Menopause...

I am in love with a saint.  An.Absolute.Saint.
This really happened.

My Love called me and asked me to meet him for lunch.  He has been attentive this season because I guess I always get emotional around the Christmas holiday.  He is a really busy man.  He has a job that, according to me, is very important and integral.  He has kids.  He volunteers.  He helps his friends.  He has Me...  He has Me...  Yes, he has me...

Christmas came and went.  I made him dinner.  We watched a movie at home.  We exchanged gifts; I gave him home made Kahlua and he gave me lots of money and some luxurious body butter, lotion and cologne because that's what I like.  We had lots of face time and body time.  We read, we touched, we were silent together.  It was great, wonderful, intimate, romantic even amazing.

Now, what I am going to share with you won't make any sense.  You may have questions that seem like easy solutions to some of the problems I suffered but remember, this post isn't about me.  It's about him.

After Christmas he was at work and he called me to ask me to meet him for lunch.  I am always glad to hear from him and I almost always want to see him so I agreed.  It was set.  We would meet at 2 o'clock.  Well, I went downstairs to have my coffee and sit quietly for a minute before starting my day.  It didn't exactly work out that way.  My body was quiet but my thoughts were all over the place.

I cancelled our lunch - via email- siting the fact that I was low on gas and couldn't drive all the way across the valley to meet him.  I said, in the email, that it was OK with me if he were to come over to my house the following morning and crawl into bed with me but I wasn't driving to him.  (I know, right?)

I get a phone call and in his usual loving voice he asks me if I would prefer he drive out to my house for lunch.  We didn't even have to go out.  We could have lunch in and sit and talk together.  He simply wanted to see me.  I was confused and relieved that he was still speaking to me, but I happily agreed.

So, he comes over...  we eat, we chat, we nap and he has to go back to work.  I am happy.. unusually happy.. almost like on a drug happy.  We both have to drive into the city so I suggest I follow him in.  He agrees so we set out on our way.

Now... here's the thing.  I could ask him for anything and he would give it to me if he could.  He never wants me to suffer, stress or be in any harm.  I don't like taking things from him.  I am self sufficient and all those great things people are supposed to be at my age.  When I accept his help it cracks that theory/armor a little bit and it makes me feel uncomfortable.  So I never tell him I need gas and I only have enough to get back and forth to work and that's as long as I drive slow.. the speed limit.

We get on the freeway and I am following his sexy car.  After about a mile I can see he is driving about 70.  I am only 65 and I can't go over 65 or I may run out of gas on my way home.  I keep waiting for him to slow down.  He doesn't.  I consider speeding up.  I can't/wont.  So what does this self sufficient person of my age do?  I begin to cry.  I am crying on the freeway because he is ahead of me and driving faster than I am.  I watch his car get further and further away and cry with just as much melodrama as if he left me standing barefoot and in rags in a desolate high desert in the winter.  I thought to call him but realized I forgot my phone at home.... and my lunch.... and my dinner...  and I didn't eat breakfast....   By the time other cars were between us and I couldn't see him anymore I was sobbing.

The minute I get to work I email him with the title, "why did you leave me?".  I mentioned all my horrors and woes and in some sense blamed them all on him.  I hope I never know what he does privately when he reads some of my emails because I was so relieved when he wrote back and .. he apologized..  After his apology he offered to come and get me on my break, take me to get a sandwich and fill my gas tank.  I replied, "No.  I don't have enough time for that.  I have some chips here."  Then he says, "OK, I will bring you a sandwich and mentions my favorite sandwich, and give you some money for gas."  I reply, "NO.  I am fine." This went on for a couple more emails including things like "I want to take care of you whenever I can" and "I love you's" from him and declarations like "I can take care of myself 100% financially", "I'm serious, don't come here." until he finally relented and went home without bringing me dinner or gas money.

Of course, that pissed me off.

I work nights so he usually doesn't call me in the morning.  He emails me.  The next day I awake to an email from him asking me how I am.  One of his questions was about my statement of how I can "take care of myself 100%".  Honestly I don't remember what I replied but it was a bunch of blather about a bunch of crap.  I was writing a novella of shit and it took me so long that he wrote back again saying he hadn't heard from me and he hoped I was ok and that he loved me.  To which I replied only, "sometimes i don't think you like me." then finished the other one and sent that too.

Oh Jesus.  I wish this were the end of the story but it's not.  My menopausal hormones were in overdrive.  I was even perspiring so much that I had to mop my face with my hankie.  I kept checking my email for his reply and when I didn't get one I decided to cut the crap and just call him.

I dialed... it rang... and rang...  and then he picked up but didn't say anything... then the call disconnected.  Normally I would understand it wasn't a good time.  He is at work after all.  But not this day.. not with this internal chemistry.  So I dialed him right back.  The call went straight to voicemail.  That bastard!  I even went down a list of possible women he could be cheating on me with.  Then I got a text from him.  "Give me a sec.  I'm in the bathroom."  I was relieved... and actually replied "teehee" to his bathroom text.

Oh my God.  This poor man.  He must have known when he called me back he was walking right into the face of global scale dumbassness.  I have no idea how he kept his cool but he, kind of, did.  He listened to all my fears and irrational thoughts and my anger about how I was hungry last night and every single thing.  We talked about our roles in the relationship together.  I remember saying a couple of times, "No, just let me say this.  Just let me finish." so obviously I wasn't letting him talk.  FINALLY he just lost it.

He did.  His voice got tight and he said with no small degree of authority, "No, you listen.  If you want to be my wife then you better start acting like a wife.  That means that you don't refuse everything I try to give you then get mad when I don't give it to you.  From now on, if I want to do something for you or give you something you are to accept it as a token of my love and all you are allowed to say is "Thank you Dear".  That's it... nothing else.  You take it and you say thank you!".  I started to speak and he said, "No, I mean it.  If I give you the ugliest Christmas sweater ever made you are to accept it and say thank you dear.  You can even take it back later but you will still thank me.  Do you understand that?"   "Yes"  "I mean it.  Do you understand"  "....yes.  i do..."
"OK then, damn it!"

He continues,
"Now, tomorrow, when I see you, if I want to give you something what are you going to say?"  "Thank you, Dear."
"Damn right you will."
"I will."
"I love you Angel."
"I love you too and thank you for putting up with me."
"That's what love is.  Good bye.  See you tomorrow, Angel."

Oh...  deep breath... sigh...  I count myself so damn lucky.  This menopause is a really wild ride.  It's horrible.  It's like, I know I am being a complete idiot and completely insane but I can't stop myself.  It's like ...  I don't know what it's like...  It has to be something like manic depression.. the ups and downs.  Mood changes back and forth in a matter of seconds.  Seriously dangerous and tedious shit...  and the sweat.. oh God the heat and the sweat...

Oh.. sigh..  He must really love me to put up with this stuff.

I am going to meet him today.  As soon as I publish this, in fact.  I hope he does give me the ugliest Christmas sweater on the face of the Earth. I won't take it back.  I will keep it.   I will wear it when I am alone with him.  It will be the only thing I am wearing...  And all he will hear, over and over again is,
"Thank you, Baby.
I love you.
Thank you for loving me so completely." 

My Handkerchief...

I am strong.
My body and my mind have proved resilient over these years.
We all are
Even when we don't want to be.
Over the years my body, my presence, my life
Has experienced Joys unfathomable.. unimaginable..
Joys that are not always fleeting but constant and woven into my identity.
Love, Friendship, Motherhood, Art.

I love the smile on a human body.
What is a smile anyway other than an organic reaction to our souls.
A smile is recognition, overflowing pleasure, vulnerable.
Smiles are an invitation,
Like an open palm.
"I see you.  You touched me."
Human

We forget about ourselves as we live our lives.
Everyday we get up.
We eat and drink.  We share.
Talking, Driving, Cooking, Deep in thought. Sometimes living in Auto-mode.

Our hearts pump the blood through our veins.
Lungs divide the oxygen from the waste.
We get cut but our skin will heal.
We fall but get back up.
We laugh, sometimes until we pee.

But it's there.. in our pockets or in our purses
Our Handkerchiefs.

In the morning when we anticipate a full day.
When we meet life head on
We grab our tools.
Everything necessary to be a strong, capable Life.
But we also grab our hankie
because we know..
Despite our strength, sometimes even alongside our happiness
We weep.

Without our consent something happens to our steel
And the tears fall from our eyes, usually silently and unacknowledged.
To be dabbed up quickly with our handkerchiefs.
Dab the eyes, dab the nose, sniff...
Raise your head and put the cloth back in your pocket.
Cary on
Strong.
Smile.

Sometimes, not often, I look at my handkerchief in my hand.
I can see my fingers through the delicate fabric but
It has lasted all these years... like me.
Like my body and my soul.
It has been a part of
So much overflowing emotion.

If I allow myself to think about it ...  but I never do...
If I allow myself to think about everything I have
Wrung through that Handkerchief over the years
I have to pause.
I have to gently, lovingly smile and be thankful for this life.

I am strong and I can do anything
But I know there are tears to come.
All I can do is prepare for them with
This Handkerchief.

Sometimes I hold it to my lips
And kiss it
As I would kiss my cross
When in prayer.

A Dusting Of Flour...

This picture doesn't do these little gifts justice.
They are way cuter and the smell.. mmm.
I will also throw in a handful of pecans.

I am content.  Right now I have shortbread dough just chillin' in the fridge.  I am drinking a cuppa and writing to you.  My kitchen is completely dusted with flour.  According to me that is heaven - with a rolling pin, oven, refrigerator and cookie dough and coffee.  

I woke early this morning so I could make six dozen shortbread cookies for a cookie exchange party tomorrow.  I stood alone in the kitchen, the only one awake with my steaming cup o' joe and my room temperature butter on the counter.  I gathered the ingredients, the mixer, my big Tupperware counter mat and went to work flinging butter across the room in a cloud of flour.  Three batches of measuring, mixing, creaming, kneading, patting, shaping, covering and chillin'.

It is all chilled now so I get to go back in there (kitchen heaven) to roll out and cut cookies and bake.  Soon my house will smell like "Someplace You Never Want To Leave" as I clean the flour off every surface in the room.

I am a messy cook but I am a happy cook.
This morning has been a good morning, indeed.
I wish you all a dusting of flour and all the security and joy that goes with it.

Brown Sugar Scottish Shortbread Cookie Recipe
http://allrecipes.com/recipe/scottish-shortbread-iv/

2c butter
1c packed brown sugar
4 1/2 c all purpose flour

Preparation:

bite size cookies - no pricking necessary  :)

1. Preheat oven to 325 degrees
2. Cream butter and brown sugar.  Add 3 to 3 3/4 c flour.  Mix well
3. Sprinkle board with the remaining flour.  Knead for 5 minutes adding enough flour to make a soft dough.  
4. I wrap the dough in Saran Wrap, pat into disks and chill in the fridge for about 45 minutes.  
5. Roll to 1/2 inch thickness.  Cut into 3x1 inch strips.  Prick with fork.  (tee hee)  and place on ungreased baking sheets (I use parchment paper).
6. The recipe doesn't call for it but I place my cookie sheet with the cookies on it into the freezer for about 15minutes before I put them in the oven.  
7. Bake at 325 degrees for 20 - 25 minutes.  (my bite size cookies baked for 15 - 18 minutes)

Dark Chocolate Cookie Icing
http://recipes.howstuffworks.com/chocolate-glaze-a-recipe.htm

2/3 c powdered sugar
1T unsweetened cocoa powder (I used dark chocolate)
1T water
1/2 t vanilla
Preparation:

1. Sift together powdered sugar and cocoa in a medium bowl.  Add water and vanilla; mix well.  
2. Add more water, 1 teaspoon at a time until desired consistency.

A Balanced Life...

So, you are hovering over someone you love as they prepare to die.  You have to lean in as they say their farewells.  It is a sacred time.  A time for two souls to connect in love.  In that moment you hold that person's entire soul in your heart.  Tears.  There are so many tears behind your eyes.  You can feel the pressure on your face and feel the tears backing up into your throat.  So much emotion wrapped up in one compact moment.

It's like an emotional black hole.  In that moment every memory, every ounce of love, every sliver of regret is present.  This moment should be accompanied by a frenzied violin that builds and builds then ends on a long drawn note. You can't breathe.  You are too focused to breathe and, even if you wanted to, who would have the strength to push against so much emotion.  You can feel gravity pulling harder into the earth.  There is so much pressure, compressing time, compressing a life.

I had a moment like that with my grandmother.  I love her like no other.  In many ways I am her or she is me, whichever.  I flew home to visit her years ago when she was in the hospital.  It was horrible.  She was dying of cancer so I couldn't touch her without hurting her.  But I wanted to.  I wanted to hug her so bad and never let her go but instead I held my hand out for her and she wrapped her had around mine.  I looked into her eyes and told her I loved her so much and I said I had to go catch a plane.  We both knew it was the last time we would speak.  We both hated doing it but it had to be done and quickly.

She said, "Bye, I love you....  I love the kids....  Be happy....  use the good crystal, always (she bought it for me)...  get home safe....  and get back to your beautiful self (a reference to my weight.  Yes, my grandmother told me I was fat on her death bed)."

I agreed to it all.  I would do anything for her.  Because of her the sand of the California beaches and salt water of the Pacific are mixed with my blood. Because of her I know what it means to absorb the sunshine and be the wind.  Because of her I drink from crystal whenever it's a choice and I consider every moment a special occasion. She knows me, even now after her passing.

She still talks to me but now we communicate through Intuition, DNA and Faith.  She knows I figured out my key to life.   Well, my life, anyway...
I live with Purpose, Abandon and Acceptance.
I still have goals.  I have a plan I work with diligence and faith...  but then I roll with it.
There are all those moments along the way.  Moments when I have to resign my expectations and accept what I have right then.. right now..  and be happy and grateful for it.  Not every minute of my life has to be what I want it to be.  Every moment is, as my children, unique unto themselves and beautiful in their entirety.  Present... to be cherished.

If my beautiful grandmother asked me right now, "How are you?"
I would pause, think of ... now.. and then... and what's to come...
and then nod my head softly, look her in the eyes and say, "Mostly Happy."
She would not and tell me that amounts to a success in anyone's book...
As long as I make it end on a happy note.

I will fill this blog up with love, laughter, tears and dreams of a mostly happy life, a balanced life.  You can read it if you want.

May God Bless and Keep You.
Remember to Breathe.