One of my heart-sisters, meta4life is going through a rough patch right now.  It stems from her awareness that she's emulating someone who was, in the end, not worth emulating but made a lasting impression on her when she was young.  While trying to work through all the crap and come out again in the good stuff, she made a blog post about it.  After reading that and replying, it got me to thinking about the women I've had in my own life who served as both good and not-so-good role-models.

My maternal grandmother was a spicy, saucy, bawdy, beautiful woman.  She was also a past-master at showing people only what she wanted them to see.  There was a darker side to her that I didn't know about until this last decade or so.  I still don't know the details and I likely never will, but that doesn't stop the fact that I based some of my own personality on what I perceived was hers.  I wanted to be funny, strong, independent and comfortable in my own self to be bawdy, spicy and saucy.

I didn't realize until later that she projected those traits to hide someone very scarred, frightened, dependent and frail.  Like baby animals, young humans learning how to be people imprint on the people around us.  For good or ill.  From her I learned a great many things... how to make certain meals, that vanilla ice cream and creme de menthe was a lovely combination on a hot summer day (even if I was only six or seven), how to clean a house (my mother just did it, my grandmother showed me how) and various other things.

I also learned to gossip, a less admirable trait, especially when it was backed by wickedly placed barbs within the other person's hearing.  I also learned how to mix several kinds of alcoholic beverages before I was ten... also not something I think a kid should be learning.  I sharpened my wit at her feet and learned how to use words to wound far more effectively than any weapon.  The last is something I'm continually working on since I've no wish to actually end my marriage or other relationships when I'm disagreeing with hubby or friends over something.

My mother was obviously another influence on my life and I learned both good things and not-so-great things from her, too.  She taught me how to fight like I mean it instead of slapping, scratching and pulling hair like a girl would do. ;)  As I said in an early post, she also taught me how to be a doormat, emotionally... a dumping ground for what my husband or boyfriend would give me.  But in that, she also taught me when enough's enough, it's time to stand up and do something about it, too.  Lots of conflicting messages I got (and still get) from that woman.

My paternal grandmother has always been a bit of an enigma.  Some things I learned a couple of years ago when I went down to visit the family after my dad died.  She met my grandfather in 1943 when he was stationed in England for some of the war and it's aftermath.  They met while they were both out on pub crawls, which surprised me.  For as long as I've known my Grandma Rounsavill, she never drank alcohol.  Come to find out, she and Grandpa had some knock-down drag-out physical fights during the times they were together.  They got married in October of '43 and dad was born in April of '44... also a big surprise to me and all her pushing to have Dad marry Mom when she got pregnant now makes a lot of sense.

She may have been the quietest of the bunch as I saw it, and always a bit of a puzzle, but I did learn from her, too.  Turns out she was stronger than my other grandmother and even my mother.  She and Grandpa had five kids, spread out over seven years, I believe.  But they spent much of their time separated and she was on her own with only what she could bring in, monetarily to feed and clothe those five kids.  She sewed some of their clothes since the girls were so close in age there really were no hand-me-downs.

She was strong, but in a quiet way.  She worked long, hard hours, kept her kids with her and simply did what she had to do with little to no acknowledgment or gratitude for a long time, I'm sure.   The downside is that I also learned not to talk about things that are upsetting or 'bad.'  Or acknowledge that they're happening.  When my parents were well on the road to alcoholism and their marriage ended when Dad beat Mom so severely she had to have one side of her face rebuilt, she never acknowledged it.  If she didn't acknowledge it, it wasn't happening in her mind, I guess. 

She played favorites with her children and grandchildren, too.  My aunt's kids seemed to be held in more esteem than the rest of us, even if I was the oldest of them.  It didn't seem fair that the boys got all the good stuff from her vacations back to England, while my sister and I just got stupid old dresses. :)  But, she was very British and very old-fashioned.  Boys were treated differently than girls.  You expected different things from them, and said "Oh, boys will be boys," when they stepped over the line and punished the girls for doing the very same thing.  In hindsight, now she admits that it was wrong to do and she acknowledges some of the horrid things that happened, but only after my father died.   Unfailing loyalty to her child, or just situational blindness?  I don't know.

After reading my heart-sister's struggles it got me to thinking about how much of the 'bad stuff' I took away from these women in my life and how much of all that I still cling to and use in my life.  I've hoped not a lot as I've raised my daughter to be free-thinking, independent and so very unafraid of speaking her mind about what bugs her.  But, I also know she has this tendency to keep her hurts very close to her, and pretends that everything's okay when it really isn't.

Did I teach her that, or did she come up with it on her own, for reasons different than I had, but valid in her mind, just the same?  Without Grandma Rounsavill's influence, I doubt I would have been strong enough to handle what life threw at me from the age of ten until now.  Without her influence, I might have accepted help long before I did.  Without my mother's influence, I certainly wouldn't be who I am today.  Without her influence, I wouldn't  have experienced some of the darker sides of my life.  Without my Grandma Fields' influence, I wouldn't have the sharp wit I do.  Without her influence, I wouldn't put it to it's worst use.

So... yeah.  The women in my life taught me many things.  All of them taught me good things and all of them taught me not-so-good things.  I managed to combine them all, thrown in some of my own personal biases, opinions and insight and come out to be... merely human after all.   Someone who certainly is not any of those women, but who still works to rise above her own shortcomings.  And that, my friends, is what separates me from those women.  It doesn't make me better.  It just breaks me off from the pack so that I can follow a new path.

Now that I've had some time to settle back in at home, I wanted to do a post regarding my vacation.  I take one by myself every year.  Partly because someone has to stay here with Luke and I feel less guilty about doing that while he's in school most of the day than I would with him being home all summer and subjecting my husband to the attitudes and incidents he's not used to. :)  The other part is that I well and truly need some time off by myself... completely away from this household and those who live here with me.

I usually make the trek all the way down to Ventura, CA to visit dear friends but since I usually drive instead of fly, that's two days on the road, plus hotel costs and this year the money was a bit too tight, even after hubby's bonus and stock options vested.  Instead, I made a shorter trip to stay with meta4life and her hubby.  Their futon was pretty comfortable and their hospitality exemplary. :)  Much love and gratefulness to both for allowing me to visit and crash at their place!

Before the trip occurred, we made some plans to get out and about, including a day trip to Medford, OR (about 4 hours from her place) to visit a Needlework shop we found back in the earlier part of this year.  However, she came down with some intestinal nastiness that put a crimp in most of our outings.  Fortunately, neither of us are the type of people who HAVE to be on the go all the time.  We like to get out of the house and do fun stuff, but if weather or something else forces us to change our plans, we're easy enough with it.

Murphy also poked his nose into the vacation in other ways, but we managed to simply accept the wrench he threw at us and went in a different direction.  Movies were watched in the evening, much talk ensued, some stitching got done and we even had moments of just silently enjoying each other's company as we drove somewhere or sat and stitched/read.  Most people would have considered it a 'boring' vacation.  But you know... if it was, I wouldn't have known it.  I needed that downtime something fierce, I think.  I could have gotten it on my own, just in a hotel room somewhere but I really am grateful I had friends there, too.

Admittedly, in the car, the MP3 player was a little Elvis-heavy even for me. LOL  I pick tunes/albums for it that I can sing along with, thus keeping me awake and alert on the road.  The music varies from oldies (Elvis and Buddy Holly) to what's now known as Classic Rock (e.g., Styx, Fleetwood Mac, Chicago, etc.) to newer albums of old bands/artists (Bon Jovi, Don Henley), folk songs of various stripes, and jazz standards sung by Harry Connick, Jr., Diana Krall and Kevin Mahogany..  No idea why the stupid Zune kept playing Elvis with over 4GB of tunes on there, but it was what it was, I guess. 

We did get out to East Fork, where meta4life  and her hubby liked to go camping.  We went for a picnic, getting us away from the chilly coast up into the warm mountains.  The very first hints of autumn showed in the changing leaves and it was a very pretty drive as well as a nice place to sit, stitch, talk and have lunch.  We brought her dog, Anniel, along of course and she enjoyed the outing, too  She was a good companion the whole week.  I snapped some pics of the place and we went walking a little to help Anni dry off and to enjoy the scenery.

On the emotional front, I'm a lot less brittle than when I left, which is a good thing.  Even though I contacted home in a few different ways while I was away, it didn't detract from the peacefulness of the vacation.  I'll be honest and say that one of the most extraordinary things about the vacation happened after I returned home Sunday afternoon.

After a couple of hours of settling back in and all, hubby and I went off for some reuniting and some cuddle time. ;-)  Nothing extraordinary about that in and of itself, except that as we were lying there, enjoying the intimacy, I was suddenly completely swamped with the feeling of gratitude and thankfulness.  So deep-seated and intense it moved me to tears.  Naturally, he asked why I was crying.  "I'm just so grateful you're here," was all I could manage.  That simple statement hit me like a ton of bricks.  How long had it been since I expressed that emotion to him?  We say "I love you" to each other quite a bit and we mean it, but expressing gratitude and thanks... I don't think I've been very good about that over the last 26 years.  It's time to rectify that and make sure I stay on top of it. 

So all in all, from beginning to the very end, it was a very good vacation and I am very grateful to the hubby for staying here and allowing me to go, to M & A for inviting me into their home and showing me love, hospitality and friendship in abundance.

As the LOLcats might say, I haz a happy. :)  Was finally able to make some time to get the fifth block done, so I could post progress pics!

This summer has been wacky, weather-wise which kept my life an interesting one since I have a 19 year old autistic son who's always had adverse reactions to rapidly changing weather patterns.  Don't know why, but he's always been like that, since before he developed autism.  In any event, since he's home for the summer, that means my attention tends to get diverted an awful lot, and when the weather hits 100 degrees or more with humidity enough so that your hands are constantly damp, I didn't want to handle satin flosses.  Gah.

Anyway, without further ado, here's ( the Fourth Block ) and ( the Fifth Block ).

And for those interested, here's what ( the whole thing ) looks like so far. :)  Now to get cracking on the Sixth block, so I can maybe get that finished before I go on vacation, then get started on the Seventh. Woot!


Cross posted to boink_sal 

I'm going to say this now and get it out of the way. :)  Some entries of this blog will revolve around female physiological/emotional issues.  I know.  Shocking, right?  In any event, if you're one of my dear male friends but would still rather not be subjected to such things, please holler out in the comments and I will lock down these posts.  If you're one of my dear female friends and would also rather not be subjected to my experiences in the upcoming years, please do the same.

Anyway... here I am.  Forty-five years old this year.  A woman with no bloody clue as to when she should be experiencing the first signs of menopause.  My mother had a complete hysterectomy when she was only 27 or 28.  Her mother... I've no clue about.  She died when I was sixteen and was sick for the longest time.  My mother's sister I wasn't close to, and even if I was interested in the subject while she was still alive, I doubt she would have said anything relevant.

My father's mother is still alive, at 92 (I believe) and going strong.  However, she's still very, very old-fashionedly British (if that makes any sense) in some regards and is very reluctant to talk about things like this. My aunts are all well over 60 and have been through that change already.  I haven't broached the subject with them, unsure of their response.

So, I'm relying on the female friends of my age and listening to my body's subtle ways.  It's an interesting experience right now.  I've noticed my PMS symptoms have shifted for one thing.  I no longer have quick flashes of anger, irritability or tears.  Instead, there's a sense of apathy that enfolds me.  I could care less about dealing with the house, the kids, anything.  It's not depression.  I've known that, too.  It's simply not caring about whether anything gets done.

That's a rather scary feeling, after the fact.  I have a nineteen-year-old autistic son that needs some measure of supervision all the time.  It's scary that I don't even care about checking up on him at times.  I still do, but I'm doing it out of sheer habit rather than any concern.   So I begin to wonder whether home is the safest place for him from here on out and that... that sets off the storm of weeping.  Which cascades into feelings of failure, of unworthiness, grief and shame.

There's a theory about menopause that all the emotions you've suppressed over your life will come flooding out into the open, sweeping over you like a hot flash.  Given what bits I know about sociology, psychology and even holistic healing, it makes as much sense as anything else for why a woman reacts the way she does when her hormones surge and recede.  Thanks to meta4life for bringing that to my attention.  For a lot of us at the very tail end of the Baby Boomers, who aren't *quite* part of Gen-X either, we learned at our mother's knee how to keep quiet, don't upset our fathers after a long day of work, keep the house as clean as possible and quietly see to our needs rather than telling our husbands and boyfriends what we want and need.

When the 70's came around and a lot of our mothers finally understood they could now do that, families fell apart.  Still, we carried those lessons we learned forward because we saw what it did to our parents when Mom finally spoke out and asked for (in some cases demanded) that their men take a little of the burden of house and children off their hands once in a while.  Yes, that's putting it very simplistically and I'm making very broad brush strokes.  My point is that I also learned these lessons, to my detriment.

When my parents split up (in a very nasty way), I became the quiet one.  The responsible one.  The adult.  At 10.  I was the well-behaved kid that every mother would have loved to have.  Because I knew that getting visibly upset would draw attention to me and after seeing what it did to my mother, I didn't want it happening to me.  Illogical?  Yes.  But a very real feeling, just the same.  I spent the next 25 years trying to shoulder all my family's burdens, quietly and dutifully.  By family I also mean the groups of friends I had that I considered my family.

Needless to say, there's a lot of shit built up inside and where or how that's going to come out, I don't know.  That's scaring me, a little.  Okay, more than a little.  My saving grace is that I have a very loving and supportive husband who I wouldn't want to do without, even if he drives me crazy sometimes.  I do the same to him.  I also have very dear friends I can cling to when the waves get to swamping me.  For that, I thank you all, right now in case I forget to do it later.

For the physiology, last month, my menstrual cycle was three weeks late, and it was unusual.  No cramps, no heavy days, no light days.  Just a steady flow for seven days.  I've never been regular for very long, so being three weeks late is nothing unusual for me.  This month, though, things started a week early and this second day is haranguing me with cramps vicious enough to make me whimper in pain and be nauseous.  For those that know me, they know the pain has to be really intense for me to actually give it voice.

I know that the 2nd chakra (where the reproductive organs are) is one dealing with personal relationships, among other things.  Is this my body and spirit trying to tell me something?  I've looked over all my relationships and on the whole things seem pretty stable and solid.  But, have I actually sat down to talk to my mother about what happened 35 years ago and why she made some of the choices she did?  No.  Do I need to?  Probably, in order to gain my own understanding and thus put closure on that chapter of my life.  Will it be a truthful tale she tells?  I've no way of knowing, since by now the memories of the others involved are clouded with time.  And my father died last year, and he wouldn't ever talk about it, anyway.  So, I'll have to take what my mother tells me and use that to bind the book together and put it on the shelf.

Maybe that's the relationship I should work on, or maybe it's just genetics at work on my physiology and nothing else.  Still, it would probably be a good idea to sit down with her and talk.  Maybe next year some time when money isn't so tight, I'll make the 1500 (or maybe it's 2k) mile trip to San Antonio to do that.  Before my opportunity slips away.

For those friends I have that aren't following boink_sal  or cross_stitch , I thought I'd post the two newest pics of my progress.

I hope you enjoy them. :)

( Here's Autumn Sampler )

I've actually gotten more done on this since this pic was taken, but I decided to wait for another progress pic until after I got caught up on the BoInk and finished the section I was working on for this piece. :)

( And here's the BoInk )


And that's what's been occupying a lot of my free time, these days. :)

If there is one person, or more, on your friends list who makes your world a better place just because they exist and who you would not have met (in real life or not) without the internet (or it's predecessors if you're old enough to remember those), then post this same sentence in your journal.

Reply to this meme by yelling "Words!" in the comments and I will give you five words that remind me of you. Then post them in your LJ and explain what they mean to you.

I tagged myself on meta4life 's journal.

Survival - I thought this would make it in there, somewhere.  It's definitely not Wilderness Survival, or even a health scare that defines this word for me.  It's about breaking cycles, about mental and emotional hurdles that have been overcome.  We all have them to a greater or lesser degree.  Survival also isn't about successfully wrestling your demons into some semblance of submission, but about continuing to accept that you have them, continuing to work with them and keep waking up each morning to face them anew.

Chocolate - Gods above, what hasn't been said about Chocolate? :)  It's one of the greatest boons and greatest banes of my life.  More the former than the latter, I believe.  Sharing a Chocolate Moment to me is sharing love and friendship.  Especially long-standing friendships that are both smooth as silk, yet have their moments of bitter that make you sit up and take notice.

Writing - Writing for me is one of two creative outlets I have.  Like reading, it allows me to slip away for a little while to other realms, into other headspaces where my own problems and stresses fade into the background.  Yet it also helps me work through those problems and stresses via those other headspaces as well.  I'm not an artist with pen, paint and pencil as my daughter is, nor am I a musician by any stretch.  I've often yearned to be but words are where I tend to shine.  Writing is my escape, my expression of creativity, my private sojourn into my own psyche.

Marriage - I find myself re-defining this word for myself every few years.  Just as I re-define who I am based on the experiences of the previous few years.  It's a merging, of course, but not necessarily of spouses.  It can be a business partnership or a deep and abiding friendship.  Marriage is certainly more than a piece of paper saying my husband and is now my husband.  It's spiritual and emotional rather than secular.  It's choosing to commit, it's forming a bond of the heart, mind and soul.

Snow - I had to laugh.  For those that know me, they know of my intense dislike of dealing with snow.  I can appreciate it's beauty from a distance but when it lands on my front lawn, loathing creeps into my psyche.  In thinking on it, aside from just not liking cold weather in general, snow has come to mean deprivation.  Deprived of food, money, sometimes of human contact in general and also being deprived of guidance and my childhood. 

Since it's the last day of the month, I figured I'd better show what little I've gotten done.  I just couldn't get to this until after I'd finished another project, so I only started this about a week ago, and all told I think I've worked maybe six hours on it. I need to keep better track of that, I think, just for my own curiosity. :)

( Clicky for piccy )

I'm still getting used to a digital camera, so my pics always come out a bit skewed right now. LOL  I was going to do the corner knots, but my first attempt with the satin floss, the mis-counting and the 20 minutes of frogging made me re-think the deviation.  Besides, using one strand of DMC 947 and one of DMC S3820 made the kitty look like our Suncatcher, who has had digestive issues all his life.  Thus, Barfy was the obvious choice. :)

Once I found the right length of floss to use, though the satins have been a dream to work with.  Thread Heaven helps keep it from fraying, too, not to mention they like to try twisting a lot.  In real life, that black outline looks like someone just took a felt marker and drew on the fabric, from a distance.

Cross posted to boink_sal 

Okay, so I have this account, finally. :) I don't know that I'll ever really do anything with it, but what the hell, right?

And before anyone asks, yes that is a picture of me, circa 1965 or 1966, somewhere between eighteen months and two years old. Trust me, it's a better pic than any I could come up with, now.