Where did I go?

Or maybe I should ask, "why didn't I come with me when I moved back to Tennessee?" One thing I have discovered in these four years of living in Memphis is that I am not the person I became in Miami. I remember after my divorce I was so proud of myself for becoming this incredibly independent and self-sufficient person who could figure out a way to handle anything that came my way. I was full of energy. I did things. I learned to do new things that piqued my interest. I was much more outgoing and made friends more easily.

I find myself swept up in a reversal of that evolution. I am stagnating. I am not the "go-getter" I was. I don't try new things. I don't go anywhere. And I don't know why. I'm not unhappy, really. I'm not sitting around saying, "poor me," however I'm not enthusiastic about ANYTHING anymore.

Memphis isn't conducive to happiness. At least not mine. I do see people who seem happy here. I think it boils down to a matter of what makes someone happy. I need warm weather combined with sunshine and the ocean. The things that made me happy involved being outside and being active. In a city known for its violent crime rate I don't get out and walk or bike like I used to. There's no place to kayak like I used to. No places to scuba dive like I used to. I have no "perfect weekend" here. I lived "perfect weekends" practically every weekend in Florida. Getting up on Saturday around 9:00-ish, a quick breakfast, load the bike and go ride 15 miles in the Everglades with the camera taking pictures of alligators and birds. Getting home in the early afternoon, changing into beach mode and heading to Haulover Beach to claim my little patch of sand near the water, drop the top to "free the girls," and sleep in the sun, taking intermittent breaks from napping to swim and snorkle or read a few more chapters of a good book. I would get home around 6:00p.m., shower, fix a healthy dinner, often lobster because I usually kept a half dozen of them in the freezer, and then either hang out with Doug and Sharon at their house or just putter around my house working on a project with the music blaring. I don't remember the last time I had my stereo on here in this house.

I know that I have to make myself get it in gear, to find my stride here in Memphis. I'm here and I have to make the best of it. If I could do it over, I probably would have never moved back. I'm getting this overwhelming feeling that I need to move somewhere I can be happier but I know that's not practical right now. I don't know if that "somewhere" is back to South Florida or some other place where I can find a similar lifestyle to the one I had there.

But for now, I just need to focus on trying to be that person I was. I can't continue stagnating. I need to force myself to go do things, to be active, to get out among people and see friends and make new ones. I have to do that.

My ta-tas are just fine, thank you.

Today I had an appointment for my fourth round of mammograms in 11 months. Unlike the first three rounds, this one caused me to lose more than a little sleep. I really worried that I would be receiving some bad news today.

These appointments are mini-marathons in that you move about the place for hours on end in a giant white waffle-weave robe among a sea of women in identical robes. Sprinkled among the sea of white are a handful of pink robes. I was told the women wearing them are currently undergoing treatment or are cancer survivors.

It's a peculiar environment. I had no doubt that these women were feeling as antsy as I was yet there was a spa-like quality of relaxation about the room. Some women are sitting in full body massage chairs, others sit sipping coffee while they smile and nod as new women enter the room looking for a place to sit. Others are reading books about self discovery and spiritual journeys like "Eat Pray Love." I took my book "Three Cups of Tea" and curled up in the most comfortable chair I could find for the long wait.

As I looked around the room there was a painting of a cross on the wall, a giant statue of an angel on a table and a verse stenciled on the wall from the bible, the book of Jeremiah, I think, referencing hope and the future. Being agnostic, a somewhat reluctant one, I wondered if these were items that should be providing me with some level of comfort and I wondered how many of these women took comfort in them.

When my name was finally called and I walked down the hall to the exam room, I passed by Dr. Mize's office -- the doctor who always reads my films. I looked into the dark room to wave if she happened to be looking. She keeps the lights out, even during consultations, because it helps to see the diagnostic images on her computer monitor. As I glanced into the room a woman was sitting in her robe next to Dr. Mize and she was crying. I could tell they weren't tears of relief. I just kept walking and wondered to myself, "if that's me in about an hour, how am I going to respond to the news?" My gut told me that I would likely be my usual aloof self but I wasn't sure.

After the exam, I returned to the waiting area and relaxed in one of the massage chairs (in the shadow of the aforementioned giant angel) trying not to think too much about what might happen next. In a while I was called back again and told that Dr. Mize wanted another film so it was back to the exam room and then the waiting room once more.

Thirty minutes later, I was called back to talk to Dr. Mize. I sat in the chair in that dark room where the other woman had been crying. After a brief greeting, she turned to the monitor and said, "they look great!" I waited for her to finish it with, "...except for this giant pulsating tumor right here" but those words never came. She said, "yep, you are good, the area of concern turned out to be nothing to be concerned about. Lay off the caffeine because that's what causes these worrisome little spots and I'll see YOU in a year!"

I told her thank you, made some sort of a joke about being happy to see much less of her in the coming year, and went to the locker to get my clothes. I got dressed and left with an amazing feeling of relief. The kind of relief that makes you want to do a happy dance once you get out of the building and out of the sight of the people who are going through what you did just a couple of hours before.

I'm really glad I don't have to worry about this anymore. It's been a long and troubling year for me and "the girls."

R.I.P. Tom and Mayella

As I was growing up, television was always a significant presence in our house. I mark phases of my life with the programs I watched. Family Affair, Captain Kangaroo, Sesame Street, and The Andy Griffith Show were the shows I remember watching as a very small girl. In the summers, my Mom watched soap operas during the day and we always watched "Dialing for Dollars" together, as well. At night the TV became entirely my father's and he watched Sea Hunt, Mannix, Hawaii Five-O, and the news. On Sundays we always watched Wild Kingdom, The Wonderful World of Disney, Hee-Haw, Sixty Minutes and Lawrence Welk.

I remember the shows that were considered racy back then -- Love American Style, Laugh In, and, a little later, Benny Hill. I remember my Mom always complained about them but my Dad still watched them and I would watch them with him, much to my Mom's great annoyance. She would always make an exit from the room and go find something to do and leave my father and me to our "smut."

I always loved the scary shows: Fantastic Features, Twilight Zone, The Night Stalker, Alfred Hitchcock Presents, and Night Gallery were some of my favorites. Mom would always tell me not to "watch that mess and then be too afraid to go to bed" and I would roll my eyes at her. Yet I was always glad when she would leave the little light on in the den when she would be on her way to bed.

I watched the SAG Awards tonight and noticed how very many actors have died this year. The "In Memoriam" segment of these award shows always makes me sad. It's almost like losing a family member when an actor who has had a role in a very special TV show or movie passes away. To Kill A Mockingbird's "Mayella Ewell" (Collin Wilcox) died this year, as well as "Tom Robinson" (Brock Peters). It seems oddly appropriate that they should go close together since their conflict was at the heart of the story. I think when any actor from TKAM has died, it has hit me a little hard because that novel and movie has been my favorite since I was ten or eleven years old.

Rest in Peace, Mayella and Tom.

A Coaxing Of My Inner Craftiness

When I moved back to Memphis, Tennessee from Miami, Florida about five years ago I anticipated a life at a much slower pace and full of spare time. I envisioned a studio art and craft room where I would spend hours on end creating and designing fabulous things. Stained glass, mosaics, paintings, handcrafted jewelry, candles, cold processed soap and all sorts of other artsy avenues were on my list. I bought the house, decorated the studio/office, moved in my desk and computer, my easel, a jeweler's bench and many years' worth of collected art supplies, yarns, knitting and crochet supplies, fabrics, a sewing machine and all things crafty. Everything was in place but the artsy-fartsiness didn't commence. The room has been set up now for five years. I do knit some things now and then - mostly caps and scarves, oh, and a dog sweater for my Mom's dog, Andy, who promptly died leaving his little rockin' red sweater virtually unworn. I've made a batch or two of soap and cranked out a few pieces of jewelry as last minute Christmas and birthday gifts.

I really want to be that productive and creative person I thought I would be. I'm not sure what has kept me from getting myself in gear, setting up an online shop and commencing a fun little business of "Stuff I Make" but I just haven't. Probably for the same reason I never start that exercise program or grow my nails long enough to go get a professional manicure...lack of commitment.

I have never been one to follow through on New Year resolutions so I don't want to set myself up to fail, but I am going to set a goal for myself to do one artistic or crafty project a month and post the final product on this blog.

I just finished my January project a few days ago. It's a simple knitted cap but I started and finished it within a few days and it's slightly more complicated than other knitting projects I've done so there was a small element of a challenge in it for me. Here's the proof of aforementioned handiwork....



I'm not going to commit to any particular project for February but I will do something and post a photo of it. I can, at least, commit to that. I think.