Monday, November 14, 2005

Home Again, Home Again, Jiggidy, Jig

The Poconos are as beautiful as always this time of year, and I spent a surprisingly blissful week sleeping in a motel, spending days with my parents and enjoying the freedom from Dr's visits and physical therapy and going to Glenn, my personal trainer. And from Rene.

And, to top the week off, on Saturday I spent most of the day with Becky of Where Life Takes You.
It was wonderful.  She is easy to talk to, easy to get to know, easy to hang out with, and we talked about everything from children to upbringing( and struggles to escape) to summer vacations. She wanted to have had a place like I had to go to every summer, rather than always going different places. I always felt gypped that we never went anywhere except the Poconos! And beautiful though it is, it seemed boring to me as a teenager who was essentially an outsider. Funny how that is. Now I think it is one of the most beautiful places on earth, off season.

Becky has posted some great pictures, so go take a look. My pictures will get posted sometime after Christmas, maybe, after I find the directions again and relearn all I've forgotten about posting pictures!

My parents are hanging in, thank Goddess. I realize that I treasure them more each year, even as they drive me crazy! Mom had a detached retina in Sept, and then problems, and more surgery, so she is stumbling around one-eyed, dropping things and spilling every cup of coffee she pours. But she's a tough old bird and determined to live more years. Dad has his own routine, which includes reading a lot and watching endless "Law and Orders" on TV, along with football and ice hockey.

The two of them have worked out a cranky, but somehow mutually satisfying way of living together.(After 57 years of at time not so wedded bliss) It seems to involve much taking out and putting in of hearing aids, and complaining behind each other's back, but it works for them. I work hard not to be go between, which was my role in childhood and well into adulthood, too.

One of the things I realized in the Poconos was that I am still capable of moments of happiness. I really hadn't seen how stressful our life here has become since surgery, and more so since Rene decided now was the time to move out. Then, of course, she couldn't just pack up and leave, but had to find a placeand all that entails. I still cry sometimes, but I am also counting the days-she'll be gone by Christmas.

The ironic thing is that we're getting along fine, and we'll probably talk everyday once she's gone, but right now there are boxes everywhere, only a small part of her stuff is packed up, and I am struggling with the anxiety I hardly recognized before I went away because it was/is so much a part of our lives together. Being gone for a week made it much clearer that I really can't start my next life until she's move out.

Meanwhile, I am plugging along with my activities, trying to work my stamina up slowly, and doing okay except for every now and then, when I collapse into my chair and can't move for a few hours. Luckily, those time don't happen all the time now!

I am 254 e-mails behind in my journal reading, but I will catch up eventually, like by Christmas maybe?!? I miss knowing what has been going on, so I'll probably be a bit faster than that.

Blessings, Margo

6 comments:

ryanagi said...

I'll be ready for a break at Mohegan Sun once the holiday hubbub is past. ;-)

ksquester said...

So did you do anything competely silly?  I hope so!    Giddy becomes you!   Anne

bosoxblue6993w said...

GLAD YOU MADE IT HOME SAFELY.    BECKY IS #1 IN MY BOOK

dbaumgartner said...

Glad you are back and it sounds like you had a good time.  Good for you!!!!

luvmort said...

The Cafe is closed until further notice.

christapaz said...

I'm glad you had a good time. The middle of transition sucks, but I think it's good that you are ready to move to the other side of it. Sometimes it's more appealing to stay in the middle rather than change. You have been through so many changes. Hard stuff! love, christa