Stevie Wonder Live Conjures...

The house is a 1930's bungalow on a corner lot only a few blocks away from the freeway. Fairly traditional, the stucco exterior is a muted yellow, it has wood double-hung windows and a white picket fence. The single-car garage, not in the the fenced area, has a large Silver Diesel Van outside it. If it weren't for the color of the stucco, there would be no other indicator that the two buildings were related.

Off of the driveway and through the white picket fence, a small stone path leads to a wooden door that opens into a medium sized galley style kitchen. The floor is sloping with torn layers of vinyl positioned next to a weathered wooden Oak threshold. The walls, home made island style counter, and wooden cabinets are also dissimilar, painted red, purple and yellow. Each of the counter surfaces have mismatched porcelain tile in muted tones and patterns. Above the gas stove and next to the ancient refrigerator, pots and pans of muted rust and copper tones hang from the ceiling as if to purposefully display that they have been used and used and used, and used yet again. A deep white porcelain sink sits directly across from the stove and just below the window overlooking the garden and China's dog-house.

To the right of the kitchen a hallway with golden oak hardwood floors lead to two bedrooms and one bathroom. One is a sleeping room. The other is an office, super bright from the light of the garden. Shadows bounce off of the paper strewn over the desk and filing surfaces. The bathroom is large, even with all four walls painted the brightest Azul. The see through World Map shower curtain protects only the surfaces of the bathroom from insidious water damage.

To the left of the kitchen an arched doorway leads to a large and narrow formal dining room. An incredibly heavy, almost black antique mahogany table with 8 or 12 Captain's chairs engulfs the room. The chairs and legs of the table are carved and strong. At the far end of the table, the living room is complete with a well worn 70's style green velvet couch, coffee table, miscellaneous electronics cabinets, and a working fireplace.

The fireplace is a piece of furniture in and of itself, adorned by a handsome and stately carved wood mantle. There is a black and white baby photo, a gold watch, matches and a couple of other knick-knacks distributed haphazardly along it. The light from the windows accentuates the beautiful artisanship of the fireplace, the dining table, hardwood floors, and the curved plaster ceilings. Tacked up on the wall opposite the fireplace, and on either side of the entry to the hallway is a 36"x36" piece of blue paper - probably art board - and a print of a naked man; the significance of each is elusive.

The radio softly plays KBLX in the background. The R & B tunes blend into one another with similar rhythm and tempo and no clear distinction until Stevie Wonder's Ribbon in the Sky begins. In that moment, the colors, textures, scents, sounds and worldly experience embed themselves, forever forging direction and speaking forcefully, if not unexpectedly, of the possibilities and wonderment that this life has to offer.

What A Finish!

Today was one of those days that being at work took all of my energy. All I wanted to do all day was go home. It's been a busy week and by today, I was feeling really tired. So instead of exercising at lunchtime, which is the usual activity, a couple of co-workers and I ventured out of the office to try a restaurant in the nearby neighborhood.

The goal was to try a place that has painted on the front of the building "The way to eat to live", "All Natural" "Organic Salads" "Tofu Burgers" and "Veggie Burgers". It shares wall space with Charlie's Las Palma's Burrito Shop on the corner of Mac Arthur and Seminary. Unfortunately, no organics at Charlie's. My assumption is that back in the day that Charlie's was once a Black Muslim Bakery and the building owner simply never re-painted the outside of the store. Oh, well. We found our way to Razzo's instead. I had a Caesar Salad atop flatbread. Yum.

Apparently while we ventured out of the office, my car's running lights got turned on. I learned this at 5 minutes after 5. 35 minutes later than I should have left the office and only 25 minutes before I needed to be 15 miles away, through rush hour traffic, picking up Twig from school.

Thank goodness, I thought, when I saw two women in the car parked right next to mine.

"Excuse me, could you give me a jump?"

"Well, I don't have any cables."

"I've got some."

"Uhh, well, I don't know how to do that."

"I do, I've done it several times."

"Umm, well, no I just don't want to. Ask the security officers."

"The security officers have a golf cart, they're not going to give me a jump and I've got to pick my kid up in 20 minutes."

I get back into the car and turn the key wishfully thinking it was all a mistake. When it doesn't work, I think "Okay, I walked downstairs with a co-worker. I 'll flag her down and ask her for a Jump." She drives past because I can't run fast enough in my heels and scream loud enough over the buses on the street and cars in the parking lot to get her attention.

"FFFFFUUUUUCCCCKKKKK!"

Wood is working late again tonight and since he's across the Bay Bridge, he's not a viable option to solving my dilemma. The fabulous AAA service is going to take too long. Fuck it, I'll push the car and pop the clutch. By this time the security guard is asking me if I'm okay. "No, I need to pick up my kid and these ladies won't give me a jump. But hey, could you help me push it so I can try and pop the clutch?"

We push, we get her going, I jump in and pop the clutch a couple of times but both times she flatly refuses. As I get out the security guard asks me if I want to push it back into the parking spot. "No" I say, almost as flatly as Dhammadina refused to start. I'm starting to panic because I need to get to my kid.

Just then, a woman that works in my building stood still in the parking lot just long enough... "Excuse me, could you please give me a jump? I've got cables." "Sure." she says.

I pull out the cables and set them up on Dhammadina's battery. The woman pulls up in a brand new Mercedes. It's so new that I don't know how to open the hood. It's so new that when she opens the hood, the engine doesn't look to me like an engine. It's much too clean. And then I couldn't find the battery. Thank goodness she was there to lead the way to the battery.

Then however, I was on my own. She and the security guard stood back and watched me do my magic in all of 30 seconds. As I walked back to take the jumper cables off of the Mercedes, I heard them talk about having never done that before. "If you're going to drive a beater like this (pointing to Dhammadina) you've got to know how to use these (pointing to the cables)."

Whew, it's only 5:20. As I drive through out of the parking lot toward the freeway, I look at the gas meter. Empty. Not close to empty. Below the empty line. Shit, If I don't get gas, I'll surely run out on the freeway.

Just across the street from Charlie's Las Palmas, at the corner of MacArthur and Seminary, I stop for gas. I Pump $20 bucks as fast as I can and hop back in the car. She refuses to start at the turn of the key. For a second I don't understand - I just can't believe it I think "What the Fuck?" And then a second later, I remember what happened only a few short minutes ago in the parking lot at work.

I quickly scan my surroundings. It's busier than at lunchtime. It's Friday afternoon and Young East City thugs are already starting to look for action. It only takes two seconds to realize that I can't stay here long without being a target. Not only am I blocking a gas pump, I'm not from this neighborhood. Unlike where Dhammadina broke down last week (only a few short blocks away), I can not stay in my car, pretend to blend in, and be safe.

Wood answers the phone and simultaneously the thug from the car on the other side of the gas pump median strip walks toward my car and says "What Up, Bitch?" I talk on the phone and pay attention to his whereabouts without giving him any direct attention. I imagine getting out of my car and using some kick boxing moves on him. I see in my minds eye how my elbow meets his nose and how he falls to the ground, unable to move. When he turns his back to my car, I roll up the window. He sits on the large flower pot on the median strip and stares at me as I talk on the phone explaining my predicament to Wood.

Try as I may, I can't hold back all of the tears. Two slip out and the thug can see my distress. He starts laughing. Just then the Gas Station Operator comes out of the store and yells "Move your car, this isn't a parking lot!". The thug and his friend drive away. Wood and I hang up.

I scan my surroundings again and wonder what the hell I'm going to do. There is pretty much only the AAA option at this point. But that's going to take a long time and the neighborhood isn't feeling terribly forgiving at the moment. I don't feel safe and I don't want to wait. Without thinking too much I put my fearless self on. I get out of the car and ask the old man in a large white Cadillac who had been waiting behind the thug to give me a jump.

At first he says he doesn't have Jumper cables. But the young woman next to him agrees to help when I explain that I have cables and know how to use them. He moves his car, and the young woman gets out. "He's my grandfather." she says. "We're on our way back from Dialysis." She rubs her belly. "Here, I'll do it. He thinks you don't know how." I giggle, tell her about the fact that I've driven "beaters" all of my life, and have had to learn how in the hopes that it allays some of the discomfort... "Are you pregnant?" I ask. She looks at me, slightly perplexed but pleased. She's due in March, 2008 she says. "Congratulations!" I say. Again, she seems surprised but genuinely warmed by the expression. "My son is 22 years old." "Wow, you're doing it again!?!" I say. "You know this is all the work of God." as she rubs her belly. Yes, it is, I think, remembering everyone I've come into contact with this afternoon.

"Thank you!" I say and I wave to them both as I drive away. The old man throws me the Peace Sign. I instantaneously feel blessed to have been in their company and to be on my way.



p.s. Dhammadina is our 15 year old two door hatchback that has 225,000 Miles on her. She was named after successfully making a 15 mile drive on a dirt road to Tassajara Zen Center several years ago. We LOVE her.

Living With In-Laws

I have a friend who, by choice lives with, in addition to her Husband and two children, her in-laws. She writes about the challenges of living in this arrangement on her blog which I regularly read. I glean from her posts that it's a tough arrangement.

She's a much stronger woman that I am.

My Mother-in-Law has been staying at my house since Saturday and I'm already close to the end of my rope. She probably is too. We don't communicate very well.

She talks around things. I make direct statements and ask direct questions. She makes assumptions about my statements. Example:

"Are you going to eat your cheese?" (it's melted on a tortilla on the stove, I'm in the other room dressing Twig)

"No, I'm all done. You can have it if you want."

"You're not going to eat it?"

"No, I'm all done."

"You already ate?"

"Yes."

OR

"You went to McDonald's again today?

"Well, I was hungry. So first I went to the ATM and it wasn't working and then I went to Subway and they don't have breakfast sandwiches, so I went to another ATM and that one wasn't working either.

"That's all fine and well. But, ummm, we don't go to McDonald's."

"But you're not listening to me. The ATM Machine wasn't working, and then the other stupid machine wasn't working, and I was hungry. And Twig started asking for food - what was I supposed to do, tell him he couldn't eat? So I'll tell you: I ordered him an egg on a plain English muffin, that's all."

"It's perfectly acceptable that you gave him food when he asked for it. I understand you were trying to get him something healthy. That's not a problem at all. The problem is that we don't go to McDonald's and DO NOT want Twig to go there."

"But, you're not listening to me. The ATM, I was hungry, I gave him..."

And on and on and on.

As you read in an earlier post, I wonder if she listens to what I say. And if she does and tries to put it in to place, it's quite clear that she doesn't want me to speak. Maybe it's how I say things. Maybe it's what I say. Maybe it's some combination. Maybe it's something else. I don't know for sure.

But, in all honesty, I get subtle messages from her that I should stop talking. So I do. And so does she. She doesn't talk to me. Actually, she doesn't talk around me unless it's absolutely necessary. She has gone so far as to talk to Wood ONLY when I'm not around.

I try to give them their space. To allow them to have a relationship without me there. Without my input (knowing full well that my input is going to be heard no matter what). I try to have a relationship with her without Wood there. I call her on weekends. I have Twig call her on weekends, so that they can have a relationship (which is hard for a child when the person lives at the other end of the largest state in the Union). That works when our relationship is over the phone.

When we're all in the same place though, it's hell. I hate it and know: what we're doing now isn't working and she's not going to talk to me about it.

She has confided in Wood that she's depressed and has a low self-confidence. But I am not responsible for that. It's exceptionally difficult for me because she's like my Mom in many ways.

Here, as in relationships with my parents, I'm going to have to be the grown up. That sucks. I've been parenting my Mom for the better part of my life and now I have to parent my Mother-in-Law, too?!

Arrgghhh!

I'm willing to do it. I want Twig to learn how to behave. I'm doing this for him as much as for Me, Wood and Grammie. I just don't know what to say, how to say it, or when.

I think I just need to take a deep breath and do it!

Broken Medicine

I made an appointment last week to see the Doctor about the tightness in my chest. It was scheduled for 7:15am today. I arrived at 7:18, was taken to the Scale (AAKK! I've gained 5 lbs!), given an EKG (which was normal), had my blood pressure taken, given a lovely paper shirt and told that the doctor would be right in.

At 7:50am, the Nurse peeked her head in the room and informed me that the Doctor was running a few minutes late. "How late?" I asked. "About 15 minutes". "Well, I have to be at work at 8:30 so I'll need to leave if she's not here by 8:00".

Frustrating as all get out! I left the office at 8:00 and was late to work.

I think I'll need to ask for a refund of my co-payment since I didn't even talk to the doctor.

And re-think the way that I'm eating. I gained 5 lbs. DRATS! Granted my clothes are fitting slightly better and I'm probably gaining muscle as a result of exercise, but the scale has never gone so hight since I was pregnant. I want it to go down.

More later!

Almost As I Thought

Wood was able to pick me up from work yesterday and that was a welcome treat. I just didn't feel like riding the bus. It was nice to have a few minutes of alone time with him before we entered the house too. We just don't get that too often.

Twig ran out of his room as we walked in the front door. He was extremely excited to see us. Grammie was sitting at the kitchen table fuming. Apparently, early in the morning she had heard me tell him "don't tear apart my house" (he's got this bad habit of throwing folded clothes, shoes, and other items sitting on the desk, etc. - it's his way of playing and I don't like it), and she took that to mean that he needed to clean his room before I got home from work.

Of course, he refused. Actually, he helped for a minute and then wouldn't do any more. Probably because he didn't quite know what he was supposed to do. His room was a disaster before I left the house this morning. It's been a disaster for days and to him it is clean.

Good news is that they went to the zoo. He took a nap (although Grammie tried to transfer him out of the car so he got less than an hour), and seemed to have a good time.

Whew.

This Grammie living several hours away is quite difficult. She doesn't get the face-to-face time that is necessary to understand the finer details of being the main caregiver for stretches of time. She doesn't know the rules, our language, our routines. That might not be fair - my mother who lives 15 minutes away doesn't know those things either. Perhaps it's merely the Grandmother prerogative to be oblivious.

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. It's all going to be just fine. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. She's doing us a favor. Deep breaths. Deep breaths.

Final Float

Some friends that have owned a river rafting business for nearly 20 years are calling it quits after this year. Yesterday, Wood and I, and about 95 of our friends' closest friends ventured out on to the river for the "Final Float".

It was a great day! Not too hot, not too cold. Just enough wind. Lots of rowing, swimming, water fights, and laughing. I can hardly remember the last time I had so much fun! Or so much energy for such physical activity. Those daily lunch time walks and kick boxing classes are really paying off. My clothes fit better, my body looks different, and my stamina has really improved. Amazing how out of shape I had let myself become...

Twig was with his Grammie back at the place where we parked the cars and would meet for the afternoon barbecue. This was a good thing. The original plan was for them to stay at home. Once I got thinking about that plan, I just didn't feel comfortable with the thought of them being more than 2 hours away from where we were - and for more than 12 hours in one stretch. Thank goodness Grammie agreed to come along. While it probably wasn't super exciting nor easy for her, it made it so that I could let loose a little bit.

In case I didn't already mention it, my Mother in Law is in town this week. Twig's preschool is on vacation and Wood and I have to work. Last visit we had with Grammie in LaLa land included some insane conversations about how he was going to spend a week with her over the summer... Needless to say, I had a few reservations about such a scheme. Once presented to Wood, he did too. However, it doesn't make sense fighting with logic - she just won't listen. She wants what she wants and thinks I'm being difficult and trying to keep her away from her grandson. He's three years old and, and, and........Whatever!

Anyway, the whole school vacation thing came up and since Wood and I don't have the time to take off from work right now, I thought that it might make sense for her to try being with him for a week on our turf with some respite in the mornings and evenings. The concept being that she can get a really good taste of him without the shock of 24/7 (besides that whole him in LaLa Land for a week is not going to happen while he's this young). He's too much for me to handle 24/7 with no breaks and I'm half her age.

She's here and the primary person responsible for my almost three year old from 7:45am until 5pm every day this week. I'll admit that I'm a bit controlling of my space and that I have high expectations for the way that my family operates. And, I'll even go so far as to admit that I don't always like my MIL. I find her manipulative and incapable of talking directly without making everything about her and therefore leaving no room for any type of negotiation or compromise. Instead of stating her needs she says things like "are we going to eat dinner?" or "are you hungry?" Then when you get to the bottom of what's happening, and figure out that she wants to eat she'll say something like "I don't know what I want to eat, I 'll eat whatever you want, I'm flexible". Grrr.

Today I caught her rolling her eyes at me when I was telling her about my child. MY CHILD! MINE! NOT HERS! MINE! Yesterday I had spent a little bit of time giving her some pointers on my child's personality. You know, what works and what doesn't, what he does and doesn't respond to. What time he needs to eat, sleep, and how, the activities that are and are not good to attempt with him. She clearly didn't listen to a thing I said because her first activity today was the one thing I said wouldn't be a good idea to attempt with him. Shopping. And her other activities will include visiting her other old friends in their tiny apartments with lots of breakable things where he wants to throw balls and swing bats, and generally be a three year old boy! My vision is of him being a caged wild animal that's expected to behave as a well trained pedigree pet but can't so he's prodded and told "NO!" every 30 seconds. It doesn't scream fun to me. This is his vacation, too!

So I left very shortly after the eye rolling incident (and having made lunch, gathered extra clothes and diapers, etc. for her day with him). Walked to the bus stop and vented on the phone to Wood (even though I probably shouldn't - he's caught in the middle of the two most important women in his life). I feel like she didn't and won't to listen to a thing I said. Like she doesn't want to talk about it. I'm sure that she's not going to do anything the way that we do things with him. She's going to expect him to behave certain ways, but will do all of the grown up things that she wants to do, and then wonder why he's behaving badly. She doesn't (seems to me) to have the skill to understand how to get him to perform the way that he can (because the truth is that he's a really well trained monkey, you just have to know what kind of positive reinforcement and happy snacks he likes!). I feel like I'm not being taken seriously - or even respected - so I also feel like I'm not managing this well.

I'm trying to keep in mind that everyone has their own way. And that kids are different with other people. But HEY - I'm a Mom that knows her kid. I worry about his safety - physical and otherwise. I don't totally trust her. And I'm protective of my child. My only baby. I know she loves him and would never ever do anything to purposefully put him in harms way. We're different and that's okay. He's a very adaptable kid. It's going to be okay. But I'm still having a hard time with it. 

Better get back to work now.

Heart Heavy

That heartburn I mentioned a while back hasn't subsided. It's periodic, showing up at odd times, and has woke me in the middle of the night twice now. It doesn't feel like heartburn. It feels like someone is stepping on my chest (right between my boobs or shoulder blades). Tums doesn't help.

The Palpitations that I've noticed and were cause for the Doctor to call me about test results, have taken a weird turn too. Whereas they have always been one at a time, they are now three and four at a time. It feels really strange. Not painful or anything like that, just strange and maybe a bit frightening.

Wood made me promise to call the doctor's office first thing this morning.

I willingly complied.

The doctor that I saw for the beginning stages of this issue is on vacation for the rest of the month. The fabulous Bernice (really, she's great) at the front desk referred my issue/question to my "regular" doctor. I have been thinking about making a change because I feel like the "regular" doctor thinks that I'm merely under stress, and doesn't take my concerns seriously... After about an hour, Bernice called to let me know that the Doctor had no appointments for today and they would be writing me a prescription for an Asthma inhaler. Huh?

I've had asthma on and off all of my life. And it's usually exercise or pollution induced. But this doesn't feel like my Asthma. And the other doctor said that if my Heart palpitations increase or I begin to experience other symptoms to promise to call and get in to her office. I'm trying to follow directions here.

Good news is that the Asthma inhaler will certainly keep my heart beating...

And I have an appointment Tuesday morning.

Top Ten Tuesday

I'm addicted to It's Friday, a blog written by a woman that plays on my co-ed softball team. Well, it's not really "my" team anymore because I haven't played regularly in a couple of years. But, I still want it to be my team because I want to play regularly - and I will. Anyway, I'm feeling a little um, fragile? I just haven't had it in me to actually comment to any of the posts on her blog - and there have been a lot of things I want to comment on... Maybe because I feel so serious and she (and her commenters) are so often having fun or being funny that I just don't want to bring 'em down, you know? Who wants and can truly appreciate my morose thoughts? You don't count. What follows is in response to to her Top Ten Tuesday post "I am". I'd love to read yours.

I am almost middle aged. 
I wonder Who, me?
I hear hummingbirds chirp and whiz by.
I see history repeated over and over.
I want a different ending.
I am doing it my way.

I pretend to be a wife, mother, manager.
I feel lonely in those spaces sometimes.
I touch my Husband, my child, my body and
I cry, because I feel too often that
I am not good at those things.

I understand that history is repeating itself.
I try to think, act, and behave responsibly in the face of it all.
I hope La Paz descends on all souls.
I am a struggling child, making my way among adults.