While I doubt that anyone to whom this apology is directed will ever read this (or the post I'm apologizing for), I feel I need to say how soorry I am for my flip "Boy, was I prepared for nothing...." comments. After seeing the devestation that Hurricane Irene caused so many (in my state and in others), and learning that hundreds of thousands are still without power three days after the storm passed, not to mention the 30 some people who lost their lives), I realize how crass and self-centered my comments were.
I was just trying to be amusing (?) in outlining how super prepared I was and how I needn't have done any of it.
But that was just me. Some folks as close as 15 miles away are still without power and have had flood damage done to their land and homes.
I can only hope that those that were impacted were also highly prepared and that those preparations at least somewhat eased what they went, and are still going, through.
My heart goes out to all of you - please forgive my words.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Irene Who?
The scary predictions.
The 24/7 news.
The adverbs. "Horrific." "Historic." "Devestating."
Power outages could last as long as a week.
Tension building by the hour. I found on where the Weather Channel was on my TV; had never watched it before. Weather.com was locked in on my laptop. Four two-galloon water botles in the trunk of my car. Canned foods loading down my cabinets. Lots of Starbuck's bottled coffee to fill in for the week that my Keurig would be out of commission. Cell phone fully charged and waiting. Patio cleared of anything that could possibly be blown around and sent through my bay window. Pre-cooked meals that would be edible cold, if necessary.
I'd overlooked nothing. Do your best, Irene. No boy scout experience, but nonetheless I'm prepared. Beyond prepared. Even two small bags packed. One for me, to cover at least two days if I had to take up the offer to go to friends who had a generator, the other with food supplies for me during that time (so as to not use up their limited supply - plus some additional boxes of Kraft's Mac & Cheese for their boys).
Bring it on, Irene. You don't scare me.
My internal clock must have taken in all the information about the timing. Irene was schedule to "hit" NW Connecticut at around 3am. I woke at 3:30. It was raining and that was about that. Turned on the Weather Channel and saw that it was still on its way. My thinking was that I might as well stay up and welcomg Irene when she arrived in full dress and if I stayed up for the next several hours I'd be tired enough to go back to bed when the electricity went.
Finally went back to bed around 10am - with electricity flowing through every lamp and appliance.
It's now about 2pm and it's raining. Not that hard, but it is raining. There appears to be a gentle breeze blowing through the trees and flowers. There are maybe 20 to 30 leaves scattered around my patio.
So, allow me to paraphrase the Thane of Cawdor,
National meteorology is but a walking shadown, a poor player
That struts and frets their hour upon the channels
And then is heard no more: it is a tale,
told by alarmists, full or sound and fure,
resulting in nothing.
Let me say that I am by no means intending to take lightly, or to diminish in any way, those that have been impacted by Irene. It's just that it was clear to those of us who paid attention on Tues, Wed, Thurs, Fri and Sat that we were all going to die on Sunday!
The 24/7 news.
The adverbs. "Horrific." "Historic." "Devestating."
Power outages could last as long as a week.
Tension building by the hour. I found on where the Weather Channel was on my TV; had never watched it before. Weather.com was locked in on my laptop. Four two-galloon water botles in the trunk of my car. Canned foods loading down my cabinets. Lots of Starbuck's bottled coffee to fill in for the week that my Keurig would be out of commission. Cell phone fully charged and waiting. Patio cleared of anything that could possibly be blown around and sent through my bay window. Pre-cooked meals that would be edible cold, if necessary.
I'd overlooked nothing. Do your best, Irene. No boy scout experience, but nonetheless I'm prepared. Beyond prepared. Even two small bags packed. One for me, to cover at least two days if I had to take up the offer to go to friends who had a generator, the other with food supplies for me during that time (so as to not use up their limited supply - plus some additional boxes of Kraft's Mac & Cheese for their boys).
Bring it on, Irene. You don't scare me.
My internal clock must have taken in all the information about the timing. Irene was schedule to "hit" NW Connecticut at around 3am. I woke at 3:30. It was raining and that was about that. Turned on the Weather Channel and saw that it was still on its way. My thinking was that I might as well stay up and welcomg Irene when she arrived in full dress and if I stayed up for the next several hours I'd be tired enough to go back to bed when the electricity went.
Finally went back to bed around 10am - with electricity flowing through every lamp and appliance.
It's now about 2pm and it's raining. Not that hard, but it is raining. There appears to be a gentle breeze blowing through the trees and flowers. There are maybe 20 to 30 leaves scattered around my patio.
So, allow me to paraphrase the Thane of Cawdor,
National meteorology is but a walking shadown, a poor player
That struts and frets their hour upon the channels
And then is heard no more: it is a tale,
told by alarmists, full or sound and fure,
resulting in nothing.
Let me say that I am by no means intending to take lightly, or to diminish in any way, those that have been impacted by Irene. It's just that it was clear to those of us who paid attention on Tues, Wed, Thurs, Fri and Sat that we were all going to die on Sunday!
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Wow - June 28th was my last post. I can't believe it's been that long. Just a bit shy of 2 months.
And has it been because my life has just been so full of fun and frolic that I haven't been able to find even a few minutes? Don't I wish.
To be honest, I'm not sure why I haven't written. Normal depression has been around, as it always is, but that's not very unusual.
Heard an amazing comment on depression - not sure where, but it stuck with me. It was said by someone who suffers from chronic depression.
You can tell someone who is depressed "see, right over there on that table? there's a guaranteed cure for your depression if you'll just go get it, reach for it." The depressant (depressee?) will look longingly over at the table but just won't be able to make the stretch or the walk to the cure. Just too hard.
It sounds so stupid but it's so spot on. It's not that we're too lazy or tired to walk to the table holding the cure, it's just that we literally can't. It's too hard, and the table seems way too far out of our reach.
It's a really good thing that I can't afford to retire. Without my job I think I'd turn into a total basket case, moving from bed to couch and back again, and no where else.
Coffee, cigarettes, tv and books - that's about all I'd need. Well, and also the occasional pint of Haagen Daas, box of chocolate donuts and M&Ms.
As much as I gripe about my job, it is my salvation. Apparently the work ethic is not impacted by depression. I am definitely a wait till the last minute person, but when it's crunch time I can churn it out better than anyone. And my clients love me. They think I'm bright, chipper, always available and that I truly care about them. Hmmmm - never realized that depression makes great actors out of us.
Right now, my depression and anxiety have a focus, an unfortunate one, and one that's making me crazy.
A week and two days ago, at around 8pm, I let out one of my kitties. He often spends the night out and so when he didn't return when I called him before going to bed I was not concerned. I knew he'd be curled up on one of the deck chairs in the morning, waiting for breakfast and some loving. Well, he wasn't there. I was a bit concerned, but not all that much. I knew that if I came home at lunch I'd find him waiting. Nope. And when I got home from work, still no Marcel. That evening the concern went full force. I walked around, calling, whistling (to which he always comes!) ... and nothing.
The next day, making my rounds of the compound where I live, trying to get everyone on the lookout, I learned that at the far end of where I live two cats had gone missing about two weeks before mine.
Concern was now bordering on panic and I kept looking, kept hoping, but by Friday evening had pretty much given up hope of finding him. That evening my immediate neighbors came over and told me that their cat, Whispers," had been missing since Wednesday night, two nights after Marcel first went missing.
There has been talk of a fox seen in back yards....but a fox taking down even one cat, much less four? I don't think so. No one has heard coyotes. Those who have dogs say that their dogs have not raised any fuss over any animal noises.
Then the day before yesterday I learned that four cats from a neighborhood about half a mile away from me have gone missing in the past two or three weeks.
I am now so freaked out, I can't stand it. I keep thinking of all kinds of horrible, sinister things that could have happened. I can't sleep, not even with the TV on (which can usually shut my mind down enough to be able to fall asleep). I just keep picturing horrible things.
It's so awful just not knowing. I pray he is dead, and not suffering somewhere. If I could only be sure, I'd feel 100% better. And my little guy, Cinqo, seems a bit lost. And even though he never went out the way Marcel did, he did go out from time to time, always coming back rather quickly. But I don't dare let him out now - he's been out about twice in the past four or five days, both times with me out there on the deck watching his every move. And I think he misses his big brother.
And so do I.
I just realized that my last blog was about dead bluebirds and now I write this about dead cats .....I might as well rename it the Blog of Death and Destruction.
Going to put this to a merciful end now - will be back shortly with something better to write about (I hope).
Thanks for listening.
And has it been because my life has just been so full of fun and frolic that I haven't been able to find even a few minutes? Don't I wish.
To be honest, I'm not sure why I haven't written. Normal depression has been around, as it always is, but that's not very unusual.
Heard an amazing comment on depression - not sure where, but it stuck with me. It was said by someone who suffers from chronic depression.
You can tell someone who is depressed "see, right over there on that table? there's a guaranteed cure for your depression if you'll just go get it, reach for it." The depressant (depressee?) will look longingly over at the table but just won't be able to make the stretch or the walk to the cure. Just too hard.
It sounds so stupid but it's so spot on. It's not that we're too lazy or tired to walk to the table holding the cure, it's just that we literally can't. It's too hard, and the table seems way too far out of our reach.
It's a really good thing that I can't afford to retire. Without my job I think I'd turn into a total basket case, moving from bed to couch and back again, and no where else.
Coffee, cigarettes, tv and books - that's about all I'd need. Well, and also the occasional pint of Haagen Daas, box of chocolate donuts and M&Ms.
As much as I gripe about my job, it is my salvation. Apparently the work ethic is not impacted by depression. I am definitely a wait till the last minute person, but when it's crunch time I can churn it out better than anyone. And my clients love me. They think I'm bright, chipper, always available and that I truly care about them. Hmmmm - never realized that depression makes great actors out of us.
Right now, my depression and anxiety have a focus, an unfortunate one, and one that's making me crazy.
A week and two days ago, at around 8pm, I let out one of my kitties. He often spends the night out and so when he didn't return when I called him before going to bed I was not concerned. I knew he'd be curled up on one of the deck chairs in the morning, waiting for breakfast and some loving. Well, he wasn't there. I was a bit concerned, but not all that much. I knew that if I came home at lunch I'd find him waiting. Nope. And when I got home from work, still no Marcel. That evening the concern went full force. I walked around, calling, whistling (to which he always comes!) ... and nothing.
The next day, making my rounds of the compound where I live, trying to get everyone on the lookout, I learned that at the far end of where I live two cats had gone missing about two weeks before mine.
Concern was now bordering on panic and I kept looking, kept hoping, but by Friday evening had pretty much given up hope of finding him. That evening my immediate neighbors came over and told me that their cat, Whispers," had been missing since Wednesday night, two nights after Marcel first went missing.
There has been talk of a fox seen in back yards....but a fox taking down even one cat, much less four? I don't think so. No one has heard coyotes. Those who have dogs say that their dogs have not raised any fuss over any animal noises.
Then the day before yesterday I learned that four cats from a neighborhood about half a mile away from me have gone missing in the past two or three weeks.
I am now so freaked out, I can't stand it. I keep thinking of all kinds of horrible, sinister things that could have happened. I can't sleep, not even with the TV on (which can usually shut my mind down enough to be able to fall asleep). I just keep picturing horrible things.
It's so awful just not knowing. I pray he is dead, and not suffering somewhere. If I could only be sure, I'd feel 100% better. And my little guy, Cinqo, seems a bit lost. And even though he never went out the way Marcel did, he did go out from time to time, always coming back rather quickly. But I don't dare let him out now - he's been out about twice in the past four or five days, both times with me out there on the deck watching his every move. And I think he misses his big brother.
And so do I.
I just realized that my last blog was about dead bluebirds and now I write this about dead cats .....I might as well rename it the Blog of Death and Destruction.
Going to put this to a merciful end now - will be back shortly with something better to write about (I hope).
Thanks for listening.
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