A Step Closer To Freedom

This may seem like a strange time for anybody in this country to think with any rationality that anything in their life it moving closer to any definition of freedom. And no, I'm not referring to anything on the political landscape. We're all fucked. Get over it. The only questions remaining are how much and in how many ways? I'd also ask how we could fix it, but I'm a pessimist.

No, this is a more personal kind of freedom. I managed to make the final payments on two different loans today. The car is all mine, not the bank's. The same applies to the loan I had to take out to replace the roof's AC/furnace (yeah, that's how they do it down here).

It's not just that those payments are ended. It's also that they both came due the first of the month. For most folks that is not only usual for big bills, it's expected. However, when it came my turn to sign up for Social Security, my payments come on the second Tuesday of the month. So I have to do my budgeting with the requirement that something has to be left over until the first of the next month. For me, that means checking my balance about every third day, redoing the math on  upcoming bills where the amount fluctuates once the bill is deducted, and trying to make sure there is sufficient balance to cover whatever it was I'd forgotten.

You know, like those quarterly bills: was this the month? Were taxes due? How about those community center fees? License tabs for the car? How much heat/water/electricity did we use?

 I know everybody's budget works a lot like that. The amount of a bill is announced a couple weeks before it's due. It's not supposed to be that much of a challenge. I've figured out a system to keep things flexible. Expenses that can, such as groceries, gas, clothing, go on the main credit card. All the extra in the budget goes the same place. Nearly always the total balance drops. I had planned to work that extra couple years to bring the balance way down, but, well, life happened.

 But I've been known to blythely dump all I think I have on that last bill sometime before realizing there was one extra bill, or an emergency comes up that can't go on the plastic. Life still happens. Worrying aside, I do a pretty good job of covering what and when I need to. I haven't had to touch savings for quite a while.

But now, there are two fewer bills coming due at the most inconvenient of times. The income and outgo match much better. And even better, that amount can now go towards that credit card balance, bringing me even closer to both debt and worry freedom. Somewhere in the back of my head that  Flashdance earworm is playing, "What a feeling!"

Ancestry.com: The Plan

Steve and I had talked about this for nearly a year. Not only did we each want to research the truth and lies, if any, behind our family stories of our heritage, but wanted to share our own halves with our respective children.

I wanted to take it a step further. I can't and don't care to track down their father in order to fill in the gaps for them and their heritage. Is there really the oft-spoken and oft-denied Native American (Canadian?) in their bloodline? And with all the various conquests and immigrations across the European continent over the millenia, how different is the bloodline from the various ports of departure for these shores?

Yesterday, Steve- a much bigger internet surfer than I care to be - pointed out a Black Friday deal online. He suggested it as out mutual X-mas present to each other. Ancestry.com had a special going on, bringing their prices into our budgets. We both signed up immediately.

There is one small difference. I ordered two kits. My idea was that I do one, my daughter and keeper of the family history for her generation do another one. Then we compare the results when we get together. I'll know where I come from, and she'll not only know her ancestry but be able to sort out the paternal side. It'll be simple math. Half of all my values will be in her results. Remove those, and she'll have the paternal side.

Then we can share with our families. Yes, brother, I know you read this, so my results will be your results, and Merry Xmas! Uhhh, the results won't be here till mid January or so, though.

The Ten Minute Scare

Quick background: Steve is in the hospital. After feeling various kinds of sick for 4 days, he showed what appeared to be blood in the urine. After 4 hours in the ER, it was determined to be bile. He was admitted Sunday night for tests and observation, then transferred to a surgical wing in anticipation of a possible diagnosis of stone(s) in the bile duct, requiring surgical intervention.

This morning he had some special kind of MRI but with a 4-letter acronym which I can't remember. Being kept on clear liquids was just one of many reasons for anxiously awaiting a proper diagnosis.

A little while ago he called me, my having been home at the time. He'd just been told he had Hepatitis A. While the mildest form of the disease, it can easily be transmitted by "close contact". Any way you want to interpret that, he and I qualify.

Our call was interrupted by another medical person entering the room to consult with him, so I did two things. I looked it up on the internet, then left voicemail with my own doctor to see if/what I needed to do for my own health.

Almost as soon as I hung up, Steve called back. There was new, differing information. It wasn't hepatitis A after all. BUT... we still don't know what exactly is going on with him. It's gonna be at least another day of wait and watch on their part, worry and head-scratch on ours.

Oh yeah, and I need to call back my doc's office with a "nevermind".

To Sleep, PerchanceTo Dream

Those who study dreams have all kinds of theories about what their purpose might be, and those who don't study them have other ideas. Maybe we collate all the data from the day, sort it out, and store it in the brain for further reference. Freud had a bunch of ideas about what they "really mean" that seem pretty weird - or at least make us all seem pretty weird, and others interpret dreams in other ways, perhaps as a clue to predicting the future. Some folks claim they never dream, others claim they only dream in black and white.

I have some ideas of  my own. I buy into the idea that we remember dreams, at least for a little while, if we wake up during them, since I have no memories of dreams from early in the night when I sleep my soundest, and experience dreams that continue with a story line in ongoing pieces during those mornings where I have the luxury of sleeping in, but lightly. A problem I'm first aware of in the first of a series where I sleep lightly, wake briefly, and return to dreaming, continues to be processed  and reprocessed in further stages with each consecutive dream. Sometimes the problem actually gets solved, at least in dream logic. Sometimes I finally wake, relieved to realize it was all just a dream and I can quit trying to fix whatever it was.

Oh, and yes, I dream in color. The first I ever was aware that others might not was when I read that it was a controversy as to whether anybody actually dreamed in color. I'm not going to venture an opinion as to how accurate your memory of color vs. no color in your dreams is, or what the explanation for the difference may be. However, since everyone has REM sleep periods, I do believe everybody does dream, remember it or not.

For years I have revisited landscapes that only exist in my dreaming brain, recognizing them as they appear in each new dream. My dreams place secret mountains just west of the Twin Cities, not found on any map, but leading along a route which travels downhill through a non-existant town and across a few miles of valley to end up here. This landscape resides in the same logical system that places a tall blue glass tower on the very western edge of the metropolitan area, offering a clear view over fields and trees to a cloud cover sending five tornadoes straight toward the tower.  (Yeah, that one always wakes me up, though repetitions lose scare value since I know they're coming.)

My dreams have changed since I retired. I suspect, since they are about 90% work dreams, and there are always problems with getting the job done, that not only does my brain have some adjustments to make with that huge part of my life ending fairly suddenly, but that perhaps the job was more stressful than I let myself consciously register while I needed to continue performing it.

Maybe your stress dreams are different than mine. I've never had the standing in front of an audience in no clothes dream, or having to take a test I've not studied for. But then, speaking to a crowd or taking a test were never stressful for me. I have had the falling off a cliff kind, or suddenly facing a snarling wolf kind. While I was working, I'd often dream that my foot was on the brake but the car would fail to slow down. Sometimes it would be going forwards, sometimes in reverse. Those would wake me in an adrenaline rush, otherwise known as a nightmare.

These days the dreams I remember have me still working...  or trying to. Stuff goes wrong. First, I can't read while I dream. When I have to try to find an address, or figure which part of the world I'm supposed to head to, the writing on the page or screen is too blurred or missing completely. If my dream actually gives me that kind of information, it'll be some place I've never heard of, and I can't call in and ask dispatch because they'd fire me for being so stupid.

Other times I can't remember where the car is. Not only is it now the wrong color, likely blue or red, it's blocks or miles away from the building I'm coming out of and I have to walk for ages, some times even then finding it's not there after all. In the back of my mind during these dreams is the awareness that I can't actually walk that far because of my knees, but find myself doing it anyway. If I do find it, I don't do the smart thing and move it next to the building I'm delivering to, but take the package out and hike off again to the next stop.

Last night was a new twist. I was aware of having been working for months, all those dreams accumulating "real time" on the job, and was thinking to myself how nice it was going to be to have that income to add to my Social Security. But then I looked at my bank account and realized that there had been no money coming in from all that time on the job. I decided to head in to the office and ask why I wasn't getting paid.

I was told that all that work was only in my dreams!

Good News / Weird News

Let's hearken back to my missing the eclipse due to breathing issues. There was an undefined something on my lung on a CAT scan at the time, which didn't look like cancer, or an embolism, but maybe something viral or bacteriological. I got sent home with lots of follow-up ordered.

We know it's not Valley Fever, not pneumonia (at least in one of its usual forms), but antibiotics were prescribed anyway. Cardiac tests found nothing, a follow-up CAT scan was ordered, and I returned to my pulmonologist today  for the latest conclusions.

In all this time, the breathing has gotten only minimally better, and really acts up just after even a small meal, with enough exercise following to, say, complete a shower. On the plus side, I no longer feel like I'm preparing to pass out behind the wheel, at least so long as I'm not talking too, and driving has resumed back to normal.

Today, I heard that whatever the shadow on my 1st CAT scan was, it isn't around any more. Likely it was some infection that has since cleared up. But GONE is the good news.

It doesn't cure the issue, however. Even today, just before heading to his office, I had a light lunch followed by a shower, accompanied by ... you guessed it ... puffing, panting, and exhaustion. So our discussion went on to the weird news. I have a herniation in the diaphragm with my liver pushing up into the lung area.

No, I can't recall any injury that may have caused it. I listed previous abdominal surgeries but he wasn't thinking they were likely culprits, probably because this is recent and they weren't. This isn't something they are likely to fix surgically, though that can be done, since it doesn't seem to be a "major problem".

Going through the rest of my records, he noticed nobody had thought to order an actual breathing test, something doubly important, and on an annual basis, since I've been on amiodarone for over two years. That test is now set up for just before Thanksgiving.

That means the saga will continue.

How weird will it get?

Halloween Memories

I don't recall much in the way of trick or treating from when I was little. Perhaps that was because we lived out in the country and neighbors didn't live within walking distance. By 3rd grade, however, we moved into a small town and I do recall going door to door. This, of course, was northern Minnesota, so not only was it very dark (still standard time before they extended it into November), but also very cold on Halloween. The typical "costume" had to fit over a winter coat, sometimes snowpants too, so an old worn-out white sheet was cut up, enough to see and extend arms, and that was it. That, or your costume went under your coat where nobody could see it, so what was the point?

Being the fifties, nobody worried about real predators or freaks who might be malicious with what they handed out. A couple years we also took out little boxes to collect pennies for UNICEF. Mom gave us each a small container for our treats. A pillowcase was considered scandalously greedy. As it was, when we got home, our parents went through the candy. It was not to protect us, other than from too much sugar over the next month. That was about how long the candy was expected to last. Or popcorn balls. Even a caramel apple or two. We didn't meet anybody rich enough to hand out whole candy bars, but you might get a little Tootsie Roll. Or Tootsie Pop.

I grew up not knowing there were people who TP'd houses or threw eggs or tomatoes at them, though I did hear stories about somebody (never somebody I actually knew) getting an outhouse tipped over. Since those had all but disappeared by then, those stories usually were told by older kids about even older perpetrators. The "worst" story I ever heard, from somebody who swore they had a hand in it, was taking fertilizer to an unpopular teacher's house and spreading it in the pattern of THE naughty word. Come spring, and for several years later, that stood out as the greenest part of the whole yard!

It's really hard to spread more fertilizer carefully enough to fill in around the letters and hide them from view in equally green grass. It's still pretty funny. For the record, I am in no way encouraging anybody to repeat that kind of mischief.

Seriously.

No, I mean it. Stay away from that high nitrogen lawn greening stuff!

Occasionally I was aware that some older kids went to parties to keep them entertained and out of trouble, and most likely to attempt to make up for the lack of a candy bonanza. As a kid, however, I never attended one.

After I got old enough to be prohibited from the great candy handouts, I stayed home and helped answer the door, the other side of the equation. Mom shopped as cheaply as she could for goodies, and other than home-made popcorn balls, there was little incentive to sneak a little bite of something for myself. Not that it stopped me.

I didn't return to trick or treating until it was time to escort my own kids around the neighborhood. They balked at the tried and true sheet ghost costume, but some years that was all that was affordable. Buy one at the store? Never! One year, however, there were inflatable plastic "alien heads" that you wore like a hat, with color-matching makeup for your face so you could pretend to be about 18" taller and spooky. The kids complained they weren't "real" costumes, but by then the child support payments had stopped and it was those or nothing, and nothing included staying home. They wore them.

Once.

Next year they were mysteriously unable to reinflate.

My favorite my-kid's Halloween memory came from one of the 3 years we lived in Georgia. It was a fairly close-knit neighborhood, lots of kids, some even friendly to us newcomers. We didn't go too far, staying where we knew people, and most likely my youngest got toted around in a wagon. From our house at the bottom of the hill to the top and back again was our route. The father of the family at the top of the hill came from the same small Minnesota town that I did. In fact, his family owned and ran a lumberjack-style restaurant outside of town which was one of the very few my parents ever took us to. Down in Georgia now, with milder weather, and Halloween becoming more of a holiday, this family really did it up good! Besides spooky decorations, Mama opened the door dressed as a witch to greet kids. We thought perhaps Daddy was escorting his own kids around the neighborhood, but apparently he found another parent to take their kids. As we left, he stalked each group back to the street, wearing a hairy gorilla suit, and shuffling and making grunting noises which passed enough for real that the kids were either entertained or scared. I heard from the neighbors that he did that every year.

Eventually trick or treating ended for another generation, other than the handing out candies part. By then we had to be careful and buy prepackaged goodies. A lot of publicity that may have been real or urban myth had parents searching every candy piece for poisons and razor blades before kids were allowed even a bite. Officially, anyway. Lots of pieces were scarfed up before returning home with the goodies despite all promises to the contrary. But no more popcorn balls, caramel apples, repackaged candy corn with other miscellaneous tiny goodies. More yard decorating was going on besides carved jack-o-lanterns with candles inside and gooey messes scraped off the table and into the garbage. Halloween was now officially expensive!

As an adult with older children, I finally had occasions to go to Halloween parties. They were held on Saturdays, regardless of the actual date, so you could still man the door at home and enforce a curfew. These were costume events, and I was into making my own. The first year, no money to spend, I wore my work uniform for my costume. I wasn't the only one to do that. The next year I bought red and black felt and glue, making a tube and pointy hat, going as a red crayon. I may have done a copyright infringement, since I copied it down to the wavy black line on a real crayon. That wasn't the part I was bothered by, however. Not only did I forget pockets, that thing was hell to get in and out of for a bathroom break!

Other memorable costumes included my belly dancing costume, made for real performances at a very amateur level, and a "blind date". These too had drawbacks. While modest, the dancing outfit gave a couple of well-lubricated party-goers the idea that touching was encouraged. Since they were complete strangers rather than friends like most of the others at the party were, it wasn't.

The blind date was something I worked hard on. I made a shiny brown long tube, gathered top and bottom and supported to hold its form by a large domed hat inside. Then I added sunglasses, lenses made from a black netting so I could see out, and a white cane, the latter borrowed from a friend who had known someone who actually used one. Unfortunately, proud as I was of it, there was a very well-known TV commercial featuring singing raisins at the time, and nobody got the pun.

These days Halloween is still fun. No decorations, other than that one house a few blocks over that packs their yard with all the lighted ones they can cram onto it, just like they over-do it for X-mas. We carve no pumpkins and roast no seeds, have no kids visiting our seniors-only community, no pranks, no parties. But we can hit the stores for bagfuls of our favorite candies just for ourselves, and make them last just as long - or not - as we want to!

For a bonus, we can watch any TV program or read any book without interruptions all night long. Or whatever.