Day Five of Nine: Party Like a Prescott

As an Introvert, it is difficult sometimes to mingle with others (even in familial situations).

Tonight was a singularly memorable party at Diana and Greg's house out on what can only be referred to as a Prescott estate (parsed out over time to joint usage, but historically kept in the family).  We ate excellent food and chatted with people who weren't just interested in discussion of the weather.  They were fascinating!

It wasn't a distinct lack of small talk that made my evening so wonderful.  It was, in fact, a complete and utter absence of small talk!  

I mingled with impunity.

Day Four of Nine: The Long Dark Search for Seltzer

Romeyn and I are huge consumers of seltzer.  Yes, yes--it's bad for your teeth over a long enough timeline of heavy consumption.  We are not bathing in it...we just like the taste (and for zero calories, we'll take it).

My mother in law and I did some laundry up at the house while my father in law and Romeyn checked out the newest malfunction in my poor beleaguered station wagon ("Millie" for "The Millennium Falcon").  Meanwhile, I went on several unfruitful forays (Seltzer-Seeking) into town on foot, hoping madly to run into that coveted beastie, the multi-pack of seltzer.

During these forays, I learned several interesting things:
1. Pepsi now has a "fireball" flavor variant.
2. Fanta comes in a blue "berry" flavor of which I was previously unaware.
3. Vendors are particularly personable on major holidays.  I'd imagine that having a customer come in breaks up the monotony of being alone behind the till when other stores are closed.

Eventually, I gave up and settled upon a mass-purchase of individually sold bottles of Perrier.  Now, back to my quiet day of reading by the lake...

Day Three of Nine: The Long Walk

Port Douglass Road is a winding thoroughfare with many houses dotted along the sidelines.  Walking its entire length from camp to town and then from town to camp is one of the joys of my summer.  Eight miles and three albums of walking music later, my feet are sore but my watch is very happy (1,030 calories out of a 500 calorie activity goal for today).

Day Two of Nine: Don't Panic, Sleep

I awoke at 3AM with heart pounding, unable to calm down.  I read a little and attempted to slow my breathing, to no avail.   At 3:30, I sat downstairs listening to the waves.  At 3:45, I finally gave up and tried my new on the spot panic attack medicine.  Almost eight hours later, I woke from the most restful sleep I have had in weeks.  Well played, modern medicine.  Well played.

Day One of Nine: Lake Champlain

The quiet, steady susurrating waves of Lake Champlain are our welcoming committee to Camp.  A delicate scent tinges them - the bouquet of lake life (both flora and fauna).

I've brought my ukulele and myriads of art supplies.  Today is Canada Day, and nature has decided to celebrate with additional rumblings of thunder and flashes of light.

I am grateful for the moment.  I am here with the waves.  I am celebrating with the thunder.  I am present at Camp.

Sometimes Home is On The Road

Romeyn and I are on the road to Westerville, Ohio.  Quintin and Darren have agreed to watch the cats for us, and give them not only food and water, but quality attention.  I have set the extended-absence response in my work email account.  My black dresses and black shoes are packed up.  We've been on the road since seven in the morning, and we're not due to arrive for another few hours.

I've spent the last few weeks coping with a great number of changes in my life, up to and including the enormous Uncle Jim shaped hole in the world.  He and I were like oil and water when I was little--past-me, a tiny liberal--him, not so much.  Romeyn is more or less the reason why we got along so well over the past almost-decade.  Nothing gives you a better appreciation for your family like the relatively unbiased viewpoint of someone meeting them for the first time.  Romeyn and I had only been going out for a month or so before he met most of my extended family on my mom's side.

Uncle Jim was a good man.  He was skilled in metal-work, he was well-read and outspoken in his views in a uniquely Uncle-Jim kind of way.  He reminded me of my Grandfather Houf (Waldo Emerson Houf, or "Popie") in more than a few ways.  The expectations of gender-roles prevalent during his childhood did not bar him from self-expression, and I admired that greatly.

I'm reading a book right now about how to care less about everything, but I won't care less about Uncle Jim. 

Rest in peace, old man.  You are missed forever.

A Silver Lining in a Storm Cloud

Memories are such an integral part of who we are because they are the underlying filters through which we view the world.  My choices are informed by my experiences.  If I can't remember those experiences, it is as if the experiences did not exist. 

I firmly believe that this is why ailments such as Alzheimer's are so devastating.  The person that you knew disappears in part, or parts.  The person that you were changes, becomes childlike, innocent, but unaware of current events and past formative experiences.

There are entire sections of my life that I do not remember because of the amount of Epilepsy medications and the combinations/types of those medications that were prescribed.  I am not ungrateful for the medical assistance.  My life was dependent on those medications.  I was lucky enough to see the disappearance of Epileptic activity in my brain by the age of 15.

There are times now when I remember bits and pieces of the truths of those years (six to fifteen years of age), including some bad things that I did, or were done to me, or both.  It is tempting to spiral into contemplation of those things, even though the meds gave me so many years of unsuspecting and admittedly blissful unawareness.

As an adult, with a balanced worldview including time spent far, far away from home--I'm glad that I did not remember these things as a child, or a young adult.   I was not ready to handle the shift of worldview.  Knowing what I know now, I am able to navigate some of the fallout of harder times and move through those recovered memories in a way that is healthy. 

Most of this type of navigation - moving through the events and dynamics of our pasts in order to get to a healthier present - is not precisely about "getting over it." Working through any part of our histories is about getting through the new data, using it to inform our choices in a way that is also new.

I work with data every day - some has positive impacts and some has negative impacts.  The important thing is to keep working, no matter the implication of the subject matter at hand.  Be present in the moment, and give your best effort to living a life of integrity.

Be well, fellow Introverts.