Been working out at the nicely equipped Lincoln City Community Center. Also getting physical therapy 2-3 times per week. It is amazing to me how much relief I am feeling in my back after just a handful of sessions. My therapist is using a kind of heated ultra sound on my problem spot. She also has me doing some stretches that seem to help. She's a really nice young woman but I find myself wondering when I got so much older than every medical professional I'm seeing.
The community center just bought a seated stair stepper, which is what I used to lose all that weight back in New York State. It is a piece of equipment that can be used by people who have limited mobility, but it is actually a good workout for anyone.
I went to a gym in Watkins Glen that was owned by Barb, a member of the Hector church. She was a fabulous trainer and did her work for love of fitness, not for money. She was given the stair stepper after the death of Father Dave, the former priest at the Watkins Glen Catholic church. He had severe diabetes which contributed to his death. Barb kept one of the mass cards from Father Dave's funeral taped to the wall by the machine.
Dave had been a good colleague. He had a lot of complications from his diabetes, including partial blindness We did a wedding together of a Presbyterian groom and a Catholic bride. The bride also had a Franciscan priest who she knew in college in Chicago. When Dave got the exchange of peace, he turned to who he thought were the bride and groom and said that at this point, they may kiss. But it wasn't the bride and groom, it was me and the Franciscan priest. While everyone laughed, we shrugged and looked at each other with that "Why not?" look.
It has always struck me that my friend dying brought a piece of equipment to me that helped me to be healthier. Life and death are intertwined in ways that we cannot comprehend. Surely that is something that we all believe as Christians.
Working out, cardio, weights and floor work for core and cool down, always leaves me with quite the endorphin rush. I often think of a line from my favorite movie, "The Empire Strikes Back". "I feel like I could take on the whole Empire myself." Somewhere, between the last illness and death of my mother and the stress I had on the job, I let go of going to the gym. My fall in August 2009 also slowed me down.
Now that I'm back to working out, I think I turned a lot of my anger and stress and grief in on myself. Taking care of myself ceased to be an option. It's a real danger for many people, especially for women. I thought I was beyond that danger, but I wasn't. So now I am learning to care for myself again.
Self care doesn't mean self centered. The opposite of self care is self destruction.
My physical therapist has pointed out that I've been walking around hunched over. Apparently I've been doing that for some time now. She's got me working on standing up straight when I walk. It feels unnatural right now. I feel like I'm John Cleese in that old Python sketch, "Ministry of Silly Walks", but I'm told it looks better.
Stand up straight, raise your head, shoulders back, walk. Simplest thing in the world.
God, who walked among us, grant that we may all learn to walk in your way with strength and with peace. Amen.
blessings,
Cindy
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Saturday, October 2, 2010
Random Thoughts
Old men in Oregon are just adorable. When I pulled up to a crosswalk today, there was an older gentleman walking who I waved to go ahead. He stopped in front of my car, trying to read my liscense plate. When he could make it out, he said, "Oh! Nebraska!" outloud. I gave him a thumbs up and he mimed shivering to indicate that it was much colder in Nebraska. Or maybe in Oregon. Either way it was pretty adorable.
My Nebraska liscense plate is exciting a lot of comment here. When I pulled up to the Chinese place to get my takeout, a couple dining inside were pointing and talking. That has been happening a lot.
It reminded me of a time back in Hector, NY. There was a little crossroads nearby called Logan. Logan had an old Methodist chruch building, that the Logan community had bought and maintained. It was supported every year with a Christmas bazaar and a Spring bazaar. There were crafts to sell, but the highlight was the mac and cheese they sold. There were several pounds of cheese grated into each batch. So, one year, as Christmas approached, I went up to Logan for my mac and cheese. There were no Hector or Lodi church folks eating, but i saw I lady I knew slightly eating with some friends and she invited me to join them. She introduced me to her friends and one of them said, "Harvey? Are you related to the Harveys in Odessa?" It was a question I often got in that neighborhood.
"No ma'am, all my people are back in Nebraska."
This one little factual statement excited the lady. "Nebraska!" She turned ther companions. "I don't think I've ever met a Nebraskan before! They're kind of rare, aren't they?" I remember thinking, Nebraskans are common as dirt where I come from!" She looked at me again as if I were a rare species of bug pinned to board.
But the fact is, we are kind of rare. Despite providing the world with, Willa Cather, Henry Fonda, Johnny Carson, L. Ron Hubbard, Marg Helgenberger, Dick Cheney and Malcom X, (wouldn't that be a heck of a dinner party?) we are rare. There are 1.7 million people living in Nebraska. When Memorial Stadium is full on a beautiful fall Saturday the crowd of 85,000 is the third largest city in the state. 85,000 is just a blip in the population of other states. I met about 150 other Nebraskans just a week ago at the Oregonians for Nebraska in Portland, but out here on the coast, I am a rarity once again.
Anyway, back to old men in Oregon. Here is my other example, I was standing in front of the case containing eggs in the Safeway the other night, when an older gentleman said to me, "Have they brought the eggs yet?" I looked at him in wonder and gestured to the multiplicity of egg choices in front of us. He opened the ad from the store he had in his hand. "No,they've got a sale on 18 large eggs! You can get a coupon at the front of the store." I smiled and explained that 18 eggs don't stay fresh long enough for one person. He explained about several other things on sale (maybe he is one of those viral marketers for Safeway?) before I could disengage and get my other items. Weird, but still, pretty adorable.
God, we thank you for the kindness of strangers and the strange nature of kindness. Help us when we feel alone and let us know we are surrounded by your love in a way we cannot understand and by your love in our brothers and sisters who are also always around us. Amen.
blessings,
Cindy
My Nebraska liscense plate is exciting a lot of comment here. When I pulled up to the Chinese place to get my takeout, a couple dining inside were pointing and talking. That has been happening a lot.
It reminded me of a time back in Hector, NY. There was a little crossroads nearby called Logan. Logan had an old Methodist chruch building, that the Logan community had bought and maintained. It was supported every year with a Christmas bazaar and a Spring bazaar. There were crafts to sell, but the highlight was the mac and cheese they sold. There were several pounds of cheese grated into each batch. So, one year, as Christmas approached, I went up to Logan for my mac and cheese. There were no Hector or Lodi church folks eating, but i saw I lady I knew slightly eating with some friends and she invited me to join them. She introduced me to her friends and one of them said, "Harvey? Are you related to the Harveys in Odessa?" It was a question I often got in that neighborhood.
"No ma'am, all my people are back in Nebraska."
This one little factual statement excited the lady. "Nebraska!" She turned ther companions. "I don't think I've ever met a Nebraskan before! They're kind of rare, aren't they?" I remember thinking, Nebraskans are common as dirt where I come from!" She looked at me again as if I were a rare species of bug pinned to board.
But the fact is, we are kind of rare. Despite providing the world with, Willa Cather, Henry Fonda, Johnny Carson, L. Ron Hubbard, Marg Helgenberger, Dick Cheney and Malcom X, (wouldn't that be a heck of a dinner party?) we are rare. There are 1.7 million people living in Nebraska. When Memorial Stadium is full on a beautiful fall Saturday the crowd of 85,000 is the third largest city in the state. 85,000 is just a blip in the population of other states. I met about 150 other Nebraskans just a week ago at the Oregonians for Nebraska in Portland, but out here on the coast, I am a rarity once again.
Anyway, back to old men in Oregon. Here is my other example, I was standing in front of the case containing eggs in the Safeway the other night, when an older gentleman said to me, "Have they brought the eggs yet?" I looked at him in wonder and gestured to the multiplicity of egg choices in front of us. He opened the ad from the store he had in his hand. "No,they've got a sale on 18 large eggs! You can get a coupon at the front of the store." I smiled and explained that 18 eggs don't stay fresh long enough for one person. He explained about several other things on sale (maybe he is one of those viral marketers for Safeway?) before I could disengage and get my other items. Weird, but still, pretty adorable.
God, we thank you for the kindness of strangers and the strange nature of kindness. Help us when we feel alone and let us know we are surrounded by your love in a way we cannot understand and by your love in our brothers and sisters who are also always around us. Amen.
blessings,
Cindy
Friday, October 1, 2010
Beach: Just me and the Seagulls
Cold and foggy here today, Friday. It had been sunny and warm for the Oregon Coast, about 75. Just a nice warm fall day in Nebraska, but unseasonably warm on the coast.
I moved here on Monday. Here is the beach house in Lincoln City belonging to my friends Susan and Fred. I'm settling in. I now have a post office box and a library card. I had to provide my Nebraska driver's license, vehicle registration and insurance card and do some fast talking to get my PO box. The postal worker was very suspicious of me and I'm not sure he got over the suspicion. At the library, the solution was for me to pay $12.50 for three months of library privileges. Staff much less suspicious at the library. When I mentioned how much I had worked in libraries, the volunteer came running. We agreed to let me settle in first.
I've been going around finding local pubs, coffee places and eateries. Been going to places with wifi, but now I've got one of those plug in things and my own wifi anytime. But I was advised to go to the coffee place or library if I want to download something large or watch a streaming video. But now I can stay home and blog or Facebook or Tweet or e-mail and should be able to stay well within my allowance of 5GB per month. I can also pay my bills or order from Amazon online without worrying about my information being broadcast all over Oregon.
I figured out that this bed in the house is the 13th bed I have slept in since we stored my bed in Kearney, but only if you count my floor in Kearney, too. Still, that is a lot of beds. It has been nice of all my friends and family to take me in, but there is something wonderful about having my own space at last.
Wednesday morning was my first morning here that I woke up after going to the store. So I celebrated with breakfast at home: two fried eggs on toast and yogurt. Took it all out to the yard to enjoy. The house is above the beach so I didn't think anything when I seagull glided by at eye level. I wondered idly if he could catch a piece of bread in his mouth, dismissing the idea out of hand because I do know enough not to encourage the sea gulls.
I don't know if seagulls can read minds, if they know how people look when they eat or if they are blessed with a remarkable sense of smell but one of those has to be true. In a moment he was joined by two friends or relations coming closer and closer and screaming at the top of their lungs.
I beat a hasty retreat to the house. The picture of Tippi Hedren in the phone booth as in my head, but my real fear was seagull poop in my eggs. I eat my breakfast inside and at peace now. I notice they don't bother me when I am reading or talking on the phone or just sitting outside.
The ocean is a new experience for this girl from Nebraska. I know that I lived in the Bay Area for four years, but how often did I get to the beach? Not that often. Even when I lived a half mile from Ocean Beach in San Francisco I didn't get there that often. Usually, just on nice days. I've stayed on the coast before, I've stayed on this coast, but living here is something different.
Living right smack on the ocean is new. Is the tide going out or coming in? Fortunately,they print the tide tables in the paper and online. It amazes how the surf can go from light to heavy in the course of just a few minutes, just long enough to change the laundry today. I expect that constant roar to be wind. I look out the window, everything is still except the sea. Still much to learn.
I have been sending out self referrals for new calls. I have appointments for therapy next week, both physical and the other kind. Am working on getting on the Cascades Presbytery Pulpit Supply List. They have to check me out first and make sure I am decent and in order. That is how it should be.
Brother Bill's best friend since grade school, Mike C is coming out for a visit on Sunday. I'll be glad to see him, he's one of a handful of people who has a good claim to being the Fifth Harvey Kid.
A last word from an infinitely better writer:
By that long scan of waves, myself call'd back, resumed upon myself,
In every crest some undulating light or shade--some retrospect,
Joys, travels, studies, silent panoramas--scenes ephemeral,
The long past war, the battles, hospital sights, the wounded and the dead,
Myself through every by-gone phase--my idle youth--old age at hand,
My three-score years of life summ'd up, and more, and past,
By any grand ideal tried, intentionless, the whole a nothing,
And haply yet some drop within God's scheme's ensemble--some
wave, or part of wave,
Like one of yours, ye multitudinous ocean.
Walt Whitman
blessings to us all, wave or part of wave
Cindy
I moved here on Monday. Here is the beach house in Lincoln City belonging to my friends Susan and Fred. I'm settling in. I now have a post office box and a library card. I had to provide my Nebraska driver's license, vehicle registration and insurance card and do some fast talking to get my PO box. The postal worker was very suspicious of me and I'm not sure he got over the suspicion. At the library, the solution was for me to pay $12.50 for three months of library privileges. Staff much less suspicious at the library. When I mentioned how much I had worked in libraries, the volunteer came running. We agreed to let me settle in first.
I've been going around finding local pubs, coffee places and eateries. Been going to places with wifi, but now I've got one of those plug in things and my own wifi anytime. But I was advised to go to the coffee place or library if I want to download something large or watch a streaming video. But now I can stay home and blog or Facebook or Tweet or e-mail and should be able to stay well within my allowance of 5GB per month. I can also pay my bills or order from Amazon online without worrying about my information being broadcast all over Oregon.
I figured out that this bed in the house is the 13th bed I have slept in since we stored my bed in Kearney, but only if you count my floor in Kearney, too. Still, that is a lot of beds. It has been nice of all my friends and family to take me in, but there is something wonderful about having my own space at last.
Wednesday morning was my first morning here that I woke up after going to the store. So I celebrated with breakfast at home: two fried eggs on toast and yogurt. Took it all out to the yard to enjoy. The house is above the beach so I didn't think anything when I seagull glided by at eye level. I wondered idly if he could catch a piece of bread in his mouth, dismissing the idea out of hand because I do know enough not to encourage the sea gulls.
I don't know if seagulls can read minds, if they know how people look when they eat or if they are blessed with a remarkable sense of smell but one of those has to be true. In a moment he was joined by two friends or relations coming closer and closer and screaming at the top of their lungs.
I beat a hasty retreat to the house. The picture of Tippi Hedren in the phone booth as in my head, but my real fear was seagull poop in my eggs. I eat my breakfast inside and at peace now. I notice they don't bother me when I am reading or talking on the phone or just sitting outside.
The ocean is a new experience for this girl from Nebraska. I know that I lived in the Bay Area for four years, but how often did I get to the beach? Not that often. Even when I lived a half mile from Ocean Beach in San Francisco I didn't get there that often. Usually, just on nice days. I've stayed on the coast before, I've stayed on this coast, but living here is something different.
Living right smack on the ocean is new. Is the tide going out or coming in? Fortunately,they print the tide tables in the paper and online. It amazes how the surf can go from light to heavy in the course of just a few minutes, just long enough to change the laundry today. I expect that constant roar to be wind. I look out the window, everything is still except the sea. Still much to learn.
I have been sending out self referrals for new calls. I have appointments for therapy next week, both physical and the other kind. Am working on getting on the Cascades Presbytery Pulpit Supply List. They have to check me out first and make sure I am decent and in order. That is how it should be.
Brother Bill's best friend since grade school, Mike C is coming out for a visit on Sunday. I'll be glad to see him, he's one of a handful of people who has a good claim to being the Fifth Harvey Kid.
A last word from an infinitely better writer:
By that long scan of waves, myself call'd back, resumed upon myself,
In every crest some undulating light or shade--some retrospect,
Joys, travels, studies, silent panoramas--scenes ephemeral,
The long past war, the battles, hospital sights, the wounded and the dead,
Myself through every by-gone phase--my idle youth--old age at hand,
My three-score years of life summ'd up, and more, and past,
By any grand ideal tried, intentionless, the whole a nothing,
And haply yet some drop within God's scheme's ensemble--some
wave, or part of wave,
Like one of yours, ye multitudinous ocean.
Walt Whitman
blessings to us all, wave or part of wave
Cindy
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