Category Archives: Finding Self

Musings from Madrid.

IMG_0034After my last accidental photo post (mobile WordPress and I don’t get along so well), I thought I would report some observations from Madrid as I make my way back to the states.

Some highlights from an Americano after a full week in Madrid:

Sounds of motorcycles, mopeds, horns and sirens can actually be soothing if you give it a minute.

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7 out of 10 people on the streets seem to smoke, anywhere.

Scarves can make any outfit fashionable. Especially in Madrid. But then Madrilènes could make trash bag dresses look cool.

The architecture is magnificent, with myriad towering steeples, daunting domes and intricate corbels – everywhere..

The eating schedule is a challenge to get the hang of. However if you say ‘tapa,’ you can be fed any time.

Don’t even think about ordering a martini in Madrid, unless you’re at an Americanized hotel bar. And what’s the fun in that anyway.

Remixes of pop American music from the seventies and eighties streamed throughout retail stores and one taxi ride treated me with Staying Alive by the Bee Gees. I wondered if they had an American flag button on the dashboard and tapped it when they saw us coming.

Politely attempting to speak the native tongue often is rewarded with a gracious welcome. Calm politeness can get you far in any city.

Drinking, of beer and wine especially, takes place all day. Seems to be five o’clock all the time. In most places beer choices were ‘large or small’ rather than our overkill assortment of brewery concoctions.

Servers never walk away from your restaurant table with your credit card, instead bringing a device to the table, which makes much more sense when it comes to security.

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If you can figure out the metro (subway) on your own as I did, high-five yourself. It’s a maze down there that makes Manhattan subways look like a walk to your mailbox.

Beautiful iron balconies, balconies and more balconies everywhere you look.

Old Madrid is my favorite area, overflowing with rich history at every turn.

Every door I pass on the street in Old Madrid is a masterpiece in and of itself.

Everyone on the streets looks like they put some thought into what they are wearing — even the joggers.

Flamenco dancing. Now I totally get it. Sexy, emotional and heart pounding.  Parts made me cry.  Wow.

Bull fights. Couldn’t do it. I know its tradition, but the thought of watching eight bulls die brutally and some horses die as collateral damage for human entertainment weakened my knees and hurt my heart.

20130518-182658.jpgThe city is beautifully clean and lush.

Dog breeds of popular choice on the streets are Bulldogs and Yorkies.

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Ham (jambon) is to Madrid what pizza is to New York and hot dogs are to Chicago.

And there you have it, for now.

Ps: I’m announcing a caption writing contest for that last random photo post I did of a Ferrari in traffic in Madrid (contest jokingly suggested by one of my readers). Submit yours as a comment on that last post and the caption that makes me laugh the most wins an exciting prize, or at least gets a public pat on the back. Honorable mentions will be listed as well.

Many cooler pics to come. Madrid was a wonderful experience and opportunity.

Gracias.

No matter where you go, there you are.

personallyIt’s been a heck of a year or so, and Little Red Riding Hood is now safe and sound in her new digs.  I am starting to breathe a little deeper, despite the periodic pangs of guilt that I work to suppress each time I drive away.

So when an opportunity to tag along with MacGyver on a work trip to Spain came along – during a favorite week of mine and for mere pennies at that – I took it as a sign.  A sign that it was time to shake off the worries of the last few years like a wet dog after a year-long bath.  And figure out how to jump on that plane.

As such, LifeonWry is Madrid-bound, as of this Saturday. I’m hoping to write while there and I’ll try to post on my blog.  I may even try to figure out how to pre-program some posts to appear while I am gone (no promises there).  So please standby if my little ol’ blog experiences any technical difficulties or extended pauses.spain

I am grateful to have such a wonderful travel opportunity present itself and to be able to take advantage of it.  Also grateful that my parents are willing to shake up their life for a week and watch our boys for most of the time while we are gone, while my dear friend, who is like a sister to me,  will stay for a few nights as well.  My friend’s mother, who is an extra mother to me (I’ve been blessed to have a few), will help out with my friend’s son while she is gone so that she can come to Colorado for a few days.

Having people like these in my life is yet another example of why my life is rich beyond measure.  All involved were on a mission to make it possible for me to go on this trip with MacGyver. And they jumped at the opportunity to spend quality time with my boys who are growing up so very quickly.post office

Traveling and experiencing new and different places is quite possibly as important as education.  I’m convinced that travel..and living in places different from what we are accustomed  to… broadens our minds by knocking down the boundaries set in place by our own experiences.

Too often our minds get boxed in by the familiar and only a change of scenery or culture can wedge them loose.  Perhaps that’s why my Grandmother called me her Gypsy granddaughter, God rest her leopard-shoed soul.

I am grateful that my parents taught me to appreciate travel and other cultures when I was young, and that I’ve been fortunate enough to be able to teach it to our sons.

There are so many quotes about travel that I love.  Twain’s view on travel is perfectly stated.  As is this one by Ralph Crawshaw:

“Travel has a way of stretching the mind. The stretch comes not from travel’s immediate rewards, the inevitable myriad new sights, smells and sounds, but with experiencing firsthand how others do differently what we believed to be the right and only way.” -Ralph Crawshaw

I will have a few days on my own in Madrid to get good and lost (for I am She-ra, Queen of the Compass-Challenged).  So I know that I’ll have some interesting stories to tell.  So stay tuned, my friends.  Stay tuned.

What are your thoughts on seeing new places?  What does travel mean to you?

Headline quoted from The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension.

 

Goldilocks mission for Little Red Riding Hood successful thus far: The dreaded nursing home decision.

little redI haven’t written any posts for more than a week. I’ve been a bit numb from the drain of the last weeks with Mom, or Little Red Riding Hood, as I like to call her on my blog. And I know you readers enjoy my more light-hearted posts. So I’ve been torn about writing about Little Red Riding Hood for the last month or so. But it’s part of my Life on Wry, so I’m sharing a post I wrote today for my other blog, Laughing at Alzheimer’s (because laughing doesn’t’ make my mascara run).  So here we go.

Nursing Home selected. Check. (I’m tired … are you?)

The much anticipated intervention meeting with my Stepdad was successful. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t easy convincing a man that it’s best for his wife of 30-plus years to be in a nursing home because of the level of care she needs. But the hospice folks helped me get through this difficult conversation. It had to happen. I was losing too much sleep worried about them both.

We ended the meeting with him open to the idea and to hearing about my top choices after researching and touring area nursing homes that were a potential fit.

The next day when I came to help with Mom, I again explained to my Stepdad that I wasn’t trying to be pushy, but that I felt – for various reasons that I explained and probably over-explained – that it was the right thing to do for both of their safety and well being, as hard as it was to formulate those words.  He knew I didn’t take this lightly and that I had been researching options for when the next shoe might drop (after our infection in December sent Mom into a tailspin of decline). He knew my heart was in the right place.

In true Goldilocks style, I have been researching and touring various nursing homes of various sizes with differing amenities and programs. Small, medium, big homes, ones with lots of programming and little programming, ones close to my house and close to my parents’ house, in the lower, medium and higher price ranges.

I participated in these tours almost robotically, as if for a work project for which I was designing a features and benefits grid in order to write a brochure about their differences. I only cried on the way home from the tours a couple of times. It was a completely surreal experience. I wanted to have my sister with me, but it wasn’t an option. She’s been gone for 13 years. This was a solo mission. And she was with me in spirit, I really think she was.

After I went through all of my notes and all of the brochures with my Stepdad he agreed. He said it sounded like I had a favorite and he liked my rationale. I gulped and told him how much pressure that was to be the one to pick and he calmed my nerves and reminded me how much effort I had put forth. Was he really on board? He would go see it with me later in the week (last week) and bring his checkbook for a deposit if it felt right.

Was I hearing him right? Was he really on board? Don’t get me wrong, this took much time and many “come to Jesus” conversations, as I like to call them, over the last couple of years, and more angst than I can even explain. But he knew I seemed more serious this last few months since Mom’s decline. And he knew, in his heart, it was time. But was I actually hearing him agree with me on this subject for which I dreaded the very thought of? Indeed.

I explained to him how one of the nursing homes just felt right to me and I could picture Mom there. How natural it even felt with the Executive Director who gave me the tour. She reminded me of someone dear from my hometown. So many things made it seem like the right place. I drove away dabbing tears and pulling myself together, knowing that it was the place my Mom should be.

I took my Stepdad a couple days later. It was clear to me that he had taken some time to think about this whole issue, and felt even more resolve that the stimulation and care she could receive was what would be best at this point in her decline. I was still in shock that this was really happening and that I had steered our ship to this point.

Tomorrow the ‘assessment team’ from the nursing home will assess her at my parents’ house. To determine her needs, and that the facility is a good fit. Now that we’ve come this far, I only hope it will all go smoothly. I know it’s going to be a rough ride, but surely it can’t be more rough than the last couple of years, right? I’m probably wrong about that aspect, but I still know in my heart it’s what is best.

I’ve already picked out a comforter and curtains for her little room. They have flowers and the colors of pink roses in them like she likes, or liked anyway. And I have a list ready of what all that I will furnish her room with, from photos and knick knacks to her wall calendar and hand lotion. My stomach is wrought with unease, and I wake each morning consumed with guilt and wishing my sister were here to tell me I’m doing the right thing.

We’ll see what tomorrow holds. I’m going to think positively. Besides, that’s what I tell everyone else to do all of the time.

But being a grown-up really does suck sometimes. And it makes me tired.

Wish me luck.

Crossing lines.

colorfulcoloradoHer eyes watch me blankly as I turn each page and she nods her head occasionally as I narrate  — like she somehow knows that nodding is the expected response.  But the faraway look in her eyes tells me she doesn’t know what I’m narrating for her or who I am.

Little Red Riding Hood was the queen of scrapbook and photo album organization, and for that I am truly grateful.  I enjoy finding new photos that I’ve never seen with her on my weekly Wednesday visits at her house.  Her walking has become unsteady, so Wednesdays I now go to her. She watches curiously as I snap a photo or two with my phone.

I continue to try to spark something in her eyes with old photos like I was able to it seems like just months ago. But Alzheimer’s has now almost completely robbed us of those rare moments of connection, stealing so much more these last few months.

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Many of the photos and mementos we go through page by page bring back such a rush of memories and I would love to talk to her about those moments and scenes from our lives.  Or to my sister. There are so many photos of the three of us.

It’s these moments when I can feel my heart getting squeezed by something deep within me and wrapped in blanket of bittersweet loss.  That’s when I realize I’m holding my breath and that I need to put the albums away until next time.

I remind myself to breathe as I place the albums back on the dusty shelf and shake off the sad like my dog shakes the water off  her back after a bath.

This old photo of my grandparents brought a smile to my face as I remembered taking this same shot of my boys as we crossed the state line on the day we moved to Colorado when my boys were so young just nine short years ago.   I never knew this grandfather but my youngest son carries his name — both of them in the right of these pictures. Who knows, maybe my Mom, little Miss Historian, took the picture of my grandparents.

Life is one transition after another in so many ways.  Some big, some small, some full of joy and some full of sadness, and many a little of both.  The challenge is knowing how to embrace each transition and carry through what we learn to the next one. And to do it with grace.

Georgia on My Mind…

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“I’ve been absolutely terrified every moment of my life and I’ve never let it keep me from doing a single thing that I wanted to do.”
“I have already settled it for myself, so flattery and criticism go down the same drain and I am quite free.”

― Quotes by Georgia O’Keeffe

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Oh how I would have loved to have met Georgia O’Keeffe.  From what I’ve learned about her over the years, she was an inspiring bad-ass of a woman.

And now some of her works are being installed in Denver for an exhibition coming at the end of this month.  I am giddy.

desertokeeffeskyscraperOne of the greatest American artists of the 20th century and the very first female American Modernist painter, O’Keeffe didn’t play by any established rules.  She made her own.  Gotta love that.

skullShe was born in Wisconsin in 1887 and knew and told others that she wanted to  be an artist by the eighth grade. (And now that I too am obsessed with Downton Alley, I’m picturing O’Keeffe starting her career during that period since the dates are close. This makes her even more inspiring to me.)

I had the great pleasure of seeing the largest collection of her work in the world years ago at the Georgia O’Keeffe Museum in Santa Fe.  I remember one painting so huge – an entire wall – of rich, vivid clouds that it literally took my breath away. (She said she painted her skies and clouds so large so the world would see them the way she did.)

A college friend gave me a print of her Music in Pink and Blue (top painting in post) which was proudly displayed in every college house where I lived.

O’Keeffe created her own style of art, blending abstraction and realism, along with cropping techniques she saw in photos, to create iconic paintings of the American artistic landscape. Her huge-scale abstract flowers, her bold 1920s New York City skylines, and her intoxicating perspectives of the deserts, bones and skies of New Mexico… are simply unmistakable.
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What’s your favorite O’Keeffe painting?
PS: if you ever want to give a wonderful and unique gift to a child, the book  “My Name is Georgia” by Jeanette Winter is a wonderful illustrated book about being daring enough to pave your own path.

Silent in the company of sisters.

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At weekly yoga class.

Two sisters, there each week.

Next to each other, happy and harmonious.

Could be twins, alike but different enough.

One comment starts the chatter all around the room,

How lucky they are to have a sister nearby to enjoy.

I nodded silently as I agreed,

Tamping pangs of envy down deep.

Then one by one … the others lamented over their sisters faraway,

Poor them.

I had a choice,

Bring down the entire room with “Bummer, mine died.”

And freak everyone the hell out,

Or keep quiet.

I chose the latter.

Did Buddah have a Napoleon Complex?

napbud“The battlefield is a scene of constant chaos. The winner will be the one who controls that chaos, both his own and the enemies”― Napoleon Bonaparte

I recently discovered this quote and I love it.  Just as it applied to the battles that Napoleon’s armies fought, it  applies to how we live our lives each day. How we react to chaos, change or loss – anything that rocks our world- and how we choose to process it.  It’s only when we rise above the chaos or challenges that we truly win the battles of life … and grow from it as a result.

Buddhist teachings have long taught the value of quieting the mind and experiencing the present amidst chaos.

Tibetan Buddhism describes three gates we must pass through or commitments we must make to help us embrace our moments of chaos as opportunities for growth:

1. Cause no harm: do our best to not cause harm with actions, words or thoughts (to commit to being good to each other).

2. Help others: do our best to keep our hearts and minds open, and nurture our compassion by giving to those in need.

3. Accept impermanence: do our best to embrace the world just as it is, without bias; try to see everything – good and bad – as a way to awaken further.

I will keep these commitments in mind the next time I have a lot on my plate and become ridiculously frustrated by the person in the bank drive-through who won’t commit to a lane (in case a different one opens up faster). And the next time I’m put on hold on the telephone listening to music and being redirected repeatedly. And the next time I judge anyone who doesn’t share my point of view or appreciate the same things that I do.

P.S. Did you know Napoleon was actually above average height for his time?  Scientists say he was actually about 5’6, rather than just over 5′ as the compensatory complex has been explained.  The average height for an 18th century Frenchman was 5’3″.  He was perceived as short because he was most often seen with the Imperial Guard — his bodyguards who were above average height.

Nameste my peeps.

Unfolding Cocoon

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Unfolding Cocoon

Fresh start, new beginnings, rebirth,

Physical, mental, external.

Tuning the body,

Clearing the mind,

Prioritizing the other.

Focusing on peace and clarity,

As the cocoon unfolds, little by little.

Fresh start, new beginnings, rebirth.

 

And that’s my shot at today’s WordPress Daily Challenge on the theme of Starting Over.

What does starting over mean to you?

Top Thing I Really Should Have Learned in 2012. (Top Ten Continued)

Top Thing I Really Should Have Learned More About in 2012: MATH

As a kind and gracious reader of my last post pointed out, I left out #5 on my top ten lessons learned. I’ve always said as a Journalism major, I simply don’t do math. But really, that’s pretty funny.

So what would number 5 really be?

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Well, as I drove home from school drop off this morning, I couldn’t help staring wide-eyed at the snow all around me.  And noticing how soft it felt under my boots and as it landed on my sweater. I wanted to take a picture of every tree with snow perfectly placed on its branches as I drove past them this morning .  I know it sounds corny, but I really don’t care.

Even at 20 degrees this morning, I couldn’t help smiling.  I even went back outside after my return to take my neighbor’s paper to her doorstep.  It was so beautiful and perfect and soft that I seriously didn’t notice the 20 degrees.

I have learned the importance of stopping and noticing so much more in 2012.  Maybe it’s the writing that has made me more observant.  Or the introspection that more disciplined writing has spurred.  Or maybe this gratitude thing has really started to change my view in a way more significant than I had realized?

But it feels right despite its borderline cornitude.  I’m slowing to notice the snow, the deep orange and pink skies letting the sun out from under its covers early in the morning and the brilliance of the moon in our bathroom skylight before I close my eyes. The way petting my little red furry muse (monkey dog) warms me inside and makes my blood move more thoughtfully through my veins. The way so many people and things are not what I had first thought before I started this process.

The twinkle in my sons’ eyes when I spend extra minutes to encourage them and talk to them before they go to bed. The way each year we think our Christmas tree is the prettiest we’ve ever had. The way my Mom’s giggle was back (even if temporarily) when I visited her yesterday as she picked up one of the bills I was paying over the phone and gestured to it like it had the best joke written on it that she had ever read. Even though she lost her ability to read and comprehend a good year or so ago.

Maybe a part of my brain that was asleep has peeled the covers back to take another look?  I hope it never goes back to sleep.

Indeed, that is the number 5 lesson learned for little Miss Math Challenged … how powerful the effect of stopping and noticing can be.

What have you stopped and noticed today?