Posted by: chlost | January 16, 2016

Home Sweet Home

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Child’s outdoor playhouse near Memphis, TN

 

Almost exactly fifteen years ago, we bought our current home and moved into it in the middle of a January snowstorm. At that time, we had two children still in high school. We had moved from a one-story 1950’s era rambler which was in a neighborhood of small ramblers and almost unbelievably smaller split-entry homes. It was filled with young families, children and dogs ran freely along and across the streets and yards.

Our new two-story home, set on the edge of a river and surrounded by a small woods, was a dream come true. We didn’t have enough furniture to fill more than about 1/2 of the rooms. The dining room and family room were empty once the movers left us that day. The storage space was amazing-closets, cupboards, and a huge unfinished area above the garage was more than we had ever imagined.

Fifteen years later, we have no children living here. There was a year when our youngest son and his family came back to live here, but they have moved to a home of their own. All three of our children visit as often as possible. Our grandchildren stay with us about once a month. The furniture which we bought soon after we moved into the house fills the rooms, but has become shabby and outdated. The storage space has, unbelievably, become full to overflowing.

The house has become a home. We find it comfortable, even if it is big for our current needs. We love the woods, the river, and the quiet neighborhood. Right now, the snow cover shows the myriad of trails through our yard used by deer and other wildlife. There are swans and geese which stay through the winter months on the river below our backyard.

Even with all of that, we have come to the realization that we will have to downsize. We may live here for another 2 to 5 years before we trade this home in, returning to single- level living. That’s just how the circle of life works, I suppose.

Over the fifteen years that we’ve been here, though, we have not done much in the way of redecorating or renovation. Now we need to get this place in shape for making a sale in the next couple of years. When my dad died several years ago, I used some of my inheritance and redecorated the kitchen. That is still in pretty good shape. But the rest of the house looks every bit its thirty years of age.

So we are dipping our toes into the very scary process of a home renovation. We know ourselves well enough to know that we are not DIY’ers. We also are not able to agree on things such as color, furnishings, or fixtures. When we can’t agree, we just end up not doing anything. So the light fixture that I have hated since we moved in fifteen years ago still is hanging askew from the entryway ceiling, and I look at it nearly daily with the thought “God, I hate that thing”.

We have talked to two professionals so far. One, a young woman who is a decorator/general contractor. She is the daughter-in-law of a friend, but I didn’t know that at the time I received a recommendation for her. She walked in, took a look at our upstairs and came up with a fabulously creative idea to completely change the entire layout. She also had two less extensive ideas to choose from. She felt that the house was , for the most part in need of an update-some areas more than others. She was positive, energetic, and enthusiastic. She will help with picking out tile, counters and such, and will get everything put together so that it is ready to go before starting the project.

The second person was a man who is the son-in-law of our cleaning person. He has done many projects on several HGTV shows. He was referred to us by our cleaning person, because our bathroom needs a renovation so badly that they have had trouble cleaning it well. This guy was very practical, down-to-earth and not at all flashy.  Nothing out-of-the-box from him. We would be picking out tile, etc, He will do what we want, but will put together a blueprint and plan for the overall project. He didn’t see that we needed to do much other than some wallpaper removal, painting and some light fixture replacement in the rest of the house.

We also know that the HGTV effect means that many of the demographic who will be in the market for a house like this will expect that it will wow them. It needs to be turnkey. They all think they will live in the houses they see on television.

So. How do we choose? How do we know what to do? How much to do? What is needed? We want to increase the chances of a sale at a good price. We want to enjoy the improvements a bit before we move. We don’t want to spend money and then not end up with a benefit for a sale. Although we know we won’t get a big return for these improvements, we don’t want to just throw the money away.

I asked some friends and family who know our house. Our daughter had a laundry list of suggestions. All very good. Others had nothing.

This is going to be a grand adventure.

Or a nightmare.

Posted by: chlost | December 20, 2015

Another unexpected hiatus and now it’s Christmas

It seems as though I start and stop this site in fitful bits. There seems to be very limited energy on my part to keep it going. I just haven’t had the ideas, energy or time to write posts.

Okay, that last part is not completely true. I have time. We all have the same amount of time every day. I just seem to use my time for other things. Really important things. Like Facebook posts and comments. And watching Netflix. And playing solitaire.

I’m getting pretty darn good at solitaire, folks.

My thoughts seem to come primarily in little bits lately. Quips. Jokes. Smart-ass comments.

For some reason, my brain is not working in blog-post bits. No essays here any more.

I did have one idea for a blog post recently. It had something to do with acronyms. It may take me a while to put it together into something logical. When I do, you will be the first to know.

I still dream of being a writer. I wish I could write. I want to write. I just don’t write. It never seems to get from wish to work. Shouldn’t it just magically happen?

Oh, I also started a little story for my granddaughters. I wrote a story for them and put it into a book a few years ago. I used some of their drawings as illustrations and gave each of them a copy for Christmas. Just recently, their parents told me how much they like it, and that it is one of their favorite books. I hadn’t known that. I hadn’t heard much about it after I gave it to them. But now I feel a little more encouraged to write a new story. I wish I could be a children’s book author.

I will try to work on that.

In the meantime, I am doing some holiday preparations. I am not good at it. I am not a craft-y person. I don’t do decorating well. I have some old, pretty shabby ornaments and decorations. Merle and I got a tree a week ago. It is in the house. We water it each day. It isn’t decorated yet. The outdoor lights didn’t get up this year, even though it has been very warm. No excuse, except we just didn’t use our time to do that.

I told Merle that I wasn’t going to send cards this year. I have always written the holiday cards, and for the past several years, I wrote a little update with a collage of family photos from the year. He couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t send cards. I told him that with Facebook, and all of the other social media, it just isn’t the same. It’s a lot of work for something that is thrown away. He has decided to do the cards this year. It has now been two days and he has the one-page letter finished, Now he is starting the task of choosing the photos to put into the collage.

Last year, we had a huge fight over the holiday cards. He didn’t like the photos or the way they were in the collage. Apparently, he didn’t believe they were balanced enough between the family members who were in the photos. After all of the time I spent putting it together, trying very hard to get a good balance of family represented in the photos, I was not in the mood for his complaint. I told him if he didn’t like it, he could do it himself.

So he changed it himself.

Oh, it is so tempting to complain about the photos he puts together this year.

But I won’t

Ok, I’ll try not to.

Well, I’ll limit my complaints only if absolutely necessary.

I really wish the holidays were over.

Posted by: chlost | October 6, 2015

(Bad) Dreams of Retirement

It often seems to be much too far away, and at other times, I am frightened by how quickly it is coming up. Each day, I am that much closer to retirement.

My job is stressful. I have been burned out for many years. I worked for this office on a part-time contract for most of the those years. But for nearly 4 years now, I have been a full-time employee. I am one of the lucky few who still has a defined-benefit retirement, which bases my pension amount on the highest five years of salary over the time of my employment. So even though I will have worked most of the time as a part-time employee, my retirement will be based on those five full-time years. I am now four years into the “high five” that I want to use for the retirement.

It is time to figure out what we are going to do when that day gets here.

I don’t see myself as not working at all after I retire. I would love to work at some sort of job. Something that I enjoy, but without the stress of my current position. I am very tired of being the one who is supposed to “fix” the mistakes made by others. I am not sure what I could do, and not sure what jobs are available for me at this age.

This past week, Merle and I attended a retirement seminar put on by my employer. That made the prospect of retirement even more real. So we have begun the “discussions” in earnest.

Merle and I have always had trouble agreeing on things. We tend to get stuck on issues where there is no agreement, and nothing happens. The status quo is maintained by default. On this subject, that really isn’t an option. So we have been searching for things we agree on, and deferring for later discussion those things that we don’t agree about.

One thing we did agree upon was that we need to downsize within the near future. This house is too big, we live too far away from our son, and we would like to have some funds available for doing other things.

Agreed.

We want a one-story home with a main floor laundry and minimal upkeep. We would like something newer than our current home. We would like enough bedrooms to allow some overnight guests., and a modern kitchen.

Agreed.

However, we do not agree on the definition of “downsize”, we are of differing opinions as to how close we should live to the city where our son lives, and we disagree on how much money should be tied up in housing.

We (I) have been looking at real estate listings to see what the prices are and where our money would be best spent. I share them with Merle, who doesn’t look at them unless I force him to open the emails while I am looking.

We (I)  have been in contact with a contractor to check out what repairs or improvements we should do to our current home in order to sell it and get the best price. Merle hasn’t talked with him yet, and I have had to schedule another meeting at the end of the week-supposedly Merle will be there.

Merle, in my opinion, wants to spend much too much money, have a much too large home, in a very unrealistically upscale area. His preference is to have a home “on water” in order to have a big speed boat that he can just walk to in the backyard. He has become fixated on a house plan for a home that we could build. It is marginally smaller than our current home, and according to a friend who has done some building, would cost significantly more than our current home’s value.

He’s always been a dreamer.

I’m the dream killer.

These next several months are going to be very difficult.

Posted by: chlost | September 26, 2015

I can’t imagine it

Although I was not posting on the blog over the summer, it doesn’t mean that I wasn’t writing. It seems as though I am constantly writing. I do write a lot of Facebook posts, often many more than I should. I also write little stories and thoughts down in a journal. I’ll admit though, that recently the journal has been nearly as  neglected as the blog.

But I am always writing in my head.

As I drive, I write little commentaries in my imagination about the scenery, the weather, the other drivers. If I am waiting in line at a store, I write little dialogues in my head for the people I see and little vignettes around the observations I make as I shop. At work, when things get slow, I daydream about how I could write about the people I deal with, in a way that would maintain confidentiality and professionalism.

Unfortunately, very little of that great writing has ever made it to a computer screen, let alone a page. It always sounds so much better in my head. When it is put down in black and white, it seems to lose something.

So I don’t write much.

And I think a lot.

The other day, a coworker and I were on a long road trip together to see a client. The coworker and I know each other fairly well, although I wouldn’t say we are exactly friends. We don’t see each other outside of work or work-related activities.

To see us, it would not seem likely that we would have much in common. She is Latina, born in Ecuador, adopted as an infant and raised as an only child in a  Minnesota family. I am WASP, born in the Midwestern United States.  I would guess her age at mid-thirties. I am *ahem* NOT in my mid- (or even late, late) thirties. She worked as a police officer before going into social work. She then joined our office. I was an anti-authoritarian, not quite a hippie, young adult. I still don’t like “big brother”.

Somehow, we managed to fill 7 hours in a car together with conversation.

It didn’t get boring.

But if I were to have written the scene in my head, I would have been hard-pressed to figure out how it all would have worked. Even looking back on it, I am not sure as to exactly what we discussed, or how we managed to make that time pass with conversation.

It would be hard for me to transfer our actual conversation to the black and white words of the computer screen. Even in my head I have a hard time recreating it.

Maybe I am going to have the start turning on my phone’s recorder in order to have any chance of capturing the real world and recreating it in written words.

 

Posted by: chlost | September 22, 2015

Well, that lasted much longer than I’d anticipated

It’s been over three months since I’ve had a laptop, and since I’ve been here in the blogging world.

While I was gone, I heard that blogging has become obsolete. Man, I leave for a few months, and look what happens! Now that I’m back, maybe things will pick up again.

You’re welcome.

It will take me a very long time to catch up with everyone. I hope that I haven’t missed too much, I also hope that everyone (all ten of the people who used to read this blog) still remember me. Did anyone even notice that I was gone?

It was a very short summer.

I am not ready for it to be fall.

I am definitely not looking forward to winter.

There. That’s my update. Just like last year. Just like every year. Fall has this habit of becoming winter. Every year.

Well, we did have another family wedding this past summer. My brother, who at age 50 married for the first time. It was a very nice wedding, and they seem to be doing great. He also took on two step-children, ages 12 and 16, so there may be some interesting times ahead.

My mom turned 85 this summer. I figured out a way to give her a ride in a red Mustang convertible. She has said for years that she wanted to do that. She liked it, but wasn’t overly excited. She doesn’t get overly excited about much of anything any more. Is that what happens when people get that old?

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Her walker adds a nice touch, right? As my sister said, you could make an ad for Mustang from this. “The dream lives on” perhaps?

A few weeks ago, I had a big “zero” birthday. Merle decided that the best gift he could give me was to gather the kids together for family time. He worked out renting a townhouse on a lake and got our sons, granddaughters and daughters-in-law there for a weekend. It was great. We had a wonderful time and it almost made that number before the zero bearable. I don’t mind birthdays, I am just going to stop counting them.

Now that I am back, flush with new laptop and extra hours of cold and darkness, I will attempt to keep up.

After I catch up.

Posted by: chlost | June 4, 2015

June Musings

Rain.

We have had a lot of rain this spring. Almost every day, there has been at least a rain shower. Some days, it has poured.

It is nearly the middle of June, and it is still cool and wet.

The upside of this, of course, is that everything is lush. The tree branches are so full of big green leaves, that they nearly touch the ground. The grass is thick and green. There are no brown spots or areas bare of grass in the lawn.

The downside here is that a wet spring means millions of mosquitoes are just waiting to hatch out and begin their radar-enhanced search for human blood. There will soon be a high-pitched whine in the air as they take off looking for dinner.

It is also difficult to get the lawn work done. It is hard to find time to mow in between all of the rainy days. By the time there is a chance to mow, the grass is nearly knee-high. It is the same for gardening. The flowers are getting a lot of water, but not much warm sunlight. The weeds don’t seem to care, they flourish in this wet weather. I am going to have a long day of weeding and trimming whenever I can get out there to fight the weeds and the bugs.

During the winter months, I longed for green. I craved the colors of flowers. The black and white world of January and February bore my retinas. Now, the rods and cones in the back of my eyes shiver with the abundance of colors and shades of green which surround me.

The summer continues to be busy. Almost every square on the kitchen calendar is filled in with the scribbles of an activity of some sort. Weddings, dinner with friends, weekend visits with the granddaughters. We traveled two hours last weekend to see the granddaughters’ 10 minutes of dancing in a 3-hour ballet recital last weekend. It was worth it. They were sweet and wonderful.

This season passes so quickly. It is sometimes hard to enjoy the sweetness of a summer. I want to bottle it up to shake out just a bit here and there in January. Just a shake and the smell of fresh-mown grass to offset the stale closeness of a cold, gray day would do wonders for the psyche.

This evening the rain appears to have dissipated for at least a while. The forecast calls for some warmth this weekend, interspersed with thunderstorms. The granddaughters will be here to visit. Hopefully, they will be able to get outdoors with us. We have bicycles, swing and sandbox ready to go. The river will be high, the woods tick-filled, and the grass long and lush.

Life is pretty darned good. It is summer.

Posted by: chlost | May 20, 2015

The Family Busy-ness

Our family is slowly moving forward after the disappointment of our son and daughter-in-law’s loss with the miscarriage. Our son is trying to be supportive while our daughter-in-law’s grief is almost palpable. She continues to struggle. He tells me that they are becoming closer as a couple, which is encouraging.

Mother’s Day was a bit difficult, but we had lunch together and just relaxed. It was what we needed.

My husband’s 92 year-old aunt Lois passed away this past week. She was what is lovingly called “a character”. A woman who graduated from college in 1947, was pregnant when she married, then was divorced with a young child at a time that it was considered shameful. She later remarried, had five more children and raised them in a very small home. She was full of life, a person whose brain and mouth had no filter in between. She said whatever she thought. She made us laugh a lot when we were near her, whether in embarrassment or delight at what she said.

This past weekend, I made my first trip to Florida, to Naples, to attend my nephew’s law school graduation. He attended a very Catholic school, one which lists the names Scalia, Bork and Thomas as founders or supporters. Then they wonder why they had problems with the bar passage rate of their students. Teaching lawyers from a political perspective does not generally improve their intellectual reasoning skills, no matter which end of the political spectrum. I only hope he passes and is able to find success away from his father. My sister’s ex is a very obnoxious, pushy and financially successful man. He paid for the law school, and I suspect he expects some payback in terms of how my nephew uses that education. It was a stressful weekend in terms of family dynamics, but the weather was gorgeous, and the time with my sister, niece and nephew was very enjoyable. Naples is a bit too ritzy and picture-perfect for my taste, but we had fun.

This upcoming Memorial Day weekend will be spent with family as well. We are having a “welcome to the family” bridal shower for my future sister-in-law.. A winery visit, food and dinner should give us all a chance to relax and get to know each other a bit. We want to be sure she knows how happy we are that my brother has found someone to share his life.

Merle is gone this week, so I am alone at home. It is the first time he has been gone this long. The house is quiet, but I am enjoying it. The first night I returned from my Florida trip, the dog wasn’t even here. That was too quiet. But now it is the two of us, and we are okay. My single friends-one is a widow and the other never married-would probably think I am getting a taste of their lives. And I suppose that’s true. I miss him, but I am also enjoying the time alone. He is on a fishing trip in Canada with my sister’s husband. The weather there has been very cold, including snow. I am pretty sure he will be ready to be home this weekend. He isn’t even that much of a fisherman. Doing it in snow would not be fun for him. I just hope he enjoys spending time with some guys. Is it strange that I want my husband to make some male friends? He doesn’t have any right now, and I think he needs that in his life. Friends are so important to me, and I hope he can have that too.

This busy-ness of family makes it harder to say goodbye to the baby we were hoping for this fall. Our family is the biggest part of my life. It is the most important to me. It has been difficult to let go of the idea of that little one. But we go on with all of the family stuff, enjoy what time we have together with who ever is able to be with us.

Someday we will be able to welcome a little one into the family, and things will be fine.

In the meantime, we keep busy.

 

Posted by: chlost | April 24, 2015

Sadness

It happens.

It’s life.

Millions of people go through this.

We never have. That’s good, but it makes it very hard.

Our daughter-in-law and son found out this week that the much-wanted and already-loved baby they were expecting in November is no longer alive. The baby stopped growing after about 8 weeks.

They had a twelve-week doctor appointment this week, and went in happily expecting to hear the heartbeat of their first child for the first time. I was excited for them. That first time you hear your child’s heartbeat is indescribable.

Instead, they were told that the baby “was being uncooperative” and they had to return for an ultrasound. Two days later, the ultrasound technician’s face told them everything; the radiologist confirmed it.

They are no longer expectant parents.

We are no longer anticipating the fun and excitement of a new baby at Christmas. Our three granddaughters aren’t quite sure why there no longer will be a new cousin for a playmate. Merle and I were very happy about a fourth grandchild-maybe a boy, just to change things up after three granddaughters.

In my mind, I know that they will likely be pregnant again soon. I know that they will likely have a baby in the relatively near future.

But my heart is sad for them, and the little one whose arrival our entire family was excitedly anticipating. I had very nearly purchased a little baby outfit last weekend.

There is this downside to knowing so early about a pregnancy. Back in the day, we didn’t know we were pregnant until 3 or 4 months along. We may have miscarried before we ever realized we were pregnant. Now with the ability to know a woman is pregnant within just several days, the parent knows about every one of those early miscarriages.

My son and his wife had been very reticent about acknowledging the pregnancy. No one outside the family had been told. But they were just beginning to feel confident enough to make a more general announcement, which they planned to do in just a few more weeks. They had just started to allow themselves to start to think of possible names. They were saving up their PTO from work so that they would be able to be at home for the longest possible time.

It was a long week. My daughter-in-law told me they were staying home tonight to go to bed early. “All of this crying and stuff this week is exhausting,” she told me.

Yes, I agree. It is very exhausting.

Posted by: chlost | April 12, 2015

Still Home

There was a time, fifty years ago now, that my family lived in upstate New York. As a fourth grader, I made the transition which came with a move from the midwest to the east coast relatively easily. My family moved into what we believed to be an enormous, modern and fancy home. The front entrance had a little medallion that said the house was “all electric”!  There was an attic bedroom with purple ballerina wallpaper. There were dark, secret places behind the closet walls, and under the home’s rafters in that attic bedroom which were magical places for girls with vivid imaginations and thin bodies to explore.

My two younger sisters and I loved that house and the neighborhood. The top level of the next-door neighbors’ split rail fence became a balance beam which we conquered with grace and laughter, and no broken bones. The backyard abutted to a small pine woods whose trees dropped long needles that were easily swept into piles which became the “walls” of make-believe mansions with adjoining stables. Just beyond the split rail fence neighbor was a creek (which in the sobering reality of adulthood was a really just a drainage ditch) that entered a large culvert as the water flowed under our street. It was perfect for wading, building dams and for make-believe world exploration expeditions. The culvert was big enough that we could walk through it to the other side of the street, where the water dropped from the culvert in what seemed like a huge waterfall back into the creek. In the winter, the water froze into a blue ice slide.

We knew every family in the neighborhood, which of them had kids, and which families were in the very unusual situation of having no children. Our best friends’ homes were interspersed within the neighborhood, down one street or up another. The rich families lived at the top of the hill behind us, the elementary school was just a few blocks down the street from our home, and the busy main street was several blocks away. The neighbor kids all walked to school each morning. The school playground included a very steep sliding hill that we used in the summer, on large flattened pieces of cardboard and in the winter, on wooden sleds and toboggans. The unspoken but clearly understood limits on our parental-authorized realm were approximately 5 blocks in any direction. More for me as the eldest, and less for my younger sisters.

My parents developed a group of friends primarily through a small church and my father’s work at IBM. This group of IBM employees and their families were like our young family, and we socialized together. In those days, IBM had a joke that the letters stood for “I’ve Been Moved”. Most families had moved many times, and had no family in the area, so it was important that the employees’ families had a chance to get acquainted. The company provided its employees a company-owned country club, which included a swimming pool and golf course. We spent many sunny hours at that pool in the summer months. We felt very lucky. These same families traveled together towing pop-up campers to warm states each spring and to state parks in the summer to camp. For the most part, the families had children of similar ages, but some did not. We swam in the very cold ocean, played mini-golf, and sang together around campfires in the evening. The older kids played guitars and knew all of the newest songs, like “Blowing In the Wind”.

In my mind, I know these memories are long in the past, but it is hard to realize that they are from 50 years ago. FIFTY years!

This past week, Merle and I took a road trip to visit our daughter and son-in-law in Philadelphia. On the way home, we took a detour of a few hundred miles so that I could visit my old house in New York. With the assistance of the miraculous GPS, we were able to easily find the house.

20150409_172506While it has been well-cared for, it is obviously not the mansion of my childhood memories. But as I stood on the sidewalk across the street, it still felt very special. The sidewalk is still the same one where we roller skated (with the metal strap-to-your-shoes skates), back and forth in front of the house, as well as down the sidewalks of a  hilly street that is perpendicular to the house. The split rail fence is gone, the creek is filled in, and the little pine woods is now just a few trees with grass underneath. But when I looked at the house’s Zillow listing, the attic room looks the same, minus the purple ballerina wallpaper. Those secret rooms are sure to be there, and the room above the garage-mine-still looks over the neighborhood. I spent many hours just daydreaming out the window. The vinyl siding has likely covered over my name that I left written underneath the outside of the window frame when we moved. I wonder if the siding contractor noticed it when it was installed.

Over the past fifty years, I’m sure that there have been several families who have lived in the house. How many children have grown up there?  How many of them felt it was a special place?  Did any of them put their little sister down the laundry chute? Did they roller skate in the basement, while holding hands with a sister or two and circling around the metal center pole? They probably found those secret rooms behind the closet, but I’ll bet they didn’t play a game called “Green Ghost” in there. Did the mother iron laundry in the family room while watching her soap opera until her children came home from school screaming for snacks?

How many times did other children race outside early in the morning to get the garbage can down that steep driveway as the noisy truck rumbled up the street?  Did other parents curse that same driveway in the winters as they aimed the car for the garage when it was covered with ice?

My brother fell on those front steps and had to be raced to the emergency room. I wonder if his blood is still somewhere on the cement. When we had guests from overseas sharing a Thanksgiving meal, I fainted and broke off a front tooth. I don’t suppose that the kitchen renovator found a piece of tooth in the floorboards.

The memories which this house hold are all in my head. Only my sister shares them. My brother was too young. My mother was an adult. Her memories would be different, and she is not a sentimental person.  It was one of the best times of my childhood.

What memories does this house hold for others who have lived there? Will someone else use a GPS and track down the house to see it again?

All of those memories, all of those children, all of the families have made their own memories in that house. That is not just a house in that photo, it is a home, not just for me, but likely for many others. I hope that their memories are as good as mine.

There have been many days lately when I have felt as though I am once again on a very small island of sanity in an ever-rising sea of crazy.  The water has been lapping at my chin for many years. Recently I’ve felt that I may need a straw to point up into the air to maintain the ability to breathe as the tide of insanity rises over my head. I often feel this at work, but listening to the world news can also make the scene quite vivid.

Through it all, I usually see myself as coping fairly well. You get used to it. After a while, you just figure out a way to do things-routine, repetition, systems. We all have them. They become automatic.

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Almost every morning, I buy a coffee on the way to work. When I got to the office this morning, like every other morning, I sipped my coffee as I checked to see if there were phone messages, then turned to my computer on the credenza behind me.

CTRL+ ALT+DELETE   Enter password.  Password Incorrect

The computer would not accept my password. Re enter password. Password Incorrect

The state requires that our passwords change every few months. Instead of making up a new one every time, I have figured out a progression that I just change one part of the password each time. I wonder whether I need to change it. Nope. The password is still good.

I tried over and over. My one-handed typing is often not particularly accurate, so I set my coffee down and tried several more times using both hands to enter the password.

I typed it more slowly.

Password Incorrect.

Again.

Password Incorrect.

One. Letter. At. A. Time.

Password Incorrect.

Password Incorrect.

After several more attempts, I sat and stared at the monitor. And as I finally took a moment and just thought about it, I realized that I’d been entering the password for my home computer rather than my work computer password. When I finally used the right password, the computer magically allowed me access.

The password I’d been entering was incorrect.

It’s just a little thing, I know. And maybe it happens to everyone. And maybe it is normal. I realize all of that. But it made me realize how much I expect my mind to handle every day. Over and over. Passwords. PINs Multiple ones for banks, messages, computers, phones, security codes, email addresses, phone numbers. They are shoved in there with the thousands of names/faces of clients, colleagues, family, friends, baby’s and/or pets’ names of all of those people. My medication names, dosages (Is this a day for a 1/2 tablet or is that tomorrow?) my calendar, my mother’s appointments, bills, social security number, birthdays…….

No wonder the passwords got mixed up in there. It’s a wonder I can walk and talk at the same time, let alone know whether to enter a PIN or a password.

A few weeks ago, I started reading the book “Still Alice”. I had to stop. It was very disconcerting to read this woman’s story of losing her memory to Alzheimer’s . I was still at the very beginning, when she suddenly didn’t know where she was while on a routine walk in her neighborhood. It was too real. That could happen to me. I think it may have happened to me. I have not gone back to try to read it again. I’m not sure I ever will. I don’t want to see the movie, even though everyone tells me “It is SO good!” Um, no-it feels uncomfortably possible that could be my future.

The world seems crazier every day. People seem to do stranger things every day. The amount of information and feelings that must be maintained in our brains increases dramatically each day.

Sometimes the most rational way to react to an irrational situation is to lose your mind.

Maybe I am the one losing my mind. That sea of crazy surrounding me may be doing just fine.

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