Odds and Beginnings

My friends will text me and ask what I've got on my agenda for the day, and several times a week, my reply will be "odds and ends". Quite often, when I ask what they have planned, they will say the same.

These odds and these ends can fill a day and then some, and although I probably can't tell you what I did on these days, they always leave me pooped.

Yesterday was an odds and ends kind of day, so much so that I didn't have time to blog.  My posts can certainly be odd, but as I try to figure out what this new life of mine will be, I see this revamped blog not as an end, but as a beginning.

She Is My Mom

Three years ago today my mom passed away.

Mom and I were so close that I had assumed I would sense her presence. People tell me she is with me and I nod in response, but on the inside, I am disappointed not to feel her with me. I assumed I would given our strong bond. 

Last week when I made my return to her beloved beach for the first time in almost four years, I found myself spouting mom-isms that seemingly popped into my head and out of my mouth with no forethought or hesitation. Sayings and expressions that I hadn't thought of since she'd gone.

Now I realize that she's not hovering over me with her angel wings fluttering. She's IN me. She is my heart and my soul and my comfort and my joy and my sorrow and my memories and my laughter and my tears and my stubbornness and my love and my patriotism and my worry and my strength and  my compassion and my thoughtfulness and my kindness and my love of sports and books and the beach.

Three years to the day that her time on earth was through, I finally get it. Coincidence? Not a chance in Heaven.

If An iPhone Falls . . .

. . . into a bathtub full of water, and a legally blind woman is there not to see it, does it make a sound? 

You bet your rubber ducky it does. 

PROOF

Selfie taken at splashdown:

Going Green

When I first lost my vision, I started saving magazines to read when my sight returned and when it did, I drove myself off into the sunset, as the credits rolled, and the profound song blasted, well, profoundly. The song was, no doubt, Gloria Estefan's Comung Out Of The Dark, which, by the way, I sang to myself, in my head, when I was trying to fall asleep in the hospital that first week of darkness.

But this ain't Hollywood.

Time continued to pass and the magazine pile grew larger, until a bin was brought down from the attic, filled and the lid put on, as if to hide the fact that days had turned into months, and that the contents remained unread.

Now, two and a half years later, I have received a machine that allows me to read. What that means to Type A Sister Rain is that the magazines now become an item on my To Do List. So I began going through the magazines and quickly found the new equipment isn't optimum for pages filled with different colored fonts and images. I persevered because, with me, stubbornness tends to prevail over sense. Finally, I realized this was supposed to be enjoyable. And it wasn't. The rest of the magazines went into the recycle bin.

In a way, letting go of these magazines was like letting go of the holding pattern I was in, waiting for my vision to return. Over the past few months, my thoughts and actions live more in the present and the future than in the past. (Don't worry past, you're only ever a creep-up-on-me minute away.)

The empty bin has been returned to the attic, and the magazines have begun their recycling journey. I have been working on 'reinventing' myself since my vision loss, but 'recycling' myself is another way of describing it I suppose.

Those magazines may be turned into newspapers or egg cartons. What I'll become? I'm still in Research and Development.

This Post Packs An Ironic Punch

Before I became visually challenged, I traveled a lot for work. I would be gone from home at lecast one week each month.

I was telling someone today how difficult and stressful packing last week for my trip was. And then I said this, "I used to be able to pack with my eyes closed."

Yep. This one's gonna leave a mark.

Vroom Vroom

Seventeen years after the movie You've Got Mail opened in movie theaters, I still love the sound of a new text message arriving on my phone. On days when I have no plans, it is totally usual not to talk to another person until my husband returns home in the evening.

My current text tone is that of a motorcycle, and sometimes it can sound like the outside of a biker bar here when texts come in together. And having always wanted a bike, as in motorcycle and not as in that torture device of a stationary bike that I ride, I not only feel like the free spirit I always longed to be, but I also get to chat with my peeps. And by using the word "peeps", I have proven yet again that until they give motorcycle licenses to visually-challenged dorks with a tattoo of a heart with the word "peeps" inside it, my text tone will have to do.

(cue music)

Get your iPhone runnin'
On the information highway
Looking for my peeps' news 
In texts that come my way

BORN TO BE TEXTED!!!

One Giant Leap For Sister Rain

My mom and I spent 30+ days at the beach (we call it 'the shore') every year for 30 years. We would go not just in the summer, but in the spring and fall as well. It was home away from home.

My mom passed away three years ago next week, and although I have returned to the shore a few times since her passing, I have not been on the beach.

Having recently turned 50, my best friend took me to a beach I had never been to for an overnight celebration. On Wednesday, three years and nine months after my last trip with my mom, I kicked off my flip flops and planted my bare feet back firmly on the warm, familiar sand.

So much has happened since that last trip, my mom is gone and so is a large part of my vision. But it turns out that you can go home again, if home is a place you love, where you can relax, feel completely comfortable and be yourself wtth someone who knows you best and loves you anyway.

A big moment? Definitely. A bittersweet moment? Surprisingly, no. It was all sweet and no bitter. It was joy and gratitude and love. It was home.

Finder's Weeper

Sometimes I am angrier when I find something that I've lost than when I lost it in the first place. 

A Bu(r)ndt Cake

You never know what lies underneath until you let it cool, then flip it over.  Sometimes it's what you expected, sometimes you get a happy surprise. 

And sometimes the surprise is an ugly mess. 

Visually Challenged Ridiculousness 38D

Bra shopping with your husband. 

Even I Can See That I'm In My Own Way

You would think that once you wake up blind, everything else would be gravy. But what I find is that now I stress when I have something coming up on the calendar, and this never happened before the loss. These things that I'm referring to are fun, good things and yet I feel overwhelmed. I start stressing days before and always allow way too much extra time to get ready.

I was a Corporate Meeting Manager prior to my vision loss, and nothing would rattle me. Now, it's so different and I can't figure out why. I will be with people who I love and will help me with anything I need and I know I will have a great time. Maybe it's because even though I go out, the majority of the time, I am home. Maybe it's because I'm no longer the one in control and am now along for the ride, literally. I can't figure it out.

Whatever the cause, I hope that eventually this goes away. In my head, I know it's ridiculous and so unnecessary. But getting it through to the rest of me is the challenge.

Quite frankly, I could do without all the challenges. And yet there they are, everyday, big and small. This I would consider a big one. Because when you get in your own way of living life and doing things and going on adventures with your peeps, well, that's not a challenge, that's just dumb. And I am a lot of things, but dumb isn't one of them.

Bon Appetit Nana

When my Nana passed away in 1996, at the age of 95, I gladly brought her china and china cabinet home with me. Today when my two friends came over for lunch, I decided to set the table with Nana's dishes.

There was no Christmas tree in sight, no Easter eggs to hunt, nor was it anyone's birthday. It was a warm June day, and three friends gathered around my dining room table, set with Nana's china.

If that isn't a special occasion, I don't know what is.

Home Ec

Tomorrow, I am having two dear friends over for lunch. I have spent the day prepping by cleaning and baking. And all I keep thinking is: I now remember why I don't entertain more.

Tomorrow, however, as we sit around the table laughing and eating what I've prepared, all I will be thinking is: I have to do this more often.

Driving Miss Sister Rain

As  a result of my vision loss, I am unable to drive. I live in the suburbs, so public transportation is not an option. My husband isn't always able to leave work to drive me, so I have to ask my friends. They all continually offer to be my chaufferettes, and yet I absolutely hate to ask. The fiercely independent woman in me finds it extremely difficult.

Today I needed a ride to a local appointment. When my friend picked me up, I told her how I feel about asking for rides. She said to me in response, "You would do the same for me. We all drive without thinking about it and losing that ability would be devastating. You would do the same for me."

She is right, of course. I would be terribly upset if she needed something and didn't ask. Or asked but hated to.

They say you find out who your true friends are when something major happens. What I'm realizing is that you also find out what kind of friend you are.

Be a friend. Ask for what you need. Neither of you will be sorry that you did.

S.O.U.P.

We live in a one-hundred-year-old house and do not have central air conditioning.

What we do have is a working stove with a big pot of soup cooking away on it.

We also have high humidity and temperatures reaching 80+ degrees F.

Sometimes
One
Uses
Poor judgement

They Light Up My Life

Since Tuesday, I have spent time with four of my six closest friends, and will see the remaining two next week.

My vision loss resulted in many other losses, but my friends are definitely the bright spots in this new, darker life I am now navigating through.

My relationships with these six amazing women have all become stronger and we have become closer than ever.  They all make me laugh, they make me cry, they make me think, they make me strong, they make me happy, and they make me remember who I am, with or without full vision.

One thing I know for sure now. Darkness bad. Light good. Bright spots in the form of dear friends, the best.

Ironically, It's All Fun And Games Until Somebody Loses An Eye

When visually challenged, and even fully-sighted, it is important to check where the nozzle is on an aerosol can before pressing down to spray.

I speak from experience. There have been several HSI (Hair Spray Incidents) and last night I had my first cooking spray shower.

At least, so far, I haven't mixed up the two. But spray tuned. Here at SisterRain.net, anything can happen. And it usually does.

I Dreamed A Dream Of Days Gone By

Last night, I dreamt that I could drive. Even though this meant that my vision had been restored, the focus of the dream was my ability to get in my car and go wherever the heck I wanted to.

I felt the weight of my keys in my hand and adjusted the rear view mirror.  And then I looked out the front windshield. Everything was colorful and clear. So very clear. I put the key in the ignition and gave my beloved old friend a little gas. Although I remember all of this in detail, and I know I drove somewhere, the location I don't recall.

I used to have dreams where I was fully-sighted frequently after my vision loss. It has been a very long time since I saw so well in a dream.

Was it a wonderful reminder not to lose hope? That one day I will again see properly? Or was it a cruel reminder of what I have lost? Those moments after I first woke up and realized my getting behind the wheel was just a dream were devastating. Honestly, I'm still a bit shaken from it.

I wish the dream had lasted longer. But that's the thing about dreams, they end. Nightmares? Well, they seem to go on forever.

Cafe con Amiga

When you start your day with breakfast with a great friend, the day has nowhere to go but down.

An Auntie's Pastime

My husband and I have no human children; we have feathered kids.

So it is with much irony that we find ourselves getting up at the crack of dawn on weekends for a travel tournament, riding around with two camp chairs in the trunk and a bag packed with Chapstick and sunscreen and tissues and binoculars.  (The binoculars are for me, but some of the umps should use them.)

You see, our 9-year-old nephew plays baseball.

There is an "I" in family, but there should be "t-e-a-m" in there instead.

We've got the team jerseys to prove it.