Skate Night Video

Had a great Skate Date Night. It was the first tine in ten years either of us have skated indoors, so at first we were pretty shaky. We were invited by one of the owners to come Sunday nights for the adult night where they learn tricks and stuff. So we might go if James's blisters on his feet are better.

We skated from 7:30 to 11:00 pm, and man, that takes some endurance. Anyway, this session served the purpose to get our "skate mojo" back. At first we were both still a little shaky, but there was a time (when I was about 16) when skates were just an extension of my legs and I was pretty good.

Only small glimpses of my teenager years, but still not bad for my first time in ten years. And I didn't fall even once. I won't tell you how many times James fell, but it was three times. Lol. To his credit, I had a couple close calls after enough people fell and sweated up the floor. James had rental skates on, and those suck, so once he gets a decent pair, he'll be flying around that rink.

In the videos, I'm the one with the pool hair, the plaid shirt, and jeans, sweating like an idiot because I wore such wrong attire for the occasion. Lol. Enjoy.

And here's James's turn on the floor.

By the end of the night, we were pooped. 

At least I was. James was getting some pretty intense blisters from those sucky skates, but when we stopped for a Coke Zero at the convenience store, I walked in like an old lady. Lol. 

I thought I'd be sore yesterday, but surprisedly, I didn't. I can't wait to go back!

A Good Dream

The other night, I had a good dream about my mom. It was very brief, in the final moments of sleep before waking, but it was very vivid...and comforting.

In the dream, I was at home, and in another room when she walked in the front door. She called my name and I dropped what I was doing and ran out to see her. She was healthy, and she brought home one of her favorite take out meals--KFC.

And then I woke up. So, although the dream was very short, it reassured me in some way, and I feel better prepared for Tuesday's year mark since she passed away.

In other news, James and I are going out for date night--to a skating rink. :)

Post Hurricane Incentive

So, we invested in some new sports equipment last weekend. We got this:

So, Monday, I started a new workout routine. The bag is really heavy, with very little give, which makes for a hard workout. I'm starting with three minute rounds which consist of three minutes on the heavy bag, then three minutes of jump rope/crunches, then repeat, for thirty minutes. 

It's hard. By the end of the three minutes on the heavy bags, my jabs are like butterfly wings. I never realized how hard a three minute round is until I started boxing a few years ago. But, it's fun, and releases stress, and makes you strong. So I like it, and am looking forward to getting back in really good shape in time for Halloween.

Speaking of Halloween, James finished my mage staff and we ordered the components of our costumes. I'm going as a steampunk mage, of course, and James is going to be a steampunk archer. I can't wait to win some contests. Lol. 

I mean, how is this staff anything but spectacular? 

Pretty sweet work, there. James could make money making and selling these things. We just need to find a whole bunch of lamp stands like this one. Lol.

Oh, and I found a super cool old handmade necklace in a box, which will go perfectly with my costume. It's unique, for sure. Lol. I'll take a picture nearer to Halloween.

Oh, we got tennis rackets, too, and walked down to the court in our neighborhood over the weekend. It was fun, and we both did okay for the first time. 

I'm also trying to eat better, substituting mac n cheese for turkey sandwiches for lunch, and not eating as much junk.

Dreams of My Mother

As many of you know, my mom died in September last year--the 26th. As the anniversary of her passing approaches, I've been dreaming about her--every night.

When my dad and grandparents died, the dreams I'd have afterward all portrayed them as happy, at peace, and healthy.

When I dream about my mom, she's still sick, still dying, and sometimes sad.

I realize on a psychological level there can be more than one reason for this, and the one that fits best is that I was my mom's caretaker in my home for six years before she died, and another three years before that living nearby, but in separate homes. When my dad and grandparents died, I was younger and living in different towns.

It was hard, especially for me-- a homebody who doesn't talk much--to bring my mom into my home. I felt it was my duty. The Bible tells women to care for their widowed moms, and I took that duty seriously, despite my brothers and sister-in-law advising me not to do it, for my own sanity.

My mom could really be a handful. She was vain, selfish, and a little paranoid. She'd been that way ever since I could remember, and being her only daughter, she leaned on me when she couldn't lean on anyone else.

Now that she's gone, I'm glad she did, but at the time, I could get pretty annoyed with her antics. My friend and former boss, Karen, was a great ear to vent to, because she helped me understand the medical aspects of my mom's craziness--terminal COPD patients often didn't have enough oxygen in their brains and as a result, could be some of the toughest patients. They tended to be "ornery" (Karen's word), and they couldn't be reasoned with.

In the last year or so prior to my mom's death, Karen's knowledge helped me be a little more compassionate, a little more sympathetic, a little more empathic toward my mom. Karen, I know you still read my blog, so thank you, my friend. (And text me so we can plan a get together with Karen K!)

But man, my mom knew how to push my buttons--over and over like an Alpha male rams the elevator button when he's late for a meeting two floors up.

I don't yell often, but there were a few times she tweaked my last nerve. I wish now I hadn't yelled, but that's in the past. The last several months of her life, I think it finally sunk into my head how much she was suffering, and how many regrets she had.

She opened up her very private thoughts a little to me in the last year. For example, the love of her life wasn't my dad--it was a guy named Jack McBride. My mom treated my dad pretty terribly--my brothers never forgave her for how she behaved when my dad was dying. It wasn't nice at all, but she's still my mother--she birthed me, raised me, and now it was my turn to take care of her.

Anyway, my mom wanted me to find out if Jack McBride was still in Palm Beach and what had happened to him. I did a search for him, and found out he was a manager of a 7-11 in West Palm Beach. My uncle confirmed that was the right Jack McBride (there were several). I gave my mom his address and phone number. She said she wrote him a letter, but I didn't see it. I vaguely remember her saying he wrote her back, but I didn't see that letter either. I wonder what was said, because he didn't come up much in conversation after that. I have a feeling her lingering interest in him dwindled when she realized how much more successful my dad was, and that my dad provided her with a very comfortable life. Vain, I know, but there had to be some other reason she stopped talking about Jack McBride.

A couple years ago, when I was really frustrated with her behavior (I couldn't even go out with my friends to the local neighborhood restaurant without her making me feel guilty, and then, if I did go, she'd call every five minutes to ask when I'd be home), I vented some of those frustrations with a friend. He recommended asking her questions about her life, since she wasn't forthcoming on the subject of her youth and earlier years.

I thought that was a good idea, so I started asking questions. Some she liked to talk about, like how my dad would take her for drives in his rumbling sportscar. On other subjects, she remained pretty vague. She liked to talk about my grandad, who was the coolest gentleman I've ever met. My grandfather and grandmother had the perfect love--the perfect marriage. There was something about my grandad--a certain charisma--that one couldn't help drawing close to. My mom also liked to talk about her friends and how they'd sometimes go to stores to shoplift little stuff. I've never stolen anything in my life, so some of her revelations were eye-openers, for sure.

My mom and I were almost polar opposites. She liked to call me a "Plain Jane." I was a tomboy who wore tee shirts and sneakers. She never wore a sneaker in her life. She loved Final Net hair spray that made her weekly salon-styled hair stiff as concrete. I don't get salon styles (I can't sit still long enough), and I don't use hair spray, ever. My mom was a make-up queen. I never wear make-up, and when I do, it's minimal. We were very different people, and that sometimes ( well, often) strained our relationship.

Just before my mom died, she said she never had her "pink daughter." I think that's going to be etched into my memory forever. I heard that part very clearly, and her voice started to fade after that, but I'm pretty sure she said that I was better than a pink daughter. That brought tears to my eyes, and still does.

Growing up, I could've wrote this every day:

But, when she said I was better than a pink daughter, a lifetime of not meeting her expectations vanished like a shadow in a moment of cloud. And the timing was so...right...that shadow will never return, and the sun continues to shine.

I think that was the moment of atonement, the moment of acceptance and forgiveness, those words. And maybe it was at that moment she realized that despite our differences, I loved her VERY much and was there when she needed me.

So why is she still sick, still dying, in my dreams? Last night, I dreamed that I was younger, and I was hanging around a much younger Forrest. Him and his dad came over to our house, and Marvin showed me and my younger brother how to dip chocolate and vanilla wafers in melted chocolate to make them even yummier.

I took a handful to my mom, who was in bed. She was very weak, very...dim. I said, "Look, Mom, these cookies have been dipped in chocolate. Would you like one? I have chocolate and vanilla wafers. Which would you like?"

She replied, "Chocolate syrup?"

In my dream, I was ecstatic, because she wanted to eat. For days before she died, she had lost all appetite and wouldn't eat anything.

I said, "I'll find some chocolate syrup," and proceeded to bust through the pantry, tearing apart the shelves to find the chocolate syrup that would make her happy, even if putting chocolate syrup on a cookie was a sorta weird request.

And then my dream shifted as I began to wake up. Outside the bedroom, Zuri was playing in the thick carpet as she does sometimes, and the last seconds of my dream was Zuri pushing a small stuffed car around on the floor like she was "driving" it.

Go figure. Here's what Zuri's doing right now:

But the dream was both sad, and a shred hopeful, because it was an improvement from previous dreams. Maybe that's one of the stages of grief, I don't really know. I'm thankful that I got to tell my mom how much I loved her before she passed, and thankful for those moments of atonement.

But I miss her.

We have Internet!

We got our Internet, cable, and cell service back today. I'm sooo thankful!

But yesterday, I got a lot done--pool cleaned of debris, laundry, and other stuff that needed doing!

Back from the Twilight Zone

I've been writing this post since just after Irma hit Naples, but without power, water, and any hint of a cell signal, I haven't been able to get online to post. So, I'll try to make this as coherent and orderly as possible.

Monday, September 12, 2017: 

Well, we survived a direct hit from Hurricane Irma. Sadly, our two story pool screen and a few of our trees weren't so lucky. 

As of this writing (offline, on my laptop), we have no Internet, no power, and no running water. We take turns charging phones and laptops in the Tesla. Oh yeah, we also have no phone service, and no cell phone service. The signal went out shortly after the really strong winds began. 

Mother Nature is certainly not one to be trifled with. The wind was unbelievably strong. As the eye wall crept over us, I would remark, “That’s the strongest wind we’ve seen yet.”

And then five minutes later, I’d say the same thing. Just when you think the wind speed had topped out, Mother Nature would just slam down on the gas pedal to prove you wrong. 

For the most part, I sat by the window, watching in awe, and videoing. I got one video up one YouTube before the Internet went out and the strong part of the storm arrived.

At noon, the winds were starting to pick up, so I decided to cook the chicken that was in the freezer, anticipating a power outage as the storm grew closer. I was really looking forward to some yummy teriyaki chicken and rice. 

Well, I didn’t get very far, because the power went out at 12:02 pm. Lol. 

So, I went back to the windows upstairs to film. I wanted to document the experience for my kids, and future generations. James and Joe didn’t like to look outside, but I was fascinated. The tree limbs I thought would fly off, didn’t, and some of the really strong ones I thought would hold, snapped like twigs and went flying. Trying to predict which structures or trees would stand and which ones would fall was impossible. Hidden weaknesses can be found in the most formidable-appearing foes. And silent strengths found in the most vulnerable-seeming statures.

When the screens started blowing out in the pool area, I thought we were seeing the strongest aspect of the storm. Lololol, it wasn't even close to how hard the winds would later blow. But screen netting blowing out is supposed to be a good thing, because then the air will flow through without much resistance. 

But Irma was stronger than that, and the gusts grew ever more fierce. Irma was beginning to look like she’d live up to the meaning of her name, “War Goddess.”

My inner peace contrasted with the chaos outside. The house was very sturdy. It didn't even shudder, not even when vehemently buffeted by the strongest gale. I just moved between my two watching spots upstairs. 

In the master bedroom viewing area, I heard a creak or two…then noticed the palm trees and palm shrubs start to drift up, slowly. It was weird, like watching a bird’s feathers drift up in the breeze. 

I knew something was different right then, and I said, “I think a tornado is coming down.” 

I started to back away from the window, and then to stand up, while still filming. All of a sudden, with a shriek of metal, the screen just went over. I shouted, "There it went! We have to go DOWN." That was the loudest I got during the storm. I shouted for James and Joe to get downstairs. Joe already was, and when James and I went downstairs, the "danger" had passed. After watching the video, I don't think a tornado touched down at that moment. It appears that there was an uplifting of the wind just prior to the strong gust that blew the screen down, but no tornado. You can watch it here. 

We thought we'd just experienced the strongest part of the storm. Lol. We were wrong.

For about ten minutes or so, the gusts let up a little. It reminded me of a bully pounding on a little kid until they cried before retreating. 

I ran downstairs to charge my phone up in the car. By the time I got back up, the rest of the screen had come down. I was upset that I didn’t get that moment on film.

But I filmed some unbelievably strong gusts that stripped our palms of fronds. James has a couple videos of the strongest part--and one of me running out back during that time. I ran outside, disturbing a bunny taking refuge by the pool pump. I apologized and told him to go back to safety. 

Then I ran out a little ways, turned toward the upstairs window where James was videoing, gave a quick peace sign, then turned toward the lake and experienced the turbulent wind shoving me from behind. Then I ran back inside. 

Once the winds began to shift direction, we walked downstairs to see how the front was faring. The street was flooded. A couple huge, very heavy (110 pounds +) planters, about a hundred or so pounds each, had toppled over and rolled all around. One of them wedged under James’s car. We didn’t think they would move since they were so heavy.

When the surge started to occur around 6:00 pm, the water on our street was about 8” deep, and about 3-6” at the bottom of our driveway. 

Although the winds were still raging, we saw a couple guys walk out from the home across the street. One guy picked up a piece of plywood that fell off his window, and I saw that he was about to make a big mistake. “I yelled “Don’t do that!” but of course he couldn’t hear me. Holding the plywood behind his back like he was giving it a piggyback ride, he turned so the wind blasted against the plywood, and he was blown flat on his back. He was a big guy, so he got back up and a couple more guys came outside (probably laughing) and started wading in the street. 

After seeing they didn’t get electrocuted, Joe wanted to walk in the water, so I took him outside and we walked in the water that was covered our street. After a minute or two, James came out too and took some video. 

Then we watched the guys get some galoshes on and start clearing the storm drains. After about thirty minutes, they’d cleared enough so that the water quickly drained off the street. 

This morning, we cleaned most of the debris--palm fronds, mostly-- from the yard. We're going for a walk now to check out the damage in our neighborhood and look for any sign of power trucks. 

We just got back, and trees are down everywhere. Most of the people in our neighborhood stayed, and a few have generators. We met a lot of nice people. One of the guys with a generator says that FPL is working on getting power back on, but the water and sewer treatment plant was hit pretty hard, so water and sewer may not be around for a while. 

We have brief few second intervals of one bar cell signal, and I keep getting texts from family and friends. They’re worried because I can’t get a text back out to tell them we’re okay…

That was probably the worst part of the storm--not being able to let friends and family know we were safe.

The whole event was filled with uncertainty, because we had no way of knowing exactly where the storm was, and what part of the storm we were experiencing at any time. We had no signal for anything, and no way to connect with the outside world. So, the storm raged on for hours, and we waited and waited for an eye that never came. At one point, I noticed that the winds sort of died down, and I thought we might be experiencing the outer edge of the eye, but later I heard we never saw the eye--it was just one constant, powerful eye wall--for hours.

It reminded me of what a weatherman had said prior to the storm. He related a story about Hurricane Donna in 1960. He said that the people hunkering down to ride out the hurricane noticed an abrupt "end" to the storm--the winds calmed, and the sun came out. There was no power, so they didn't know they were actually in the eye, and still had another round with the fighter in the ring. They were out cleaning up debris when the second part of the storm raged in like hounds of hell unleashed by a vengeful god.

Anyway, we kept trying to connect to the Internet to see where the storm was, and how much longer it would last, because by 5:00, after three solid hours of storm, we noticed the street was really flooding.

The raw, unbridled power of that immense storm is something that’s burned into my memory forever, and, for me, it’s not a bad memory. It was an experience like no other, and I saw it with my own eyes, first hand. There's something about staring danger calmly in the eye and coming out stronger on the other end. 

Here's what Irma did to nearly everyone's basketball hoop, including ours:

So, I sorta regret calling Irma a witch. She was more like a creature of destiny. I'm sure she was a medium for the call to adventure for some, and maybe an impetus of threshold moments for others. I know it was for me, and the thoughts I had during the storm are hard to put into words.

I wonder why something like this has to happen for humans to get out and meet their neighbors. Why does it take a catastrophe to push us out of our comfort zone and learn our neighbor's name? Regardless, that's what has happened, and I'm witnessing a community coming together and becoming more than neighbors—they're becoming friends.

Tuesday, September 12: The heat in the house was miserable, and many of our friends and family still hadn't received word from us and were worried. We'd cleaned up as much as we could, and ended up throwing away everything in our refrigerator and freezer. We needed to make telephone calls and get some insurance balls rolling. With no idea when power would be restored or when cell service would resume, Joe and I headed south on I 75 and found a hotel room in Ft Lauderdale. We spent the evening catching up with friends and relatives.

James texted around 9:00 pm that power was back on (thank God!) but cell service was still out. 

So, we will probably stay in the hotel tonight, and head back tomorrow. I need to make contact with some eBay buyers to assure them their items will be on the way in the next couple days. I also need to re-list several items and answer questions from buyers on other items. And then, the insurance calls. 

Anyway, my heart goes out to all those more seriously impacted by the storm than we were. I didn't use my safety whistle at all, except to test it beforehand. Man, that sucker is loud. It's one of those survival ones for hikers, and maybe Irma heard it and responded to it's call by heading our way. Maybe that whistle was her call to adventure. 

Who knows? Nature does what she pleases, and she doesn't care who or what lay in her path. It's best not to tempt her.

Hurricane Irma Noon Update

But we just lost power. Lol. Rats.

Make up your mind, Irma

Well, yesterday I was pretty confident we'd just get some tropical storm winds, but since then, Irma has wobbled again, and is now much closer to us than anticipated. Of course, that's all the media is talking about. I have no idea what crazy shenanigans Trump or North Korea is up to. I guess I'll have to check Twitter for that.

We're under a hurricane warning, and mandatory evacuations are being ordered. Thankfully, our neighborhood is far enough inland to avoid that. But James might want to evacuate anyway. I still think we won't get much more than Category 1 sustained winds. If that's the case, I doubt our power will even go out. Lol. I know, I just tempted Nature, and now our power will be out for days.

Since this morning, I've been busy getting all the remaining stuff outside, inside. And I might go out and start trimming the dead branches off the trees.

I climbed a ladder and painstakingly pulled down almost all the storm shutters--James and I will put them up tomorrow.

Most of those heavy plastic shutters had razor sharp edges, and were stuck together, but I was pretty determined to get them down so James wouldn't have to. I didn't realize how sharp those edges were until I stopped.

Right now, we have a beautiful day with sunshine and a slight breeze. I wonder how this will all look on Monday...

So, Irma....

Last night we went to bed thinking....

This morning, the news says the Rolling Witch of the Ocean will *probably* make landfall on the southern tip of Florida and make it's way straight up the middle and will *only* be a Category 3 witch when it gets to us. In case you don't know the classes of hurricane witches, here they are:

Category 1 Witch: Steals butter from windowsills (flutterby)
Category 2 Witch: Might fling some lightweight stuff in your pool.
Category 3 Witch: Might want to head for safer ground, but you can count on the witch ripping down power lines and uprooting some trees. She might steal some shingles off your roof, and maybe rip your pool screen like a giant, terrible cat. The
Category 4 Witch: Better get to safety, because her wrath and vengeful tears of anger will flood low lying areas and maybe she'll fly her broom right through a dam. Count on months of clean up.
Category 5 Witch: Consider moving to Canada.

All kidding aside, this storm is serious. It's the strongest hurricane in recorded history on the Eastern seaboard. I have never seen an eye so defined as the one barreling down on us. For a while, some "meteorologists" were saying that if she got any stronger, they might have to create a new category, Category 6. We learned from NOAA that that probably wouldn't happen--the new category, I mean.

Here's NOAA's current track:

And it may even track a little more east, which would mean Aidan will evacuate NSB to wait out the storm with us. That'll mean she will be here for my birthday Saturday. :)

It was funny taking Joe to school yesterday. His friend, Colton, calls this storm "Hurricane Matthew II, Electric Boog-a-loo." I laughed. As you recall, last summer Hurricane Matthew skirted up the east coast of Florida and wiped out power for many for several days.

Anyway, schools here are closed tomorrow and Friday to give students time to evacuate and give the school time to prepare to take the role of emergency shelter.

James experienced long gas lines when he took my Rav 4 to fill up the tank. And experienced the craziness of Wal Mart before the storm when he attempted but failed to find water.

His job is waiting for the last minute to decide whether he has to work, so if Irma does wobble toward us, we will have to evacuate at the last minute. I'm not sure I want to do that, because more people die in those last minute evacuations than they do hunkering down in their homes.

So, Irma, although you have a pretty eye, you just need to go play somewhere else...

Thoughts

I think I've told you the story about something I did when I was a kid. If I have any regrets, this would be near number one on that list.

In my school, there was a girl with the devastating, heart-breaking condition called Progeria. It's where a child ages abnormally fast. They rarely live past age 14, but I didn't know that at the time. The condition was so rare, no one knew much of anything about it at the time, even the scientists studying it. Now, they know it's caused by a tiny point mutation in a child's DNA. One researcher describes it as "a one letter typo in the billions of letters that make up the chromosomal book."

Her name was Becky, and she always wore a white hat to cover her balding head. I remember the hat, because it looked a little like Gilligan's and had a strap under the chin.

She had a younger sister who watched over her all the time. Looking back with keener vision, I realize just how special their relationship must have been.

Anyway, one day I was riding bikes with my friends around the block. Suddenly, up ahead on the left, we saw Becky and her sister. Becky had just wheeled a small bicycle out of the garage. I guess they were about to go for a bike ride, too.

My friends starting calling out to her. "It's the old lady!"
"Wrinkly!"
"Old lady!"
"Shrinky-dink!"

And then, "Baldy!" That was me. That came out of my mouth.

As we pedaled past, I could see Becky's sister bending over Becky, and then they turned and wheeled their bikes back in the garage.

I felt immediate, hot, burning shame at my unnatural willingness to follow the crowd. Why had I just done that? It came out almost unbidden, blurted in an impulsive moment of wanting to blend in.

God, I hate that I said that, to this day. I went home that afternoon and the image of Becky's face, shrouded in sadness, hovered in my mind late into the night, and for a long time afterward.

When I was a little older, I gave my life to Jesus. One of the first things I did after that memorable day was go to Becky's house and ring the doorbell. I was intent to tell her I was wrong, and sorry.

Her mom answered the door. She looked like a nice lady, but she also looked tired. I asked if I could talk to Becky, and was shocked to hear that Becky had passed away.

I couldn't tell Becky I was sorry. I was too late. I think tears welled up in my eyes. Back then, I couldn't look people in the eyes, so I don't know what Becky's mom thought. But her voice was kind. She asked why I had come. Although Becky did have some friends at school, she didn't have them over to her home often. Becky's mom probably thought it was odd to have a weird, tear-stricken kid on her porch.

"I wanted to tell her I was sorry for making fun of her that day when we rode bikes by her house."

In my immature view, I thought her mom would remember that day for it's singular horribleness. What I didn't realize was that Becky's mom dealt with cruelty by others every day, and no one day stood out as worse than any other. I didn't know Becky had sang in the choir, and loved to draw, paint, and collect comics. If I had dared to come closer, I might've seen how cool she was, and maybe I would've been honored to call her a friend.

She said, quietly, "Becky would appreciate you saying that, and I'm sure she would forgive you."

Wow. I was expecting to be yelled at for my awful crime. But her words were kind, her tone soft and reassuring.

That was an important moment in my life. That was the day I vowed to treat every heart as though it was sacred ground, even though those words wouldn't come into my mind until much later.

It was the moment the world became more beautiful. It was the moment I realized that making friends based on looks like is one of the biggest mistakes we can make in life. It was the moment I realized name-calling is never okay; one reason is because people already have their own names, and don't need extra ones. Of course, I'm not perfect, and make mistakes. But, in the big picture, I have learned that souls run deep. Beauty is found in unexpected places, and golden hearts often can't be seen from a distance.

I found this photo of Becky on Google. She is on the far left, and this picture was taken at a get-together sponsored by The Sunshine Foundation. When I saw it, my heart flooded, because all I see when I look at this now, is beauty...and sunshine.

Grown ups should know better. Kids are watching how we behave, in all situations. Our country is too full of cruelty, bias, and blind dislike, if not hate. We can change that, person by person, heart by heart.

Anyway, I just wanted to tell that story again, with a little more clarity that comes with age and experience. Thanks, everyone, for listening. Dare to come closer, and be kind to one another.