The recent weeks have had some ups and downs. On the upside, Marc & I snuck off for a long weekend in Hawaii and he surprised me with a beautiful ring. I started a new job at the same company - which is a good move, yet stressful as I get up to speed. Then we completed a grueling 1/2 marathon with 2400 ft of elevation gain/loss. My ego felt great, but it wasn't able to help me up and down the stairs the last few days. My legs were less thrilled with the accomplishment.
Through this, I've found I've been thinking more of my brother Warren. I haven't had the urge to call him, but wish he could know what I've been doing. Normally mom would have given him updates and he and I might try to find a day to have lunch.
I feel more in denial that I did right after his death. I don't want to accept that he's dead. My father asked who I'd like to have at my birthday lunch and I couldn't include Warren & Beth. It isn't an option. He's been with me for most of the last 30+ birthdays and now he's not.
I feel my brain struggling with the concept of death. What is this not here stuff? What does it mean? Why did he die? How is it possible? Logical answers don't help me with these questions. I want an explanation from the universe - why are we here? Why isn't Warren here? Where did he go?
There just aren't answers. I am hoping my need for them eventually diminishes.
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
Count me Census!
I can't recall where I was the last time we had the census. I don't recall much, but I do recall that, like this year, I was keen to get selected to fill out the long from. Something about filling out those forms give me a feeling of importance.
However there weren't enough interesting questions on the form. Name, gender, birth date and then race. I get to select White. I'm not of Mexican, Puerto Rican, Cuban or other Hispanic, Latina or Spanish decent. And why do we single out Mexican, Puerto Rican or Cuban? I mean, we don't count Colombian, Peruvian or Jamaican. Why are those three nationalities so special? And what if you're of Peruvian Native American stock? Do you fill out the Native American slot and say Peruvian, as that would be more accurate than Hispanic, right?
Likewise there is no interest if you're from Africa. My friend who is white, Jewish, South African descent... is he white or African American? And why should the Moroccans be lumped in with the Kenyan and Mali? Are they all the same race?
Then we come to the Asian breakdown. Suddenly we have a world of interest with Japanese getting to be different from Chinese & Korean. I mean those three countries boarder each other - that's like saying we need to have the British and Italian differentiate from each other. Are they really difference races?
At the end I realize how meaningless it all is. I check the last box, feel unfulfilled and tuck the form into the envelope to send back. There are more important unimportant things for me to fret over.
However there weren't enough interesting questions on the form. Name, gender, birth date and then race. I get to select White. I'm not of Mexican, Puerto Rican, Cuban or other Hispanic, Latina or Spanish decent. And why do we single out Mexican, Puerto Rican or Cuban? I mean, we don't count Colombian, Peruvian or Jamaican. Why are those three nationalities so special? And what if you're of Peruvian Native American stock? Do you fill out the Native American slot and say Peruvian, as that would be more accurate than Hispanic, right?
Likewise there is no interest if you're from Africa. My friend who is white, Jewish, South African descent... is he white or African American? And why should the Moroccans be lumped in with the Kenyan and Mali? Are they all the same race?
Then we come to the Asian breakdown. Suddenly we have a world of interest with Japanese getting to be different from Chinese & Korean. I mean those three countries boarder each other - that's like saying we need to have the British and Italian differentiate from each other. Are they really difference races?
At the end I realize how meaningless it all is. I check the last box, feel unfulfilled and tuck the form into the envelope to send back. There are more important unimportant things for me to fret over.
Friday, March 05, 2010
Birds
I can hear birds chirping. Their twitters and chirps sound much like a mother fussing over her brood.
And such a little noise and I have flashbacks to my childhood. The blurry memories from my first few years at 3330 Thomas Drive. I'd hear them and know I had a day of fun ahead. I associate the birds with warm days - however the memories have blurred with time. First the chirping, then the back yard, then going swimming at the Eichler Swim and Tennis Club. When I was really young - 3 or 4, we might walk to the Peninsula Dairy that wasn't too far away. They kept a freezer out front where we could buy an ice cream pop. They tore down the factory and put in housing developments a few years later.
More than the sights and sound, the feeling of being small floats into my consciousness. The feeling of safe unknown - I didn't know what was in store for that day and I wasn't worried about it. I knew I'd be fed and dressed and have things to do. I wasn't worried that I needed to tackle a To Do list. Or maybe my To Do list had only a few things on it: play, eat, sleep. The world was so much bigger than I was and irrelevant to me. I neither knew nor cared how the milk got into the fridge. It was just there. The cheerios were in their box. The cat was wondering around. A child's zen of living in the moment.
And such a little noise and I have flashbacks to my childhood. The blurry memories from my first few years at 3330 Thomas Drive. I'd hear them and know I had a day of fun ahead. I associate the birds with warm days - however the memories have blurred with time. First the chirping, then the back yard, then going swimming at the Eichler Swim and Tennis Club. When I was really young - 3 or 4, we might walk to the Peninsula Dairy that wasn't too far away. They kept a freezer out front where we could buy an ice cream pop. They tore down the factory and put in housing developments a few years later.
More than the sights and sound, the feeling of being small floats into my consciousness. The feeling of safe unknown - I didn't know what was in store for that day and I wasn't worried about it. I knew I'd be fed and dressed and have things to do. I wasn't worried that I needed to tackle a To Do list. Or maybe my To Do list had only a few things on it: play, eat, sleep. The world was so much bigger than I was and irrelevant to me. I neither knew nor cared how the milk got into the fridge. It was just there. The cheerios were in their box. The cat was wondering around. A child's zen of living in the moment.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Job Change
Despite enjoying my job immensely, I feel I've played it out. I've learned a lot and am itching to do more, expand my skills. After some poking, prodding and self-promotion, I've got a job change. In two weeks I start a new adventure. Adventure is the right word. I'll be back in the world of direct sales. I'll have a quota again, no longer riding on others' sales successes.
However, I'm terrified. Since graduating, I've had six jobs. This will be my seventh. Of those six jobs, three fall into the category of clear mistake. Bad fit or bad manager or just plain wrong. Were I more clever, I could mine those jobs to create a dilbert-esque sit-com or screen play.
Of the other three, two were blessings (this current job falling into that category) and one was mediocre. Mediocre is not the right word. It wasn't good; it wasn't bad. Instead it came with moments of bliss and success however that interspersed with times that are best likened to being blindfolded and left in a kitchen with knives, hot pans and pots fresh from the oven scattered about.
Logically, I'm confident I can do the job. I have the skills, the drive, the motivation. With new situations, one faces many things out of one's control. Who doesn't find it easier to hide within the known, the safe and the regular. Even if it is a shortcut to mind-numbing repetition and death, the familiar pulls at us. Resist!
However, I'm terrified. Since graduating, I've had six jobs. This will be my seventh. Of those six jobs, three fall into the category of clear mistake. Bad fit or bad manager or just plain wrong. Were I more clever, I could mine those jobs to create a dilbert-esque sit-com or screen play.
Of the other three, two were blessings (this current job falling into that category) and one was mediocre. Mediocre is not the right word. It wasn't good; it wasn't bad. Instead it came with moments of bliss and success however that interspersed with times that are best likened to being blindfolded and left in a kitchen with knives, hot pans and pots fresh from the oven scattered about.
Logically, I'm confident I can do the job. I have the skills, the drive, the motivation. With new situations, one faces many things out of one's control. Who doesn't find it easier to hide within the known, the safe and the regular. Even if it is a shortcut to mind-numbing repetition and death, the familiar pulls at us. Resist!
Flowers on the Trees
Last time I checked, the calendar was still on February. However, living in California, the trees are on their own schedule. Out here in the country, the tress are getting a jump on spring. Instead of staying sticks, they have adorned themselves with boas of petals. Covering themselves in little white or pink flowers.
I just love seeing it. However, we've had a storm come through and I fear the rain has prevented the bees from doing their job. I also fear that a hard shower might cause a premature falling of the flowers.
So far, they've hung on. I just cannot stand when the trees decide they are ready to change into something more comfortable. They release their petals and then work on covering themselves in little, lime green buds of baby leaves. On the ground, like a discarded dress, the petals lie about waiting for a wind to take them on their way.
Just two months ago I thought, "this must be the prettiest time of the year with all the houses decked out in crazy lights." And then we have the blooming of the trees and I think, "this must be the prettiest time of year.". What will cause me to say, "this must be the best season!" six weeks from now?
I just love seeing it. However, we've had a storm come through and I fear the rain has prevented the bees from doing their job. I also fear that a hard shower might cause a premature falling of the flowers.
So far, they've hung on. I just cannot stand when the trees decide they are ready to change into something more comfortable. They release their petals and then work on covering themselves in little, lime green buds of baby leaves. On the ground, like a discarded dress, the petals lie about waiting for a wind to take them on their way.
Just two months ago I thought, "this must be the prettiest time of the year with all the houses decked out in crazy lights." And then we have the blooming of the trees and I think, "this must be the prettiest time of year.". What will cause me to say, "this must be the best season!" six weeks from now?
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Curling
A couple weeks ago I watched the Colbert Report where Stephen visits and applies to join the Olympic Curling team. Watching him fumble and test the young men's patience, I just smiled. It ended with his remote controlled stone landing in the middle and him requesting to join the team. All the guys couldn't help but smile when saying, "No, sorry, Stephen, you can't be on our team."
And today, as I type this, the men's curling team is up against Sweden. Seeing their shining faces makes me smile again. Kudos to Stephen for making one more curling fan.
I do feel bad for my English guests, as they don't get to see their teams on TV. The coverage is almost exclusively of Americans with a token bit to the Canadians. Without a doubt the impression it leaves is skewed - it seems that it is the American Olympic games. Should we change the circles to just red, white & blue?
And today, as I type this, the men's curling team is up against Sweden. Seeing their shining faces makes me smile again. Kudos to Stephen for making one more curling fan.
I do feel bad for my English guests, as they don't get to see their teams on TV. The coverage is almost exclusively of Americans with a token bit to the Canadians. Without a doubt the impression it leaves is skewed - it seems that it is the American Olympic games. Should we change the circles to just red, white & blue?
Friday, February 12, 2010
Adaptability
As I fed our three dogs this morning, I noticed how well they were doing. The three of them, the two boxers and little Tsunami, all anxiously sat on the edge of the carpet. The aren't allowed in the kitchen while I prepare the food, so they sit and occasionally put one paw, then another, onto the kitchen floor - as if I might not notice this time. I see the creep and scold them, they retreat. Tsunami jumped back, bumped into Austin. A year ago, Austin would have growled his annoyance, testily relocating himself. But today he sat there, stoic and let Tsunami do a lap around him.
Time has helped. The first month Tsui was in this house, Austin refused to share the couch with her. She'd jump up, he'd jump down. But now they will flank me, one on each side, looking for love. Austin and Zoe do share a tighter bond than either do with Tsunami, yet I'm hoping, in another few years, they'll be buddies.
We all adapt. Strange, new and fearful new situations eventually become familiar. I wish I could have shared that with a friend who recently passed. She lost her baby, tragically, to SIDS and then her grief overwhelmed her and she took her own life. I'm sure her husband and all of her friends wish the same thing - that if we could have held her. Like I wish I could have held my brother. Been there to soothe the fear, the sadness, the overwhelming anxiety - just to help them through that rough bit. Help them learn that it will subside. That the sun also rises. We adapt, not matter how painful, we keep on living. With each breath we're closer to finding peace after the storm.
Time has helped. The first month Tsui was in this house, Austin refused to share the couch with her. She'd jump up, he'd jump down. But now they will flank me, one on each side, looking for love. Austin and Zoe do share a tighter bond than either do with Tsunami, yet I'm hoping, in another few years, they'll be buddies.
We all adapt. Strange, new and fearful new situations eventually become familiar. I wish I could have shared that with a friend who recently passed. She lost her baby, tragically, to SIDS and then her grief overwhelmed her and she took her own life. I'm sure her husband and all of her friends wish the same thing - that if we could have held her. Like I wish I could have held my brother. Been there to soothe the fear, the sadness, the overwhelming anxiety - just to help them through that rough bit. Help them learn that it will subside. That the sun also rises. We adapt, not matter how painful, we keep on living. With each breath we're closer to finding peace after the storm.
Monday, February 08, 2010
Long Time No Post
This weekend we had a fantastic abundance of friends & family around. We held Warren's memorial yesterday. There were 11 speakers in all. My old coworkers were surprised that I didn't speak. I just couldn't think of anything to say. I had nothing to add.
Probably due to my selfish grieving. I mourn my loss. I mourn that I can't have him with me through the rest of my life. One family friend shared the story of seeing Warren at age 3 or so, approaching me, the baby. It was clear he was going to hit me for some reason. The family friend suggested to Warren that if he hits me, I'd scream & bite him back then our mom would come in and send us both to our rooms. I think that was Warren's first introduction to logic.
My relationship with him was so primal and selfish. He was there to harass. He was there to mock. Even with him being dead, I still tell mom how much better I am than he. It is a knee jerk reflex - I don't know how to exist without it. We were rivals. As a child I did try to minimize that - I did not try his areas of success such as science, band or computers. He was no good at sports, so I was off the hook there.
The grief has mixed completely with the confusion of his death. My logical, sane, sensible, thoughtful brother lost his mind. He spent his final weekend in a mental hospital. Did something happened in his brain? As far as we can tell his brain looked normal, yet I realize how crude our scientific understand of gray matter is. Maybe his PyMOL will illuminate the answers eventually. There is so much science that we still have to explore. His legacy, PyMOL will help us find the answers.
I know he is dead. I touched his head, patted his cold hands before they cremated him. I have a voicemail he left me. I can listen to his voice anytime I wish. But I don't need that. Having had him as my big brother, I feel like I hear his advice any time I please.
But there are things he hasn't yet weighed in on. I haven't heard his verdict on becoming an uncle. I can hear him telling me that crying over him won't help - it's just not logical. Yet I don't know what he thinks about Marc & my plans for starting our own family.
I don't feel like he's dead. I keep thinking he's right there. He's a phone call away. The memorial did force me to confront his death for 1.5 hours. We spoke about him, remembered him and looked at photos of him. Cried over him. Despite all that, I don't feel like he's dead. It is impossible. He wasn't supposed to die until we were in our 90's.
I hear it will sink in eventually.
Probably due to my selfish grieving. I mourn my loss. I mourn that I can't have him with me through the rest of my life. One family friend shared the story of seeing Warren at age 3 or so, approaching me, the baby. It was clear he was going to hit me for some reason. The family friend suggested to Warren that if he hits me, I'd scream & bite him back then our mom would come in and send us both to our rooms. I think that was Warren's first introduction to logic.
My relationship with him was so primal and selfish. He was there to harass. He was there to mock. Even with him being dead, I still tell mom how much better I am than he. It is a knee jerk reflex - I don't know how to exist without it. We were rivals. As a child I did try to minimize that - I did not try his areas of success such as science, band or computers. He was no good at sports, so I was off the hook there.
The grief has mixed completely with the confusion of his death. My logical, sane, sensible, thoughtful brother lost his mind. He spent his final weekend in a mental hospital. Did something happened in his brain? As far as we can tell his brain looked normal, yet I realize how crude our scientific understand of gray matter is. Maybe his PyMOL will illuminate the answers eventually. There is so much science that we still have to explore. His legacy, PyMOL will help us find the answers.
I know he is dead. I touched his head, patted his cold hands before they cremated him. I have a voicemail he left me. I can listen to his voice anytime I wish. But I don't need that. Having had him as my big brother, I feel like I hear his advice any time I please.
But there are things he hasn't yet weighed in on. I haven't heard his verdict on becoming an uncle. I can hear him telling me that crying over him won't help - it's just not logical. Yet I don't know what he thinks about Marc & my plans for starting our own family.
I don't feel like he's dead. I keep thinking he's right there. He's a phone call away. The memorial did force me to confront his death for 1.5 hours. We spoke about him, remembered him and looked at photos of him. Cried over him. Despite all that, I don't feel like he's dead. It is impossible. He wasn't supposed to die until we were in our 90's.
I hear it will sink in eventually.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Post Christmas
I did it - made it through Christmas without a tear.
And then guilt. Today I feel like I should cry. Should let out what sorrow is left. Not that it would be possible. I think back to the days right after he died. The shock, the numbness and some part of me wants to be back there. Each day goes on and I live it out. Each day he isn't here.
So much in the world can be fixed. Most everything can be repaired. We fix cars, relationships, toys. You can pay debts. You can mend fences. Death just can't be fixed. There is no way to recover my brother. Just keep living.
And then the living seems unfair. I had a lovely time walking around Boston yesterday with my friends Mike & Ken. I enjoyed dinner at a pub in Falmouth with my Aunt & Uncle. Warren still isn't alive. He's still dead & gone.
He feels so much farther from me lately. He's gone more completely now. I don't feel his confusion, or encouragement. I don't hear him telling me what to do, like I did those first few weeks.
Losing a sibling is so strange. He was supposed to be with me. Go through life with me. Be there when my kids want to visit, as I'm visiting my aunt now. My parents have such acute pain - they lost their son. Their son who should have outlived them. His wife lost her world. I just lost him. The order of kids has been upset. I reject the position of oldest child. Brendan and I should both have stable Warren to be there for us. Warren the rational, the normal, the straight and narrow. Some part of my psyche thinks that I should start conforming now. Like I need to take his place. I'd fail at that miserably. How do I keep being me without his counter balance?
And then guilt. Today I feel like I should cry. Should let out what sorrow is left. Not that it would be possible. I think back to the days right after he died. The shock, the numbness and some part of me wants to be back there. Each day goes on and I live it out. Each day he isn't here.
So much in the world can be fixed. Most everything can be repaired. We fix cars, relationships, toys. You can pay debts. You can mend fences. Death just can't be fixed. There is no way to recover my brother. Just keep living.
And then the living seems unfair. I had a lovely time walking around Boston yesterday with my friends Mike & Ken. I enjoyed dinner at a pub in Falmouth with my Aunt & Uncle. Warren still isn't alive. He's still dead & gone.
He feels so much farther from me lately. He's gone more completely now. I don't feel his confusion, or encouragement. I don't hear him telling me what to do, like I did those first few weeks.
Losing a sibling is so strange. He was supposed to be with me. Go through life with me. Be there when my kids want to visit, as I'm visiting my aunt now. My parents have such acute pain - they lost their son. Their son who should have outlived them. His wife lost her world. I just lost him. The order of kids has been upset. I reject the position of oldest child. Brendan and I should both have stable Warren to be there for us. Warren the rational, the normal, the straight and narrow. Some part of my psyche thinks that I should start conforming now. Like I need to take his place. I'd fail at that miserably. How do I keep being me without his counter balance?
Saturday, November 28, 2009
3 Weeks, 4 Days
I was told that Thanksgiving was going to be tough. I didn't really believe it. I had had only 3 Thanksgivings with Warren in the last 20 years, so why would this one be different.
I was wrong. The two days prior I had been able to wake-up happy again. I reveled in the passing of the strongest waves of sadness. I hoped that the worst had passed. Yet, something about knowing that I'd never get to have my brother with me on Thanksgiving crushed me. It tossed me back into the state I had been those first few weeks after his death. I just held onto Marc and cried. I had a glass of wine and watched Super Troopers to keep me from being a sobbing blob of sorrow. Another factor I was not expecting was the exhaustion. The strong emotions wipe me out. I felt dizzy, barely able to walk from my office to the den.
To treat the exhaustion enough to make it to my father's on Thanksgiving I downed a Rockstar. It worked, but left me amped up for bedtime. Marc's first Thanksgiving with my family went well, aside from the general sad mood.
Yesterday the sorrow lingered. Only today did I wake up feeling better. I crave Normal, yet what is Normal now? Can I say that I'm thankful that I didn't see Warren every day? That he a constant presence - so now the new Normal looks a lot like the old Normal. Part of me feels that my grief is out of proportion; we weren't *that* close, how can I feel *that* sad. Like I have no right.
I feel what I feel. Today I feel OK. I'm up to distracting myself with the Christmas Card list.
Let's hope I can manage to feel this OK until Christmas. I suspect it will be as bad as Thanksgiving.
I was wrong. The two days prior I had been able to wake-up happy again. I reveled in the passing of the strongest waves of sadness. I hoped that the worst had passed. Yet, something about knowing that I'd never get to have my brother with me on Thanksgiving crushed me. It tossed me back into the state I had been those first few weeks after his death. I just held onto Marc and cried. I had a glass of wine and watched Super Troopers to keep me from being a sobbing blob of sorrow. Another factor I was not expecting was the exhaustion. The strong emotions wipe me out. I felt dizzy, barely able to walk from my office to the den.
To treat the exhaustion enough to make it to my father's on Thanksgiving I downed a Rockstar. It worked, but left me amped up for bedtime. Marc's first Thanksgiving with my family went well, aside from the general sad mood.
Yesterday the sorrow lingered. Only today did I wake up feeling better. I crave Normal, yet what is Normal now? Can I say that I'm thankful that I didn't see Warren every day? That he a constant presence - so now the new Normal looks a lot like the old Normal. Part of me feels that my grief is out of proportion; we weren't *that* close, how can I feel *that* sad. Like I have no right.
I feel what I feel. Today I feel OK. I'm up to distracting myself with the Christmas Card list.
Let's hope I can manage to feel this OK until Christmas. I suspect it will be as bad as Thanksgiving.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Sorrow
On Nov. 3rd, my big brother, Warren, took his own life.
It doesn't make sense. I'm not sure it ever will. Just a week prior he was off happily hiking in the mountains with his wife. Then he crashed and we couldn't save him.
The pain of losing him runs deeper than I thought possible. And I hadn't seen him since July. I did get a voicemail that I'm going to have saved. He said, "oh, and I Love You." at the end. We weren't close and that doesn't seem to matter. He was supposed to grow old with me. He was supposed to tell me how to better raise my kids (not that he'd know, having decided long ago that he wouldn't have any - and I don't have any yet).
Now I have a new marker... no longer does my time start with the birth of Christ. I mark things by his death. On Tuesday it was, He's been dead 1 week. Today it is 10 days since he died. Soon we'll have 1 month. After my birthday, it will be about 4 months. People keep saying, "the holidays will be tough." and "It gets easier with time." I'm still waiting for the 24 hours without tears maker.
At first I didn't want it to get easier. I wanted to hold on to the pain, as anything less might mean I want or even feel OK with forgetting him. Then a wonderful man suggested I try to think of how Warren would want me to remember him. And I also heard Warren whispering, "Jen, don't be so emotional. Be rational." He'd be so critical of me if I were to be trapped in darkness from his death. I don't think he ever understood how I could be so distressed over relationships or emotional things.
This morning was the first time I could wake up and not be sad. For the first few days, waking and sleeping were the hardest times - followed by driving. Those were the times I had to be alone. After a week, the grief moved into daily things. I tried to go to work - just for some distraction. However, my mind has been utterly unable to focus. I forget things. I start something and am so easily distracted. I don't know how I was able to finish the Open Enrollment at the office. My lists of To Do are so basic, I nearly include, "brush your teeth" on them. Don't ask me what the date is, I have no idea.
The shock has worn off and so far I'm stuck with the thought, "I want my brother back!" fills the pauses in the day. At those times I try to return to how he'd want me to remember him. He'd want me to remember how he took me to breakfast after my last break-up. He wanted to comfort me, but, for once, I didn't need it. I was touched that he tried. I remember our lunches where we'd but heads over our life choices... he thought I should be more like him, I thought he should be more like me. He had such a laser focus on life. My laser didn't have a focus, more it resembled the night sky in a planetarium. I have always struggled with a little jealousy and a little disdain for how he so early on found his passion and then did only that. Reading the blog will memories of him, he was so lucky to be able to fill his days with exactly his passion - Science & computers. That's all he needed. He never struggled with the question, "What should I do with my life?" He knew and he acted - and science has been blessed by the results.
I love you, too Warren.
I wish I never knew of your scientific achievements. I wish I just knew the brother who I loved and disparaged. The genius who I could feel superior to when I called to remind you to get a card & gift for Mom's birthday. Did you remember this year? I did.
I wish you were here. I just can't imagine how life will be without you.
It doesn't make sense. I'm not sure it ever will. Just a week prior he was off happily hiking in the mountains with his wife. Then he crashed and we couldn't save him.
The pain of losing him runs deeper than I thought possible. And I hadn't seen him since July. I did get a voicemail that I'm going to have saved. He said, "oh, and I Love You." at the end. We weren't close and that doesn't seem to matter. He was supposed to grow old with me. He was supposed to tell me how to better raise my kids (not that he'd know, having decided long ago that he wouldn't have any - and I don't have any yet).
Now I have a new marker... no longer does my time start with the birth of Christ. I mark things by his death. On Tuesday it was, He's been dead 1 week. Today it is 10 days since he died. Soon we'll have 1 month. After my birthday, it will be about 4 months. People keep saying, "the holidays will be tough." and "It gets easier with time." I'm still waiting for the 24 hours without tears maker.
At first I didn't want it to get easier. I wanted to hold on to the pain, as anything less might mean I want or even feel OK with forgetting him. Then a wonderful man suggested I try to think of how Warren would want me to remember him. And I also heard Warren whispering, "Jen, don't be so emotional. Be rational." He'd be so critical of me if I were to be trapped in darkness from his death. I don't think he ever understood how I could be so distressed over relationships or emotional things.
This morning was the first time I could wake up and not be sad. For the first few days, waking and sleeping were the hardest times - followed by driving. Those were the times I had to be alone. After a week, the grief moved into daily things. I tried to go to work - just for some distraction. However, my mind has been utterly unable to focus. I forget things. I start something and am so easily distracted. I don't know how I was able to finish the Open Enrollment at the office. My lists of To Do are so basic, I nearly include, "brush your teeth" on them. Don't ask me what the date is, I have no idea.
The shock has worn off and so far I'm stuck with the thought, "I want my brother back!" fills the pauses in the day. At those times I try to return to how he'd want me to remember him. He'd want me to remember how he took me to breakfast after my last break-up. He wanted to comfort me, but, for once, I didn't need it. I was touched that he tried. I remember our lunches where we'd but heads over our life choices... he thought I should be more like him, I thought he should be more like me. He had such a laser focus on life. My laser didn't have a focus, more it resembled the night sky in a planetarium. I have always struggled with a little jealousy and a little disdain for how he so early on found his passion and then did only that. Reading the blog will memories of him, he was so lucky to be able to fill his days with exactly his passion - Science & computers. That's all he needed. He never struggled with the question, "What should I do with my life?" He knew and he acted - and science has been blessed by the results.
I love you, too Warren.
I wish I never knew of your scientific achievements. I wish I just knew the brother who I loved and disparaged. The genius who I could feel superior to when I called to remind you to get a card & gift for Mom's birthday. Did you remember this year? I did.
I wish you were here. I just can't imagine how life will be without you.
Saturday, August 15, 2009
One Week, Two Towers
I got home today from a long, exhausting week.
Starting backward - At 4 AM this morning I woke up in Toronto. At 7 AM we were pulling away from the gate. I had upgraded to Economy Plus and even scored a bulkhead. Things were going good, until a frazzled mother of 3 children settled in behind me. She put her youngest little one behind me in a special seat that gave the tiny devil the 5 extra inches his legs needed to kick my chair. Clearly he wasn't happy about the arrangement, as he wailed and kicked on several occasions. I do believe he slept for about an hour - I took advantage of the silence. However he did awaken, poop himself (I'm guessing that was where the poop smell came from) and mom took him to the bathroom for a clean-up, giving me an extra 5 minutes of snoozing before the next round of kicking and wailing.
Having recently finished A Year Of Living Biblically, and thinking of how the author won a battle with his wee-one in a mature & biblical way. I did jerk around during one of his fits and caught eye contact with his mother. She knew what was going on and was doing her best to keep the kid under control. I could just tell that saying something would only frustrate her without getting us any closer to a more settled child. So I let it be thinking, "I'm sure I once kicked the crap out of chair when I was that small. Life comes full circle."
Eventually I opened the window just to see Yosemite go by - we flew just North of Half-Dome and I looked down to think, "I'm going to be there in 3 days!"
Friday was a good day. I didn't quite get in a work-out as planned. Having had my first full night sleep in 2 days, I traded the tread mill for for an extra 30 minutes of sleep. Work had piled up since my long trip to Toronto, and I wanted to get to the most urgent before spending the morning on a critical team building exercise on Lake Ontario. I won't bore you loyal reader with the details of the meeting.
Friday afternoon I took a lovely walk from my Westin Harbour Castle across the downtown to the Royal Ontario Museum (ROM). Lovely walk through the downtown to the University of Toronto where the ROM sits. I did check online and found that they had some discount program for Friday night, so there was a line out front. I enjoyed standing in it. I got handed a flyer by some passerby about the exhibition which happened to be on display - The Dead Sea Scrolls.
I thought we were done with the hubbub about the Dead Sea Scrolls. And I was right. What I didn't realize was that some Palestinian group believes they are the rightful property of Palestine and must be returned. In fact there were maybe 10 protesters. The flier they handed me stated that the scrolls had been in the East Jerusalem museum until their "unrightful theft" by Israel. What did I think? These scrolls have been safe & touring since their "theft". The scrolls are a bit of history - and unrivaled and precious gift. Why would we let that be in the care of a unstable government? Islamic extremists blew up statues of the Buddha, what would we put these treasures in their hands? I'm for holding on to the treasures securely in the west until the trouble in the middle east simmers down.
The scroll exhibit was fantastic. It took a call with Marc later in the evening to recall why they were so important... the text of the bible hasn't always been fixed. There were edits and different versions along the way. Next to it, I also got to see the Egyptian Book of the Dead, mummies and a lovely collection of Hellenistic Pottery. However, the end of the museum visit had to be the best - eating at their top floor restaurant. I dined on lamb with eggplant puree, something like hummus with tabbouleh. Stunning combination and I reflected that those who amassed the dead sea scrolls probably didn't dine this finely back 2000 years ago.
More later. We've got dinner to cook.
Starting backward - At 4 AM this morning I woke up in Toronto. At 7 AM we were pulling away from the gate. I had upgraded to Economy Plus and even scored a bulkhead. Things were going good, until a frazzled mother of 3 children settled in behind me. She put her youngest little one behind me in a special seat that gave the tiny devil the 5 extra inches his legs needed to kick my chair. Clearly he wasn't happy about the arrangement, as he wailed and kicked on several occasions. I do believe he slept for about an hour - I took advantage of the silence. However he did awaken, poop himself (I'm guessing that was where the poop smell came from) and mom took him to the bathroom for a clean-up, giving me an extra 5 minutes of snoozing before the next round of kicking and wailing.
Having recently finished A Year Of Living Biblically, and thinking of how the author won a battle with his wee-one in a mature & biblical way. I did jerk around during one of his fits and caught eye contact with his mother. She knew what was going on and was doing her best to keep the kid under control. I could just tell that saying something would only frustrate her without getting us any closer to a more settled child. So I let it be thinking, "I'm sure I once kicked the crap out of chair when I was that small. Life comes full circle."
Eventually I opened the window just to see Yosemite go by - we flew just North of Half-Dome and I looked down to think, "I'm going to be there in 3 days!"
Friday was a good day. I didn't quite get in a work-out as planned. Having had my first full night sleep in 2 days, I traded the tread mill for for an extra 30 minutes of sleep. Work had piled up since my long trip to Toronto, and I wanted to get to the most urgent before spending the morning on a critical team building exercise on Lake Ontario. I won't bore you loyal reader with the details of the meeting.
Friday afternoon I took a lovely walk from my Westin Harbour Castle across the downtown to the Royal Ontario Museum (ROM). Lovely walk through the downtown to the University of Toronto where the ROM sits. I did check online and found that they had some discount program for Friday night, so there was a line out front. I enjoyed standing in it. I got handed a flyer by some passerby about the exhibition which happened to be on display - The Dead Sea Scrolls.
I thought we were done with the hubbub about the Dead Sea Scrolls. And I was right. What I didn't realize was that some Palestinian group believes they are the rightful property of Palestine and must be returned. In fact there were maybe 10 protesters. The flier they handed me stated that the scrolls had been in the East Jerusalem museum until their "unrightful theft" by Israel. What did I think? These scrolls have been safe & touring since their "theft". The scrolls are a bit of history - and unrivaled and precious gift. Why would we let that be in the care of a unstable government? Islamic extremists blew up statues of the Buddha, what would we put these treasures in their hands? I'm for holding on to the treasures securely in the west until the trouble in the middle east simmers down.
The scroll exhibit was fantastic. It took a call with Marc later in the evening to recall why they were so important... the text of the bible hasn't always been fixed. There were edits and different versions along the way. Next to it, I also got to see the Egyptian Book of the Dead, mummies and a lovely collection of Hellenistic Pottery. However, the end of the museum visit had to be the best - eating at their top floor restaurant. I dined on lamb with eggplant puree, something like hummus with tabbouleh. Stunning combination and I reflected that those who amassed the dead sea scrolls probably didn't dine this finely back 2000 years ago.
More later. We've got dinner to cook.
Friday, August 07, 2009
Green Monsters
Two interesting articles (Thanks Mark Morford!)
First, my feeling that the Federal Organic Label was BS has been vindicated. Strange how I just knew that the "organics" at Safeway weren't right and I've even had some questions about Trader Joe's when it comes down to it. Evidently, the Federal Regulators have been swayed by the Food Industry and foods labeled USDA Organic have synthetic stuff in them. Ick!
Like the Hebrew Kosher labels, I need an Organic Label I can trust. I do trust Whole Foods, yet I would like to have a holy of holy Organic Label created & issued by an organization that I trust who clearly defines what it calls Organic; clearly stating what is pesticide free, what is free range and such.
The USDA - eh? Their concerns: "The market's expansion is fueling tension over whether the federal program should be governed by a strict interpretation of "organic" or broadened to include more products by allowing trace elements of non-organic substances" Yikes.
Next - While I'm not going to feed these things to my worms, here's a list of 75 things you can compost. Who knew? And I'm not sure I want the contents of my vacuum bag added to the worms who will produce compost that I'll put on my organic garden. Yeah, but I do have 2 compost piles - the organic & the not-so-organic. The not-so-organic will get used in the garden on things that don't go into the food chain, while the strictly organic will get infused into the veggie patch.
So go forth and be green!
First, my feeling that the Federal Organic Label was BS has been vindicated. Strange how I just knew that the "organics" at Safeway weren't right and I've even had some questions about Trader Joe's when it comes down to it. Evidently, the Federal Regulators have been swayed by the Food Industry and foods labeled USDA Organic have synthetic stuff in them. Ick!
Like the Hebrew Kosher labels, I need an Organic Label I can trust. I do trust Whole Foods, yet I would like to have a holy of holy Organic Label created & issued by an organization that I trust who clearly defines what it calls Organic; clearly stating what is pesticide free, what is free range and such.
The USDA - eh? Their concerns: "The market's expansion is fueling tension over whether the federal program should be governed by a strict interpretation of "organic" or broadened to include more products by allowing trace elements of non-organic substances" Yikes.
Next - While I'm not going to feed these things to my worms, here's a list of 75 things you can compost. Who knew? And I'm not sure I want the contents of my vacuum bag added to the worms who will produce compost that I'll put on my organic garden. Yeah, but I do have 2 compost piles - the organic & the not-so-organic. The not-so-organic will get used in the garden on things that don't go into the food chain, while the strictly organic will get infused into the veggie patch.
So go forth and be green!
Tuesday, August 04, 2009
Finding Time
I used my East Coast Lunch Break to walk the dogs today. The last time they had gotten out for a stretch of the paw was Saturday. I feel terrible. They hang out all day with us. They look at us with those longing eyes. How can I be so neglectful?
However with the summer heat, the dog walking window has shrunk. By 10 AM the temperatures pass 80 degrees, which I enjoy. However, their fur coats do limit their enjoyment of the sun. So the walk has to happen first thing or at the end of the day.
The end of the day poses problems. Sunday we were crashing from a long, fun friend filled weekend. Yesterday I didn't come home until 10, as I got invited to dinner with Ilyse and friends. We did have a lovely time, enjoying chatting & curry in the Richmond District. However, the four-of-paw were left out of the good times.
The last week has been a non-stop run of friends & fun. Thursday we briefly saw Aaron. We saw Greg while loading my furniture into the U-Haul. Saturday Shawn celebrated her birthday with friends & family. Sunday Jen & baby joined us for amazing pancakes. I got in a chat with Gail before old friends Kairi visited with her daughter & husband. Yesterday I had time with Liz -shopping for a B-day gift for Hil's, then dinner with Ilyse, Matt & friends. Fun and exhausting. And I know there are so many others I didn't get to have time with, and are on the horizon. I think making time for friends would be a lovely full time job - not sure how I'd pay the mortgage, eat and fuel the mini - but fun!
Today may be quieter.
However with the summer heat, the dog walking window has shrunk. By 10 AM the temperatures pass 80 degrees, which I enjoy. However, their fur coats do limit their enjoyment of the sun. So the walk has to happen first thing or at the end of the day.
The end of the day poses problems. Sunday we were crashing from a long, fun friend filled weekend. Yesterday I didn't come home until 10, as I got invited to dinner with Ilyse and friends. We did have a lovely time, enjoying chatting & curry in the Richmond District. However, the four-of-paw were left out of the good times.
The last week has been a non-stop run of friends & fun. Thursday we briefly saw Aaron. We saw Greg while loading my furniture into the U-Haul. Saturday Shawn celebrated her birthday with friends & family. Sunday Jen & baby joined us for amazing pancakes. I got in a chat with Gail before old friends Kairi visited with her daughter & husband. Yesterday I had time with Liz -shopping for a B-day gift for Hil's, then dinner with Ilyse, Matt & friends. Fun and exhausting. And I know there are so many others I didn't get to have time with, and are on the horizon. I think making time for friends would be a lovely full time job - not sure how I'd pay the mortgage, eat and fuel the mini - but fun!
Today may be quieter.
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
More Growth on the Way
After letting the dirt settle from the De-Corn-ification, I felt ready to plant this weekend. I decided that I would need to let my seedlings eat or grow, so I pulled out the two remaining cauliflower/broccoli plants and put in a row of mystery Arugula/Beet plants. I'm hoping they take and don't get devoured as my little basil did.
I also put some basil in dirt and am hoping to grow it as well. Part of this weekend's efforts included a massive tomato harvest. Yesterday, from the harvest, I made divine tomato, basil, garlic pasta sauce. I was so proud when Marc told me it was the first time he's every really liked pasta. So proud!
But I did have to purchase the basil and now, again, I've got a load of basil. With my last two efforts in pesto making being somewhat unsuccessful, I'm thinking of other options for the basil. I still have tomatoes and i'm wondering if I can make some yummy bruchetta.
Also planted this weekend - thanks mom for the seeds! - carrots. My mom has never had luck with carrots so gave me this pack of seeds. She said to take care that the ground stays damp. I probably should have put a layer of mulch over the little seeds, but I was afraid of impeding their potential growth.
Next to the scattering of carrots, I planted a row of sunflowers. I'm not a big sunflower seed eater, however I did read a little article in Sunset Magazine about this: www.greatsunflower.org
I just realized I might not be using the correct type of sunflowers... I'm going to have to go out and find others. We'll see. I have time.
Time does seem to be on my side. However, nature does seem to be moving in. I haven't yet seen another Horn Worm and the Green Looper Caterpillar count is way down - bordering on 0. However, I do find these orange/black bugs that seem to be hanging out near white spots in the leaves. I've been fighting some mite infestations, I will need to do another organic spray-down this weekend. And there seems to be a growing population of spiders - which isn't the worst thing, I just wish they'd eat more of the mites. The ecosystem is evoloving. Along with it, I've had to evolve a doggie guard, as I think Zoe has developed a taste for my fresh from the vine fruit.
All in all, I'm happy with it.
I also put some basil in dirt and am hoping to grow it as well. Part of this weekend's efforts included a massive tomato harvest. Yesterday, from the harvest, I made divine tomato, basil, garlic pasta sauce. I was so proud when Marc told me it was the first time he's every really liked pasta. So proud!
But I did have to purchase the basil and now, again, I've got a load of basil. With my last two efforts in pesto making being somewhat unsuccessful, I'm thinking of other options for the basil. I still have tomatoes and i'm wondering if I can make some yummy bruchetta.
Also planted this weekend - thanks mom for the seeds! - carrots. My mom has never had luck with carrots so gave me this pack of seeds. She said to take care that the ground stays damp. I probably should have put a layer of mulch over the little seeds, but I was afraid of impeding their potential growth.
Next to the scattering of carrots, I planted a row of sunflowers. I'm not a big sunflower seed eater, however I did read a little article in Sunset Magazine about this: www.greatsunflower.org
I just realized I might not be using the correct type of sunflowers... I'm going to have to go out and find others. We'll see. I have time.
Time does seem to be on my side. However, nature does seem to be moving in. I haven't yet seen another Horn Worm and the Green Looper Caterpillar count is way down - bordering on 0. However, I do find these orange/black bugs that seem to be hanging out near white spots in the leaves. I've been fighting some mite infestations, I will need to do another organic spray-down this weekend. And there seems to be a growing population of spiders - which isn't the worst thing, I just wish they'd eat more of the mites. The ecosystem is evoloving. Along with it, I've had to evolve a doggie guard, as I think Zoe has developed a taste for my fresh from the vine fruit.
All in all, I'm happy with it.
Thursday, July 23, 2009
Growing Big Things
Sunday I pulled out the two rows of corn. Friday I had harvested 2 ears and boiled them up, only to find that they were as hard as plastic. I searched on the web for the story behind why my corn would be like rock and learned that it was due to my harvesting too late.
Saturday I went out and collected all the corn I could. I hucked it and gave the strings & husks to the worms. After boiling it up, I found that about half of it was edible. Sad. The corn stalks had grown so tall and were such a point of pride. Too bad they didn't do so well in the production department. They suffered from mites at the end. Black mites which coated the ears like a mold.
Sunday the stalks were chopped down. I cut them up and put them in the pile of unwanted plant remains that is growing in the side yard need the gate in the fence. I felt sad and betrayed. All that love. All that water. Had I failed them or them me?
My attempts at growing seedlings has stalled. Some started and died in the hot sun, despite my watering. Others have found to be tasty nibbles for some unseen, and so far unstoppable, leave nibbler. Of the 20 onion seeds planted, I have 4 small shoots. I can't tell the arugula from the beets, as they both have red stalks for some reason.
The little plants looks too delicate to forcefully relocated into the soil. Then where can I plan them to allow them to thrive? I think they should go where the broccoli/cauliflower runts were. There they can get sun. The space left vacant by the corn has partial shade due to the 6 ft tall tomato plants blocking out the sun.
We'll see where they land.
Saturday I went out and collected all the corn I could. I hucked it and gave the strings & husks to the worms. After boiling it up, I found that about half of it was edible. Sad. The corn stalks had grown so tall and were such a point of pride. Too bad they didn't do so well in the production department. They suffered from mites at the end. Black mites which coated the ears like a mold.
Sunday the stalks were chopped down. I cut them up and put them in the pile of unwanted plant remains that is growing in the side yard need the gate in the fence. I felt sad and betrayed. All that love. All that water. Had I failed them or them me?
My attempts at growing seedlings has stalled. Some started and died in the hot sun, despite my watering. Others have found to be tasty nibbles for some unseen, and so far unstoppable, leave nibbler. Of the 20 onion seeds planted, I have 4 small shoots. I can't tell the arugula from the beets, as they both have red stalks for some reason.
The little plants looks too delicate to forcefully relocated into the soil. Then where can I plan them to allow them to thrive? I think they should go where the broccoli/cauliflower runts were. There they can get sun. The space left vacant by the corn has partial shade due to the 6 ft tall tomato plants blocking out the sun.
We'll see where they land.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Race Relations
I just saw this article:
http://www.cnn.com/2009/US/07/22/gates.arrest.reaction/
A prominent black scholar was arrested, in his home, as a suspect for burglary. Some white woman called in and reported a break-in at the man's address, the police came and arrested the man. Stunning.
Now, this could be a Saturday Night Live skit - but have the break-in be at the white house and poor O'bama getting arrested. Would be quite a statement. Not sure if its funny, as it hits too close to home. The DC Police can make a statement like, "It was an unfortunate and regrettable incident".
Underneath - the head of our Supreme Court states, "The only way to end race discrimination is to stop discriminating." That's working out real well, don't you find? This man has no recourse. He's taken in, booked and harassed - impacting his standing in the community. Impacting his life, as he might have had work he needed to do or time to spend with his family, but instead, the state has taken his time & well being based on race. Imagine this a million times over.
When I was a child, my friend Cheran's mother was a judge. She went to South Africa when there was still apartheid where she got arrested by the police. I think it was due to being a black woman with a camera. When asked what she did, the police didn't believe she was a judge in America. Their bias was so thick, telling them the truth - that a black man owns a mansion in Cambridge or that Amercians might find that blacks are the intellectual equals of whites - doesn't penetrate their thick skulls.
I don't want to be judged by a court who is lead by a man who doesn't understand the impact of being black, latino/a, asian or female in this society. His insulated, posh, caucasian background prevents him from understanding the lumpy impact of the law's uneven application. I am excited to have Sotomeyer on the Supreme Court and to see the influence of her Wise Latina self.
http://www.cnn.com/2009/US/07/22/gates.arrest.reaction/
A prominent black scholar was arrested, in his home, as a suspect for burglary. Some white woman called in and reported a break-in at the man's address, the police came and arrested the man. Stunning.
Now, this could be a Saturday Night Live skit - but have the break-in be at the white house and poor O'bama getting arrested. Would be quite a statement. Not sure if its funny, as it hits too close to home. The DC Police can make a statement like, "It was an unfortunate and regrettable incident".
Underneath - the head of our Supreme Court states, "The only way to end race discrimination is to stop discriminating." That's working out real well, don't you find? This man has no recourse. He's taken in, booked and harassed - impacting his standing in the community. Impacting his life, as he might have had work he needed to do or time to spend with his family, but instead, the state has taken his time & well being based on race. Imagine this a million times over.
When I was a child, my friend Cheran's mother was a judge. She went to South Africa when there was still apartheid where she got arrested by the police. I think it was due to being a black woman with a camera. When asked what she did, the police didn't believe she was a judge in America. Their bias was so thick, telling them the truth - that a black man owns a mansion in Cambridge or that Amercians might find that blacks are the intellectual equals of whites - doesn't penetrate their thick skulls.
I don't want to be judged by a court who is lead by a man who doesn't understand the impact of being black, latino/a, asian or female in this society. His insulated, posh, caucasian background prevents him from understanding the lumpy impact of the law's uneven application. I am excited to have Sotomeyer on the Supreme Court and to see the influence of her Wise Latina self.
Monday, July 06, 2009
Feeling sick
What shall I name this little guy? I found him happily eating my mound of tomato plants. He evoked a little yelp and near sprint to the garden door. When I noticed him, he was high up and only a few inches from my face. I think he (or she, who knows) could have happily hopped over to my nose, were it foliage instead of flesh and continued to chow down.Now I'm not sure what to do with him. Nor what to name him. I took a close-up of his head & claws. He has
Each of his little paws has ten or twelve little spiky-grippy things that help him cling to my tomato.I enlarged the photo and was fascinated by his features. The polka dot pattern; the little hairs; the faux eyes; the under the mouth claws to help guide in the leaves; his upper lip that appears to end in teeth.
I feel queazy. And the worst part is that I know he isn't the only one. There must be more where this guy came from.
I've got goose bumps on my arms and I swear I can feel one of them crawling on my neck, under my hair.
Here he's posing on a CD to give you a sense of size. Can you see the claw-hook that sticks out as a dog's tail would, but in this case it is more like a thorn defense found on so many plants.
At first I got him into a paper cup. My first instinct was to run. Then I realized I had to remove this critter from my garden before it ate every leaf & stem. I wrested him into a cup with a chop-stick and sacrificed th tomato branch in the process - he wasn't going to let go! Next - bring the cup that was not coated in green caterpillar blood up to Marc to show him. I left him the cup. Really, I don't know what to do with it!
Sunday, July 05, 2009
War of the Roses
Nature has reclaimed my vegetable plot. The pristine, bug free Eden is giving way to the creepy crawlies of the fallen land. Last week, itt started with a large black spider. I let it hop away, as I peeked around for any green loopers. After I harvested the collard greens & lettuce, the earwig count and caterpillar counts dropped dramatically.
On the same day I found the spider, I found a yet to be identified black and orange beetle. The next day one of my plants - unsure if it is a broccoli or cauliflower - was showing some mites. I washed them off. The next day I found the plant with a mite blanket and realized I had to take action.
Friday I visited the local nursery. The visit had three purposes, to get some organic soapy insecticide, get me some live insecticide in the form of lady bugs and finally, to get some sort of trellis to restrict the growth of my tomatoes. The woman at Pompei Nursery helped me out, going above & beyond to answer my newbie questions. She patiently listened to me discribe the tomato situation and suggested that the plants were probably spending a lot of their energy producing those vines. The arms of the tomato plants were twisting their way through the corn, over-hanging the bell peppers and oppressing my broccoli.
I came home and did a big tomato trim, after having been emboldened by the lady at the nursery. I trimeed down all arms without actual baby tomatoes. I dramatically scaled back the massive mound. Then, using an article my mother clipped for me, I found that my tomatoes are indeterminate - so I should have these for a long time. Marc came out and assisted me with the installation of the trellis bits. We created two wall-like breaks onto which the tomatoes can climb find support. They seemed happy today after we got it all settled.
Back to the bugs - I used the insecticide soap, which smelled so good, I had a hard time knowing when to stop the application. However, the bugs were still there this morning. Saturday AM I had released one of the two containers of ladybugs, yet I put some on the plant with the mites but they didn't seem interested. I did'n'g get the impression that they were ready to much down.
Then this morning, I discover three of those big (say .5 inches by .33 inches) orange & black bugs. Writing about them makes my skin crawl. The ceiling fan gently blows my hair on my neck and I keep thinking that it is the bugs and each sentance I type gets interrupted by a swipe of the hand to my shoulder. Ick.
Marc came out to visit me as I tended the plants and immediated spotted a bug that we later idetified as a stink bug. It pushed me over the edge. We did research on the web and found that many bugs are made scarce by spraying down plants with a mixture of molasses and water. So I grabbed our yet to be used spray pump, filled it up with the mixture and coated my garden and self with the mixture. I'm hoping to check tomorrow that it worked. Either way, I'll be releasing the 2nd round of the ladybugs in the morning. The thought of keeping them for another day in the refridge breaks my heart. Those creatures should be free and out in the world, doing good.
I'm hoping I can find a way to manage the bugs, the blissful plant-it-and-it-will-grow halcyon days at the start of my garden seem to be fading. I am also having problems in the worm farm. I believe I added too much food without providing worm bedding. When putting in the bits from today's cooking, I found that there weren't as may worms as I would have liked. In addition, I found two nearly 1 inch long grubs. Not good. I may need to harvest the compost and get new worms supplies. I'm hoping that I the little guys were just hiding, not missing all together.
Sad day in the garden.
On the same day I found the spider, I found a yet to be identified black and orange beetle. The next day one of my plants - unsure if it is a broccoli or cauliflower - was showing some mites. I washed them off. The next day I found the plant with a mite blanket and realized I had to take action.
Friday I visited the local nursery. The visit had three purposes, to get some organic soapy insecticide, get me some live insecticide in the form of lady bugs and finally, to get some sort of trellis to restrict the growth of my tomatoes. The woman at Pompei Nursery helped me out, going above & beyond to answer my newbie questions. She patiently listened to me discribe the tomato situation and suggested that the plants were probably spending a lot of their energy producing those vines. The arms of the tomato plants were twisting their way through the corn, over-hanging the bell peppers and oppressing my broccoli.
I came home and did a big tomato trim, after having been emboldened by the lady at the nursery. I trimeed down all arms without actual baby tomatoes. I dramatically scaled back the massive mound. Then, using an article my mother clipped for me, I found that my tomatoes are indeterminate - so I should have these for a long time. Marc came out and assisted me with the installation of the trellis bits. We created two wall-like breaks onto which the tomatoes can climb find support. They seemed happy today after we got it all settled.
Back to the bugs - I used the insecticide soap, which smelled so good, I had a hard time knowing when to stop the application. However, the bugs were still there this morning. Saturday AM I had released one of the two containers of ladybugs, yet I put some on the plant with the mites but they didn't seem interested. I did'n'g get the impression that they were ready to much down.
Then this morning, I discover three of those big (say .5 inches by .33 inches) orange & black bugs. Writing about them makes my skin crawl. The ceiling fan gently blows my hair on my neck and I keep thinking that it is the bugs and each sentance I type gets interrupted by a swipe of the hand to my shoulder. Ick.
Marc came out to visit me as I tended the plants and immediated spotted a bug that we later idetified as a stink bug. It pushed me over the edge. We did research on the web and found that many bugs are made scarce by spraying down plants with a mixture of molasses and water. So I grabbed our yet to be used spray pump, filled it up with the mixture and coated my garden and self with the mixture. I'm hoping to check tomorrow that it worked. Either way, I'll be releasing the 2nd round of the ladybugs in the morning. The thought of keeping them for another day in the refridge breaks my heart. Those creatures should be free and out in the world, doing good.
I'm hoping I can find a way to manage the bugs, the blissful plant-it-and-it-will-grow halcyon days at the start of my garden seem to be fading. I am also having problems in the worm farm. I believe I added too much food without providing worm bedding. When putting in the bits from today's cooking, I found that there weren't as may worms as I would have liked. In addition, I found two nearly 1 inch long grubs. Not good. I may need to harvest the compost and get new worms supplies. I'm hoping that I the little guys were just hiding, not missing all together.
Sad day in the garden.
Thursday, July 02, 2009
Living with a Killer
About 5:15 this morning Tiger wakes us with her special meow. The one that says, "I'm tracking my wounded prey for my amusement." The morning light doesn't illuminate the shadows enough for us to identify the silent victim, so we try to go back to sleep while hoping that whatever it is will not join us in bed.
Fifteen minutes later I climb out of bed to find that she's taken on one of the large moths - it would cover 1/2 my palm were I not to chicken to hold it - and is chasing it around the master bath. I dodge the moth while brushing my teeth, secretly cheering when it finds refuge behind the shutters of a window that, initially, seemed too high for Tiger to get to. I pray for the bug's escape, while being utterly unable to assist it, as well as for a quick death, if that is the critter's fate. She takes a break to come over to me, in hopes that I might giver he a little affection or turn the tap so she can drink from the faucet. Cheeky, as the Brits would say.
An hour later the bug is silent, yet Tiger is hopping up and somehow clininging to the bottom of the blinds, suspending herself - I don't know how, cand she get her claws into the drywall? I haven't checked on the bug.
When I moved in with Tiger, Marc mentioned that she would do this sort of thing. I didn't believe him. I've lived with cats and, yes, there is the occasional mouse and bird, but moths? lizards? He had to be joking. No - here on the edge of the delta, there seems to be more wildlife. She regularly brings in 3 inch lizards. Two nights ago she had one in the hall between the garage & kitchen. I saw her, then realized what she had and squealed. That set off the dogs - Austin running to my rescue by biting the lizard. 10 minutes later I mustered up the courage to check on the critter - one eye had popped out, yet hung by something.
The lizards I will save. Last week we chased off the Tiger & the dogs - the barkers get excited when I squeal - and we used an empty coffee tin to trap a gecko. Catch & release. I just can't muster the courage to help the bugs. Yesterday morning I went to pick up, what I thought was a blade or grass or thin leaf from the floor of the master bath, assuming it was something that Tsui had picked out of her, now mohawked, coat. Silly me. Marc laughed as I yelped and flung the detached tail across the room. The feel of the limp, rough, no mistaking what it ickiness was almost too much for me.
The bits are the worst - Tiger has a love for decapitation. I've cleaned up multiple headless bodies left about the house. She loses interest when they cease moving, it seems. I think she figures that the game is done and she's ready for some kitty treats.
I'll check for the bug remains tonight, after I've mustered up the courage - or, I'll ask Marc, if I haven't stealed my stomach.
Fifteen minutes later I climb out of bed to find that she's taken on one of the large moths - it would cover 1/2 my palm were I not to chicken to hold it - and is chasing it around the master bath. I dodge the moth while brushing my teeth, secretly cheering when it finds refuge behind the shutters of a window that, initially, seemed too high for Tiger to get to. I pray for the bug's escape, while being utterly unable to assist it, as well as for a quick death, if that is the critter's fate. She takes a break to come over to me, in hopes that I might giver he a little affection or turn the tap so she can drink from the faucet. Cheeky, as the Brits would say.
An hour later the bug is silent, yet Tiger is hopping up and somehow clininging to the bottom of the blinds, suspending herself - I don't know how, cand she get her claws into the drywall? I haven't checked on the bug.
When I moved in with Tiger, Marc mentioned that she would do this sort of thing. I didn't believe him. I've lived with cats and, yes, there is the occasional mouse and bird, but moths? lizards? He had to be joking. No - here on the edge of the delta, there seems to be more wildlife. She regularly brings in 3 inch lizards. Two nights ago she had one in the hall between the garage & kitchen. I saw her, then realized what she had and squealed. That set off the dogs - Austin running to my rescue by biting the lizard. 10 minutes later I mustered up the courage to check on the critter - one eye had popped out, yet hung by something.
The lizards I will save. Last week we chased off the Tiger & the dogs - the barkers get excited when I squeal - and we used an empty coffee tin to trap a gecko. Catch & release. I just can't muster the courage to help the bugs. Yesterday morning I went to pick up, what I thought was a blade or grass or thin leaf from the floor of the master bath, assuming it was something that Tsui had picked out of her, now mohawked, coat. Silly me. Marc laughed as I yelped and flung the detached tail across the room. The feel of the limp, rough, no mistaking what it ickiness was almost too much for me.
The bits are the worst - Tiger has a love for decapitation. I've cleaned up multiple headless bodies left about the house. She loses interest when they cease moving, it seems. I think she figures that the game is done and she's ready for some kitty treats.
I'll check for the bug remains tonight, after I've mustered up the courage - or, I'll ask Marc, if I haven't stealed my stomach.
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