Letting Me Up

It hasn't eased - my schedule, my life - but I'm starting to learn a bit about how to get out from under it, sometimes at least. It doesn't involve shopping, either, though that's a great stress reliever. It actually focuses on things I've been avoiding.

Housework. Paying bills. Organizing. Things I hate, things I have to do in order to create the world that will help calm me after a particular frustrating day (which is most of them right now). I have to do that today, even with the migraine that crept into my head yesterday afternoon.

Eat good food. Clear surfaces - and the decks. File. Donate.

Unclutter most of my world so I can handle the messy particulars a little better.

That means cutting it short here, too. I have too much to smooth out.

At least right now.

Working

Twenty hours over the weekend. That's what I worked. Travel time extra.

Earning a living is the name of the game these days. After the rather emotional Thursday I had last week, I purposely and purposefully revisited my own tenets for this quest, and reminded myself that I have more than one way to reach it. Finding is fun (though traumatic sometimes), stealing is just waiting lately, and winning is not my priority (too much time on the 'net). Earning it is the star. Somehow, in all those hours, I managed to keep my cool when three students were late (not all at once) and interrupted the class while I had to go down to let them into the building and shepherd them up, managed not to lose it when another (tutorial) had the wrong time because mom didn't look at the calendar (we rescheduled for next Sunday), and even found peace in the parking lot that was the commute home (construction and rain). This is all part of a bigger picture. Thursday helped me with that, and other things.

What? Something was missing from my list? I didn't mention inheritance? There's a reason for that - Thursday also helped me realize I've been collecting instead of divesting, a reservoir instead of a conduit, Dragon girl instead of Bunny. I need to get that big donation ready to go - the one I said would go out by the end of summer, remember? It's time to inherit it forward, to return the generosity I've been shown, to give for ... okay, so maybe the pin and earrings have spurred a bit of guilt giving. Or maybe they just reminded me to work as hard on balance as I've worked to earn, and to find.

Because next time I get a big (platinum?) Good Bunny, I don't want to burst into tears.

Or worse - to take it as my due.

Errands

I called my son today to thank him for finding a sitter for the Electric Kid. I love my grandson to distraction, don't get me wrong, but I've worked 13 days straight at my job (for at least 1 hrs per day) and had filled the rest of them with watch guys and babysitting and even (tomorrow) a trip for the Big Lug. I've felt as if I were in one of those running, running, running dreams, the ones in which you're not being chased, and you aren't moving toward a goal, you're just running. I always feel insanely tired after one of those, waking exhausted and befuddled, and I almost always have the dream when I'm stressed to the max. Between my mom's plight, my work schedule, and the extra responsibility, I didn't need to fall asleep to have the dream.

But today I got a break. And I took advantage of it to run errands and hunt my thrift shops - well, I'd planned to go to more than two, but I had only time for two. This turned out to be not a problem at all. In fact, it was a very good day - a pair of rose gold earrings and a white gold pin, in fact (nice ones), and several sterling pieces I will offer up to my kids if they want to pass them along or use for "secret Santa" stuff this coming holiday season (when I will be in Texas).

I needed to do this. I didn't know how much I needed the time - and the fabulous finds - to somehow reinforce that I am somehow worthy (no matter how lame that sounds), that I am smart (the earrings had been there for nearly a month, and the pin had no visible marks), and that I am going in the right direction with both my "hobby" and my life. The earrings made me whisper my "thank yous" the entire trip home. But when the eight tiny "diamonds" on the pin tested real, my breath caught, and then - shaking so badly I could hardly hold my loupe - I found the "750" hidden beneath the clasp, I burst into tears.

I didn't really know why, not then, but I've figured it out. Firstly, the Dow closed over 10,000 for the first time in a year; I've been more worried about our finances (never mind reaching my goal) than I thought I had, but I reacted with cynicism yesterday instead of happiness. Second, although I loved going through the watches last Friday, and loved what I found and what I bought, it was more "work" than "fun" - I had to make decisions, and that's all I've been doing lately. Third, and most importantly, I have only two oases in the Hidalgo-like endurance race that is my life right now: the Big Lug's arms and shopping for treasures. To find one piece would have been fantastic. To find two was a bloody miracle - especially since I wouldn't've gone anywhere near these places for at least another week without my son's gracious understanding, his efforts to not take me for granted. That made a difference.

I told him about the finds, by the way, just a minute ago. He didn't seem thrilled. Maybe he was late for his meeting, or maybe he thought I'd fill my entire day with the catch-up I needed to do, the other work I have so much of, but I couldn't. I don't know. I'm still sensitive enough to wonder. But I had to take a moment - today - to find the fantasy, the good dream again. I had to break from the calls, the plans, the anger and sadness and frustration.

And I had to - had to - learn to Trust again. Not the small-"T" kind but Trust, with a capital. I'm going to need that kernal of serenity, that hope fulfilled feeling, in the coming months. Today has helped me toward that.

I know now that I'm not strong enough to keep going on my path, or to find my way, without a sign or two. I'm glad I found that out today. And I'm beyond grateful that if Someone had to pick a sign for me to see that it was this big, freaking, neon "ATTAGIRL!"

Equilibrium

I'm not quite sure why (or maybe I know), but I spent Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and - yes- today shopping.

Oh, not all day, every day. Duh - it's the crazy season, and I had twenty billable hours spread out over 27 (drive time and meals) just the last three alone. But I had opportunities this long weekend, and I took them.

What opportunities?

Well, Friday I went to visit my watch guy - not the one who fixes but the one who sells. He had the loveliest 14K, 23 jewel watch ... I bought it for a good (not great) price, along with eleven others (plated) and three empty cases. More than I'd wanted to spend, a lot less than I thought I would, but since only four of them need work (cleaning) and none of the ones that needed cleaning was the the golden beauty, I got a deal.

Saturday was an estate sale that started early, before my first class. I spent too much on a 10K ring, but it fit so I won't have to size it. (Emeralds and diamonds, too - small but ... well, I don't know my stones as well as I'd liked but they looked pretty fine for 10K). I also, it turned out, spent well under what I could get (not market, but actually get) for a 14K locket, so it evened out.

Sunday I went to a small antiques show, local. Actually I'd stopped in on Saturday between students, to scope out the place. I found a couple of dealers who seemed to be willing to negotiate, and I figured they'd do so even better on the last day of the sale. I was right, but I found only one thing I was willing to pay even the lower price for - another ring, gold, just my size, and - oddly enough - after weighing it at home found I could sell it for scrap and make a profit. I won't, but it makes me feel better.

Today was my thrift shop. Found a nasty-looking set of maybe-pearls, but I bought it for the two beads that might (might) be something other than rhinestones. (Shut up - it was charity, and cheap.)

That's the key, I guess - I needed something to make sense, to balance correctly for a change. It doesn't surprise me that it was jewelry that helped me feel that, especially gold. Money isn't a love for me, not as in root-of-all-evil anyway, but it is a great method of keeping score. I like it when the numbers work out. I like it better when it works out (even slightly) in my favor.

If that were all, you might label me reformed. But there was an ... incident yesterday.

I went to one of the booths and saw a pretty woman's Bucherer watch (nonfunctional, no band) as well as a ladies' pendant watch (no crown, no stem, damaged dial) that I hadn't seen during my recon on Saturday. The dealer - oh, let's call him Richard - wanted a certain amount for the pair. I looked them over. Both were marked in French. I don't know much French, but I know gold is "oro," and I didn't see that anywhere - not even connected to the "plaque" on the first one (which I was pretty sure meant "plated"), while the second had, on the inside flap (flap?) something that looked more like mechanical specifications ("ligne" means "line," right?). I thought Richard wanted too much for both, started to walk away, and he shouted out another price, lower but not within my comfort zone to gamble with (especially since I'd bought so many on Friday, after I'd sworn I'd buy only solid gold).

Later, after the success with the ring (and wondering if the lapel watch wasn't old, therefore unmarked, gold), I went back and asked if he still wanted that price. "I repriced everything," he snapped (seriously), "you missed your chance."

I smiled brightly (which was not faked), thanked him, walked away, then parked on the internet once I got home late that night - I had to Google and eBay everything, didn't I?

The Big Lug caught me. "It doesn't matter," he said despite my brilliant idea to go to the next small show, just to see if he's there, and if they've sold at his tripled price. "No matter whether you're his lesson or he's yours, all you should be glad of is that you didn't give your money to ... Dick."

Oh, come on, you had to see that coming.

And you know I feel better.

Levelling Out

A few weeks back, life was busily tossing stones in my face, and so many came at me so hard and so fast that I could only break or defy it. I chose defiance. It was the right decision. But lately the rocks have been a bit ... larger. For that, the only way to fight is to give in.

Yes, you heard me - give in. Not in an it's-cold-oh-I-just-want-to-sleep kind of way, but in an it's-raining-boulders-wow-I-can-make-islands-in-my-lawn kind of way. Not giving up, but surrendering to the inevitable.

My mother's illness is worse. That is no surprise - it's the kind of thing that does get worse - but a new, miracle medication turned into a nightmare for her caretaker (my sister) when the transport method changed from subdermal (Mom developed a skin allergy to the machine) to direct injection (into her chest). The first method entailed mixing the medication with the IV solution, putting it in the pump, two steps and a long window, no sweat. It was so easy that even my mom, with her Swiss-cheese memory, could do it (with reminder for time, of course, by mouth or by phone). The new methodology came with a bigger system, two weeks of training, and has multiple steps with multiple pieces of machinery and multiple places in which a single step forgotten or done even one note off-key could prove fatal. Mom can't remember all the steps, even with an illustrated list. And, since the solution must be mixed at the moment of need, my sister is now unable to leave the house or even the area for more than 48 hours - there's a four hour window that shouldn't be pushed because if respiratory distress is begun, the patient will likely die. Oh, and by the way, the medical community won't provide trained personnel to administer these dosages because of liability issues, not even in a nursing home. And this med, with its ridiculously complex system, is so new that even if Mom went to the ER she'd have to bring the meds and equipment with her (no one knows if the doctors could or would do the procedure even there).

There's a reason neither me, my sister, or my brother went into medicine - we don't have the temperment or the aptitute or (frankly) the fortitude. She (Sis) was just getting back to herself after her husband died. She's raising two teenager daughters. Now she's forced into a life-or-death situation every two days. This is wrong. And I'm pissed. Oh, not with fate - I am, however, furious with my mother's doctor. He knew the strings attached to this new therapy. He knew my mother couldn't hold a thought for more than a few minutes at a time and so was incapable of doing this job herself. He also knew there was no one who could come in to administer the meds to the patient if the caretaker had to ... oh, I don't know ... leave town three or four times a year because, though she works from home, she has to go into her job's physical building every few months to earn a living to pay his bill. Yet he never spoke with her. Not once.

Not that she's complaining. But - no shit - she's stressed out. I can relieve her for a week or two twice a year (December and June), and I can (and am) working to organize my schedule and students (no substitutes in my job) so I can get away at a moment's notice if she needs me. But it will take time.

Maybe this really is a miracle drug. Maybe Mom will recover enough that she can rewire the missing sections of her brain (my most fervent prayer). Or maybe the medical community will catch up with this new regimen. Maybe I can raise enough of a stink that they will. And maybe I'll be heading to Texas several times a year for the rest of my life, dealing with the life-or-death tension in the primary instead of the vicarious. No matter which way this goes, I will step up to the plate (hopefully) with as little complaint, and (please) as much grace as she has shown.

And I can level out the field, lie out on all those new boulders, and enjoy the sun.