You can’t always get what you want

Isn’t that the truth? You can’t always get what you want? And who’d have thought I’d be looking to Mick Jagger for sage wisdom in my old age either, but there you have it.

And in this stage of my life, he’s right, as much as I hate to admit it. You can’t always get what you want but you do get what you need.

I want to be in Jerusalem and i never want to forget that.

O Jerusalem, if I should forget thee….

But what I need is to be here and to be safe from my own demons and to get better and get my health issues taken care of. And nothing hits that out of the park better than having a seizure in bed with nobody around like I did this morning.

That’s pretty scary because what would I do in Jerusalem if I needed help? My seizures are what keeps me here.

And the love of a boy who needs me.

And the love of a man who picked me up when no one else would and who tries every day to mend these broken wings of mine and set me right and who loves me even when I fall out of the tree he sets me in.

Even when I am at my worst like I am today. Which is pretty amazing.

So back to old Mick….no pun intended…we really may not get what we want because what we want isn’t what we need and what I need is to be where I am safe and right now that is here. I am safest with my family who know how to care for me – confining me to couch with my Laura Ashley blanket and cups of pink yogurt and English tea while I recover from the mind numbing seizure of the morning.

No it’s not what I want. I want Jerusalem but not alone and I can’t have that now.

Right now…I have exactly what I need and ironically, that’s what I want most of all.

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Happy New Year?

Well, here we are, it’s a new year.  I have ditched my iPad in favor of a Kindle Fire tablet gifted to me by Alison.  It’s become my new best friend and also made me extremely grateful for those who gift me.  I seriously couldn’t afford such tech or gadgetry for myself and I do appreciate it.

I love it and am especially happy that the keyboard I got for the iPad works with it as well.  I am, in fact, typing on it as we speak.  I play sudoku on it, read more on it, take it places with me, watch Pride and Prejudice endlessly on it while I do dishes, write on it and take pictures with it.  Eventually I’ll figure out how to text on it and then, oh boy, I’ll be set won’t I?  Unfortunately it also makes window shopping on Amazon even easier but hey, my wish lists can’t hurt me.

It’s snowing out there today and I’ve been thinking about so many things for future blogs.  My big, fat Israeli divorce.  My heart bleeding silently for Jerusalem.  My love for my fiance and home here under the permafrost.  How these two things can be compatible in my life – my two greatest loves which are so very far apart.  My son, who is growing up before me and how hard this is for us both.  How autism morphs and changes and we blaze new and unknown trails every day as he grows into such an amazing young man and I struggle, as always, to just keep up and continue to wonder why people praise me for being a great mom – really, it’s because he’s such a tremendous young man.

I’m crocheting now after my knitting just disgusted me to the point of giving it up for now although Knitpicks has my nickel plated interchangeables for sale and they’re really gnawing away at me.  I still harbor that intense hatred for Polish customs for throwing away my needles in case you’re still wondering.  Anyway, I am making a “starburst” square afghan which consists of a gabillion little kinda granny squares that are really little starbursts that will all hook together.  I need a gabillion and I think I have 17 done.  Tune in later for more on THAT one.

I’ve been baking bread that sometimes people eat and lately, most of the time they snub.  Along with most of my dinners.  Oh Scott eats everything and praises what I cook and since I cook as an art, that makes me happy but still.  I have a can of raspberry pie filling and a package of yellow cake mix….I’m thinking raspberry filled cupcaked for Shabbat this week.  If I feel like it, I MAY share them with the children.

Then again, maybe not.  Depends.

I spent most of December worrying because on the first night of Hanukkah I got a call about my old house – someone was interested in buying it.  It wasn’t in the greatest shape and really, not in the best location and honestly, I wanted to just get rid of it before someone torched it.  The median sales price for what I had was less than $20,000 so I was happy with what we negotiated and I agreed to a sales price.  Talk about a Hanukkah miracle.  Most houses where my house was are on the market for 3-5 years and houses like mine?  Usually just abandoned.  So…being the worrier I am, I worried until the sales contract was signed and then I worried until the closing because I knew it would either fall through, there would be some wild lien I couldn’t even fathom or someone would torch it before we could get pen to paper.  I asked everyone I could think of for prayers and prayed as much as I could and to my own surprise on 31 December, we closed quickly, easily and with no fanfare.  Just signed the papers, said “Well, that’s that”, said goodbye to the ex, and walked away.  I never felt so relieved in my life.

I set about paying off debts I never thought I could pay off – I can’t even describe the feeling.  I have been so poor for so long and remain poor even after everything is now settled but I know that I am building a better life that hopefully will reveal itself.

Miracles are afoot and I bask in them.  I learned a long time ago that sometimes the only thing you can do is ride the tide of the miracles and just let HaShem do his thing and take you where you’re meant to go.  Fighting it really doesn’t get you anywhere and to be honest, basking in the glow of miracles is a pretty amazing feeling.  I recommend you try it.

I still feel anxious and, I hate to say it, depressed.  Maybe it’s the winter time even though I enjoy this time.  I think maybe depression isn’t even the right word.  Sometimes tired seems more like the right word.  Like life just makes me tired.  The happys aren’t as sparkly but that doesn’t mean I don’t feel happy, it’s like Scott said to me one evening when I was watching something funny on tv – “why aren’t you laughing?”  I was amused, just not enough to make me laugh out loud.  It’s hard to describe.  I suppose it’s like you can see the sun but it’s just not sparkly sunshine.  The sky is not a birdsegg blue.  You just DO, you don’t BE.  I can’t explain but that’s how I feel about it.  Sometimes I wish I could just sleep all day but I can’t.  I know that that’s what keeps me getting up each day.  If it weren’t so cold out, I’d be walking.  Routine powers my day but it doesn’t mean it’s any less exhausting just going about the routine of life.  And I am okay with it.  The routine gets me up and moving and I try to make little bits to look forward to, to break up the monotony of the routine….but the exhaustion and boredom remain.  Maybe someday it will change.  Right now, I just don’t see that.

So anyway, if I haven’t depressed you to death or bored you silly, happy new year to you.  Have you made any resolutions?  I used to when I was little.  I’d make – wait or it….schedules and routines for me to follow.  Now, not so much.  I make changes as I go…I don’t necessarily see calendar dates as the big time to decide to change my life.  This year I will be walking a 5k at the Pittsburgh Marathon and I am raising money for Evan’s Miracle League baseball team that allows kids with special needs to play adaptive baseball  (DONATE HERE) which is one of the most worthwhile things I can think of EVER doing so I am training for that.  And as usual I am doing random acts of kindness like carrying my emergency dollar to help people with change at the grocery store, helping out when I can (like bringing in trash cans when people are at work and it’s windy) and just trying to be a better human being this year.

I’m Perfect

“You’re Perfect”. ~~Pink

Made a wrong turn once or twice
Dug my way out, blood and fire
Bad decisions, that’s alright
Welcome to my silly life

Mistreated, misplaced, misunderstood
Miss ‘No way, it’s all good’
It didn’t slow me down.
Mistaken, always second guessing
Underestimated, look I’m still around

Pretty, pretty please, don’t you ever, ever feel
Like you’re less than perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you’re nothing, you’re perfect to me

You’re so mean when you talk
About yourself. You were wrong.
Change the voices in your head
Make them like you instead.

So complicated,
Look how we all make it.
Filled with so much hatred
Such a tired game
It’s enough, I’ve done all I could think of
Chased down all my demons
I’ve seen you do the same

Pretty, pretty please, don’t you ever, ever feel
Like you’re less than perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you’re nothing, you’re perfect to me

The whole world’s scared, so I swallow the fear
The only thing I should be drinking is an ice cold beer
So cool in lying and we try, try, try but we try too hard
And it’s a waste of my time.
Done looking for the critics, cause they’re everywhere
They don’t like my jeans, they don’t get my hair
Exchange ourselves and we do it all the time
Why do we do that, why do I do that?

(Yeah! Oh!)
Oh, pretty, pretty, pretty

Pretty, pretty please, don’t you ever, ever feel
Like you’re less than perfect
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you’re nothing, you’re perfect to me
Pretty, pretty please, if you ever, ever feel
Like you’re nothing, you’re perfect to me.

The Perfect Thanksgiving

I have the perfect Thanksgiving in my mind. It has lots of crystal and china. The table is perfectly set. Friends and family (mostly friends who have become family) sit around the table drinking from big globes of wine that sparkle in the candlelight as we laugh and eat pumpkin and apple and pecan pie as the candles flicker into the night.

The evening never ends.

There are no fistfights on the front lawn in front of the neighbors. No sulking children who have to be punished and told children should be seen and not heard and thoroughly humiliated in front of their aunts and uncles. No food fights. No burned turkeys with long forgotten giblet bags trapped inside.

Yep, that’s the Thanksgiving I’m having in my mind. The happy one.

It’s not like I remember ANY Thanksgiving from the time before my mother died because I have absolutely no memory of Thanksgiving at all. I associate gray skies, snow flurries, my grandparents making an appearance and the whole situation devolving into a drunken fist fest and, of course, football with Thanksgiving but I can’t remember any particular Thanksgiving Day at all…which I suppose is probably best.

I know I’ve tried hard to give Evan memories of Thankgiving. We would always get up, watch the Macy’s Parade and then cook the Thanksgiving dinner. Every year we had the same special dishes. Turkey, sausage stuffing, green bean casserole, sweet potato “hats” (scoops of sweet potato casserole on pineapple rings), and Evan’s favorite – sweet gherkins.

Then after dinner we would watch the Holly Hunter movie – Home for the Holidays.

This year I knew I had really done my job well. Evan has it all planned out. First thing we will do is watch the parade. We will have popcorn and cocoa (popcorn – really?). Then I will cook the feast (mom, did you get the pickles??? Yes, I did get the pickles Evan!)

And we will wind it all down taking our after dinner nap watching Home for the Holidays because I made sure that was the first thing I replaced when I could after we started to get settled again.

So even though it’s not the Thanksgiving in my mind…it IS the perfect Thanksgiving because it has all the traditions that I created so long ago that are just as sweet today as I see how important they are to Evan as they always were to me to make sure he had them.

That makes it the perfect Thanksgiving.

If you blog in the woods and nobody reads it, is it still a blog?

I have been blogging somewhat faithfully this month for the NaNoBloMo (National November Blogging Month) which, at it’s very basic, was a month set aside (November) for the National Novel Writing Month (I am not exactly sure of the acronym) when writers would avow to knock out a specified number of words a day and specifically, a fully written novel by the end of the month.

That evolved into National Blog Writing Month where bloggers avowed to blog every day for an entire month in search of better blogging habits and overall, hopefully, better blogging.

I know, for me, I spend countless minutes of the day thinking about what I could blog about. I spend about equal amounts of time thinking about possible ways to start and finish that elusive novel I have promised to write since I was six years old. In the end, neither gets the amount of attention it deserves or I just think myself out of the idea or more often, just think I can’t do it and go find something else to think about or knit.

Why was I able to write so freely when I was 9 and 10 and 11? I wrote pages and pages and pretty much volumes and volumes of paper. Ask people who read it! What has changed so much now?

I am not an outliner. Why do I think I have to be one now?

I don’t know. I wish I did. I wish I had a way to let these ideas out and get this unbridled creativity get from my brain and out through my fingers onto the paper. Or screen. Do I think people don’t think I can? Do I feel that there isn’t the environment for me to think these big thoughts? That my life bears down on me and my critics weigh so heavily that I just can’t squeeze anymore out?

I really just don’t know.

A drive by NaNoBloMo Posting

Yes, I signed up to blog everyday in November and I have every intention to do just that. Only I forgot how busy I was today running here and there, seeing my therapist, buying the boy a new comforter…I forgot to get my blog together until I realized it just after I had taken my sleeping pill.

And realized I had about 15 good minutes before my eyes started crossing and today would be just a memory (along with this blasted headache I can’t seem to shake!)

So here is my drive by offering. I’m not proud but I do promise to be a little more substantial tomorrow.

Until then don’t let the bedbugs bite.