When we moved in with Mrs. Swan, we left a few things in the storage shed at the old place. Things like Halloween costumes and Christmas decorations. This was supposed to be OK with Chris’s brother and his sister-in-law’s brother who moved in with his girlfriend/wife and baby. After all, we did give them our washer and dryer. We went over there this evening to get Chris’s Ghostbuster costume for work and discovered this. The box containing all of our Christmas ornaments looked like it was full of trash.
I burst into tears. Then I took the box out to the car. I cried all the way back to our house. I cried as we sorted through debris trying to salvage anything and then I just sat staring at the wreckage while even more tears rolled down my face. Apparently the new tenants had a dog that had gotten into the shed, knocked over a bunch of stuff and went crazy with what ever it could get it’s teeth on. Who knows when this happened. They don’t have the dog any more. It probably choked on a shard of glass from my Babar ornament.
You know, it probably wasn’t a big deal to them. They probably thought “Oh… they’re just ornaments. They can go get some more from the Wals-Mart.” That’s where all Christmas ornaments come from right? Yup. I don’t even know how to finish this entry. There’s so much I want to say about Chris’s family (poor Chris…he was adopted). But I think mostly, I’m just done. I’m done with doing things for their kids. I’m done with going to their home for family events. Most of all, I’m done with pretending to be nice to people I don’t even like.
This weekend I went to the Ghouls Gone Wild Parade with my pal Zelda, Gertie, some other cool people. It was great! I’m so sorry I missed it last year and next year I’m going to ride my scooter in the parade (dressed as Amelia Earheart). Once again, went a little crazy with the camera, but it was my first time shooting at night. I took a lot of crap. After the parade we headed back to Zelda’s for booze, smores and pumpkin carving. But after my first glass of wine and a smore, the migraine from Hell ascended on me and I had to leave. I was so bummed when I finally made it home. I didn’t even carve my pumpkin! Oh well. Here are some parade pictures instead.
A few days ago Chris noticed a rash on his side. It was blistery and red and I didn’t know what it was, so we put Benadryll on it. But it didn’t get better. Instead it got worse and started to spread. We had this conversation at stop lights on Monday because we were on the scooters. He thought he might have shingles. I was like “No way!”; only old people get that.
He figured it was shingles because the info he’d found online. A lot of time I feel that seeking medical information online can lead to a heap of hypochondria. But I got online that evening and within seconds of glancing at the first picture, agreed that Chris had shingles. The doctor confirmed it this morning and put Chris on a bunch of steroids and told him to stay away from small children, pregnant women, and the elderly.
He feels fine other then the fact that he has a painful itchy rash on his side (think chickenpox for adults). But neither of us can stop saying “shingles” in this totally exasperated and amazed way. Chris never gets sick. Never. He gets a cold and it might last a day or two, but that’s it. I’ve never known him to go to the doctor to get antibiotics for a sinus infection or strep. He’s usually driving me to the doctor for those kinds of things. That’s our normal routine. Chris started getting a really bad cold just as we were leaving for Portland that turned to an extremely bad cold (I think sinus infection) while we were there. We’re both pretty sure that this compromised his immune system and then add in the stress of being back here and working out our new budget. Bam! He’s got shingles. I’m tempted to duck tape oven mitts to his hands just for the fun of it.
This month’s yoga teacher training was less about philosophy and more about instruction. I have an easier time with these types of weekends then I do with the ones that discuss the philosophical side of yoga. It’s just easier for me to wrap my brain around and this weekend was great because we dealt with relaxation (yum) and inversions (fun).
Some say that inversions reduce the aging process. I think this is because they are just fun. I love doing headstands, particularly now that I’m older (old and decrepit). It’s something I could do as a kid, but you never think you could pull off as an adult. So, once you get into it, its like “Wow! Look at me!”. I do not like handstands. I have a very large carrying angle in my arms; they don’t lay straight, but bend at the elbows and even hyper-extend. This means I don’t have joint on joint alignment in a handstand. The carrying angle starts developing in girls between the ages of 7-14. If a girl falls during this developmental stage, she is most likely to break her arm because of the way she would put her hands out to catch herself. I have broken both of my arms. Not at the same time; more like two years apart. I think was 7 when I broke the first one and 10 for the second one. My carrying angle was not caused by the broken arms. They’re purely genetic. Handstands make my elbows hurt… I mean HUUURRRTTT! So I don’t do them. And the great thing about this weekend, is that I learned that I don’t have to do them.
There are only two weeks before our next teacher training (ACK!) and our session one training will be over with in January. Then I start session two where we learn to teach beginning yoga. Some parts of this seems to be winding up really fast, but then I think that I still have another six months left and I’m “Gah! Can I just be finished all ready?!”. I have lots of homework stuff due in December and that has me slightly panicky. When I was in school, I was on top of things. Assignments were turned in at least a week before they were due. Now, I’m all about procrastination. Chris must be wearing off on me.
This weekend I held a baby shower for my best friend (Steph) at my mom’s. My mother’s house was full with family and friends and food… so much food… too much food. The baby shower went well. I love Steph’s two aunts (maybe even great aunts, not sure). They’re kind of a picture of what Steph and I will be like in our old age, constantly concerned for each other, but bickering and picking on one another. They’re like cartoon characters.
I also got to finally meet the newest member of the family, Lucas, who is three months old already. Cati (Steph’s little girl) was totally enamored and told my sister-in-law that she was going to have a baby brother soon too. Katrina’s so great with little ones. She propped Cati up on the couch and plopped little Lucas down on Cati’s lap so she could get the hang of holding a baby. Lucas was great. He just smiled and chewed on his hands and farted as he got passed all around.
There’s a scene in Nightmare Before Christmas where Sally has to sew herself back together after jumping from the window. This is how I feel after a weekend with my family. I feel like there’s never enough of me or enough time to talk and get caught up with each and every one. Part of this is my own fault because I don’t go home as often as I used to, so they don’t see me very often. Since the last time I saw them, my great-nephew’s voice has changed (sounds just like J), a baby was born, and my niece started talking again (she’d been doing the uncommunicative teenager bit). It’s just so much easier to deal with them on an individual basis. I really feel guilty about not spending enough time with Dad this weekend, who for some reason kept asking me if I was hungry every time he saw me (what’s up with that?!). But Dad can’t miss a day of peanut sales from the flea market.
At the end of it all, I packed up the car with twice as much stuff as I came with including a large bag of guilt. And when I had made it home, I started stitching myself back together.
Remember at the end of Pretty In Pink when Blaine walks up to Andy and says “I always believed in you. You just didn’t believe in me.”? Am I only one that thinks he was totally lame? Of course she didn’t believe in him. He never gave her any reason to believe in him. He lied to her about having a prom date and he never called her back. You know, I like this movie right up to the end. Andy is cool and different (much like me in my HS years, without the fashion). Then she goes squishy for a guy because he asks her to the prom. That’s not the part that bugs me the most either. It’s the end where Blaine acts like he’s the one who was wronged. I’m sorry. Did I miss the part where he was calling her? Did the movie skip at the part where he tracks her down and tries to apologize? I don’t think I was meant to watch this movie after HS.
Last month in yoga teacher training we discussed the eight limbs of yoga as defined in the Yoga Sutras. Each limb is a step in the path to becoming a true yogi. You can’t skip ahead; they have to mastered in order. I realized I was in serious trouble when I haven’t even mastered the first limb.
The first limb is yama and sort of like the ten commandments except there are only five: 1. Ahimsa = nonviolence, 2. Satya = truthfulness, 3. Asteya = nonstealing, 4. Brahmacharya = continence, and 5. Aparigraha = non-covetousness. Forget about all the other yamas except ahimsa. Now, just like people study and pick apart the scriptures, the same is true for the Yoga Sutras. And I know you’re thinking “Why is Cindy worrying about the first limb? She’s not a violent person.”, but it’s not as simple as that. Or at least my brain wants to make it more complicated. You see, I lumped anger into the definition of ahimsa.
Chris and I talked about this while we ate lunch outside behind the yoga studio that day. I told him I was angry all the time and then he asked me what it was that I was angry about. I blinked a few times and then told him it would probably be easier to tell you the things I’m not angry about. The crazy thing is, I didn’t feel this way on vacation. I know! Enough with the Portland trip already! I am just going to say this. I felt less volatile while we were in Oregon.
The last yoga teacher training taught me that I have a lot of work to do. The idea is that as you start practicing yoga, you start to want to learn more. The physical practice leads you to a spiritual practice. I’ve been resisting this for some time because I was having a hard time separating spiritual from religious. But I know now that practicing and focusing on the eight limbs doesn’t make me religious. The limbs are just tools for making me a better person. It’s time to start the climb.
Oh… this is probably a bad idea, but I’m good at bad ideas. I’m watching the VP debate. That’s bad idea number one. Bad idea number two is actually writing about it. First of all let’s talk about energy independence. I’m all for being energy independent. There’s no reason why we should be buying oil from foreign countries. Just like there’s no reason why we should be buying clothes, electronics, auto parts, or food from foreign countries. But why is it when they talk about energy dependence, they talk about the need to open up more places on American soil for drilling? Why does our energy have to come from oil? Are you telling me that the U.S.A, home to MIT, Berkley, Harvard, Cornell, cannot develop technologies that would make us energy independent without relying on oil? I just don’t understand why we are putting all this time and money into a non-renewable resource. Non-renewable means that once it’s used up, it’s gone. That’s it. Nada. No more.
Secondly, and boy is this one going to get me in trouble, what happens to our solders if we stop funding this war? Well…hmmmm…. THEY GET TO COME HOME! People, if we stop funding this “war”, we have to bring our troops home. Because we love our military, we will not leave them over there without food or water. No money means we can’t afford to keep them there any more. Why is bringing our troops home unpatriotic? I think it’s very patriotic to want to bring our troops home safely to their families. It’s time to let the Iraqis take care of their own and America to focus on taking care of Americans.
Thirdly, Palin just said that McCain was against government health care. McCain had government health care when he was in the military. He had government health care as a U.S. senator and since McCain is over 65, he has government health care as a senior citizen. If government health care is good enough for John McCain, then why isn’t it good enough for the rest of us? Of course it isn’t. We’ve all seen the Nightline news stories about the horrible conditions in our veteran’s hospitals. We have higher standards in the TV shows we watch then how we care for our veterans, our elderly and our children.
I’m tired of settling for less. I demand energy dependence with out relying on oil. I demand an end to this war, shifting our focus to the real terrorist threats. I demand that we take care of our own with affordable health care for every one. I demand tax reform that removes tax breaks for the wealthy and puts the tax burden on the middle class and poor. I demand accountability, not just for my government, but for all of us.
OK, OK… I’m preaching to the choir. Stepping down off the soap box now.
I did a terrible job of keeping everyone up on the Portland trip. There just wasn’t enough time. Every day of our trip was full. I promise to post pictures soon; there’s so many to upload and edit.
It’s almost impossible to sum up Portland. I could walk into any restaurant and eat without questioning or settling for the one vegetarian option on the menu. In fact, often there were too many vegetarian options. This made things very difficult because I only packed one stomach. I left town with not just a food baby, but food quadruplets. Looking back, I’m kicking myself for not having Cupcake Jones ship me a dozen cupcakes. Why did I only eat one?!? Oh, and don’t even get me started on the Ben and Jerry’s ice cream parlors. Those were just cruel.
It was also odd (in a very, very , very good way) to be in a political environment that reflects my own beliefs, to be surrounded by people who are on my side. People were polite and nice and respectful. They drove the speed limit on the freeways and let you into traffic. The market vendors would let you buy things, but they didn’t try to sell you anything. And Portland doesn’t seem to have “Truck Month”. It all made coming home really hard. It wasn’t difficult to imagine our lives in this place. We’d live in one of the small neighborhoods outside of downtown Portland. We could walk down the street to the local market, cafe, or coffee shop. A few blocks over from there, we would take Hooper to the park and on weekends, pack up the camp gear and head to the beach. You can throw a rock on the Coastal Highway and hit a state park. Sigh.
