Sistah Pat

Things are pretty weird around here.  I didn’t post yesterday because my world is a little bit upside down.  No school yesterday and they finally announced yesterday afternoon that there wouldn’t be any school for the rest of the week.  Of course, two of the grandsons live with us but their Dad is here and my other DS and his family are staying in the RV because they got sick of doing without electricity and phones.  That means I’ve got DH here, both DS’s, DIL, and four grandkids.  Count em…that’s nine.  Oh, don’t forget DS’s dog.

Yesterday was DGS Jake’s 9th birthday so we had a party for him.  DH and I bought him a new bike.  Of course, we had to have a party with his favorite dinner.  Dieting is rough.  I ate a ton of spaghetti and french bread last night and a small piece of birthday cake.  That one wasn’t too bad because I didn’t like the cake.  It had that whipped frosting that they all seem to have these days.  That “party” atmosphere is still hanging around since I have a full house and no school.  The paper says 139,000 are still without power.

We spent most of yesterday getting the yard cleaned up.  This morning, it looks a lot better.

Little sister asked me to scan some old pictures of DH and I, our kids, and our grandkids for a CD she’s putting together for Mom’s birthday in November.  I decided to start looking for pictures yesterday.  It was such a depressing experience.  I kept looking at my pictures and thinking “What the Hell happened to me?”  I looked good at 14, I looked good at 24, I looked good at 34, I looked good at 44.  I even looked fairly good at 50.  It’s a little sad to see what happened after my ankle problems started.  I look at those pictures and think, “I can never get back to this.”  I haven’t looked like myself for at least five years.  Like I said, it’s depressing.  I know I can never go back but I wish I looked like myself, at least.   I can’t help thinking about how quickly I started going downhill when my ankles started giving me problems.  It’s taken five ankle surgeries in five years to get me to the point where I can walk without pain and start exercising again.  Is that what happened or is it just old age creeping up.  I don’t think it’s old age because I’m not that old.  It’s like I got hit by a storm five or six years ago and what’s left is showing the damage.  Photo gallery below, before the storm.

1967: Me, at 15, going to my first prom. 

 DH and I in 1979, a little over a decade later. DH has obviously had too much to drink!

  Hawaii 1987, another decade gone. 

   Me, after my first Master’s Degree, 1988.

6:30 - David and Stacy’s power came back on so they went home and I just have DH, DS, and two grandsons left.  I’ve spent most of the afternoon digging through old boxes of pictures, scanning some of them and emailing them to little sister.  It’s been a strange day.  I’m feeling really…displaced?  Just a strange feeling of not knowing where I am or how I got here.  The pictures are part of it, the neighborhood is another part.  I went to the store and it was really strange.  Things look so different.  Lots of people are outside working in their yards, kids are all over the place (having rediscovered bicycles and roller skates the last few days) and the entire area is so much brighter.  So many trees and limbs have come down that the neighborhood is actually a lot more open and looks strange.

As for my personal displacement…that’s another story.  I’m not sure what to think about that.  The photos I went through yesterday evening and today were mostly from the 70s and 80s.  I haven’t really hit the 90s yet although I’ve found quite a few of the grandkids.  Maybe I spent that decade just taking pictures of them.  More boxes to go through tomorrow.  The pictures make me feel really strange.  On the one hand, I’ve got an optimistic little voice cheering me on with  ”Hey, I want you to get back to working out so you can lose this weight and look good again.”  Then there’s this bitchy little nag whispering in my ear, “I don’t think so!  You’re way past that, kiddo!  You can never get back to that!  You’re going to look like an old hag with saggy skin and wrinkles beyond belief!”  Most of the day, I’ve been just telling them both to shut up and leave me alone.  The rational part of me keeps thinking, “You know, it really doesn’t matter.  It’s about feeling good and being healthy.  I’m not a spring chicken anymore.  I just have to accept that and be happy with all my blessings.”  This is really the only place where it’s okay for me to sound like a narcissistic, self-absorbed whiner and say, ”I want MORE than healthy!  I want to be pretty and sexy!”