WHAT IS LOVE?

Picture is "Stop Work"
I wish there were more prints on here; I love visual media. Oh, well.
Today was another busy day; it's pretty cool that it feels as though my job never existed and I'm too busy. I didn't get to pack at all today. Because I'm spending my "free" time packing, I haven't fixed my website which is very screwed up. Just when we were leaving today, we remembered the plants we'd ordered a couple of months ago that needed to be potted today. We did them all, mixing houseplants with outside plants because they weren't sufficiently labeled (for those without knowledge of that kind of green stuff.) It will be nice to see them grow; I love my plants and Harry wanted most of these so hopefully, he'll be watering them.
While we were driving, the engine light came on and our daughter called complaining of her boyfriend/fiance. As long as we could get where we were going and home, I was okay with the car, but not with our daughter's situation. I was upset about that. We've been very lucky with our children. They've both focused on the sciences and have done well. Both are lovely intelligent people--good people. Our son has a fiance/girlfriend with whom he's lived for a few years already. He wants children, so maybe someday, we'll have little ones we can hug and kiss. I believed our daughter had finally found the right man for her, but she's used to being alone and independent, so we'll see. She's very critical when it comes to guys. It would be nice if guys were like women--warm, loving listeners and confidants. Pals, buddies. My Harry is like that pretty much. But then nobody can be everything for anybody. That's not reality and why God created friends, books, newspapers, movies, restaurants, and shopping. And private time.
We visited one of my close friends today and were discussing what love and marriage really is. We came to the conclusion it's friendship, companionship, and comfort. I think respect and compassion fit in too. The neat thing is Harry and I married when we were babies, went through hating each other, finally developed understanding, and we're good friends now. It's not easy, but it's better than being without him.
That's a lot of what friendship is and probably why no one from my old job ever called me. I could say they were a bunch of money-worshipping soulless ignorant jealous people, but I wouldn't be doing them justice. It would be accurate to say the seventies, women's liberation, etc. passed them by and although most of them were '"Democrats"', they were tremendously suspicious of educated, liberal Jewish women and the "'cultural elite'." (Sorry about the strange grammar.) I liked a number of them, but...well, I always had horrible jobs. I ended with the best one and my best boss ever.
I have wanted to talk about my crazy co-workers and bosses but I can't work up the interest anymore. With my last job, I understand it wasn't really just them; it was my fault too that I wasn't taken to their bosoms. I stand behind what I said just before; it's totally true, but it's all gone. They never existed and I'm free.
I have been very lucky in a hundred different ways. My marriage stayed together. I earned a scholarship when I was twenty-three that totally paid for my college. Even though I got fired pretty often, I got hired just as often, for more money. I can paint, write (I think), and I'm still a "handsome" woman. I was given my social security disability right away. And I'm okay. I went through years of psychotherapy and even though I still have issues, (which I hate), I love my life and I'm happy. Satisfied. I have good friends who I love, my cats, my plants, books, and I'm getting ready to move to my dream house sort-of in the country. I kind-of say all this because I was actually hurt by those folks I had worked with by their never calling, even the ones I ate lunch with and saw socially a little. I was so sick for months--five, I think. And I'd like to tell them how good everything is for me while they still have to drag into an office for a job they hate and see people they loathe.

Sometimes The Golden Years are Golden

I remember people talking on television about "The Golden Years" when I was a child. I think other voices near me, laughed cynically. But I find some truth in the old cliche. In our nation, if you're retired with a pension or other money coming in; good health and doctors; a good roof over your head; and family and friends who love you, there are Golden Years. With our bodies still functioning--maybe not ideally, but acceptably--from our fifties through our early seventies with no one giving us orders, the sun shines right into our hearts. Or at least on our faces because we can be outside when the weather is beautiful and not be couped up in an office or factory. Our time is our own and it feels good.
No one can expect anything, but we can hope. The majority of us live easily until past our mid-seventies. We've had several friends die in their forties and that's a shock. We can't take any day in our lives for granted but we can hope.
I'm still getting away with too much sugar and junk food and that's only because I'm still in my fifties and taking diabetes medication. I'm aware my irresponsible behavior can go on only for so long and then I'll end up on the needle so I'm praying for sanity. Our friends who died had no warning, no chronic illness that could be controlled by being sensible.
Perhaps in a few years I'll be spending time babysitting a grandchild. I'm looking forward to buying little outfits and giving a little somebody hugs. In a month, after twenty years in school, our son graduates from college. He and his girlfriend have lived together for a few years and he's become close with her family. Since the kids think nothing of stopping at her parent's house with us in the car, we've gotten to know her parents too. Actually I worked with her parents last week to move the kids to Delaware.
At first when I retired, I felt lost. I was sick and fearful. I had expected to work for another year, but couldn't. In a short time, I forgot working and realized retirement is a true gift. I'm one of the lucky ones--my career was in an old system where greedy CEO's couldn't dip into pension funds. I escaped early while I could enjoy a permanent vacation.

Autumn Listening to Me Read Her the NY Times

It feels very good to have the means to repair my website. I can't use a number of programs that I badly need but there's enough working for me to function. Because I backed up a lot on my external hard drive that I didn't used to have, I am able to see what programs I used--because I don't remember--and to get back some of them. I have hope this time my computer won't fail. Who knows really? In the long run, it doesn't much matter.
I meant to write for only a couple of minutes and I do need to either buy or borrow books. I'm looking forward to reading in bed. I have two books I'm reading now that I can't stand. They both seem so stupid. I'm also reading Bob Herbert's book about America, but I can't read that in bed. It's one horrific story after another about the wrongs here, and they're very serious. All kinds of things happen--in the vein of Katrina--and they're almost never admitted and the people suffering don't receive apologies. I think the US for many people is horrible, but maybe a lot less horrible than most other countries. It seems most of the westernized nations are more fair, but I couldn't testify to that. I don't know enough and I've lived only here. The good thing is most people realize W is breaking the law--it may not be most--and the bad thing is that he can get away with it. That's nothing when people are convicted and killed for crimes they didn't commit and the government has proof they didn't but kills them anyway.
Living a solid white middle-class life gives us people a totally skewed vision of life here. I've heard that prejudice is in people's imagination; things are fine now. When kids want to learn, they can learn anywhere. Our people pulled themselves up by their bootstraps. Definitely etc. I argue, probably wasting my breath, but thank God, I know better. I'm not better, I just know all those sayings are a total bunch of shit. It's the line the government and most media put out. Color blindness that is a complete lie and using "code words" to alert haters to the real message. I snuck that in. Everyone except cognitively disabled people know what politicians mean when they spout certain words and phrases. Their skirting political correctness while subtly giving a very different message. That's not just in the US either. I notice French politicians do it well too. (New York Times informed by reading all the human interest stories.)
Well, it's time to exit the kitty litter room carefully stepping over the pile of papers I'm planning to file sometime. It's time for bed. G'night anybody.

NO PICTURES BUT I'M STILL PACKIN'

Everything has changed from when I last wrote; Harry and I talked everything over and I can't say he's gonna be better, but he has been improving over the years. I printed out and gave him a copy of my last blog. The morning after, he started working in the basement while I was still asleep. Our friend, the realtor visited a couple days after that too. Harry is following her instructions and putting away clutter. We're working all over the house at one time which seems, to me to be easier right now. I did start working on thirty years of stuff on the basement shelves. Unbelievable the trash we kept and the beautiful memories we hid away.
My own computer is back and Harry's is in better shape thanks to me. I'm re-populating my computer with my programs. For a couple of days Harry's and my websites were down. Since I haven't been able to reach my webhost for about eight months, I assumed she'd just let it lapse. So I found different webhosts for both our sites. All the pages I stored on Tripod vanished down the toilet of fundamentalism I guess. They're gone. I was planning to redo the site anyway, so now I am. It's not a welcome job, but it's there for me. I put Harry's right back up but mine has all kinds of links etc.
I'm eternally grateful our computers are not down the basement. Right now, it's too depressing to stay in for long. Not that this room is a pleasure either. It's too crowded and dirty. When we move, I plan to keep cat food in one place, same with kitty litter. This room has both in addition to copies in the kitchen.
I don't think I have any more patience to write now. I don't feel like it. I've been trying but it won't do pictures...still.

Marriage Sucks Sometimes

I'm depressed and upset; Harry's been verbally abusive again for a while. He thinks he's just angry or talking; he has no idea. He barely helps me organize stuff for moving and complains when I do it myself and he doesn't like what I've done. We went out to lunch with my cousin today--I usually do on Fridays. Cousin Jerry would only go to the Home Depot near my house so I told him to just drop us off. That's a depressing place and I try to avoid it. So I got nothing done except Bubba's kitty litter because he did stop there. Both Harry and I were angry at Jerry; I have to agree with Harry that we wasted our time. But Harry's walking around like a powder keg and I'm nervous around him. I love being in my house but it doesn't feel good. There's nowhere comfortable for me to watch TV or sleep away from him. I can see a fourth bedroom in the new house would be a very good idea.
If this were the last day of my life, I'd feel pretty sad. It's been miserable. I did put away my shoes and then of course, had Harry yell at me for doing it because he felt he had to move it and I guess he thinks I should have known what he'd think. All I knew was that he didn't move his clothes and if I had, he would have made a terrific fuss. Mostly, marriage is no fun. It's companionship and sharing, but too often there are days of hurt and misunderstanding. Harry resents but never says he does my going to bed and arising late. He believes in order for him to work on the basement or other chores needed for selling the house or helping me, I need to be there. Last week, I asked him to use the big vacuum on the carpet downstairs because Moon, our beloved mouser, left a dead mouse there. I remind him frequently but he hasn't done it and won't until and if I fight with him.
When I told him today it's rude for a man to put himself first in front of his wife while waiting in a line, he said I was just angry and bothering him. We've been married for forty-one years and I still find that behavior ignorant and now that I really know what it is, it's selfish. Harry used to give himself the best and biggest cuts of meat, chicken or whatever there was. Once when a dog was barking and running toward us, Harry pushed me out of his way and Harry ran. If we had a fire, I'd expect him to save himself first.
It's nice that he puts me on a pedestal; I'm the lady with brains and he reveres me. But worshipping and being considerate are not necessarily the same. He was thrilled when I retired; I could hang out with him all the time. And I'm so agoraphobic unless I really work at it, he has what he wants. I'm going to email this to him. Maybe he'll read it and maybe he won't. I don't care.