Creepy-Sweet

A few millennia ago, by internet time – that is, earlier this year – there was social media hoopla about a great Reddit poll which collected the creepiest sayings of kids. I suppose every parent has contributions to that list. I know I do!

When my son was oh, I dunno, maybe 4, he went through a phase of making ridiculous demands early Saturday morning.  Sure enough, early one weekend morning as I tried to catch up on maybe 4 years of sleep, he wanted something. I don’t remember what, exactly. Perhaps that was the week he wanted to climb out his window and sit on the second story roof. Anyway, I said no, as I did each time, and he threw a tantrum, as he did each time. He went back to his room to fuss.

Laying there, pretending I would fall asleep again, I realized the house had grown quiet. This was so unusual I had to worry. I called softly to my son. Maybe he had fallen asleep?!? Nope.

“What, Mom?” he replied. The mystery deepened. He sounded downright cheerful.

“Everything okay in there?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh. Good. Whatcha’ doin’?”

“Oh, I was just thinking about a bear eating you.”

Discipline is always more difficult when they make you laugh.

**************

When my twins were young, I would occasionally suggest that when they went off to college I would come with them so we could stay together. They thought this was a great idea until they hit about 10. After that, there were a couple years when they reacted guardedly, unsure whether I was kidding. After that, they reacted like teenagers.

Back when they wanted us to stay together, my son developed a long-term plan that he shared with gusto. When he was grown, he would build a house behind his own house, and that would be the house where I lived. Then, after I died, he would bury me in the walls so that I could stay there forever.

He has always been a thoughtful person.

**************

Surprised to say, I can’t recall any creepy sayings from my daughter.  However, I will never forget – and am eternally uplifted – by one thing she said to me. She was 3 or 4 at the time: “If ever you fall low I will raise you up.”

And that has proved true ever since.

Experience, Strength, Hope as of 2013

A recent Daily Prompt asked for reactions about public speaking. Overall, I enjoy it – provided I get to think about what I will say, and test it aloud in advance. Recently I gave a short talk that was important to me.

If you’ve read my blog for a while, you know that last spring I had numerous posts about SILD, Someone I Love Dearly who is a heroin addict. Confronting SILD’s condition has sent SILD and me on related journeys of self-discovery. As part of mine, I have joined Al-Anon, an ill-named organization for the loved ones of addicts of all flavors. (Al-Anon originated as an offshoot of Alcoholics Anonymous, which slightly explains the name.) As part of Al-Anon, I took my turn leading a meeting recently, which meant I was supposed to talk for 10 minutes about my “experience, strength and hope.” (Al-Anon has many buzz phrases. That’s one of them. The idea is that when you share what you have gone through and how you have improved things, you might help someone else.) Below is approximately what I said.

I am an advanced beginner in Al-Anon. I started attending meetings maybe last April. That period of my life is so blurry I will never be one of those members who knows precisely when they first arrived.

I am the xxx of a heroin addict, now 6 months sober. SILD’s drug use is my motivator and qualifier to be here. But also, watching SILD’s evolution over the last few months has been an inspiration to me to get a sponsor and practice the steps myself.

My recollections of last spring become blurry from the moment when, doing online banking, I found a succession of $40 checks I didn’t recognize. I pulled them up to view and found checks on my account, made out to SILD, written in SILD’s handwriting. When I confronted SILD about this, I learned the money had been used to buy heroin. I learned SILD had begun using heroin two years before, but had been almost continuously high for a few years before that, an omni-addict who used whatever was available. The first time SILD tried heroin, all the other highs became irrelevant.

Looking back now I see so many signs, but I was in a spectacular state of denial – which surprised me. Usually I’m the one who points out the emperor has no clothes. But not this time. SILD had convinced me odd behaviors resulted from daily heavy use of strong varieties of weed. I didn’t like that but there was nothing I could do to stop it. (I convinced myself of that by making many and varied attempts!)

When I discovered the checks, SILD said “I’ve stopped using, it’s been a few days since I used heroin, I want to stop.” Shortly thereafter, SILD snuck away to get high, then spent the evening pretending to be in withdrawal, and expressing relief to be stopping.

I went on fast fact-finding missions by phone and internet and started to learn about addiction. By the next afternoon SILD was in detox at a hospital, and from there a few days later went into treatment. For a month SILD was in treatment wall-to-wall waking hours (with some very scary free time, nights and weekends). SILD had many rocky periods, where it seemed that SILD would leave treatment or relapse. But the general progress was forward and up.

During that time, on the advice of counselors at the treatment center and internet sites, I went to Al-Anon meetings. I was put off by the bleak stories: years of relapse; terrible choices to come, like ceasing to provide the help that only enables drug use, then watching loved ones disappear to prison, or life on the streets. Or the morgue. I wasn’t ready to hear those things.

My own healing began in meetings for codependents. It was a revelation to learn that I am a codependent, with SILD and in many other situations. I learned about enabling and detachment and setting boundaries. Initially I could only manage detachment with anger, then with exhaustion, then with numbness.

The concept of setting boundaries was huge for me. It led to my saying no sometimes. Saying no reduced resentments about being pushed and manipulated, and that has made detachment with love seem possible.

A pivotal moment for me was understanding that when someone you love lies and manipulates you over time, it is a form of mental abuse. SILD is a master manipulator. But you already knew that because I told you SILD is an addict.

I had been thinking and acting like an abuse victim. This explained so much! I could see those changes in myself: the meekness, the uncertainty, the sense that I didn’t deserve – anything, that I had no right to good treatment. I had gotten to the point where I couldn’t ask for help in a store. Didn’t want to bother the clerk.

Another revelation was coming to this Al-Anon meeting. At SILD’s treatment center, during the breaks, the addicts were so lively: talking,laughing, charismatic, vivid. Their loved ones were off in corners alone, dull and shut down and closed off, stooped, hunched over. Oh god was that who I was? I felt like an appendage, a parasite that had to suck  color from my addict. Then I came here and I discovered that what I had witnessed were loved ones caught up in the addiction. I got here and found that the loved ones in Al Anon can be every bit as vivid and lively and interesting as the addicts.

Nowadays SILD has become a big book thumper – meaning the AA Big Book. For a while SILD was doing so well I stalled out in my recovery – I lost my sense of urgency. But now the changes in SILD have inspired me to seek that kind of transformation. SILD is a sponsor now and when I catch SILD’s conversations with sponsees, I am so impressed. SILD is so wise and insightful. I want more of that for myself. I want to be that comfortable in my own skin. In our disagreements nowadays SILD is the one who leads us away from bickering and back to the high road.

I have a lot of work to do. I still don’t trust SILD much and of course relapse is always a possibility, forever. When events remind me of the Old Days those are triggers that really set me spiraling. I know Al Anon can help me work through such triggers, yet I’ve been resistant to Al Anon. I have many reasons. I am not a joiner, I’m 100% agnostic, everyone using the same slogans and jargon gives me the creeps, doing Step 4 sounds scary. I fear getting involved and joining a cult. Even more, I fear joining the cult and finding it can’t help me after all. Also I hate reading non fiction. I am especially proud of that last excuse, I think it’s an original one.

But you know sometimes you just have to jump off the cliff and not think about where you might land. So that is what I’ve done. I now attend meetings regularly, have a sponsor and am working on Step 1.

From meetings, what has helped me most so far has been the “Dos and Donts” list and the concept NO IS A COMPLETE SENTENCE.

Over the last few months I’ve kept returning to a quote by the great playwright Eugene O’Neil (who by the way came from a family of alcoholics):

Man is born broken. He lives by mending. The grace of God is glue.

I’ve been thinking about what breaks and what mends. Me. SILD. At home. At work. And I see that Al Anon and AA give a lot of glue.

Graceful and Gorgeous

The Egyptian Theater is an old time movie palace and Art Deco masterpiece on Hollywood Boulevard in Los Angeles, California, currently the home of the American Cinematheque.

When I’m there I always notice the spectacular ceiling:

A glimpse of the ceiling.

A glimpse of the ceiling.

This time I discovered that even the stair railings and exit ways are special:

Classy stair railing.

Classy stair railing.

(The Weekly Photo Challenge wants to see lines and patterns.)

Rock Rorschach

If you read this blog much, you know I like to see stuff in other stuff.

Here is a rock that sits right in the surf on a Santa Barbara beach. It’s got a big hollow with ever-changing sand deposits.  Last time I was at this beach, the rock looked like a fossil shark tooth to me. What do you see?

What do you see?

What do you see?

Later that day, the surf developed the rock’s next persona:

Tide coming in.

Tide coming in.

(The Weekly Photo Challenge wants to see lines and patterns.)

Not Entirely Shameless Self-Promotion

So. I want people to read my books, and that means they need to know the books exist. Understanding this, I can’t believe how difficult it is for me to broadcast the news. It shouldn’t be such a big deal! Let’s be kindly and say that self-promotion is not one of my strengths.

As always, then, it is with some discomfort that I announce:  I’ve now got an Author’s Interview over on Smashwords, which lets more people know that my books exist. Every time somebody visits my interview page, my interview moves closer to the front of the Interview queue, which results in more people discovering my books. So please do click on my interview page link.

BTW, I can add to the interview, apparently forever, so let me know what other questions I might answer there.

Also BTW, the Smashwords interviews are cool. Readers with a free Smashwords account can also post interviews.  Tell the authors what you want!

Baa.

Sheepish again.

Two sheepish posts in one week!  Wonder what the record is – bet I could beat it. In fact, currently I’m in a loop: I now feel sheepish about so often feeling sheepish.

Concert Review: Jon Cleary and the Absolute Monster Gentlemen at The Mint, west Los Angeles, 9-14-2013

Live music is one of my favorite things about being alive. It can be such a pain: scrambling for tickets, driving to the venue, finding parking, waiting around, basketball teams positioning themselves in front of me. But then, when the music is good enough, none of that matters.

Actually, the show I attended last weekend was relatively low on pain, being at The Mint, a tiny neighborhood-style club where no one is more than 50 feet from the stage and where the sound is decent from all angles. There was some annoyance when the club opted to charge separately for the second act, and cleared the joint after the first band. Tacky! But that’s just carping. None of that matters.

I didn’t know what I was getting into. My friend said “he’s worth seeing” and I trust her taste so I tagged along. There are special risks and rewards when I attend a concert by musicians unknown to me.  When the music is all new to you, you can miss a lot. But when the music is new, it can be a revelation. Like this show.

New Orleans pianist Jon Cleary and his band, the Absolute Monster Gentlemen, bring joy and fun and beaucoup soul to the stage. Apparently Cleary is a New Orleans musicologist, which might explain the wide assortment of funk, blues, shuffle,  boogie-woogie and other tunes they played. It is a special treat when a band enjoys one another’s company and playing as much as these guys do.

Below is a sample from a similar show. The song is split into two parts. Check out the band introductions near the end of the second clip, which they incorporate into the tune.

 

It makes me happy to know that in certain places around the world, including New Orleans, there is great music casually available every night, every where you turn. I was lucky enough to live in Los Angeles in the late 1970s when that was true here. I absolutely must get to spend some time in New Orleans. I have never been there and that is just so wrong!

More Words about Murder and Brains

With relief, enthusiasm, and sheepishness, I announce that more chapters are now on-line in my serialization of  Was It A Rat I Sawmy psychological thriller involving real-life split brain research, animal rights, and a love quadrangle.

Baa.

Baaa.

I’m making progress – a mere 70 hardcover pages left to re-type! – but am way behind my original self-imposed deadline to digitize this  novel. Hence the sheepishness.

Do not be misled by the photo. There are no sheep in Was It a Rat I Saw although I do have great fondness for sheep. In fact, my daughter’s first word was “Baaa.” We were visiting a farm at the time.

Was It A Rat I Saw was previously published in hardcover by Bantam-Doubleday-Dell. For the first time, I’m publishing it electronically, first as a serial and then as an e-book.

Here are some Rat Reviews on Goodreads.

Bag, Box, and Clubhouse

Warning: If you hate cute cat pix, stop reading now before you ruin your day.

Like all cats, the five in my household like to go inside stuff. It is the moments like these that persuade me to forgive them during times like these.

Here are Bop and Luna in a deep bag:

Bagful of cats.

Bagful of cats.

The kittens often play in a long narrow box. Arrow also uses the box when it’s time for her meds:

Ever tried to drag a cat out of a 6 foot x 5 inch box?

Bo, Leo, and Arrow spend many hours in a mostly dead bush that has become their clubhouse:

Entrance to the Clubhouse

Entrance to the Clubhouse

Can you spot Bo deep in the Clubhouse?

Can you spot Bo deep in the Clubhouse?

 

This is what one’s paws look like after a day in the Clubhouse:

Nothing is better than coming home filthy.

Few things are finer than coming home filthy.

 

Bop does about five times more cute stuff than any other cat I’ve known. This is likely related to her being such a jerk to the other cats. If she’s cute enough I won’t return her to the shelter? Hmm. May have worked so far. She likes to help me sort papers:

There. All arranged.

There. All arranged.

And in some situations she acknowledges the lowly human has the right idea:

PIllow and comforter enhance the nap experience.

A pIllow and comforter can enhance the nap experience.

For those of you who don’t know cats very well, an assurance: no cats were organized or arranged in the shooting of these photographs.

The Weekly Photo Challenge wants to see “Inside”.