Let there be light

I hauled something like 15 strings of Christmas lights -- the regular (not LED) kind -- from my garage loft.  Every year I throw away one or two strings that stopped working, so theoretically all the ones I unpack should be functional. Two strings just wouldn't light -- checked them for broken or missing bulbs, then chucked them. Then un-chucked them so I could cannibalize the bulbs that might or might not still be good in case I came across any dead bulbs on the good strings. It's hell sometimes to be frugal. Then three strings turned out to be "half-dead" -- I did find a broken bulb or two, but even replacing these didn't get the whole thing working. I know there's something about a fuse, but ... it's far more maddening to have something half-working than totally worthless. 

So- eight strings left. I decided to use two strings of whites and three strings of multis on the tree. The two white strings vanished. (I put them in  a good place after I tested them out, but where could that good place be?) and since in my compulsive way I have to put the white lights on first, I'm stuck now. I won't go out and spend good money on new lights when I know there are some perfectly good ones hiding somewhere. My grandfather used to talk about a "bottomless pit" where missing objects go. Most times stuff reappears just as mysteriously as it disappeared, but not always. Sometimes my brain seems to be like those faulty strings of lights -- both ends glow but there are gaps in the middle where something has come loose. Unfortunately I don't have the option of purchasing a new string of neurons.

Long time no blog

Thanksgiving Thoughts
1. I'm thankful that I was able to spend time with my boys and Matt's new "family" (in-laws-to-be?)
2. I'd grateful I didn't have to cook anything, and I didn't eat too much!
3. I'm newly aware and very thankful that my kids have grown up to be fine young men, the kind I would have loved to date when I was their age!)
4. I'm so thankful that I am able to see my best friends for breakfast once a week, even if the only nearby restaurant is Denny's.
5. I'm very grateful I was able to reconnect with my Ohio brother and most of my cousins during my recent trip. Thanks for welcoming me!
6. I'm thankful that my Jenny Craig counselor is so unfailingly encouraging, even when  I have "strayed."
7. I'm thankful that my personal trainer doesn't laugh when I try to do a squat while holding weights.
8. I'm thankful that my kids live near enough to see whenever I want to, but not so near I see them more than I want to!
9. I'm thankful that my car runs reliably, even if it is a bit dented.
10. I'm thankful that Greg left me well enough off, despite the economy, that I can continue to live alone in my house and don't have to move to an apartment or rent out rooms!
11. I'm grateful that I can substitute teach when I want to and say no when I want to.
12. I'm filled with gratitude and endorphins that I don't need to take anti-depressants anymore.
13. I'm grateful for the water aerobics classes in Milpitas I've been going to for more than 3 years now -- and that I haven't injured myself!
14. I'm grateful that the average age I feel is approximately my own age -- some days I feel 33 and some days I feel 99!
15. I'm grateful for good (and interesting) dreams lately, including paddling a rubber raft through a fleet of battleships.

birthday blogs

I haven't written anything in here for awhile, not exactly sure why. I had a nice birthday, though. Went to Pescadero and the beach with Jeff, Matt, Veda/Noelle & her kids. It was fresh and cool and not crowded. I baked a funny-looking cake, and Matt & Co. made cookies. On Monday, Marylin took me out to dinner at Fresh Choice, and on Tuesday "the girls"  had game night at Marylin's, playing Apples to Apples. It was probably 100* outside, and my gifts were warm blankies and flannel sheets!

Six years ago, when I turned 60, I had my "breakdown" and ended up in the hospital. Partly it was because I had not fulfilled my high expectations of taking control of various segments of my life, but mostly, as I see now, because of helplessness over Greg's situation. I can't find my wish list of things I wanted to change then, but I think most of them have changed, or else I discovered they don't matter. The past is past.

I'm awaiting my first Social Security check. I'm planning a trip to Toledo to see my brother Bill. I'm planting spring bulbs -- that's enough future for me.

Mission accomplished -- almost

The house is painted and I love the colors -- Coconut Cream Pie with Persimmon and Cape Royale. The unexpected rain (or something) made some of the paint on the trim bubble, so that has to be taken care of, and I have to restore my decorative items. I had the shutters removed and am thinking of putting sunbursts or planters with trellises in their place, and I'd like a new porchlight, and of course now I have no excuse not to tackle the landscaping. It's endless, isn't it -- home ownership? Beats the alternatives, though.

Overload

I'm in the middle of getting my house painted -- all the doors and windows are sealed shut by masking tape; the fumes inside and out are starting to affect my eyes and mind; the cats have disappeared except for plaintive cries from bushes just over the fence; noises of people clomping around on my roof, paint spray compressors and power washers and Spanish conversation and the doorbell ringing every five minutes with a question from the foreman -- do I want this piece of wood thrown away? Is Coconut Cream Pie really the color I want the main stucco painted? This wood trim appears to have termite damage, could I call the guy to get an estimate of the replacement cost? I would leave the house except when I do other stuff happens like mysterious loads of wood get delivered. Somehow somebody wrote down the wrong phone numbers for my home and cell, and so all appearances from workmen are a surprise. And yes, I have corrected this numerous times, I thought.

Meanwhile, I tried to upload my photos from my iPhone onto my computer, and was rewarded with two dozen anime porn photos (from the cloud, I presume) appearing and all my own photos vanishing, along with all my iPhone contacts and most of my apps. Jeffrey may have figured out what happened, but we haven't figured out how to retrieve the missing goodies.

My brother finally left for Arkansas, and I'm all weepy about that, plus I have various stuff I couldn't bear to have him throw away, his old dryer, some furniture, crafts supplies up the yin-yang, heaped in my garage waiting for time and energy to arrange. School has started, and since one of the teachers unexpectedly quit, I'm subbing for a week or two until they hire a new one (not me) and I'm taking care of not-quite-step-grandkids now and then and again....

I think I've hit overload. I can handle it, as long as I am able to step back once in awhile, observe
and laugh. And maybe remember how to spell "No".

Kids

Watching my son's sweetie's kids lately. What I had almost forgotten about kids:

• the amount of energy they can pack into teeny bodies. Jumping up to throw basketballs, racing around chasing other kids, climbing up giant slides, bouncing on furniture. And the physical and mental energy I need to keep up with them!
• the way they notice everything -- the different colors and shapes of ducks, the multitudinous activities of ground squirrels (the biggest attraction for kids of all ages the other day was a dead squirrel), the mini-world of bugs. I have been recapturing some of this "noticing" when I go for camera walks, but they're so much better at it!
• their non-stop imaginations. A running dialog speaking from the ducks' points of view, imaginary weapons and aliens, "the floor is lava, we can't touch it." Shoots me right back to my own grade school summers of cloud-shadow fairies and living in the worlds of children's literature.
• the speed with which they can duck out of sight, behind a rock, a bush, another kid. That instant parental panic until they're spotted again. I'd relaxed since my boys got big and lived independently. It all comes back in the blink of an eye. No blinking allowed!
• the seemingly limitless capacity for mastering the details of games. For me, any game (any thing!) that has a set of instructions more than a page long seems hopelessly complex, but for them, particularly with some experience under their belts, it all makes perfect sense and they can nudge me along.

My pixelated life

So my iMac has an option for the screen saver to display my photos as pixelated images -- you know the kind where a photo is graded by its dominant color and then those colors are used to pixelate another image, in this case other photos. They cycle around, and pixelation resolving into a single image, then that image shrinking and becoming a pixel in another image, on and on.  Every time I load new photos onto my computer they enter into the rota. 

It's fascinating and a bit freaky. I could sit and watch it for hours.  The picture I took of a department store window in Honolulu last month becomes part of a Santa hat. The purple eggplants at the Farmer's market fuse into the Easter flowers at Tesco in Leicester two years ago. The blue Pacific becomes the blue of Jeffrey's shirt when he was little. Sometimes I forget it's there, and I am surprised to look up and see Greg smiling from his 60th birthday party, or Cauchy napping next to the Christmas creche, or students from my old afternoon class. The randomness seems to parallel the randomness of my memories ambushing me -- provoking sudden giggles or tears.

I'm planning to do a major scanning of old photos (when I get a scanner that works and figure out how to use it) and I wonder what it will be like to have all those images from before the digital age enter into the pattern: Black and whites and old polaroids and some of those really old sepia tones.
It's my life, pixelated:  all the little bits focusing and unfocusing, blending to make a pattern; the meaning is all in my head.