Archive for the ‘Chronicle’ Category
Sunny Cycling
Yesterday was another warm and sunny February day in Minnesota! I achieved my goal of getting out and doing a little cycling, but not before being totally surprised by a sudden twinge in my lower back. I was standing flat-footed and pulling a shirt on over my head, with one arm up in the air when I felt, *ping!* It literally felt like a disk burst and my spine compressed. Could it really be that obviously palpable? Seriously, there was a sensation of suddenly being shorter, or like I had just landed a little jump off of a step. I definitely and immediately recognized the location and tenor of the pain as similar to what led me to seek treatment back in May of last year. Doctors diagnosed me as experiencing the initial onset of degenerative disk disease.
The one blessing I have been graced by thus far is that I have not been having any pain down my legs. If there is a bulge, it doesn’t appear to be pressing on a nerve yet. Other than a dull ache in my lower back, I felt fine. It may have been an unwise decision, but I was getting dressed to go biking, so I decided to carry out my plan. If it was uncomfortable to ride, I could always turn back.
The crushed limestone trail that I chose to explore was about 30-40% snow-packed. Most of the areas on either side of the spots with snow were pretty muddy, so I was meandering all across the width of the trail, trying to pick the least messy route. Still, it was a very pleasant outing, my back didn’t really bother me, and I exchanged friendly greetings with the many other folks who were out enjoying the nice weather. I stopped by my brother-in-law’s house and had a nice visit with my nephew, Alec.
By the time I neared home, I was grateful for the early planning I had done to check the wind direction. I used that to determine which way I would head out and rode into the wind at the start, while I was fresh, so that it would be at my back upon my return. After 15 miles, I was ready to be done, because my body was tired. I have not ridden a bike for many months and my legs were not used to this level of exercise. My butt was not used to a saddle, either. Equally noticeable to my leg fatigue, the muscles in my shoulders and neck were telling me they were ready to be done.
Now the pain in my back is not so obvious, because it is mixed in with a lot of tired and stiff muscles. Before I showered after my ride, I made sure to do all of the exercises that were prescribed to me during the therapy for my back pain last summer. Guess who is going to get back (get it, “back”) into a routine of a therapeutic half-hour walk everyday again?
Some Thoughts
How about some spontaneous Sunday morning thoughts? A post of very little forethought.
I find myself a bit hesitant to go on and on about the impact of living alone. I am aware of people who have lived alone for much longer than me, and whose likelihood of that status changing is nothing like mine, and it gives me an impression that my perspectives on the topic might come across as disrespectful to them. I fully expect to be reunited with Cyndie, so my living alone is a temporary situation. Nonetheless, I am increasingly feeling the impact, the ambiance and nuances, of living alone. This will definitely provide me a deeper appreciation for the experience of others who live by themselves, which I hope I remember long after Cyndie returns back home again.
This weekend, I am getting a remote dose of family energy over FaceTime visits with Cyndie because Elysa is there in Boston for a weekend visit. I do get a beneficial buzz of connection, even though they are there together and I am here alone. It may be aided by my knowledge that Cyndie will be home to visit as soon as the end of this coming week. Just thinking about her being here in a matter of days is energizing. It doesn’t hurt that it also means I will only work a 4-day week, because I have taken Friday off to maximize our time together during this brief, 3-day visit.
With winter weather taking it easy on us this year, I’ve got no snow-related activities underway. Today is predicted to be sunny and warm. I plan to do a little bicycling. It just so happens to be one activity that I do without Cyndie, whether she is home or not. What will be missing is the part where I get home and tell her stories from my adventure and grovel for some comfort in the way of a meal or a massage of aching muscles.
I guess living alone is what’s on my mind this morning, don’t you think?
It’s not all bad! I’m enjoying the heck out of the good parts. Off to seize the solo day!
Mission Accomplished!
After all that anxiety over sugar and salt yesterday, I simplified last night and ate a basic dinner of meat, potatoes, and a vegetable. Mike came over and we fired up the grill at a time of year when grilling outside isn’t usually the way we cook around here. I’m certainly not going hungry while Cyndie is in Boston. My friends are taking good care of me. Look what Mike whipped up within minutes of arriving:
Unfortunately, I didn’t pause to get a picture of the delectable meal that Pam cooked in my kitchen on the prior Friday. She served up Filo Pastries, couscous and a salad with lots of goodies in it, finished off with key lime pie. Over-the-top goodness!
Speaking of over-the-top, and Cyndie in Boston… the kids and I wanted to send a message of love yesterday and figured we should do it with flowers. In Boston, who better to help us with that, than family? Our very own angel brother-in-law, Carlos, took our request to do something that would demonstrate how big our love for Cyndie is and created a Valentine’s Day love bouquet extraordinaire!
I was just starting to get anxious to hear something when Carlos sent me a message with the subject: Mission Accomplished! How perfect. He provided photos so we could have an image of what Cyndie was raving about when she called to acknowledge our gesture. This is the most exotic and beautiful Valentine I have ever given Cyndie. Thank you, Carlos!! I owe you, big time.
The call from Cyndie, verifying the success of the project, followed shortly after his email. Ain’t love GRAND!
Photo courtesy of Carlos Colon
Food Fits
In my ongoing quest for optimal health, it is only logical that I need to choose a healthy diet. I have been lucky for most of my life to have had the freedom to make menu selections with reckless abandon. I’ve never reacted with any food allergies, and I’m not very persnickety about what goes into the food I eat. I have long practiced sparse usage of butter and salt at the table. I don’t like carbonated drinks, so I rarely drink soda pop. I don’t like coffee, so I don’t get much in the way of caffeine. That gives me a head start over plenty of Americans who have fallen into a pattern of poor choices in their daily diet.
My primary struggle, I thought, was with my penchant for sweet things.
Earlier this month, news reports revealed that scientists are suggesting sugar is toxic and should be taxed and regulated like tobacco and alcohol.
Americans consume on average more than 600 calories per day from added sugar, equivalent to a whopping 40 teaspoons.
Ouch.
But it got worse for me. That report was followed by another, this time from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, released about a week later, revealing the top 10 hidden sources of sodium in the American diet.
About 90% of Americans eat more sodium than is recommended for a healthy diet. …Americans eat on average about 3,300 mg of sodium a day. The U.S. Dietary Guidelines recommend limiting sodium to less than 2,300 mg a day, and about 6 out of 10 adults should further limit sodium to 1,500 mg a day.
Guilty. I was aware that I probably was ingesting more salt than I should, in addition to the sweets. What I didn’t realize was that the primary source of sodium wasn’t coming from the salty snacks on which I love to munch. Check out the link to the hidden sources. Bread and rolls are the number 1 source for salt in the American diet! Potato chips, pretzels, and popcorn are way down at the bottom of the 10-worst list.
I have explained before that when I cut down on sweets, I tend to switch to eating more breads. It seems I’ve been moving from one ill to another.
Last week, I finally buckled down and actually read some food labels in an effort to witness this excess of sodium I’m eating. Shocking, I tell you. Shocking! First of all, I discovered that a serving size for bread is one slice. So with every sandwich I make, I’m eating a double serving? I guess my sandwiches are supposed to be open faced. If bread is so loaded with sodium, why the heck doesn’t it taste salty!?
Then I peeked at some cookies a friend gave me. Serving size: 2 cookies, sodium: 120mg. That’s 5% of the recommended daily allowance, right there. But these cookies are really, really good. Irresistibly good. I ate 6. That’s 360mg of sodium. They sure didn’t taste salty. Too bad that I was eating these as a chaser for my main course of pizza… number 3 on the evil list.
Next I looked at the boxes of cereal in my cupboard. They are all lined up so I can easily compare and most appear to be in a range from the best of 60mg (Shredded Wheat) up to 200mg. Then comes my long-time favorite, 100% natural, whole grain wheat with barley, Post Grape-Nuts at a whopping 12% of my daily sodium, 290mg.
I looked closer. The majority of those cereals define their serving size at 1 Cup, but a few switch to 3/4 Cup just to make it interesting. Then comes good ol’ Grape-Nuts. That heaviest dose of sodium is coming from the smallest serving size of 1/2 Cup! I’m pretty sure I’ve been getting about 25% of my daily sodium every time I eat those crunchy nuggets of goodness.
If I’m going to get that much sodium, I would prefer that it taste salty to fulfill that craving. Pass me the Cheez-Its. This healthy diet thing is going to be a struggle.
On Again
What a difference a day can make. What a difference a text message can make! Long after I had fallen asleep, around 12:30 a.m. my time, the buzzing of an incoming text message on my phone, woke me. Obviously my concern had gotten through to my wife, as the first words were, “I’m OK.”
She’s alive! What a relief. I was really growing more and more stressed by the silence that was following my attempts to check in.
I still don’t understand the logistics of a day that doesn’t allow one moment for a simple acknowledgement to your spouse (let alone multiple days in a row), but her report was of overwhelming responsibilities and meetings all day, then working into the nights. For all the ‘grumping’ I have been known to do about my day-job, I am finding more and more to appreciate about how easy I have it, in comparison to the undertaking Cyndie has gotten herself into.
Early on, in the days before she had even left home for this new job, I was prone to comparing the upcoming separation to what military couples endure. It was meant to be hyperbole, but now that she is well into the battles of her job, I am gaining ever more insight into the suffering that military families experience when they are not able to communicate with each other for long spans of time.
My current goal is to find a better way to show support, by way of somehow not fretting her inability to stay in contact with me. Yesterday, on the still-fresh rush of having received her middle-of-the-night message, I found myself inspired to send two different love-note texts that were 100% free of any expectation of a reply. The first day is easy. Let’s see how I’m doing after a few days.
There is a real trick to turning a relationship on and off, and quite honestly, I’m not that good at it. If I am in the “on” mode, I want to have interaction. I have written before about my ability at moving into the “off” mode of relating, which thrives in having zero interaction. I am able to do that too well, and have no problem shutting down, but it is difficult for me to seamlessly flow from “off” back to “on” again. My “off” mode is an unhealthy place to be. Unfortunately, it is where I want to go to fend off familiar hurts. I want to retreat behind my emotional shield.
This is my opportunity to exercise a love that gives without expectation of reciprocation.
Tolerable Suffering
Now that my routine has returned to a relative normal, post the holidays, I’m going to provide an update on the status of my solo living. Even though it’s been almost 4-months since Cyndie moved east to accept a position with Boston Public Schools, it still feels a bit new. At the same time, it has been long enough to pretty much figure out what works for me. I have been getting my needs met, and am tending to the needs of the household. With only one person messing up the place, shouldn’t I be able to sweep the kitchen half as often? It does not appear to be the case.
For the most part, I am taking advantage of having groceries delivered to the house. I do my food shopping online. Thus far, I am happy with my ability to avoid relying too heavily on restaurants for my sustenance. In fact, I think I am eating out less than when Cyndie was home. Since I don’t automatically have a companion, that seems like a logical outcome to me. I expect it might be different if I was inclined to eat out alone.
The real staple has turned out to be soup from my good friend and fellow Himalayan trekker, Chef Pam Knutson. I buy soup through her Birdsong Soups business out of the Kitchen in the Market facility. I get a quart each week that her husband, John, generously brings to his work in Eden Prairie where I can conveniently pick it up. This has been providing about 4 different meals a week for me. I don’t think I will be able to eat soup out of a can ever again after this experience. What a treat! This is gourmet level eating that seems like it would only be available in fine restaurants, and I have it in my own kitchen! I highly recommend you check out this community supported soup business, Birdsong Soups.
I have also become just a bit more social since Cyndie has moved out, hosting a number of gatherings of friends at the house, and going out with others. Part of that is a result of friends offering to step up to help fill the void. Thank you, friends!
The one thing that isn’t working so well is my being able to touch base with my lovely wife with any regularity. All too often, multiple days pass where we fail to speak or even successfully exchange a text message. You’d think a one-hour time difference wouldn’t be a big deal, but I find it does complicate things, or maybe it just seems to, because Cyndie’s work hours have been ridiculously long. I was shocked to be unable to reach her on a Friday night, nor the entire following Saturday, only to find out she was working both times and had unknowingly dropped her phone under the seat of the car they provided for her use.
I figure I should be nurturing a relationship with the security personnel in her building so I can contact them to find out where she is if I want to speak to her. Nothing can really replace the small talk that has been dashed from our relationship. I miss how she would politely listen to me talk like a little kid about the excitement I enjoyed at soccer in the morning. Yesterday I would have whined to her about the owie I got when I sprained a finger playing around with a basketball in the gym before soccer started. Then I would have bragged about the success we had making multiple one-touch passes to score lots of goals, or mentioned that I forgot to use my asthma inhaler before playing and noticed some suffering as a result. Tolerable, but noticeable suffering.
Kind of like the feeling of suddenly living separated from your beloved spouse of 30 years.
Snow Shoeless
Happy February, 2012! Why don’t we celebrate a new month with at least a fraction of the energy we put into celebrations of the new year?
Yesterday being Tuesday, my friend Mike and I got together for our (mostly) weekly night out and embarked on a mini-adventure in the great outdoors. We took a hike in the Richard T. Anderson Conservation Area park in Eden Prairie. It was my hope that we might catch a glimpse of a colorful sunset, because the hour of our hike put us at prime time. Unfortunately, clouds settled in and draped our world in the classic monochrome of a winter dusk.
On the last day of January, a trek in the woods usually requires snow shoes in this part of the world, but that would have been overkill yesterday. It was clearly evident which slopes of the bluff area were exposed to the afternoon sun, and which were in shadow. There was no snow on most of the south-facing areas, just a blanket of leaves. Daytime temperatures have been well above freezing for a couple of days, which has spelled doom for the bulk of the inch or two of snow we had left from the last episode of precipitation. It’s not lookin’ like there’ll be any igloo building being done by me this year.
I took a few pictures, regardless the overcast conditions, just in case something interesting might turn up. I selected three.
After our little walk, we stopped off at Lion’s Tap for a burger and fries. Figured I would mention that just to make those of you who know about that landmark institution, a little bit jealous.
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Up Down
I took a walk yesterday to pick up replacement bulbs for the headlights on my WRX. I had the car checked by a Subaru dealership last week and they informed me it wasn’t the head gasket that was leaking, it was a valve cover. A much more affordable repair. I also learned that my car shows none of the rust that is typically seen in the same year models found in Minnesota. He assumed the car was from out of state. Maybe it was, before I got it, but that was 6 years ago. I guess I’ll hang on to this gem, since I’m so fond of it. Worth the price of repair to patch up a leak.
So, they alerted me to a burned out headlight. I have no idea how I missed that, unless it just happened that morning. Since it was a beautiful day, and I am supposed to be doing more walking as therapy for my back, I decided to hoof it to the auto parts store. It’s so counter-culture to resort to doing errands on foot in the suburbs. I like being able to do something contrary that is also healthy for me, and for the planet.
I grabbed my camera and cut across a golf course and into an industrial park, becoming mesmerized by views both up and down…
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Duty Fulfilled
A few weeks ago my wife’s father stopped by the house and dropped off an envelope with some simple instructions for me. Since Cyndie is in Boston, I was to take care of depositing a couple checks into her account and then let her know she needs to write a check of her own and get it delivered. Easy enough.
He said it wasn’t an urgent task, but an important one. I didn’t want to overlook it, so my goal was to just take care of it right away. How hard is it to deposit a check? Well, to start, Cyndie and I have separate accounts at different banks. We have both of our names on each of the accounts, but I have no idea what her checking account number is.
Over FaceTime, I brought up the subject and Cyndie said I could just look in the drawer in our desk where the checks are and I could get a deposit slip out of the back of one of her books of checks. Sounded easy enough to me. Consider it a done deal.
But it wasn’t going to be that easy. I rummaged through the many boxes of checks, and found old ones for each of our children, one from my bank account, and then a box full of old blank registers, with calendars on them now long out of date. There was nothing from Cyndie’s account.
Days passed, and Cyndie and I failed to connect. I figured I could look for an old bank statement of hers for the account information. There should be a file-full around here somewhere. But the sad truth is, Cyndie and I manage things very differently, and after looking everywhere I could imagine, I found no bank statements for her checking account. They may be here, but there are a lot of boxes and files of paperwork that Cyndie saves, and I can’t seem to find the needle in the haystack.
Next, I emailed a request for her account number, but that went unanswered, probably lost in her over-loaded inbox. After days of failing to reach her using FaceTime in the evenings, I made a point to wake up early and try to catch her before she left for work. She was kind enough to pick it up, but only to tell me she was late and had to dash out the door. She told me she would text the account number.
This had already become embarrassingly overcomplicated. All I wanted was to take care of it right away so it wouldn’t drag on or be forgotten. I waited for her text. I waited two days. How long does it take to send a text? I left a voice message on her phone. I must have sounded desperate. As I was falling asleep after that second day, my cell phone vibrated to an incoming text message. It said she had mailed it, and she was sorry I was so worried about this.
I wasn’t worried, but I sure was frustrated. I checked the mail that next day. Nothing. I suppose it could have been delayed a day. I checked the day after that. Still nothing. Is this some kind of test for me? When I finally got a chance to speak with Cyndie by the end of the week, she confirmed she did mail a deposit slip and blank check, but not till the day before. She had carried it in her purse for a couple of days until she found a mail box.
I checked Saturday’s mail. Nothing. Monday, nothing. Tuesday, nothing. How hard can this be? To complicate things, I had forgotten that Cyndie told me she was traveling to Florida for a conference. I couldn’t figure out why I was totally unable to reach her for several days. I was about ready to give up, but each day, I’d check the mailbox, just in case.
Yesterday, I finally got what I was after. To add insult to injury, the letter that Cyndie waited two days to mail ultimately got mangled and torn open by a Post Office sorting machine. The deposit slip and check with corners missing, and the torn envelope, were put into a larger envelope and, to the Post Office’s credit, at long last, they delivered the items into my mailbox.
After bringing in the mail, I went right back out the door, drove to the bank, and made that damn deposit.
Priceless Friendships!
The fantastic brilliance of life springs forth in everything! It is in the good and the bad, the easy and the difficult. Our greatest lessons do not come from times of calm and collected, easy living. It is the challenges, the trials and tribulations, which produce the gems of outcome that glimmer with the brilliant beauty of our eventual successes in life.
It has been brought to my attention, by friends who care about me, that some of what I write lately is spawning worry about my state of being. I will admit to taking advantage of some of the angst, (created in me by the departure of my lovely wife to the job in Boston), composing some prose that explores the feelings thus produced. To an artist, such fodder is a rich vein to be mined.
I am grateful for the feedback, though, because I was not aware of the level of impression my words were creating. I am richly blessed by friends. In particular, Ian Rowcliffe, who provides me with insights and inspirations through his comments, and his unfailingly positive focus. Also, my good friend, Gary Larson, a champion in helping me take care of myself. Mike Wilkus has been a (mostly) weekly date for dinners out on the town, or movies, or sometimes both. Many special friends from my circle of bicycling buddies, who came over last Saturday, bringing food and good cheer, to watch a movie I’ve been itchin’ to share for weeks. And my morning soccer comrades, who just yesterday were helping me release endorphins with plenty of laughter and cheerful competition.
I am eating very well, despite my disinterest in cooking, getting in my maintenance exercises for my back, and actually enjoying the opportunity to get a taste of living on my own. Being separated from Cyndie isn’t easy, but it isn’t all that hard, either. It is “both / and.”
Part of me just might have been hesitant to portray my situation in too rosy a light, lest I come across as a heartless cad. I fear there could be some ‘splainin’ to do if my wife thought I was having too much fun here without her.
I was telling Gary last night that I am enjoying having some of the rooms in our house become more a reflection of me, as I remove some things that had been put in place for when two people occupied the space. As referenced in yesterday’s poem, the rooms are losing some of Cyndie’s soul, but I see that as a logical step toward our putting this house on the market. When she moves home again, we are envisioning that we will be in a new place, on property with space for horses. I expect the current situation will end up making it easier for us to part with the house we’ve lived in for over 25 years.
Thank you to all friends, new and old, who read me here! I’m hoping you find my travails relative something… preferably something positive!
