Fractured Thoughts

Lucky Me

Wow! Talk about lucky. I’ve just hit 999,999th Dell free lap top site for about the 15th time. Could I be any luckier? Maybe I should be buying lottery tickets every day and hitting all the local gambling casinos. Too bad I never learned to play cards. I could be cleaning up at all the nightly poker games around town. I read my monthly horoscope and yep, it says I’m on a winning streak. I do feel lucky. Oh, not enough to take all my money and bet it on games of chance, but I’m feeling lucky in life. Funny how quickly your life can turn around. Six months ago I wouldn’t have bet a plug nickel on my luck. I felt like my life as I knew it had fallen apart…it did. I wanted to run and hide. The term clinically depressed kept popping into my head yet I wasn’t brave enough to seek professional help. What did I do? Absolutely nothing. I waited it out and tried to focus on all the good things still in my life and day by day my thoughts began to change. I know that isn’t the answer for everyone, but it was for me. I’ve always been hard on myself. Understanding of others faults, but too critical of my own short comings made it exceptionally hard when my world took a nose dive. I’ve been thinking a lot about depression and people that are depressed. I don’t view it as a weakness, but more as an illness. And it’s amazing how many of my friends are on antidepressants. Maybe they shared that information with me because they recognized some of my behavior as depression. What kept me from seeking any kind of medical help? Pride. That thing in side me that’s kept me plugging along and hating any signs of weakness that tries to surface. Yes, I’m ok now and no, I’m not on any kind of medication. My method of dealing with my problems worked for me, but I know that’s not the case for everyone. I guess what I’m trying to say is that for some depression is more then of a state of mind. It really is an illness and if you need help get it. I am lucky that it was just a state of mind for me. I’m lucky that my depression just took time to work things out. I’m lucky that my family and friends were there for me. I am just a very lucky person.

Snakes in the Garden

I killed my first snake last week. I didn’t mean to. I was mowing under the peonies in the front yard and when I pulled the mower back the snake came with it. It was a bull snake and I had crushed half of him. He was writhing in pain and I did what all emotional women tend to do…I cried. Yes, I was a grown woman standing in the front yard crying. I’m not afraid of snakes. I grew up where there weren’t any poisonous snakes so handling garter snakes was almost a daily occurance in the summer time. Anyway, I knew he wouldn’t live and I couldn’t make myself finish him off so I went looking for my neighbor who was out cutting his grass. I think I spooked him when I showed up in his back yard, grass stained, dishelved hair and crying. I’m sure he thought someone was after me. Anyway, he followed me to the snake and while I averted my eyes he brought the shovel down and put the poor creature out of his misery. He’s a good guy. Didn’t say a word about my tears. He just put the snake in the garbage and told me let him know if I needed anything else.

I have bull snakes and garter snakes in my yard. I don’t mind. They keep away the mice and it’s entertaining to hear squeals from guests and kids when they suddenly see one slithering through the strawberries. I even found a snake skin one had shed in my rock garden. Cool. I have it hanging on a vine and my grandkids think that grandma is pretty special to take on the critters.

Should I or Shouldn’t I…Retire?

I need money and I need it now, not years down the road. Yes, I know the economy is scary and it sounds foolish for me to consider giving up my job, but short of hooking up with some guy to take care of me I think retiring is the best I can do. I’m old enough to get social security and if I quit the job I have now I can take my money in a lump sum and be debt free except for my house. My other retirement from my coal mine job will kick in at 65. Meantime I can finish the projects my ex and I started on the house without taking out a loan or refinance and sell it. I recently had realtors tell me it would be easy to sell for double what we paid for it. Then I could decide where I want to live and find something smaller and pay cash for it. Maybe it sounds like I’m dreaming, but there are some smaller homes in small towns that I could be comfortable with. The main thing for me right now is to not have to worry about money. I’m tired of worrying about things. Am I afraid to take my one retirement money in a lump sum? Not really. If I continue working for several more years I just won’t make that much more a month and I’ll still have bills. Besides if I quit, take the money, draw social security I can work part time and supliment my income if I think I have to. Am I talking in circles?

Another thing. My hearts not in my job anymore and certainly not in this house. I’m ready for change. Yes, I know you’re thinking I’m not thinking clearly, that I’m too emotional. Not really. I actually feel optimistic about the future and my health is good. That’s another thing. My health. I don’t want to be working at a job I’m not into any more, worrying about bills and this big house and then have my health go bad. True, if I quit my job right now I can draw SS, but I’m not eligible for health care till I’m 65. That worried me until I realized that as a veteran I can receive health care from the VA. Hey, I even have a place to be buried whenever it comes to that. See, I’m thinking straight.

Decisions, decisions. I’m going to sleep on this and hopefully wake up with an answer.

Did I Miss Menopause?

I think I missed menopause. Seriously, no hot flashes, night sweats, eating binges, loss of sex drive or hitting the bottle after everyone went to bed. Ok, there may have been some moodiness, but honestly it just blew right by me. With all the hoopla and dread concerning menopause I was ready to take it head on, but it never reared it’s ugly face.  And if it did I was too busy to notice. I expected something equal to PMS only instead of once a month magazine articles had me preparing for years of all of the above.

My high school boyfriends would be the first to tell you that I did not do PMS well. In the 60′s if you went steady (our name for what they now call going out) you wore his high school ring with different angora yarn wrapped around it to fit your finger. The yarn came in  different colors and we changed it daily to match our outfits. Anyway, once a month I sent the ring sailing towards a cowering, bewildered boy friend while yelling “I want to break up.” Why? I didn’t know. It just seemed like the thing to do at the moment then days later I was wearing his ring again.

I don’t believe we had a name for PMS then, but early on I suspected that my menstral cycle had something to do with it. The week before my period I was moody, bloated, emotional, hungry and easily irrated. The week after I was little miss sunshine.

The first few years of marriage to my children’s father I got so bad my husband started marking days on the calendar to prepare himself for the emotional onslaught. He did that for a year or so until I caught on and threatened his life. Yes, it was PMS week and might have even been a full moon. If we were going to argue it was always during that week then marital bliss for the rest of the month. Come to think of it maybe that was why he was so happy, supportive and content when I was pregnant or nursing a baby. With six kids all a year  and a half apart I was was minus PMS for over ten years. And all along I’ve been thinking the pregnancies were all about the Morman belief that God wants us to “multiply and replenish the earth”. I guess I’m a slow learner. I learn something new everyday.

Montana Governor and Me

Ok, I admit it. Sometimes I can be a show off. Not often, but occasionally I just have to brag a little. While it was exciting to meet Arne Duncan, Secretary of Education I believe I was just as thrilled to talk to Montana Governor, Brian Schweitzer. Maybe even more thrilled…I really like this guy. He’s real. While Mr. Duncan is new and yet to prove himself our Montana governor has a history with us and to me it’s all good. He’s a man of his word and he goes to bat for our state. He isn’t afraid to speak his mind and he isn’t afraid to disagree with others. Since his election in 2005 he has been outspoken against gun control and stated emphatically that he is against ID legislation of any kind. Statements like that had to make a few enemies, but our governor doesn’t seem to mind. He’s a gutsy guy and you just know he loves Montana.

The rest of the country seems to like and admire him too. At the 2008 Democratic National Convention he gave a speech on American energy independence that made Americans sit up and take notice. His easy going manner gives you the impression that he’d like nothing better then to sit on your deck (or porch) sipping ice tea and discuss hunting, fishing or the price of cows. Nothing phony about this guy. And he doesn’t come off as a glory hound even though it was mentioned more then once that he would have made a great Democratic Vice President nominee for Obama in the 2008 election.

Another reason I think so highly of our governor is the way he treats his dog, Jag. It’s obvious he loves his Jag. He takes him along on many of his trips. My mom always told me to pay attention to the way a person treats his animals, that it says a lot about who they really are. I have to admit she was right.

Ok, back to the show off part. During his visit to our school the governor used my office for private phone calls. I was thrilled! I know, it was only a couple of phone calls and a few moments of his time, but it’s a lasting memory for me especially when his aid asked if I minded taking a picture with the governor and his dog. Did I mind? I was up close and grinning like a Chesire cat before you could say boo. I look short, fat and frumpy and he looks 7 feet tall, but you just know I’m going to frame this one. Someday, when he’s in the White House, I’ll have a picture and story to tell my grandkids. I admit I might embellish it a bit, mentioning that if we’d had more time he might have asked my opinion on converting Montana coal into fuel or my views on world affairs. He could have you know. Anythings possible.

Secretary of Education Visits Our School

Working in a public school on an Indian reservation is tough, but it has plenty of perks. Our students are considered at risk with 99% eligible for free lunch That should tell you all you need to know about our poverty level. We are in the rural southeastern part of the state with the nearest large city 130 miles from us. There aren’t a lot of jobs to be had in our area. The majority of the families are on some form of welfare. Many of our students come from troubled families with drug and alcohol addictions. It isn’t easy working with some of these kids. They are depressed and angry. Write ups from teachers are a daily occurrence. The first of the month is a particularly rough time. Welfare checks arrive and although we are a dry reservation family members head off the rez to the nearest bar returning home to throw an all night party. Kids show up (or don’t) the next day looking haggard and depressed from the drama at home. Tempers flare with an occasional fight and it takes a day or two for things to settle down.

Our school doesn’t offer the classes that off the reservation schools do. We have few electives. We have a good art teacher, but no band, choir, drama or any of the other fine arts. We struggle to find good science and math teachers. As rural as we are it’s difficult to entice good teachers to come to our area. Teacher housing is limited to a few small houses, apartments and older trailers that are always needing repairs. We do have some good, dedicated teachers that have been with us a long time. Many of them drive 30 miles or more from neighboring towns to get to the reservation. But often times we get teachers that couldn’t find jobs in other areas. If we are desperate we hire them and live to regret it.

Now that I’ve painted a pretty bleak picture of our school let me tell you about the perks. Our reservation is sitting on billions of dollars worth of coal. That makes us important to the state of Montana and the reason that so many important people visit us. On one hand we get the special visitors viewing us because of our poverty and needs and then the ones that want to stay on good terms with the tribe due to the energy richness around us. You know the old saying about “friends in high places.”

Last week the Secretary of Education, Arne Duncan came to our school along our state senators and our governor, Brian Schweitzer. It was quite an event with security and media all around. They met with teachers, students and a few parents. They toured the school and asked us to share our concerns. Mr. Duncan appears to be sincere about helping us to better our school. Familiar with rural schools he had not had the opportunity to visit a reservation school. We were his first and perhaps he experienced a bit of culture shock. I was thrilled that I got to meet him, shake his hand and be involved. I am a liaison for the state and school for a federal grant . The grants sole purpose is to keep kids in school,  show them that a college education is possible and expose them to careers, college, all other forms of education beyond high school. This begins  in the 7th grade and continues until they graduate. Mr. Duncan is familiar with the grant I work for and very supportive of the grant continuing. He told me that one of his goals is to see that students everywhere have equal schools with the same quality of education no matter where it is.

My first impression is that he is a caring man and sincerely wants equality for all schools. I know he has many challenges ahead of him and his job as secretary of education has huge responsibilities. Call me naive or a Polly Anna, but my gut feeling is that in the future we will see benefits from his visit. I hope I’m right.

MY LAST PROM

My nephew asked me to come to his prom’s grand march. I did. He was beautiful. Yes, I know he is a boy, but in my eyes he is beautiful. I took pictures and held back a few tears as I watched him and his girl friend walk down the aisle. This will be my last prom. My oldest grandchild is six. It will be many years before he is escorting a date to prom.

My nephew lived with me and my ex for quite a few years. He’s actually my ex-husband’s nephew so he’s not a blood relative. But I love him just the same. I’ve known him since he was three-years-old. He and his two older brothers had a rough life. His parents divorced. His mother kept them and their dad was not in their life for a long time. And when he finally took them in after the boys mother died in a car wreck he still wasn’t there for them. He moved them around a lot. My ex and I finally ended up with them. It wasn’t easy. I wasn’t ready for three young teenage boys. I had raised my six and I was ready for my time…not kid time. But we worked it out and I tried to treat them like my own.

Cole is the last one. The other two graduated and went off to college. The oldest, Brian is doing really well. He graduated from a two year college and now he’s at a four year school studying nursing. The middle nephew, John is not doing too well. He lost his football scholarship by drinking and spending time in jail. I worry about him. I’m scaredhe will end up like his mother. She was drunk and wrecked her car.

Alcohol is such an evil thing on the reservation. I’ve lived and worked on the reservation for 12 years. I’ve known so many people, a lot of them young people that die in car wrecks. Alcohol is always involved.

My ex is Native American and Irish. Guess you can say he got slammed both ways. If the Irish are known for their drinking Indians are worse. It’s sad. I watched my ex go down hill and I just didn’t know how to help him. But I have to be honest. I was so angry I didn’t want to help him. I guess never being a person with an addiction I just couldn’t understand anyone not wanting to stop something that was ripping their life apart.

I have high hopes for Cole. He’s smart. He’s a gifted athlete. He has a bright future if he doesn’t let the pull of the reservation life get to him. I love him. I want the best for him. I guess that’s all anyone can hope for. Maybe someday he’ll get to watch his own children walk down the aisle at prom…I really hope so.

Just One More Day

My friend Sheila was found dead today…in her car, slumped over her steering wheel. She had a heart attack on her way to take a friends dog to the vet. She wasn’t a close friend, but someone I’ve gotten to know and like over the past year. I didn’t always like Sheila. In fact when I first met her she annoyed me. Shortly after my divorce friends asked me to sub on their dart team. I had never played darts and tried to decline, but they wouldn’t let me. They decided I needed to get out more so I finally agreed to play. I was surprised to find it was fun. I think I visualized my ex and his girl friend on the tiny board and it was amazing how accurate my throws were. Sheila was on another team. She loved darts. She was really good and really loud after she had a few beers. Actually it wasn’t the loudness that bothered me it was the way she carried on about my long hair, always petting my head and announcing to others they should touch my hair. At first it was flattering then it became annoying.

When my ex and I occasionally went out we would often run into Sheila. She made over us loudly announcing that we made the best looking couple she had ever seen. After my divorce she decided I should start dating and annoyed me even more when she went on and on about local men wanting to date me. I was embarrassed. Her loudness made me cringe

Sheila liked to talk and she could talk a lot. And when she was drinking she said the same things over and over. There were times when I purposely turned my back to her hoping she wouldn’t come to our table. I couldn’t understand how her very sweet and kind best friend, Kathy could put up with her. But she did and as I got to know Kathy I got to know a little more about Sheila.

Sheila was 66-years-old. Her husband, Don was retired and on oxygen along with other health problems. Sheila took care of the house, the yard and Don. That was her life. My association with sheilawas mostly during dart games and after she’d had a few drinks. She could be loud…I can still hear her laugh and hear the annoying way she would slow her speech when she’d been drinking. What could be expressed in a minute Sheila managed to drag it out to five. As loud as Sheila could be, Kathy was quite and reserved. I don’t know how many times I heard someone say “how can they be best friends when they are so different?”

Yes, we judged their friendship and I judged Sheila. I didn’t know about all the kind things she did for others and although I knew her husband was ill I didn’t know how she cared for him day and night. Now I realize that those dart nights meant everything to Sheila. She could relax. She could talk and laugh and be a pain in the butt before she went home to care for Don.

I wish I had been kinder to Sheila. I wish I had smiled more at her jokes and listened when she was talking to me instead of constantly looking for a way to get away. If I had one more day with Sheila I would invite her to my table and ask her how she was doing. I would tell her that she had a wonderful smile and I’d let her stroke my long hair without pulling away. I would look deep into her eyes and tell her that I liked her. That’s what I would do with just one more day.

Cell Phone Crisis

I’ve had a cell phone for exactly one year. I never wanted one. My ex and I used to laugh at the way people were glued to their phones. It drove him crazy when he was golfing with someone and their phone kept ringing. It irritated the heck out of him. I too found cause to curse the things every time a car swerved my way or passed with the person yakking away. And even though I traveled often with my job to other parts of the state I still didn’t see the need for one. Then almost over night we decided maybe we should try one,  that it might come in handy when traveling or in an emergency away from home.

At first I hardly used mine. I gave out my number to family and friends, entered their numbers and then never called them.  Half the time I couldn’t find it when it rang and I seemed to always leave it at home. How am I doing after having it for a year? I never leave home without it. And if I do I worry and stress until I have the thing back in my purse. I don’t know exactly when I joined the cell phone addiction crowd. But truth be told I’m now one of “them.”

At first I thought mostly the younger crowd were the cell phanatics. But lately I’ve noticed a much older group with the cell always in hand. In WalMart last week I counted 37 people talking on cell phones and not all were kids. And it’s amazing the private conversations I over heard. No one bothers to speak softly. One lady loudly chewed out her husband, another lied and said she was in her car heading home right that minute. One older man told his daughter (I assumed) that her boyfriend was a jerk and she should dump him. Another man was standing in front of the spices reading aloud the ingredients to someone and asking if the meat was ready. A young, heavily made up young woman was giggling about the party she’d been to and how hung over she was. A mother with two young crying children in her cart was trying to select oil for a car and yelling at someone at home that if they wanted the right kind they could “damn well drive over and get themselves.” I wasn’t eaves dropping, they were loud. It made me stop and think about all the public conversations I’ve had this past year.

I admit it. I’m hooked. And the odd thing about this is that I’m not a phone person. I rarely call my kids. I used to write newsy letters and then when I discovered email my world was perfect. I could write one email, address it to all six and feel like I was a good mom. If I had to choose between my cell and email I’d most definitely pick email. But I have to admit I’d have major cell phone withdrawal.

Only the Lonely

Ok, my last blog was pretty melodramatic. Sorry. I was in a mood. Maybe it had something to do with the full moon several days ago. Whatever. I’m better. Just got back from a three mile hike around the outskirts of town. The temperature is finally in the 50s and the snow is melting. Well, melting everywhere but in the shady parts of my yard. I am so ready for spring and warmer weather. I love the sun and the way it lifts my spirits. Sun light and being outside hits me like drinking a sugar free Red Bull on an empty stomach.

You know, while walking I again did some soul searching. My problem isn’t revenge or getting even it’s more about getting a life. I have people I love and people that love me. I have a nice home, a job I like and while I’m far from rich I’m definitely not poor. Things could be a lot worse.

It’s hard for me to give myself credit for my talents. I’ve never easily accepted compliments. Why? I don’t know. I actually get embarrassed and down play the compliment. I don’t know why I do that. Tell me I am wearing something nice and I’ll tell you it’s just some old thing I’ve had forever. All I have to really say is “thank you”, but I never do.

Like I said. I’m better now. It’s another day.