternal grandparents. We planned our rituals. The grandchildren have already declared that they know the Easter Bunny isn't real, but we colored eggs and had an egg hunt anyway. Why? Because that's our ritual! Never mind that the kids had already colored eggs at home and had a hunt there. We did it again! I fixed the usual foods that I have when the children are here because I know that they like them. (I probably should try some other things, though, because Robin commented about it.) I always have their favorite little water bottles, their favorite chocolates in the candy dish, their favorite meat sticks...in the same way that Grandma McNary always had Megan's favorite peanut butter fudge in the pantry when we visited. It's a Grandma thing...a tradition...a ritual...and I'm doing it as much for me as for the grandchildren because it's a "specific ritual that [I'm] craving." And that's why we need God--to grace the little things we do because we do them!

After the grandchildren left, I found Cocoa-Puffs crushed on the living room carpet, a still-unopened-but-liquid Fudgsicle on the fireplace mantel, a rubber lizard on the air conditioner compressor unit outside, and candy wrappers everywhere. Would I change any of that? No. Well...maybe the Fudgsicle and Cocoa-Puffs part, but otherwise, no. They serve to remind me that there is still life in me and this little house. I hope it never ends!

The Family Table

I was reading Reader's Digest's feature "Around the World with One Question" in the May edition. The question? How often do you eat a meal with your family? At first, I was shocked at the results of the poll (although they didn't ask me, so I'm not sure where their information comes from) that the US lags behind 14 other countries in that only 35% of Americans have family meals more than five times a week. Whaaat??? Unthinkable! HOWEVER, when you think about it, that's not so bad. I think most working/school-going families don't eat breakfast together. They just grab and go. And lunch takes place at school or the workplace. That leaves supper. If the poll says only 35% of Americans eat family meals MORE than five times a week, that means that the other 65% could eat together UP TO five times a week (my guess, on the week nights) which only leaves the weekends for families to scatter to other activities. Kids have activities. Parents have activities. There are lawns to mow and games to attend. Church. Proms. Actually, if Americans eat together at least five times a week, I consider that okay! I was, of course, raised in a generation apart from now. My parents were part of Tom Brokaw's "Greatest Generation"--children of the Depression, and young adults during World War II and the Korean Conflict. They had a generational fault: they wanted more for their children than what they had. I was one of those children. We weren't spoiled, but we were rebellious of our parents' ideals. (I regret that now.) In any case, dinner in our family was sacred. Dinner happened when Dad got home. Period. You'd better not be late! There were many times that I longed for the more casual situation that Americans have now. One time...ONE TIME...my father came home really late for supper. At the time, he was teaching and coaching, and she got tired of saving dinner for him, suspecting that he was with his drinking buddies instead of coming home. She fed us...then him, when he finally arrived. I sat at the table with him and her while he was eating when he declared that was the LAST time he would work his ass off to come home to a cold supper! What was shocking about that was that I had never heard my father speak harshly to my mother, and had never, ever heard him use the word "ass" in any context. She got the message. Every meal thereafter waited for his arrival. There was also a kind of prejudice about meals. With the advent of the frozen "TV dinners", my mother would skoff that they were NOT acceptable for the breadwinner of the family. Hamburger Helper wasn't heard of in those days, and we ate a lot of things that weren't defined. "That's beef; you eat it!" The rule was that you had to taste everything, but didn't have to have huge helpings...but if you took more, you had to eat it all. (Wasting food in many families that came out of the Great Depression was close to a sin.) And, of course, there was always the admonition that children in China were starving and could survive on what we were throwing away. (That really did happen!) When I became a married lady, I followed in my parents' example. I planned meals every night. Since I had married the Biggest Carnivore of the Western World, it got frustrating. I would shop for meat for a week--some pork, some chicken, some steak--whatever...and my husband would come home late from some evening school event and decide to cook himself a "snack". The snack would consist of some pork, some chicken, and some steak--leaving not enough of each to have a complete family meal for the rest of the week. Ugh! Megan and I used to cherish the times that he was gone for a day or two because we could just have what we wanted, informally. In time, we established a "Fend for Yourself" night. I think it was Tuesdays. (Not sure why.) I would fix for Megan and me. Joe would/could cook or take advantage of leftovers. That one night meant FREEDOM for me! When Joe and I split up, Meg and I were a family alone. Megan was only in middle school, but my best friend, Phyllis, reminded me that we were still a family, even if Joe wasn't there. I made it a point to have a supper together. It wasn't great--usually just a meat, a vegetable, and a starch...but it was our time to connect. We finally had the informality that we once craved, but we still needed the time to talk about our days. Eventually, she got busy with musical rehearsals and show choir rehearsals and boyfriends and stuff...and if, somehow, we didn't manage to have a meal together, she would find a way to have our dinner conversation anyway! When my daughter and grandchildren moved in with me (surprise!), I made sure that the children had breakfast and made their lunches. It would have been nice to have help with supper, since I was still teaching then, but Meg generally didn't get home from her job until almost 6:00. It was MY decision to have dinner on the table when she got home so we could have that family time before the evening's activities. Soccer, Girl Scouts, school events, homework, baths, bedtime. Supper time was the most together time she/they/we had. I still believe in the family table. It is as much a part of my life as bedtime. The problem is that there is no family here now! I eat when I feel like it...and that's not a good thing. I am already planning family meals for when the grandchildren are here over Easter weekend. Sitting down at the table together gives us a chance to connect. God provides!!

Rewrite

Durn it all...I will have to rewrite the missing post. It simply isn't there...and it was a good one! Look for it later.

Post?

I wrote a long blog entry, started last night and finished this morning. The blog said it was "published successfully"...but where is it?????

A Day in the Life--in the ER

One of the reasons I haven't been posting on here is simply that I haven't had much of interest to say that anyone would be interested in reading. And part of the reason for that is that I have been experiencing some pretty bad pain that I was waiting to go away before I talked about it. But it wasn't going away! Not wanting to hear the lectures and admonitions to go to the doctor, I just kept quiet. (See? "No news" isn't always good news!) I am one of those (un)lucky people who sometimes simply wakes up in the morning with an ache or a pain that can be a killer for weeks. The latest one was a problem with my left knee. One morning, I got up and it was swollen and sore. No symptoms the night before...and no injury. In a few weeks, the problem was gone. Another time, years ago, I got up with a painful stiff neck that just got worse and worse until I ended up going to the doctor, only to be given pain medicine and told it would get better on its own. Yet another time, I had a sore throat that felt like there was something stuck in there. Had interesting "swallowing" x-rays taken, plus a fiber-optic camera stuck down my nose, only to determine that there was nothing there. The doctor said it was most likely a muscular contraction in the throat. In fact, the only time in recent years that anything catastrophic came of my symptoms was with the ruptured brain aneurysm (with which I was seriously, seriously sick), and the heart attack (with which I was only alarmed because my arms were feeling weird). Thus, you can understand why I am sometimes reluctant to rush to a doctor just because something hurts! Back in February, I was sitting at my daughter's apartment in California and noticed a little ache just left of center in my chest. Had no other symptoms, so assumed it was one of those overnight aches...probably from sleeping on my side on their couch. (Crunches the chest muscles together.) It wasn't bad, so I just considered it annoying. When I got back to Indiana, it seemed to go away...but then returned, only this time with an accompanying ache in the same place but straight through to my left shoulder blade. Again, no biggie. Sleeping on my side, plus propping my head up with my left arm in bed to watch TV--plus sitting for hours in front of the computer--probably just contribute to what felt to me like a muscular problem. I was taking Extra Strength Tylenol which helped in the beginning...but then I was having to OD on it just to get some relief. One day, I felt better. Yay! The next TWO days, however, were just awful. Last night, Thursday, I began to panic. I know the drill. The doctor would ask me, "Do you have chest pain?" Yes. "Shortness of breath?" No. "Pain in your arms?" Yes. Well...when one lives alone, it is easy to imagine the worst. I felt so bad that I gathered my pills together and some phone numbers, charged my cell phone, and determined that--if I didn't have to call the ambulance on myself that night--I would see a doctor today. That, in itself, presents a problem. We have an Immediate Care center just down the road from me, plus I have a cardiologist at IU West Hospital, but I knew that I wouldn't be able to get in to see the cardiologist, and the IC center would just send me to a hospital for an EKG. I decided to save myself the expense of a preliminary visit and just go straight to IU West Emergency this morning. Got there about 11:15 AM. Well! I guess all you have to do is present yourself with chest pain and you get right in! I was whisked to the ER in a wheelchair, hooked up to a heart/BP monitor, EKG leads, IV port in my hand--all within 15 minutes! They even waited until I was taken care of before asking to see my insurance card!! Blood was taken. Chest x-ray. Blah, blah. Lots of attention in the beginning...and then hurry up and wait. The results of the first round of tests came back, but my cardiologist (bless his toady little heart) wanted another round of blood work four hours after the first. (They are looking for an enzyme called Troponin that indicates heart damage and can ascertain, for certain, if a heart attack has taken place.) They finally moved me to a room with a TV to await the last round of blood tests, but guess what?? No cell phone service in the room!! I had promised my daughter that I would keep her posted, but I couldn't! Finally, finally, FINALLY, along about 4:30 in the afternoon, the attending nurse arrived with the good news that everything came back normal. I had been given and IV shot of something called Toridal, which helped the pain but supposedly wouldn't interfere with my other medications. (It helps that my cardiologist is out of that same hospital. Although I had taken my medications with me, no one needed to see them.) I left for home hungry and having a case of "teacher bladder" but feeling quite relieved that I, indeed, had NOT had a heart attack and didn't have lung cancer. The doctor thinks it is a muscular/skeletal problem, probably related to coughing in a bad way. Just what I thought in the first place!! To be honest, I'm not sorry I went. It was a huge relief to come home knowing that I had dodged a bullet. I have to deal with the pain, but I have new prescriptions for that...and I know that it WILL go away, eventually. I will miss the smart-ass male nurse with the graying goatee and long black ponytail. (He said he was going to kick the butt of the technician who didn't take enough blood because he didn't want to have to re-stick the "nice lady". I told him he didn't know I was a nice lady. He made some comment about how they would take me out and bring in some crabby old man who was bleeding from his butt.... Well, I will spare you the rest!) Apparently hospitals are now competing for patients because they were super-nice and quick to leave me with cards with their names on them. I spent all of today in an effort to make sure I'm okay...and I am. Hallelujah! We'll see how much of this experience my insurance will pay...just to tell me that there is no major problem--again!

Um...

I haven't been posting on here because I haven't had much to report that would be of interest to anyone. I am aware, however, that posting SOMETHING is better than NOTHING because at least people will know that I'm still kicking. I think spring has finally arrived. My lawn needs to be mowed...and the birds are building nests in the gutter of my patio awning. That's a good sign, right? On the subject of the lawn--it looks really bad, due to last summer's draught. I'm not sure what it will take to get it back to looking halfway good. Maybe more energy and money than I have...but I just want it to be nice enough for the neighborhood. I have put out feelers on Facebook to see if any of my "friends" have kids who are willing to do some slave labor. I used to rely heavily on radio friends for assistance, but most of them are suffering from the same problem I have: old age! Yesterday, I had lunch with a couple of former students who are parents in their own right now. One is an Army wife. The other is going to college and trying to balance family with that. We have a good time. After we spent some time gossiping, as we were leaving the restaurant booth, one said, "You heard that Mrs. McCollum's husband died, right?" And there, at the door of the place, was Mrs. McCollum! I about fainted, thinking that it was spooky. Guess not. The gal that made the comment had seen a woman coming in who reminded her of Mrs. M...so she mentioned it. Whew! We greeted Mrs. McCollum, and right behind her was her daughter, Mrs. James. I taught with both McCollum and James...and the girls had had them both in class. It was a nice touch! Preliminarily, it looks as if my grandchildren may be able to be here for Easter. I am so excited! I have made the offer for the whole Heffelman family to stay here (because I have room), and it just might happen. Grandma Judy and I can supply a nice meal, and I can put everyone up (although it is tight). We are just delighted at the prospects! Judy and Phil have the same house constraints that I do, but between us, we are a force to reckon with! It gives me something to shoot for. I need that. Since everyone left a week ago, I have continued to sleep in the back bedroom. The back bedroom used to be my room before everyone moved in with me. Then, when we remodeled the garage into a grandma room/radio shack, the back bedroom became Megan's room. Now, I consider it the "guest" bedroom...but it has everything in it that I need--half bath, comfortable bed, functional ceiling fan, and luscious pillows. (Gotta find more of those!) I have also placed a large poster-sized picture (thanks to friend Ryan H.) of my grandchildren playing in the surf on their first introduction to the ocean in Vero Beach, Florida in 2007--a very happy memory! I have considered moving back in that room permanently, but have to keep thinking about that. I have to keep the full bed in the garage room so would not have gained much. We'll see. Little Ryan, bless his heart, announced to us last week that he thought this was a "pretty nice house" because it had four bedrooms. He lives in a MUCH larger home in Zion, IL, so who knows what he was thinking! Rain is due over the weekend, so I guess the lawn won't get mowed yet, but it needs it. Need to buy (expensive) gas for the mower. Need to get the oil changed. Why won't things wait for me to be ready?????

Spring Break, Part II

I notice that my last post came across all in one paragraph. I guarantee that I didn't write it that way! I left off in the spring break saga with our arrival back in Plainfield. That was Tuesday. On Wednesday, we all slept in and spent the rest of the day trying to get our bearings. The children--particularly Ryan--was itching to play with his "best friend" next door...so we let them have as much play time as possible. I think we watched a movie and ate popcorn that evening... Thursday, was Irish Day, at Robin's request. I put a corned beef in the pot and got stuff going. One of my friends from school came to take some portraits of Meg and Denis and me and the children. The children went to play with the neighbors some and/or have them here. I think Meg, Denis, and the children went to the park to take a walk and play. Eventually, Megan and Robin made Irish soda bread and we ate our Irish supper, complete with green milk. Thereafter, we watched a movie about leprechauns, but Megan and Denis had to crash before it was over. Grandma stayed up to finish it with the children, but it went on and on!! Friday was our last full day all together. The children played with the neighbor kids a bit, then we departed for an afternoon at Chuck E. Cheese's. OMG! Are we nuts or what! CEC's is a money pit. Between food and endless game tokens, we probably spent $75 just so the children could come home with trinkets! Doesn't matter. They had a good time, and that's all that counts. Saturday (yesterday), the kids played a little and got their things together. Daddy and Stepmom were later than originally expected to pick them up, but it all worked out. They went to the other Plainfield grandparents for lunch before departing to Lafayette to pick up their stepsister on the way home. After they left, Megan and Denis left to do something at the canal in Indy. They were late getting home. Supper consisted of cleaning out the refrigerator leftovers. We watched a DVD that I had ordered from The History Channel called "The Naturalized". It's about folks in the process of becoming American citizens--which my son-in-law is doing. Quite interesting and revealing. I don't think the general American public has a CLUE of how hard/expensive it is to become a citizen of the US! Anyway, I went to bed thereafter and left Meg and Denis to their own devices. This morning, we were up early to deliver Meg and Den to the airport. Had them there just after 6:30 AM. I track their flights on the Internet. The first leg of their flight was to Denver. Just over Sterling, CO, the plane began to zig-zag, then made a couple of loops, and my mind went nutsy. If their plane crashed, how would I know? How would I get to them? How could I notify Denis's parents in Russia? I just kept watching and praying. Pretty soon, the plane seemed to get out of the loop formation and head for Denver. It landed about 18 minutes late. Apparently, they were in a "holding pattern" because Denver wasn't ready for them. Whew! I napped a couple of times during the day. Watched the flight from Denver to San Jose with no hitches. Meg called to say they had landed, then again when they got home. They had to go out to get groceries. 'Tis ever thus when one goes away for awhile. So now, spring break 2011 is history. Everyone is home where they are supposed to be. Life goes back to so-called normal. We packed way too much into one week, but it was special in a lot of ways. I am so very thankful for the opportunity to be with everyone, even though it came at a cost. The happy news is that Megan has a new job. I don't have all of the details yet, but it should get her out and about. God bless everyone for a very nice week!