Remembering Thelma

Thelma at 19 Years Old

My grandmother, Thelma Marine Pascal, was more a mother to me than anyone. She was always there when I needed her, the last point being from 1980 when I was 16 until I moved out of her house in 1985.  Here is a list of some of my best, funniest, or most poignant memories:

• When I was real little, she could be found in the garden wearing a wide brim gardening hat and her grey sweats. She needed those sweats to pick blackberries, because the thorns were so big.
• She threw huge parties back then when the family was still intact.  They were usually on Sundays (I think) and she gave one lucky person a door prize.  It was always an eggplant themed basket of goodies.
• She came to all my shows in dancing school.
• She made me practice the piano, even when I hated it.  And I really hated it.
• She never drank, but she loved to eat.
• She really enjoyed country music, and thought Ann Murray was awesome, even though no one else in the family understood it.
• She loved to read, and treated herself to trips to Barnes & Noble on the Boston Post Road in West Haven when she could justify spending the money.
• Her idea of a vacation was driving five hours to visit her sisters in Utica, New York. She could hit 90 miles per hour in her Cadillac on the turnpike, and always left my grandfather at home.

Thelma and I
Reed Street, Milford

• She put up with all my strange friends, even the ones she didn’t like.  For example, she loved Jody and gave him pie. She fed him whenever she could.  But she couldn’t stand Gina or Mel for reasons that were her own. She was still polite to them, though.
• She let me take out her grey Cadillac even though in the end I hit something and destroyed it.  I still don’t drive much.
• When something terrible and unexpected happened in our lives, Thelma was the one who galvanized resources to clean up the mess.  There was always a mess, at least every couple of years or so, and she was always the one who cleaned it.
• One summer when we did “Oklahoma” with the local community theater, she sat at her sewing machine with Miss Connie on a long Saturday afternoon and made costumes for all the chorus members.  They were different color prairie type dresses made out of cotton.
• When I came home to her after dancing in class until 10:00 a.m. on a Wednesday night, she always had something for me to eat. She gave it to me on a teevee tray in the three season room.  We called it “the porch”. I sat there in patio type furniture next to my grandfather eating.  We watched television. Probably  “Magnum PI”.
• On days when I got to high school and realized I was too stressed or burned out to deal with it, she never hesitated to turn around and bring me home again.
• She pushed me to go to business school when I was focused on Broadway, which gave me excellent skills and then a career that pays over $100K per year.
• When I was 20 and had plans to leave for San Francisco to be with Leslie, she asked me with big eyes if I was going to have my own bedroom. I told her “no”. Still, she let me go find my own life without judgment or harsh words.
• Then a few months later, she came to San Francisco to check Leslie out.  They were friends until she died.
• Leslie, her mom, and I lived in Connecticut for two years back in the late eighties.  It was a disaster, but Thelma really enjoyed having Leslie’s mom, Gloria, around to talk with while it lasted. 
• We were all seated around the dining room table once, and Thelma gave us cheesecake.  She pulled it out of the freezer where each triangular piece was individually wrapped and frozen in aluminum foil, and she tossed each frozen piece out on the table like she was dealing cards.  I think she was over it … over everything by then.
• When she was in the rest home, we arrived there one evening, and she told me I was late for dinner. Then, she asked her aide, “Buttons”, to go down to the kitchen and get the manicotti out of the oven for me.
• When she was really sick and wouldn’t take her pills, only Leslie could talk her into it. Somehow, being a friend and present willingly gave Leslie more influence than anyone else.
• Thelma met her great-granddaughter when Elizabeth was in fourth grade and nine years old. She was well enough to know who she was, but could never remember her name. She ended up calling her “Bridget” or “the girl”. 
• Right up until the end, Thelma would get raging infections that dragged her to death's door and land her in the hospital. Then, she'd wake up the next day fit as a fiddle asking when breakfast was. She blew away more nurses that way.

Thelma and I on Fulton Street
San Francisco 1986

Thelma died in her sleep a year ago this June, and oddly, I feel like she’s still with me.  I don’t miss her the way I think I should.  Maybe it was because I got used to her being so far away in body and mind over the last five years.  Maybe it’s because she’ll always be with me in spirit.

Whatever the case, she was awesome in her way, and I appreciate everything she did.

Happy Mother’s Day, Thelma, wherever you are!

Positive Change is a Good Thing All Around

This is the first in a series of blogposts about my weight loss surgery. You can see the second post here http://sapphokinesis.blogspot.com/2012/05/but-why-surgery.html.

I’ve lost ten pounds in the last month incorporating the advice from my bariatric surgeon and the nutritionist I’m seeing.  The entire process is moving very quickly!  It took me longer to decide to have the surgery than it’s taken to get everything lined up. Now, I’m just waiting for the insurance approval before getting scheduled.  That seems ironic.

My first appointment with the bariatric surgeon was on March 30.  I was very nervous and experienced a week’s worth of drama and “deep thought” prior to going.  The doctor has a good bedside manner, however, and in spite of having to wait an extra hour for him to finish his rounds, the appointment was a good one. I felt better.  The real action started after I saw the nutritionist. She helped me understand some of the changes I had to make to get my metabolism working in the right direction and to get used to new eating habits. 

You see, this surgery isn’t a cure for morbid obesity.  It’s a tool.  Without the institution of new habits, better habits, the surgery itself will eventually be useless. 

I’ve elected to have “the gastric sleeve”, which is one of three recommended surgeries for obesity.  First, there is the usual gastric bypass, wherein the stomach is made smaller, and a portion of the small intestines are bypassed. So, you get less food in your stomach, and your body, particularly after surgery, doesn’t absorb all of what you’re eating.  The nutritionist today told me that eventually the body adjusts to this, so what you eat really does matter, particularly in the long run.  Second, there is the lap-band. You’ve probably seen this one on television. The doctor puts a band around the top part of your stomach, limiting how much your stomach can take.  Weight loss is very gradual because first you have to heel before the band can be tightened. That is done by slowly injecting silicone or something that makes the opening to the stomach smaller.  There’s actually a port right under the skin on your belly for that purpose (which kind of creeps me out).  The last one, “the sleeve”, is when the doctor actually removes the largest part of your stomach leaving a small “sleeve” or sort of thumb size pouch.  You can’t eat as much, not near as much before you are full, so what you eat REALLY matters if you’re going to get the right amount of nutrients.  The surgeon considers each of these a permanent procedure.  He’s going to do the procedure laparoscopically.  He’s an expert.  And he’s going to do it through my belly button (which also kinds of creeps me out).

I was able to make positive changes to my diet and consequently how I felt right away.  About two weeks before seeing the surgeon I did a food diary that blew my mind. I was eating whatever I wanted which amounted to lots and lots of carbs, and I felt like crap. But I was trapped by the carb loop, eating and being hungry shortly thereafter … eat and repeat.  Awareness of that helped me make change. I had to see it for myself.  So, after visiting the surgeon, I eliminated processed/refined carbs and sugar from my diet completely.  I lost four pounds.

When I visited the nutritionist next, I learned more good things.  I learned how important it is to eat at the table, that the body loves habits, and putting a placemat around meal time helps.  I also learned that eating in front of the television or computer is a very bad habit because it interferes with your brain’s ability to put food in the right place.  It also keeps you numb to your body’s signals.  I’m chewing my food to liquid and putting my fork down in between bites.  I learned about “trigger foods” or the foods to stay away from because habitually you go back again and again for more.  It is very important to eliminate snacks between meals, as well, because of the insulin and hormonal cycles around digestion.  When you eat, your body creates a surge of insulin.  Then during the next few hours, hormones kick in to properly digest.  When you eat all day or graze, you never give yourself a chance to properly digest!  Too much insulin!  And then you’re not supposed to eat right before bed because it messes up the sleep hormones.  I never knew any of this, not in a way that became personal, but boy it sure rang true to me.  Today, I weighed in at the nutritionist and have lost a total of 10 pounds creating new habits around food.

Leslie is totally on board with this, and in fact, she’s lost 16 pounds in a month and a half doing the same thing I’m doing. She won’t have the bariatric surgery, but she’s on the right track, and is in full support of us all making positive change to our eating habits.  Elizabeth is completely on board, as well, and has waited for us to make this change for a long time.  She’s very proud, and that feels great.

I think one of the biggest miracles in all of this is how eating around the table positively affects our family.  Elizabeth has been super busy with the drama club at school. She’s working the spot light for their musical, is in rehearsals most of the week, had Star testing, and is still jugging the homework and usual end of the year pressure.  But when we all sit around the table, she talks, we talk, and it’s like we all get grounded somehow. Then the rest of the evening is harmonious and pleasant. 

I can’t get over it.

This positive change is a good thing all around!

Teddy: The Dog Who'll Eat Anything

We had a sizable crisis with our new(er) dog Teddy … remember him? The fuzzy one that is red and white?  He’s gotten big since we got him last May.  He’s much bigger than Daizy, and boy oh boy, he is so smart it’s uncanny.  Definitely too smart for his own good.  Definitely.

Yesterday after school, Elizabeth brought her friend Emily home to hang out for the afternoon.  The kids are always starving after school, so Leslie got fresh fried chicken from Safeway. It’s very tasty, if you’re into meat, and the girls had a big plate of it upstairs.   Teddy knew the chicken was up there because he has that super power of his … his nose.  In hindsight, I remember he made several trips up the stairs throughout the course of the afternoon to sort of check on things.  He wasn’t interested in playing with the girls. He was interested in the chicken!

At about 7:45 p.m. it was time to touch base on when Emily would be leaving and what was going on the rest of the evening.  I asked the girls to bring the laundry baskets downstairs, and to bring their dishes down, too. They were goofing around and were very happy. They brought the baskets down.  I had made them a veggie platter with dip for dinner (because they ate all that chicken earlier and weren’t terribly hungry), and even with Teddy eating a bunch of carrots, it was hearty. When they were down here, I asked Elizabeth to take the garbage out, so out bounced both girls.  It was pouring rain outside. 

Suddenly I realized Teddy was nowhere in sight.  I always know where both dogs are at any time in the day.  It’s just something that happens sort of naturally, particularly when you’re worried about the rain and the fact that the dogs despise getting wet, which might mean sneaking a poop in the house, when they think they can get away with it.  We have to stay on them when it’s pouring and remind them to “go poo poo outside,” which they do faithfully … most of the time.

At first I thought, maybe Teddy snuck out the open gate, which he’d done only once before.  In that instance, we had him before he really realized he was free.  Out into the rain the girls went yelling,“Teddy! Teddy!” He wasn’t outside.

Then it dawned on me that he was upstairs, and Elizabeth went running to see what was going on.  He surely was there … and he had a chicken wing in his mouth.  The rest of what was on the plate --- bones, skin, and crud – was gone.  Not good news.  A dog can eat raw chicken bones because they are flexible and can be digested. However, cooked chicken bones are brittle and cannot be digested.  They will break and perforate or puncture the lining of Teddy’s stomach or intestines.  When I was six years old we had a medium size poodle named Jackie and she got into chicken bones and ended up in the hospital having surgery!  Yikes!

At this particular juncture, we do not have a couple of thousand dollars tucked away for “stupid dog tricks”.  Holy crap, I thought, there has to be a self-help way to get out of this mess.

I looked up “How do induce vomiting in my dog” on line and the consensus was that administering hydrogen perixode would do the trick. What I read stated that one cap full for little dogs and up to two tablespoons for larger dogs, like a Lab or Golden, should have your dog barfing within five minutes.  I grabbed the turkey baster for the job, proving that there are more than two uses for that particular tool, and Leslie grabbed Teddy.  Before he knew what hit him, as speed is the key to giving your animal medicine you know he will hate, I had pumped a cap or so full of peroxide down his throat. Judging from the sounds he made, it must’ve tasted pretty bad. 

A few minutes went by and Teddy only did some coughing.  So, we did it again.  This time he knew it was coming, so it was a little harder to get it down his throat, but we did, and quickly, too.  It worked.

Within minutes Teddy had barfed up all the chicken bones, chicken scraps, and carrots he’d eaten previously.  And he kept on barfing until there was nothing left in his stomach, which was a relief, because all it takes is one bone to put your dog in an early grave. 

We made sure he took some water, and gave him a bit of bread to soak whatever tummy acid might be left over. Then, exhausted from the ordeal, he fell into a deep sleep on the couch.

I’m happy to report that Teddy is his usual happy and bouncy self. There was a funny moment at the dog park this afternoon, however, when he was jumping around and playing with other dogs, so happy, and I thought, “Wow, he could’ve had an entirely different day.”

JUDE ALEXANDER and THE TAROT GAME

Have you ever noticed that talented efforts born of true passion seem to jump out at us?   Take fine art, for example.   A work of art that is experienced in technique or done by a schooled artist doesn’t always measure up to work that springs from true inspiration.  I believe this is true with many things, but I never associated it with the tarot community until recently.

A year ago this month, a woman named Jude Alexander received author copies of the tarot game she created.  The game emerged spontaneously and sincerely out of the group of tarot enthusiasts she belonged to, all women, for about 14 years.  All were seekers looking for new ways to understand the tarot and perhaps taking it to a new place.  In fact, Jude didn’t actively look for a publisher.  It all happened spontaneously. 

I had the pleasure of a reading with Jude and her game via Skype just before the Christmas holiday. I must say, the experience was much deeper than I had anticipated.  Skype made the experience quite genuine, as I felt like I was sitting right across from Jude.  Of course, that may have been her warmth, sincerity and the passion she has for the game reaching across Grandmother Spider’s great internet web. 

My query was general, sort of a “what do I need to know at this time?”, and in response Jude did a three card reading.  The game not only offers cards for interpretation and inquiry, but there are blessing coins and other question cards that pull you deeper into thought.  This surprised me.  Not the game’s components, but the intensely private realm it encouraged me to address out loud.   For example, at one point the game asked me if there is a role in one of my relationships that I’d like to redefine.  At first I was reluctant to answer, but like the seasoned adept she is, Jude, working in smooth tandem with her game, didn’t let me off the hook.  With a calm and encouraging demeanor, she helped me sidle up to that question until I was comfortable with her and willing to offer my answer.  It was very personal,  venturing  into an area about my father at a point when I was very much wishing our relationship was different.  In fact, it was the topic of discussion between my partner, Leslie, and I frequently in relation to current events in our tightly knit family.

This highlights the penetrating difference between The Tarot Game and a one-on-one tarot card reading.  While a good, intuitive tarot card reader, one who is experienced and confident, may allow or encourage a reading to become an interactive experience, The Tarot Game is interactive by design.  It helps the querent identify personal frustrations and then offers actions and affirmation to help deal with them.  So, for the querent looking for a deeper experience, The Tarot Game offers an interactive journey into timely introspection and spiritual self-analysis.  How wonderful!

At this time, 500 games have been sold and tarot enthusiasts out there are being challenged, provoked and intrigued by its inquiries more than ever before.  Jude is also training group facilitators to broaden the experience, and given the passion and sincerity she brings to the game, I would venture to say her facilitators will be equally as sensitive.  I can’t imagine she’d have it any other way.

The Tarot Game is available on Amazon and on The Tarot Game’s website.  I’d also encourage you to hook up with Jude on Facebook.  This is a unique and innovative way to explore the age old Tarot, and I highly recommend it.

The Tarot Game on Amazon
The Tarot Game's Website
The Tarot Game on Facebook

WHERE THE DEMON TICKLED ME

It’s been ten months since I worked in Corporate.  It no longer sets the tone for my life.  The economic need to work is (ever)present, but the Corporate lifestyle doesn’t control my inner clock or dominate my thoughts.   On a deeper, more personal level my corporate career went hand in hand with an intense desire to provide for my family. My career doesn’t define me, but this self-imposed role as family provider by and large does. I’m not the only source of income in the family, but I put a lot of pressure on myself regardless.  When I was laid off last February, that burning need to provide continued.  No one can accuse us of just sitting around.

In spite of this or maybe because of this, 2011 has been an intense year.  It started with huge change, then settled into a splendid Summer, followed thereafter by an educational Autumn, and then a busy Winter/Christmas season.  Like Christmas lights on a conifer, sparkling life lessons were everywhere!

I’ve come to think of my life lessons as lessons in training demons, life’s demons.  The kind everybody has.  Some people carry theirs with them allowing them to make trouble. Some drag them behind, where they are seen and never forgotten.  I visualize my demons as little gremlins locked away in a small steel cage in the dark, cold basement of my psyche.   They look like gelatinous ink spots, or like the kind of gooey toy that sticks to the wall when you throw it. They have long, sinewy tendrils that can borrow deeply in the mind and emotions to gain anchor. The earlier they take root, and the longer they remain there, the harder they are to extricate. The roots grow barbs. 

My demons aren’t ignored, no. I’m convinced they are meant to be tamed, transformed, and absorbed gradually over time, as though it were the most important thing to do in a person’s life.  I’ve worked hard to extricate many of them, tendrils and all, from where they had locked their greedy barbs into me.  Consequently, there is only one key that can release my demons from their dank little cages, and I gave that control to the Great Mother a long time ago.  Every once in a while, I bump into something I must learn, and so the Great Mother riles the little beasties until one sends a tendril up from the basement to where it gets close enough to become … ticklish.

And so it happened this Christmas.

In our family, Christmas is my department.  Leslie has other departments like cooking, vehicle affairs, and ensuring we don’t dress like rodeo clowns, but it’s up to me to expedite the holidays.  So, I began thinking about Christmas in October.  This is when I usually begin shopping.  In the past I didn’t stop shopping until the wish list was fulfilled and certainly not when good sense prevailed! It stopped when I thought enough was enough!  But this year funds were low and there were other priorities.  Our daughter is a typical 14 year old in many ways, but she worked just as hard as Leslie and I did all summer long.  How could that be ignored?  There was even a time when it looked like we’d have to skip Christmas all together, and truth to tell that made me feel panicky.  I couldn’t indulge myself as I usually did, so I self-imposed an incredible amount of pressure to make every gift meaningful instead.

Our tree was lovely.  It was a gift from friends of ours, which was a timely blessing.  And we decorated the house with our 27 years’ worth of Christmas doodads.  We couldn’t do much shopping until almost the last minute, but when we did we stayed within our tight budget. At the last minute I got full payment on an art commission that enabled us to finish Elizabeth’s gifts when the funds would have run out otherwise. Another timely blessing.  I wrapped gifts right up until the end, and after finding all sorts of wrappings, ribbons and beautiful gift tags in the garage, I was able to make every gift package a work of art.  I indulged myself with this, and it made me extremely happy.  When Christmas morning came, every present under the tree was beautifully wrapped and each was meaningful.  They were there because we put them there, with hard work, and we did so as a family.  Consequently, we had invoked the true spirit of Christmas, making it a more meaningful holiday than we’ve ever had.  It was beautiful.  We put the Yule Log and Christmas music on, and opened all our gifts.

My internal conflict, where the demon tickled me, was in a bleeding desire for approval.  Oh I know this demon. Would this Christmas be good enough?  Would my hard work be appreciated? Would my family be angry because there wasn’t as much under the tree? As irrational as it seems, all these worries and more, as connected as they were to my self-imposed role of provider, plowed a path of insecurity through my brain during the entire month of December.  And as Christmas approached, I battled with this demon, knowing full well that expecting approval from a 14 year was unfair and quite ridiculous and that my family appreciates everything I do. 

When Christmas was over, I had a terrible case of the blues that lasted a few days.  Recognizing this demon, and facing just how deep set my insecurities around provision, approval, and responsibility are took a lot of energy. 

But then it was over, and I felt fine and ready to write about my experience.

Now 2012 approaches, and I don’t think the winds of change will stop any time soon.  I feel that circumstances will continue to evolve for me and my family, and then one day we’ll wake and think, “Wow! How did we get here?” 

When that day comes, I’ll remember that many timely blessings, the love of my family, and both my inner and outer work had everything to do with it.

Happy New Year!