WIDOWHOOD LESSONS

 

          No matter how old you become or what happens in your life, there’s always lessons to be learned. I’ve been a widow for almost four and a half years now and have learned a number of lessons. My least favorite was the fact that no one really wants to hear about your depression, loneliness or unhappiness…and, seriously I totally understand. Still, it’s hard to not have someone who knows you inside and out listen when you need to talk about what is foremost in your mind.

          Of course, in the beginning of my widowhood, family and friends were very solicitous as is perfectly normal. As the weeks and months went by, however, we all returned to our normal lives, except mine was no longer normal. I had to find a new normal. This wasn’t always easy as I’m sure you know if you’ve read my blog since the beginning.

          When John was alive, he always listened when I needed to talk about being depressed, complain about whatever was happening in my life that made me angry or unhappy, or just blow off steam. Sometimes, he’d offer an opinion, but mainly, he just listened…or at least pretended he was listening.

          Before I found my new normal, I began to share this kind of thinking with my kids and friends only to learn they didn’t appreciate my sharing. I mean they didn’t exactly tell me to shut up, knock it off, or ignore me, but I’m not a dummy so I got the messages no matter how oblique. It took some time and a bit of work on my part to make sure I don’t complain about my life or talk about being depressed lonely, or unhappy. And, to be perfectly clear, for the most part I am not depressed, lonely, or unhappy, but I do choose what I share.

          Fortunately, I have Kuma who became part of my new normal about eighteen months ago. While he’s incapable of responding with words to anything I have to say, he does listen and doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not hearing me. He stares back, looks into my eyes and some times tilts his head as though he’s thinking about what I just said. Kuma’s also quick with his tongue or to climb on me in his effort to provide comfort and reassurance…or, it may be more like he’s showing me who’s the alpha.

          The lessons learned in widowhood were the same ones I had previously learned in life. No one, no matter how much they love you, wants to listen forever to a litany of downer talk, that it’s okay to have a downer every now and then, but not always. It’s up to me, myself and I to find or create a remedy for depression (think and look for positivity in my life), loneliness (Kuma sure took care of that), and unhappiness (again, think about and look for what makes me, myself and I happy).

          I believe I’ve graduated from widowhood school with honors…or at least I’m choosing to see it that way today. Kuma agrees wholeheartedly with my graduation honors, and I’ve his tongue marks on my face to prove it.

WHAT IS THIS FEELING???

 

          There’s something I’ve been mulling over for a number of days now. I’ve tried to come up with a word, or words, or a description that fits what I’ve felt and nothing seems to fit. I’m in a quandry. Perhaps you, my dear reader, has had this kind of experience and can assist in identification.

          Last week I was driving on a street I don’t often use and saw something new. As a result, I immediately thought of John and what he’d have to say about the change. As I was thinking this, I felt a stutter, a rebound, almost a physical reaction in my chest to my thoughts. It made me suddenly miss him all over again with a more or less physical pain.

Have you ever had that feeling? It’s almost as if my heart missed a beat or my chest was thumped by an outside force. The result is an almost overwhelming sadness for what was there and is now gone, both with regard to the new whatever it was on the street and John.

Anyway, I’ve tried to identify this feeling with a word or words, but perhaps there isn’t a name. I just know there are times when a finding something new in my surroundings or even a memory will make my heart/body/mind stutter. This feeling is always followed by sadness. I always try to follow the sad with a conscious choice to find and remember a time(s) past that makes me feel ever so much better. It doesn't always work, but sometimes, I guess sad can be good?

Please, feel free to share your experiences and/or identification ideas.

THANK YOU FOR YOUR COMMENTS!!!

 

          When I first began to blog, people who read my posts indicated they could not figure out how to provide a comment. Most readers posted a remark on Facebook instead. As a result, I stopped paying attention to the comments section. Well, go ahead and whack me upside the head for not providing any feedback.

          Yesterday, I noticed there were two comments on a previous post. That led me to look back at all of 2023 and I found there were times when I received at least two comments and even once, maybe twice, three. Most of those remarks were made by two people…one was my brother’s first wife, Linda, and the other was Anonymous. If there are more than one person being Anonymous, there’s no way to tell.

          Please accept my apologies for neglecting to peruse the comments made over the last year. I didn’t go back any further, so if you were making comments all along, again, please accept my most sincere apologies for not reading and/or responding to them.

          I also want to thank Linda and Anonymous for their posts. It always feels good to read the comments on Facebook. Now that I know they are there sometimes, it’s going to feel wonderful to read them at the bottom of my blog posts.

          Back in August, I blogged about why I do this and stated it was for my own interest and satisfaction, and that comments, whether good or bad, didn’t matter. I continue to write simply because me, myself and I like do so…a lot. However, I must admit, comments either at the end of my posts or on Facebook do bring a smile to my face and warmth to my heart. Thank you to each and every commentator whether on my blog or on Facebook. Your comments do count…a lot.

DRIFTWOOD ARTIST???

          Last August, I blogged about my driftwood sculpture experience(s). Today, Saturday, I officially joined the Northwest Driftwood Artists (NWDA) organization at its January meeting. Not only that, but I was the last to arrive (late damn it), and when the drawing was held for the monthly prize, my number was drawn and I received a $40.00 tool for use on large pieces of driftwood. I also took advantage of the tool sale NWDA was holding and added to my tool collection.

          One of the members who has been with NWDA from practically the beginning and now serves as the historian gave a talk about the early history. I was amazed to learn how far back…the 1960s…NWDA originated. I believe there has been a number of names for the organization over the years. There was a notebook that covered some of the early times and apparently there are three additional notebooks. I was able to leaf through it, but what I really wanted to do was sit down and read page by page, all the newspaper articles about the events of those years. I also wished the photos of the driftwood sculptures had all been in color.

          It’s exciting to be in a room with other individuals who are pursuing this craft. Listening to these people who have so many years’ experiences under their belts made me want to return home and dedicate the remainder of my day to working on Percy the Porpoise. It also made me eager to go out and look for additional pieces of driftwood, or any wood really for that matter as illustrated by one of the historian’s tales.

She and her family had property on a river up near Mt. Pilchuck. They took a drive up part of the mountain to an area was being cleared for some purpose. There was a huge pile of wood the tractor had shoved out of the cleared space. She thought one piece in particular looked interesting, climbed up the pile, gave it a kick to see if it would move and then sent it tumbling down to the road. It took her husband and teenage son to load it into the station wagon…it weighed almost seventy pounds.

          We weren’t told how long it took for her to complete her sculpture. When finished, it weighed only forty-eight pounds, was four feet wide and resembled a coiled serpent. It was the tree burls that made the coils. The tree trunk below the burls was sawn off to provide the base. She didn’t have a photo with her, but is going to bring one next month. I would love to find a big piece of wood to turn into something wonderful like her sculpture.

          When I blogged about my new endeavor last August I intended to include a photo of Ott the Otter but failed to do so, but am including it here.

          I encourage you, dear reader, to visit northwestdriftwoodartists.org. There are terrific photos of the submissions to the 2023 exhibit.

          Now, I must close this post because I can hear Percy calling my name…he wants to be sanded until he feels as smooth as if he were a real porpoise.

THANK YOU ANGIE!!!

          As long as I’m being grateful for assistance provided by my kids, I need to thank my daughter-in-law, Angie, for her help with my various computer/phone problems. And, it’s not just one time, but multiple times, especially recently.

          Back in November, my phone suddenly decided it didn’t want me to have access to my Outlook email. I let it go for a bit, thinking it might correct itself. Hey, sometimes those gremlins leave withoput being encouraged to do so. Angie spent at least an hour or more on the phone with me, the end result being I had access to my email on my phone.

          At the same time, Angie convinced me to get a new phone. It would only cost me ninety-nine cents a month for thirty-six months, my current phone was three years old, and the screen was cracked. It sounded like a good idea so I visited the AT&T store only to learn the offer was available just online  So, Angie ordered my new phone.

          Angie works at a school adjacent the Mountlake Terrace Pool. I went there one morning before my exercise class which Angie thought was held next door. That wasn’t the case, so she ended up doing most of the work in transferring all my information from the old phone to the new. I would say 99.9% of the information moved over and what didn’t wasn’t terribly important.

          It took a while for me to learn how to use my new phone as well as my old phone. During this time, my Outlook email on my desktop computer decided it didn’t want to play nice. It stopped giving me new emails and not sending out emails. All it said was “send/receive error.” So frustrating.

          Since I didn’t want to bother Angie with this, I endeavored to fix it myself, all to no avail. I took to getting my email via Xfinity, but there were problems with that, i.e., it took forever to reach my emails and apparently my Outlook contacts were not available through Xfinity, so unless I had memorized the recipient email or was replying to an email, my emails didn’t get sent.

          The most important gift Angie gave me for Christmas was a coupon for IT assistance. I availed myself of this offer this past weekend. Angie had a program which allowed her to “drive” my computer once I had downloaded the same program. It’s really weird to sit in my chair and watch my cursor move around the screen without my doing anything at all.

          The problem wasn’t an easy fix. We were on the phone for more than an hour while Angie tried a variety of fixes, most of which didn’t make sense to me at all. When Outlook email suddenly began downloading, I said, “It’s working. What did you do?”

          Angie’s response was, “You were watching. You saw what I did.” \

          "Yes," I admitted, "I was watching, but it still doesn’t make any sense to me.”

          I extended my profuse thanks to Angie for correcting my problem. I was/am so grateful. I also just had to ask, “So, this coupon, is it a one-time use only coupon or may I use it again?” Lucky me, Angie’s response was that it had no expiration date and I could use it more than once.

          It is my hope I don’t have to resort to additional requests; however, I made a notation on the coupon of the date I received assistance. Depending on the number of notations on that coupon at the end of 2024, Angie may deserve more than my profuse thanks…an extra special Christmas gift perhaps.

"Its what sons do for their Ma’s.”...

  

        is what my son said to me after I thanked him profusely for spending half his Saturday dealing with my problem. That may be the case, but this mom is still extremely grateful.

          There is a Facebook friend who always posts a public service announcement when the Seattle weather forecast calls for freezing temperatures. He offers great advice which I usually follow. Unfortunately, this time his sharing went in one eye and out the other.

          Early Saturday morning when I first got up, I noticed my Nespresso machine had very little water in its container. I removed it and took it to the sink where I twisted the faucet as I always do. Nothing happened. Not being fully awake, I twisted it again and was amazed at the lack of pressure behind the faucet. Even barely awake, I managed to yell several naughty epithets because I knew somewhere my pipe(s) had frozen. I also knew why…because I hadn’t left the bathroom cold water faucet dripping as my FB friend suggested.

          It’s been at least a couple decades since the Karlberg water pipes froze. I discovered the problem when I got up to get in the shower for work. No water, no shower, no work. It was a big deal and I remember John renting some huge blower thing to warm up the garage and the pipes located there. If memory serves, the pipe(s) cracked, so John had to use his plumbing skills. Unfortunately, his initial attempt apparently wasn’t quite up to par because the following Friday, there was once again no water to the shower. Two Fridays in a row…I’m sure my boss thought I made it up.

          Fortunately, I had filled the water container in the fridge so I was able to water both my Nespresso and Kuma. I had my latte and waited until 8:00 am when I texted my son AJ…”I regret to inform you my pipes froze. Going to call plumber neighbor at 9:00 am.” I got a text back, “Call me.”

          The end result was AJ came over and figured out where the water had frozen. It was the hose bib at the front of the house. He thawed it with his heat gun; and let me tell you, the sound of water gushing out of the open faucets was music to my ears. He told me the cover I’d put on the hose bib was actually worthless.

          AJ’s assistance didn’t stop there. He went off to Ace Hardware and bought a heat strip and performed the installation. There was already a heat strip on the other side of the garage door which wasn’t plugged in. He plugged that in too. n.b. When John redid the water line from the street, he brought the pipe in to the right side of the garage door, then up and over and down the left side. I think it was the second Friday when he installed insulation over all those pipes.

          I made AJ a latte and he played a bit with Kuma, having bought him a Cow Ball when he was at Ace…it’s been Kuma’s favorite toy since. With hugs and my deepest gratitude, AJ left to go home and relax for the remainder of the day. I collapsed on the couch, grateful my problem hadn’t required his entire day or one of those huge heaters. As I’m relaxing there’s a knock on the door and it’s AJ. He’d returned with a ceramic heater which he installed on the left side of the garage. He didn’t trust that old heat tape and wanted to make sure the water remained fluid. He provided me with instructions so I would know how it functions as well as when to turn it on.

          Now, he’d solved my original problem when he left for home the first time, so he really didn’t need to do anything additional, sort of go that extra mile, but he did. My thanks and hugs were even more generous when he left for home the second time. Saturday night AJ texted to make sure I’d turned the heater on as instructed. I replied I had and once again professed my thanks. His responding text was, “Its what sons do for their Ma’s.”

          Aren’t I the lucky (and profoundly grateful) mom though!!! Yes, I am. Yes, I am.

LOST ANOTHER YEAR, MAYBE FIVE, OFF MY LIFE

          When my children were growing up there were events that increased my heart rate, made me sweat; and, I was absolutely positive, took at least a year off my life. Children now grown, I thought those kinds of experiences were far behind. I was wrong.

          If you read my blog posts, you know I have a wonderful companion in Kuma, my Cutsey Putsey Puppy. I cannot begin to describe how his presence in my life has provided such positive benefits. As a result of this relationship, I believe I lost not one, but more like five years off whatever life time I have left. Allow me to explain.

          Since early last fall, I’ve had a heating pad plugged in so I can turn it on, lean against it and allow its heat to improve my back pain. The cord comes around the end of the couch and up to the pad itself on the couch. Kuma was laying on the floor chewing away on his boney-bone. I was reclining, watching television. Things were calm and peaceful with only the folks on TV talking over Kuma’s noisy bone crunching.

          Suddenly, Kuma began to yelp and cry and carry on. I sat up and looked down at him. The heating pad cord was in his mouth and he was being electrocuted. I pushed the coffee table away and grabbed the cord. I gave it a yank. It didn’t release. I gave it another HUGE yank and it came free.

          Kuma was trembling and looked shocked (pun intended). I gathered him up and held him close. His expression seemed to say, “What the fuck just happened?????” While he was recovering, I pried open his mouth to look for burns and didn’t find any…thank God. When he began licking his back leg, I thought perhaps there was a burn there, but nope, it was just wet from where he’d peed himself. Yes, Kuma had peed and defecated during his electrocution. I felt so bad and kept him close until he wanted to be free of me.

          It took about an hour before Kuma returned to his normal self, encouraging me to throw his bally-ball, play tug of war, and act pretty much as he always did. Still, I worried, so much so, that after we went to bed and Kuma was sound asleep, I woke him up just to be sure he was breathing okay.

          Once Kuma seemed okay, I went online and looked up electrocution of dogs. I learned I should not have grabbed the cord, but unplugged it…hey, I could reach the cord more quickly. I learned it was a good thing I didn’t touch Kuma because I could have been electrocuted as well. I also learned I should look for burns which I had already done. There was additional information about long-term effects. Lastly, I learned I should call Kuma’s vet.

          The following morning, I called the vet and explained what had happened. To the information Kuma had no burns, I added the fact Kuma was eating, drinking, playing and doing his business outside as he normally did. The receptionist told me they’d get back to me after she talked to the doctor.

          That phone call didn’t come until close to the end of the day. It was reassuring and told me the only thing I needed to be aware of was Kuma’s respirations. When an electrocution happens, some times within about forty-eight hours, the animal’s lungs will begin to fill with fluid. I had read that online as well.

          I’m happy to report Kuma is doing just fine. He acts as though absolutely nothing happened at all. As for me, well, last Sunday night I actually wondered if I should call 911 for myself. My heart rate was extremely high and I was sweating as if I’d run a marathon. While I didn’t resort to 911, I have come to the conclusion Kuma is responsible for my losing another year…or maybe five…off my life.

          The only really important fact, however, is that Kuma is just fine!!!