Ramblings – Page 27 – The Hermits' Rest

Far Away Memories

Share a story about the furthest you’ve ever traveled from home.

I haven’t traveled all that much. My parents could not afford it, and neither could I when I was younger and living on grad student pay. I got to drive to conferences, and when I got a job, did get to see California and Boston for conferences. Most of my travel to this day has been for conferences, mostly work related, so light on sightseeing.

However. I lucked out travel-wise by marrying a European person, though, so in the 14 years we were married I got to see Ireland, England, and the furthest place I’ve ever been, Switzerland.

So here’s a story about the first time I went to Switzerland, a place I’ve never seen without jet lag (I’ve spent 3 days there, total).

The children’s dad had a work thing in Zurich, so we got the idea to all go so we could save one fare. I was to tote the children, ages one and 3 or a little less to Ireland, where he’d join us for a visit with the kids’ grandparents.

We arrived after the very long flight with small children and fell asleep the minute we found the hotel. We woke up in Switzerland morning, which was really early to the kids, but we had an idea to entertain them.

My older son was fascinated with trains at the time, like obsessed. So we went to the train station. So many “frains” as he called them. We took a delightful short ride and came back. The younger son woke up in time to see the giant Toblerone display in the station, so we had to get chocolate.

I still remember the look on my older son’s face when he saw all those real live trains. It was pure wonder. He’d just say “frain” over and over like he was in paradise.

That’s all I remember of Switzerland other than being at the airport trying to fly alone with two little ones. Declan fell asleep in the customs line, where I had to drag the luggage and the kids. He wouldn’t wake up due to the jet lag, and I couldn’t lift him. But people were kind to us, and we ended up having a nice flight thanks to helpful airline staff. Irish people love children so much.

The other time I went to Switzerland was the only time I ever got Lee to fly with me anywhere. We landed in Basel and went directly to a boat. I didn’t see much!

I do want to say that though I am sad to no longer hear from the older child, I will always treasure the memories of him when he was small. He was very smart and hilarious. He talked at 9 month (said “moon” and pointed to it). He spoke long sentences way too early, which confused people, because he could be hard to understand with the interesting consonant combinations he came up with.

Our conversations, walks, playground time, and endless playing with Thomas the Tank Engine wooden railroads were among some of the best times of my life. I’ve also traveled very far from that safe, happy home.

Is There an Ideal Home?

What does your ideal home look like?

Today’s prompt is something I think about often. I’ve designed a few homes and liked each, but none are my dream home. The Hermits’ Rest ranch house has a floor plan I like, but things have happened to make it less than ideal. That’s fine. Life happens!

When I envision an ideal home, I quickly realize the setting is more important to me than the house. Ideally I would have:

Enough acreage that I can’t see neighbors who aren’t family
Woods, with paths
Pasture for horses and hay
A lake where one can swim, fish, kayak, and look at birds
Barn with stalls, tack room, and hay area
Horses and donkeys (reasonable number, but in Ideal World I have a helper who gets to ride with me)
Indoor horse arena
Meadow or prairie area, with paths,
A creek going into or leading from the lake
Treehouse/bird blind

The house will feature much wood and iron. There are windows with views of the lake, the woods, and if possible, the horses, but they may be a little ways down the road.

Vaguely like this Georgia house from One Kindesign

Porches and decks to hang out on and enjoy the view are a must. There will be a little path leading to a guest house and swimming pool.

By the way, the lake will NOT feature poopy cow butts

In the house I can have all the colors and patterns I want. There will be much Jacobean tree of life prints on the furniture and walls. China, pottery, paintings, embroideries, and glassware will be wherever I want it. My beautiful dining room table and chairs will look great in the cheerful dining room.

That’s the idea! (From *Architectural Digest*)

I will be able to see to read in any of the many comfortable but not ugly seating areas. I’d have plants if I weren’t so bad with them.

My office will have Native Anerican rugs, pottery, and baskets by people I know it at least know of. I will display my silver there, along with paintings of horses and canyons and mesas. There will be tall ceilings to hold all my bookshelves, with those ladder things to climb to get books.

I could hide the shelves among Jacobean tapestries.

And if you know me, I won’t have a white kitchen and there may well be cherry cabinets. I like cherry and don’t care if it’s fashionable. I will have an induction range and cast iron cookware. If I can’t lift it anymore I’ll hire a cook.

My goodness. These things are $400 now. I’ll stick with my black 1986 one.

Bathrooms? Cheerful. Colorful. Functional. Attached to a huge closet no one will make fun of me for, with much shoe storage and a jewelry vault or giant storage thing.

I have no bathroom examples, but look, more English florals. My happy place, too. From the *Architectural Digest* article, “Happy Place” with photographs by Max Burkhalter. September 2023, pp. 89-101

I’ll need a yarn room or outbuilding. Then I can sew, weave, and quilt. People can hang out with me there. Yes, that will be great.

I enjoyed imagining this impossible house. It’s really impossible because I want it not too big and in a pleasant climate. Ha ha.

No, there’s no ideal home. Let’s aim for comfy.

Sitting and Knitting

Today, I was casting my mind back to times when I felt safe and secure. I don’t feel that way much of the time these days. Too much animosity and too much that baffles me.

The one time I truly felt safe and free to be me came between middle school and high school, when my parents sent sad, mopey Suna to spend two weeks with the people who lived across the street from us in Gainesville. I had a borrowed bike and no agenda while Lila and Ralph were at work. I read, I walked, I cycled through town trying to memorize every old house and tiny lane. I pined after the boy I’d liked before I had to move away.

No one picked on me, no one put pressure on me to be more feminine, no one tried to guilt me into doing things I didn’t want to. My anxiety (which I didn’t know was anxiety at the time) went way down.

Every night after dinner, we sat in their little living room with their two Basenjis. Ralph read and Lila and I knitted (I may have crocheted). I remember feeling so peaceful with this happy older couple enjoying each other’s company. At that time, the idea came to me that my happy times might be like that.

As I’ve looked and looked for peace and safety, I have always felt safest in my home with my partner, occupying my hands with a craft. This evening, for example, I felt a wave of calm and contentment as I watched yet another square of my blanket complete. I’m continuing Lila’s tradition of just sitting and knitting in peace and safety. (Even if it’s fleeting)

Plus, I had a sweet glimmer today, as I floated in the pool after horse time. I felt something in my arm, opened my eyes, and came face to face with another of our ubiquitous damselflies. They love the pool. This one was so pale as to appear ghostly gray. She ended up on my watch, and as the wind blew us around, she came between me and the afternoon sun. Her little wings just glowed. That was a glimmer.

I looked at her. She looked at me. Photo by MacroGrant.

I was disappointed in the moon tonight, since the full, blue super moon’s rise was behind a bank of clouds. Around 9 pm we went back out to enjoy its intense glow. None of the photos came out well, but my mind captured it!

As a bonus, I saw this year’s resident Gulf Coast Toad on the front porch as I headed inside. At first she was flattened so much that she looked like cow poop. She sat up, and from that perspective she was shaped like an ostrich egg. I guess she’s found plenty to eat during the drought. I’m glad for the big gal!

Letting Go…Probably Good

In this autumn season of my life,* I’m finding it necessary to let go of many things, from long-held beliefs to long-admired people. No doubt you, too, have found this to be a struggle. Sometimes you just have to let go of the metaphorical rope and see where you end up.

I have been there, and have the T-shirt.

This can work literally, as well. Today when we got back to the ranch, the weather was a little better than when we left town. I felt empowered to ride Apache in the afternoon rather than my usual morning rides on days when it’s over 105°.

I even groomed him completely rather than a quick removal of saddle-area dirt. That’s good, because all the horses appear to have rolled in the dirt after our .004” of rain yesterday. He was orange. Then I saddled up and headed out for a wee ride. I didn’t plan to trot much, since our ground is so hard.

They are resting up, I guess, having escaped after we left. Drew is STILL rolling.

After warming up (our muscles—at 95° we were already warm) I swung into the saddle, only to realize I’d forgotten his bridle. Fine. I “let go of the reins” and we rode around doing circles, figure eights, side passes (sorta), and backing in the round pen. Then we went outside and walked around the pen in both directions, finally heading back to the tack room, where the bridle was waiting.

I ended the ride on the high note of riding with no reins. We were both pleased with ourselves, I think.

Let’s pause to enjoy May-July on the temperature blanket.

If only letting go in other areas could be as easy…wait, that wasn’t easy! We’ve worked years to get here and needed lots of help. Aha! That applies to all areas of life!

And just like how I didn’t know how well the ride would go until I tried, I’m going to have to keep trying to let go of the reins and let go of patterns and people who are holding me back from the peaceful and productive life I want to enjoy from now on.

I hope my roots are as sturdy as this oak’s

I’ll keep practicing and rely on wise mentors as I get better at surrounding myself with strength and love while letting go of anything that makes me anxious, sad, or powerless.

* In my optimistic view, spring is birth to 30 years, summer 31-60, autumn 61-90, and winter begins at 90. Why not?

No Fun Being Sickly

Nope. It ain’t fun. But at least I diagnosed myself correctly!

So, my thyroid numbers were low and my metabolism was, shall we say, sloth-like. I had a low heart rate, was tired a lot, etc. So the Physicians Assistant I go to started me on medication, the standard dosage. Starting about five weeks ago, I took it correctly every morning before eating, and was proud of myself.

About two weeks ago, I started having a sore throat. I chalked it up to allergens or something. When the time came to renew the prescription, I wrote the PA and mentioned the sore throat, in case it might be my thyroid. He said it was probably just what was going around.

What I knew was that I’d experienced an inflammation in my thyroid before. I was trying to prove to my kids’ dad that I could be all thin and athletic. I rode my fancy bike every day and impressed myself with my weight loss. I looked hot, for me. But I had a sore throat. Sure enough it wasn’t just the exercise making me lose weight. It was my thyroid going into overdrive. Dang.

I got all fixed up from that and was ok and thin (but not athletic enough to keep the spouse). Then I started experiencing horrible and weird pains (while the spouse was off cycling in the Italian Alps and meeting his buff future wife). It turned out the sudden weight loss had broken my gall bladder. It was not my best year. At least the spouse waited to move out until I recuperated from removing it. I appreciate that!

The point behind this trip up and down the Alps of memory lane is that I know what an inflamed thyroid feels like. That’s now established, as well as my lack of bile regulation.

Last night I had trouble sleeping, so I decided my throat pain was probably not some virus. I peered into it with my phone flashlight and didn’t see signs of strep. So I went back to the local clinic.

Thankfully, the other practitioner listened to me. She also felt my throat. That hurt. But yes! I DO have thyroiditis. The plan is to reduce the dose of the thyroid hormone so I won’t be a sloth but I won’t be zipping around either.

I’ll go back next week to reevaluate my precious glands. If it isn’t better, I get an ultrasound.

Hurry up, Mabel. She wants to exercise me.

Send me good vibes! I do not enjoy being sick. It’s been really hard trying to get the horses exercise, between the heat and the pain. They are sweet and patient as we do maneuvers at a walk on the hard, cracked dirt. But we aren’t exactly having fun.

I’m not having fun and you aren’t even riding me.

I do feel vindicated. I was not being a hysterical woman. I really am a bit out of whack (physically). We know I’m a pretty whacky person mentally!

What’s the Opposite of a Glimmer?

Many of you enjoyed looking for glimmers after yesterday’s blog post. I loved hearing about them. Today I discovered the opposite of a glimmer, which I decided is a glower (rhymes with “power”). It’s a sudden, intense feeling of pain or negativity that quickly passes.

My glimmer today was finding this little grasshopper sitting beside me on my chair. I had a buddy.

I experienced a glower when I stepped into the swimming pool after my sweaty horse time. I trod directly onto a non-dead honeybee on the step. Sudden, intense pain occurred on my second toe. I got the stinger out quickly, thanks to my tweezer-like fingernails. Then I stayed in the water a while. I don’t think I got much venom in me. By the time my swim was over, my toe was fine. So I had a glower.

Insert imaginary bee here

I’m a poor photojournalist, though, because I decided to wait to get a picture of the bee, who was at least spared drowning and got to express her rage. By the time I got to the phone, the blustery winds had sent her off.

Yeah, winds. A mere 60 miles to the south of us, a tropical storm brought a bit of rain. We once again got clouds and wind. Sigh.

I experienced Freundenfreude (opposite of schadenfreude) with my happiness for my friends’ in Travis and Williamson Counties’ good fortune. Good for them. We will stay crunchy, however.

I gave the horses different food bowls. Maybe the one in the middle there won’t take these out into the pasture.

The wind was helpful, though. I was able to ride Apache briefly and we both lived. Whew. I am semi confident that we will get back to our regular schedule soon. I sure hope so.

The tack room quarterly cleaning is also complete. No fainting occurred.

Nope, Nada

I have nothing today. The only time I left the room was to get all the condo staff to try to find Lee’s driver’s license. He later found it.

I’ve enjoyed a lot of diabetes drug commercials today.

Other than work, I had a nice phone chat with my dear friend Mike, who is conveniently going out of town when I’ll be camping in his neighborhood. We are like ships passing in the night. Well, only he goes on a lot more ships than I do…back on topic, I also colored another page in my coloring book with questionable grammar.

I did this psychedelic stuff while watching Everything Everywhere All at Once. It was one psychedelic movie. It’s fun when the star is also a martial arts expert. I see why Michelle Yeoh won so many awards.

There was no Barbie movie this evening, since my friend was busy moving a desk. It was heavy. I understand. Oh well.

I’ve done a good job entertaining myself this past week, though I didn’t expect it to be THIS solo. Next time I’ll remember to get a two bedroom place so people can visit. I didn’t do a great job making friends this visit, though of course there was Bill and Steve. I’ll try again!

My flowers stuck with me the entire time I’ve been here.

I’m a good friend to me, though! Way to go, Suna self esteem.

Whee! Crazy fun HGTV watching fun times!

Tomorrow: book review!

Myrtle Beach versus Cameron

I promised someone that I’d write a more cheerful blog post today, and since I’ve been having such a nice day today, that won’t be hard. I’ve been mulling over how to share some of my observations about this part of the world versus where I live, and I think I’ve got a plan now. Let’s go, as I’d say in a training video.

What’s the Same in MB and Cameron

This is the easiest comparison. The main best thing about both Myrtle Beach, South Carolina and Cameron, Texas, is that all you have to do is sit around and you’ll meet someone interesting. I’ve made great friends in Cameron by just going to a restaurant, bar, or meeting and chatting with whoever is next to em, and that’s certainly the same at Myrtle Beach. Here at this condo place, you know you have something in common with everyone there, because you all either own or are considering owning a week or two of timeshare, that great business investment (ha ha). Networking skills are useful here and in Cameron for sure.

Just this visit, I’ve met Steve, Bill, and their families, who were so welcoming and hilarious. Plus I’ve chatted with fun people in activities, as I’ve shared, and all I need to do is sit at the bar and nice folks will show up. It’s really fun to have people come up and tell you they enjoyed talking to you the day before, or even better, you find someone you have all sorts of weird things in common with and want to be FFFs forever. That was my afternoon today and the lovely woman I met.

Same picture from yesterday, of a Ferris wheel

Also both places are diverse in many ways. I love how many shades of skin tone and different languages I hear in both places. There are indeed things that are improving in much of the US.

What’s Different in Myrtle and Cameron

And now for my observations about what’s different.

The birds are very different. We have lots more birds in Cameron this time of year than in Myrtle. I’ve seen very few shore birds, just mainly my buddies the fish crows, nighthawks, ospreys, and pelicans. Well, of course there are pigeons and seagulls, but I expected more. No egrets.
Vape shops are the new pancake houses. Last year we were counting pancake restaurants, because there were so many, but this year I was amazed at how many vape/smoking/dispensary places there are. If you need a hookah fix, you’re covered in Myrtle. I guess they must have passed some law that encouraged all these businesses , which have expanded greatly in the past year. (See maps at end of blog.)
Candy shops exist. Wow, there are so many candy shops here. There’s a lot of ice cream, too. I mean, Cameron has places to get ice cream and año cones, but wow, you don’t have to go far for a sugar fix at Myrtle.
There aren’t as many dogs. I don’t see anywhere near as many dogs in Myrtle as I do in Cameron, or even in Hilton Head. Of course, there aren’t any beach dogs here. There aren’t any in Hilton Head this time of year. And no dogs run free in the parts of Myrtle where I’ve been.
Rain happens. It keeps raining here! What’s up with that? Still no rain since June at our house, though some folks I know have seen a shower or two.
There are very different noises. In Cameron you hear the train from most of the town, and from the ranch you hear a lot of loud pickup trucks and gunfire. In Myrtle it’s endless helicopters full of tourists, They pass by at least every minute or so during the day unless it’s storming. You also get sirens when there are beach issues, whistles from lifeguards (especially when a storm is coming), and the fireworks that some tourist place sets off every night. Every night. I’m glad the dogs aren’t here.
There are way more Ferris wheels in Myrtle. Way.
The weather reports are very different. In Cameron you see what counties are under various degrees of drought and where the current wildfires are. In Myrtle, you get the tide reports and fishing outlook. I know the name of certain buoys in the ocean now.

Last night’s storm caused much lifeguard whistling. I saw water spouts.

Yes, now that I’ve gotten a better frame of mind, I’m enjoying my time alone. I’ve enjoyed many movies and a weird television show about Australian flowers. Every day I’ve been going to the gym and making sure I walk really fast for at least two miles. I want to be sure I’m still in good aerobic shape when I get home to the horses. That does involve a lot of sweating, which is how I ended up at the beach bar chatting with various vacationers. I wanted to dry off and have a cold beverage!

This is from last night. Sarah is tired.

And of course I’m knitting, I’ll share my latest progress, which adds many more hot days to the temperature blanket. I ended the previous row on July 13, and we already had two days over 105°. It’s the saddest part of the blanket!

And I’m reading a lot in the book about Florida history I was given. I’ll tell you what, I’m no longer “proud” to be descended from early Florida residents, even though I realize some of them were forced to come there. Those conquistadors were pretty nasty folks.

Thanks for showing up, kind readers. You’re all appreciated.

Mental Illness Runs in Families

Time for more of that honesty that people either like or have become tired of lately.

Sometimes life feels like an unpleasant amusement park ride. I hate Ferris wheels.

I’ve been dealing with some painful consequences of mental illness for the past few weeks, both my own and the issues of others. I wouldn’t wish some of the struggles I’ve seen on anyone. It’s particularly hard, because it seems to come from innate struggles (along with “nurture” problems, many of which stem from being raised by people whose mental illnesses caused them to inflict pain on those around them). And I got so down that I managed to forget what caused it until a friend reminded me there’s a name for what I deal with.

Somewhere among my mother’s maternal ancestors, some powerful genes that make life hard for those who inherited them got wedged firmly in the family line. I don’t know how far back it goes, or which part of my grandmother’s family passed the issues on to her and her siblings, but wow, it left a strong legacy.

Moonrise in the night. Like a light in a dark time.

I’m going to say this: I love my children, but I’m sorry that I passed on the tendency to have severe depression, bipolar, learning disabilities, and narcissism on to them. I am truly grateful that they are not extending this line forward, even though the good parts (intelligence, artistic gifts, and the ability to write well) won’t move forward to future generations, either. That’s difficult to say but seeing how my family inflict pain on each other and how deeply it affects the two of us plagued by RSD (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria) I just don’t want it to continue.

I don’t blame any member of my mother’s family for behaving how they do and making the choices they make. A combination of inherited instability and “abuse” (for lack of a better word) can make people do weird things to try to bring peace into their lives. My sister has cut off the rest of her biological family from her life. I do understand how, from her perspective, it’s what she needs to do, but I can still wish she’d gotten the help she needed and enabled the family who love her, warts and all, to be a part of her life.

The view from my Rapunzel Tower at sunset

On the other hand, those of us who have had to try to find ways to deal with how members of my mom’s family treated us are probably better off ending that pattern. My insane drive to not be rejected or abandoned has led me to try way too hard to please people who can’t be pleased, and that’s not helpful to any of us. Anyway, the struggle is real, and I’m back on track to managing my own issues better again, and I wish everyone else well as they deal with their issues.

I’d actually gotten pretty darn good at not blaming myself for every single thing people close to me say, do, or seem to do in my messed-up brain. I just slipped, and as I was trying to express this morning when talking to a therapist friend, you can intellectually know there will be setbacks in mental health recovery, but your limbic system still gets all out of whack. Repeat after me: other people’s actions are their responsibility.

Dealing with all this while holed up in a tiny room like a short-haired Rapunzel in her tower is not ideal. But I can always find ways to cope. At least I can watch Amazon Prime without worrying Lee about using up all our bandwidth. So, I watched three nice movies yesterday and that helped a lot! I watched Air, 80 for Brady, and Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris. All movies with strong women who made me smile.

Plus, there’s always random people you meet, along with the sunrises, sunsets, birds, and bats. This Rapunzel really isn’t trapped in her tower at all.

Do We Ever Grow Up?

I’m beginning to think the answer to this question is a decisive “no.” I’m darned disappointed in myself these days, because I find myself falling into old patterns, forgetting lessons I thought I’d learned, and pretty much pissing off people I’d prefer to not piss off. And I sit here trying to work but with chest pains and a giant eye tic. Old patterns bring old results.

Like a moth, I need to stop flying into flames that aren’t the right kind.

And then, of course, rather than being gentle with myself and remembering that we always have ups and downs, I’m angry and disappointed with myself for being so needy and such an annoyance. Then I go on to remind myself that, for goodness’ sake, my little emotional turmoil and angst is not important in the grand scheme of things, and certainly not the responsibility of anyone other than me to deal with.

There are plenty of areas I can enjoy and not bother anyone. Like fish crows.

So, this blog is my attempt to remind myself that my issues are mine to deal with, and that asking for support or reassurance is not always a good idea. There’s a time and place for everything, including getting help with things I’m worried about. I’m really sorry that I’ve been a pain in the butt to people I consider in my inner circle.

I need to grow up!

Today I’m making a strong effort to remember my boundaries and respect the boundaries of others, to keep my inner circle small and trustworthy, and to stop thinking I’m a part of things that are truly outside of my realm. That last one keeps biting me on the butt, like when I thought because I was part of the ownership team of a company, I was entitled to know more about what was going on than I actually am. Today I thought I needed to take care of details about the vacation rental I own but realized that’s not for me to worry about. I just stick my nose into everything when I’m not careful! Time to be more careful and stop being annoying. And for sure, no one needs me to provide updates about anything.

Why am I whining when I have this nice place to hang out? I can be a doofus sometimes!

I’ve enjoyed lecturing myself today. I think it helps to write it down, and by sharing it on the blog, I think I’ll be more likely to hold myself accountable and do keep doing the things I need to go to get back to loving myself, staying out of things I have no business getting into, and most important, remembering I’m not the only one with issues so it behooves me to treat others the way I’d like to be treated.

In other words, it’s time to grow up. Again.

(I’m fine, don’t need advice or professional help (I have it), and just hope people who care will help keep me accountable.)