Days Away...

I am back from two weeks in Vermont, by Lake Champlain.  I've got Pandora on in my humid, hot home here in Massachusetts (of course no central air!  No, not for me!  Old school!).  The third load of laundry is in the wash.  I have a mountain of mail on the counter waiting to be re-sorted.  The junk mail has already been thrown in the recycling, the numerous credit card applications already torn in half and waiting for a shredder.  Do I really need ten more credit cards?  Obviously the Credit Card Gods think so.  I think because I've been spending all in cash or on my debit card the Credit Card Gods are getting envious.  No, you will not entice me with your flight miles.  I have no where to go, but Vermont...

This vacation was off to anxious start from the beginning.  Why?  I let the Kidlets drive.  Kidlet B drove up to the Green Mountain State in his Volvo V70.  What better car for the ride?  A 2004 Volvo filled with LL Bean bags, Vera Bradley satchels, and a frantic mom.  It's like the beginning of a suburban movie that's yet to be written.  I'm not a good passenger - in a plane, a car, or a boat.  I need to be in control, it's a given.  I'm working on it.  I'm working on it, OK?!  Altoids help.  Thank gawd for those British mints.  Yum.

The location of our cottage is just amazing.  It has both a deck that overlooks the lake, and a dock onto the lake.  See the photo above for the dock.  One day I sat out there in the sun, reading for about two hours, making no sense of time and getting sunburned on this Irish skin.  I read eight books while on vacation.  I read, read, and then read again.  I always keep in mind that a good writer is also a voracious reader.  And even though I'm approaching fifty and feeling like a failure, I still have faith that I will publish a novel.  "Age is an illusion," my Grandfather Berg always used to say to me.  I truly believe that.  Screw all the twenty-somethings writing biographies about their lives that aren't even 1/4th done.  You want life?  Try a divorce.  And a difficult twin pregnancy.  And a father with dementia.  And relatives with numerous health problems.  Yes, everyone has their crutch to bear.  But part of me is sick and tired of hearing about everyone else's crutch.  Perhaps it's time to tell mine?

I started corresponding with so many penpals again, and people through Postcrossing.com while on vacation.  It felt so GREAT!  Yes, all caps!  I have met some amazing people on that website who I truly call friends, even though we've never met in person.  Some of us have, and that connection is great!  But I felt like I did as a kid again - writing that letter to someone who shares my interests and concerns.  It was wonderful - to drop that letter, embellished with washi tape, in the mailbox that I call my home away from home.

(Yes, I love this post office.  The worker inside also showed us photos of her boat motor that was busted.  It was classic.  I felt so bad for her.  She was awesome, and had a new found best friend in my dad!)

The first Saturday in we went to the Farmer's Market in Shelburne.  At that point as my sons walked around looking at doors (DON'T TAKE A PHOTO) and buying Vermont made bratwurst (sorry, Wisconsin friends - these are damn good), I met up with a jewelry woman.  Her stall sold amazing beads and I immediately fell in love with a black beaded silver bracelet.  Of course, as someone who never buys on impulse, I hesitate.  What did lovely Beverly do?  She approached me with such calm and gave me a wonderful bead from her shop.  I have that bead in my pocket now.  You know how sometimes you meet people and you just feel a "sense" about them?  I don't want to go all weirdo on everyone, but I felt this with Beverly.  She was so nice, calm, and friendly.  I kept that one bead (more like a flat bead) in my pocket all week, through some tough times, and went back today to buy the bracelet that caught my eye last weekend.  She actually hugged me when I bought the bracelet!  I know I may sound like a creeper, but it truly felt like hugging an old friend.  I think sometimes people are linked somehow, someway.  I've felt that through Postcrossing.  I've felt that through teaching.  We are all connected.  We just never know how.  And Beverly cannot even begin to imagine the importance of this bracelet in my life.

I bawled as we left Long Point today.  We have so many memories up there.  I started going to Long Point as a girl, to my grandfather's cottage - Fair View - and now we rent Pine Tree Lodge.  I love it.  It's a piece of heaven.  So many things are going to change before we go up again next year.  My boys will have decided and accepted colleges.  I cannot imagine that!  It's blowing me away!  I feel like I'm the only mom on the planet who doesn't have it under control.  So many moms are posting on Facebook their perfect college visits, perfect SAT scores, awesome AP scores, STOP!  Please EFFING STOP!  I know you love your children!  We all love our children!  Read Augusten Burrows' novel.  That will wake you up to the novel of a perfect childhood. His life was truly messed up, and it shows. But he got over it.  Love me Augusten Burrows.

My dad is also having problems.  As we pulled out of Pine Tree Lodge today, I couldn't help but cry as to what condition my dad will be in next year.  When I wanted to go to Finland, he encouraged me at the age of sixteen.  Ecuador in college?  No problem?  He even wanted me to go to Tunisia or the Middle East!  My dad has always been my biggest supporter.  And I.am.slowly.loosing.him.  I cried.  I cried and I cried and I cried in front of my seventeen year old sons without shame.  I told them the truth, as they saw it themselves.  Papa is in a bad way.  My one and only rock throughout the years may not be here much longer.  And I wonder who will be there to catch me fall?

I'm scared.  I'm trying to let go and let some of you be along for this ride with me, but it's oh so tough.  I've always been independent and unable to accept help.  I'll admit I'm scared for the future.  My boys. My dad. My mom.  So many people I love.

I can only hope that summer next year will be filled with some memories that will lead on to 2018.  Littles, Fox and Roark, I love you!

Getting MOJO Back

I'm up in the Green Mountains, once again, where I've been for about the past sixteen years, take off the one year I spent in Finland.  It's always been a place where I've relaxed, read, and done lots of writing.  This year is no different.  However, let's admit it.  Surrounded by a lot of family adds a different dynamic.  I'm a people pleaser.  I'm always nervous that people are happy, or mad at me.  This adds to a lot of stress and anxiety.  But that's my baggage to deal with - no one else's.

After such a harsh school year, I've rediscovered a love of writing - through postcards and pen pal letters.  It's felt so good to write those things again!  I've purchased special cards for my pen pals overseas.  I've been excited to make contacts again through Postcrossing.com.  It feels great! I was in a very dark place this past spring - maybe even more dark than I liked to admit in my previous blog post.  I feel like a weight has been lifted, now that I am able to start cooking again, writing to pen pals, and reading lots and lots of books.  While on vacation here I've gone through seven books.  I'm lucky in that I'm a very fast reader.

I just finished reading, "Behind Closed Doors."  Anyone read that yet?  So disturbing.  An abused wife whom no one would ever imagine being abused.  I think this happens in our middle-to upper middle class societies more often than we'd like to admit.  We want our lives, and those around us, to fit into the cookie cutter formations.  We are all perfect.  We are all normal.  We go home to good lives, Netflix series, and solid meals.  But that's not always the case.  I think this is why I'm beginning to hate Facebook more and more.  WITH A PASSION.  Our lives aren't all about the Facebook posts.  So many of us are facing daily battles that aren't on the Facebook posts.  The battery.  The anxiety.  The overextending debt.  The child with tough circumstances that we're afraid to admit because the other "mommies" won't accept.  I almost want to create a "Dark Side Facebook" where everyone can come out - with their side where they're afraid to leave the house, scared to drive on on-ramps, admit that they feed their kids McDonald's, and reply that they have sugar every day in their diet.  I am so done with the high and mighty people on the web.  Please.  Stop accusing all of us of being human.  Let us be who we are. We want to live in our own skin.  Be who we are.  I'm not one to confirm - to any standard - whether it be vegan, fast food, gluten free, or whateverthehellyouthink.  I just want to be me.  LET ME BE AND LEAVE ME THE *&^%$# ALONE!

Maybe I'm just feeling my oats on this whole WWW thing.  I've thought about setting up an anonymous blog, as I don't want to insult people I know with my thoughts.  Yes, I'm that afraid that my personal thoughts will offend people I know.  Isn't that sad?  That people I know will no longer like me for who I am.  That is the world in which I live.  The stress.  The thoughts.  My thoughts.  I feel as if the people who know me won't want to know what I have to say.

Thoughts are powerful.  Words are even more powerful.  And those words can be even more damaging.  That's why I'm afraid to write.  So I think going forward I will choose to write in private...