Tag Archives: Friends

Thanksgiving: Things Change (Again!)

“The only constant is change.” — Heraclitus

“Things do not change; we change.” — Henry David Thoreau

As I write, it’s the Sunday before Thanksgiving. I’ve been rereading Thanksgiving Holiday journal entries from the past 12 years, plus my Thanksgiving blog reminiscences. A theme emerged which I’ve addressed before, yet continues to weave through my life — and the lives of loved ones — things change.

Thanksgiving is traditionally a family holiday, whether you celebrate it with your bio or chosen family. I’ve done both. Another theme became apparent as I reread what I’ve written in the past, grief and gratitude go hand-in-hand. Continue reading

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Dispatch from the Hideout: Staycation Edition

Staycation“A vacation that is spent at one’s home enjoying all that home and one’s home environs have to offer.”— Urban Dictionary

Things change, and some things remain the same.

From an earlier Mixed Metaphors, Oh My! essay about Staycations from September 6, 2015, The Pleasures (and Lessons) of a Staycation: 

It’s that time of year again when September arrives and I extend the Labor Day holiday by taking my annual Staycation. While students return to school after their families unpack from vacation and pack those back-to-school backpacks full of brand-new school supplies, I take a break from my day-to-day work routines and make my “to-do only if I want to lists.”  For me the essence of a staycation is to practice spontaneity (yes, I admit that I need to practice), sleep in if I want to, brunch at home or out with friends, attend movie matinees on weekdays, plan lots of coffee dates, stay in pajamas if I want to and take a vacation from showering for a day, and most importantly write, and edit, and write some more. I read too, essays and blogs, opinion pieces online, poetry and movie reviews and reread my journals. Continue reading

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Dispatch from the Hideout: Letter to Loved Ones

“Either write something worth reading, or do something worth writing.” Benjamin Franklin

“The goal isn’t to live forever, it’s to create something that will.”  —  Chuck Pahlaniuk

First some background. As my Mixed Metaphors, Oh My! readers know, I’m a writer and blogger. Friends and family, from firsthand experience, are also aware I’m a storyteller. I’m 70-years-old, yet consider myself young at heart and continue to be a student of life. I’m a work in progress, and perfectly flawed. I live alone and on the continuum of introvert/extrovert, I fall in between. I’m an ambivert.

I’ve been socially distancing and sheltering-in-place to some degree since my previous job ended at the end of February and has continued due to the coronavirus pandemic. Since May, I began working part-time at a job as an LGBTQ+ AODA Advocate that is more an avocation than vocation. I’m grateful. Continue reading

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A Solitary Life: Living Independently

“What matters in life is not what happens to you but what you remember and how you remember it.” ― Gabriel García Márquez

“Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us.” — Oscar Wilde

Today is the 4th of July, the Independence Day Holiday. Yesterday, I began reflecting on the meaning of the day, which celebrates the independence of a nation following a revolution and the freedom of its people from an oppressive government. Of dire concern — we are living through what may be judged as another oppressive government — our own — as our elected leaders dismantle democracy and favor the corporate aristocracy and dominant white culture. We are not truly free and independent until we are all free and equal under the law. Continue reading

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Dispatch from the Hideout: What Was, What Will Be

“You can’t go back home to your family, back home to your childhood…back home to places in the country, back home to the old forms and systems of things which once seemed everlasting but which are changing all the time…” — Thomas Wolfe

On the Friday before the Memorial Day Holiday weekend, I reminisced about holidays past. Years ago, a group of friends nicknamed, ‘The Orphans,’ would plan an annual camping trip to Peninsula State Park in Fish Creek in Door County, Wisconsin. We dubbed these one of the ‘The Orphan Holidays.’ From a vignette from my memoir in the works, Perfectly Flawed.  Continue reading

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Dispatch from the Hideout: Skin Hunger

“Touch is the first language we speak.” — Stephen Gaskin

“Touch has a memory.” — John Keats 

As I continue to chronicle my COVID-19 journey in this seventh in a series of dispatches from the hideout, I’m faced with identifying my fundamental needs as I socially distance. I’m reminded by op-ed pieces that more precisely — we’re physically distancing — that we can still reach out and interact with each other virtually — or at a safe distance of six feet in small groups of people.

Though I’ve started to work at my new job at an LGBTQ+ community center, it remains closed to the public which it serves. A small group of staff, including part-time advocates like myself, provide services and plan for an uncertain future, aka, the new normal. I’m grateful for the opportunity to work and to collaborate with others again, especially since I’ve spent, for the most part, the past almost 10 weeks, physically alone. Continue reading

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Dispatch from the Hideout: Back to Life

“It’s back to normal, but it’s a different normal. It’s not the same as it was before, but people are getting back to work. Life goes on. ― Eric Young

“If you are always trying to be normal, you will never know how amazing you can be.” ― Maya Angelou

On May 1st it’s back to life, a return to some degree of normal, however, it will certainly be different, a new normal. I return to work and begin a new job as an LGBTQ+ AODA Advocate. I’m grateful. Continue reading

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Dispatch from the Hideout: Home Alone Easter Holiday

Like most holidays I celebrated as a child, Easter was a hybrid of religious traditions, the social culture from the generation in which I grew up, and our own ethnic and family rituals, which we repeated in some fashion every year.  

Easter Holidays Past

Note: Includes excerpts from Poop Eggs & Lamb Cakes

Today is the Easter Holiday and Passover. Growing up in the 1950s and 1960s, my family had many traditions which we repeated every year, some with glee, and others with complaints. On Easter Saturday, we’d color eggs, which the Easter Bunny would hide that night. Mom boiled two or three dozen as our family grew. She’d cover the kitchen table with newspaper and the kids would crowd around it with our crayons, the white wax marker to write our names, a spoon in hand ready to dip the eggs in the assembly line of Easter egg dye in her Corelle coffee cups. Continue reading

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Dispatch from the Hideout: Home Alone Edition

“There’s a difference between solitude and loneliness.” — Maggie Smith

“Loneliness is the poverty of self; solitude is richness of self.” ― May Sarton 

This past week I hit the wall to use a metaphor. The difference between solitude and loneliness became viscerally clear. I consider myself someone who enjoys my own company and solitude, who goes to great lengths to protect it, and over the years has learned to be both independent and resilient, two skills critical to survive the pandemic. Continue reading

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Confessions of a Blogger: Conversations with Myself

“My blog musings are conversations with myself to which you’re invited to listen.”  — Mixed Metaphors, Oh My!

I’ve lived alone now for almost a dozen years. It changes a person, or in the very least, it changed me. As someone with a history of codependency, I’ve been other or outward-oriented. In the past, I often looked outside of myself to gauge how I was feeling or what I was thinking. Gratefully, recovery and therapy put the focus back on me. Now I ask, “What am I feeling? What are my thoughts?”

The tradeoff is at home — and sometimes in my office at work or in public — I talk to myself out loud. When I first started living alone and talking aloud, I worried about this behavior. I soon reminded myself of a couple of characteristics that I possess, I’m an auditory person, and for the most part, socially extroverted, though the longer I’ve lived alone, the more introverted I’ve become. I now consider myself an ambivert. Continue reading

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