A little happy heart hurt

We went on our annual family vacation in the Wisconsin north woods, this past week. If you've already read my other blog Boy and a girl..., or looked on Facebook, or talked to me, or... have psychic abilities, you already know this. You probably also know that I really had a great time. There was really no family drama to speak of, which is wonderful! Maybe we're all growing up... who knows. ☺

It was a very nice time, a happy time!

Sometimes happy makes the heart hurt, though. It was a little bit hurt from joy - at least that's what it stemmed from. See, I adore my niblings - I adore them ever so much.

It's always wonderful to spend time with them... they live, as does the rest of my family, about six hours away, so times together are too few and too short. Being up north together seems to be the best of our times together. The trip really was wonderful - completely wonderful!

So why the hurt heart? Well, see, my nephew really adores my dear Ar.  (Who can blame him??) They are kindred spirits, I do believe. Both my niblings are always so happy when Ar is around - but especially my nephew. He follows Ar around everywhere. He even got his own awesome hat, to be more like Ar. It's truly a lovely and heartwarming thing.

And heartbreaking. Incredibly heartbreaking.

Oh how I wish, how I wish, how I wish....

Week 34 of Photo 52: Face in the Crowd 

This was Ar's catch, and nephew helped him with the net. 

Now, on this next one, they had caught the same bass...

Nephew caught one off the pier, but it was too big and snapped his line. He was hoping to catch it again because it was that nice. A bit later, Ar snagged a similar looking bass... and it just so happened to have nephew's hook that he's just lost in it!! That's what they're looking at in this photo. These two awesome fishermen were over the moon about catching the same bass. Aren't they adorable!?!?

Oh yes, it made my heart so happy.

And so very, very sad.

How I wish.

Dark, and not very humorous, humor

Wanna know something funny?  I haven't told anyone else this yet, but it's pretty HI-larious!!

About a week and a half ago, I had some spotting. I very rarely ever have spotting, though it happened one other time recently too. Both times, because I'm not a very fast learner, it occurred to me that it might be implantation bleeding.  Get it? Implantation bleeding!!!  Good one, huh? I actually pictured myself telling Ar, this very week after AF would surely fail to show and I surely would get a BFP, that we finally made it there...  how weird am I?

Sorry, I suppose my IF humor isn't very humorous at all... but I have to try to poke fun at myself.  It's better than all the alternatives, which still happen, but laughing at myself does help.

Implantation bleeding.  Ahh, that's funny stuff. Like this old girl has any hope of having kiddies.  Ah well.

No, instead, AF decided to show up the very day we're heading for vacation - today. And that, my friends, is AF's dark humor. AF always gets the last laugh.

Anyhow, such is life. At least I didn't tumble out of a booth this week...  Oh wait...  I did - here it is, in case you haven't been reading my new blog - the one about new: Strange, but true.

Not that I'm feeling particularly whimsical, but I'm behind on posting my Photo 52 photos. I'm mostly going to post them over in the new blog now, I think, but this one makes me feel a little lighter at heart, so here is one from a few weeks ago, which I haven't posted in blog-land yet.

Week 29, Photo 52: Whimsy

I wish I could have had the time to circle around this adorable, whimsical statue to shoot it from different angles - but I was with a group of friends, who aren't as patient as Ar is at waiting for me to take a zillion photos of one subject, so I had to shoot and run. I do like the reflections though, and that all those cute duckies are in there... Aren't they too cute!? The photo could be better, but the statue is just wonderful!!

The road long traveled

Some days I feel like I just might make it through the rubble... some days I trust that I won't always have to feel so sad... so thoroughly broken. Some days, I can acknowledge the grief and the triggers, but am able to cope - to keep going, to keep smiling... to believe that the road long traveled is still leading somewhere worth going.

Then there are all the too many other days. The days that I just don't know how I can keep acting normal and functional, when I feel so horrible - so completely wrecked. Days when I have no energy and no motivation to even think about coping, and when I'm woefully sure there is absolutely nothing new or good under the sun for poor me. Days when something so small and seemingly harmless can completely derail me, and when the bend seems to be merely a far off mirage.

These days, when my heart just hurts so much that it extends to my tummy and every muscle in my body, the only solution seems to be to crawl into our bed and hide, which is too frequently not an option.

I don't even know what the difference is between the days. Am I really that mentally unstable? Probably! With a few heavy dashes of wrecked.

Week 28 of Photo 52: Rustic

Still, somehow, somewhere deep inside, I know that whether I walk, skip, trudge - or even crawl a couple inches at a time before lying face-down in the dirt for a while - the only way remains forward.  But not now, now is the time for that bed.

Freedom!

 I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings

Week 27 of Photo 52: Freedom

The free bird leaps

on the back of the wind

and floats downstream

till the current ends

and dips his wings

in the orange sun rays

and dares to claim the sky.

But a bird that stalks

down his narrow cage

can seldom see through

his bars of rage

his wings are clipped and

his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings

with fearful trill

of the things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill 

for the caged bird

sings of freedom

The free bird thinks of another breeze

an the trade winds soft through the sighing trees

and the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright lawn

and he names the sky his own.

But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams

his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream

his wings are clipped and his feet are tied

so he opens his throat to sing

The caged bird sings

with a fearful trill

of things unknown

but longed for still

and his tune is heard

on the distant hill

for the caged bird

sings of freedom. 

(Maya Angelou)

Summer days

"What is one to say about June, the time of perfect young summer, the fulfillment of the promise of the earlier months, and with as yet no sign to remind one that its fresh young beauty will ever fade." (Gertrude Jekyll)

Ahhh, summer days...

...summer days! Are there any nicer words in the English language?  (Not many!)

Week 26 of Photo 52: Photographer's Choice

 Everything seems so fresh...

and new.

It's a lovely time to stick your head out a bit, and...

...stretch yourself, even if it makes you look a bit awkward.

Go ahead... taste all the goodness that summer has to offer. 

And be sure to kick back and relax some... especially with the ones you love most. 

(Love: there really is no nicer word in the English language than that one!) 

Yeah, somehow summer makes it just a bit easier to believe again

 that every day holds the possibility of a miracle.

So cheers to summer, and to stretching ourselves a bit, even if it's awkward.... 

"Hi HJ and Ar,

You are registered for the adoption information meeting on Saturday, July 13, 9:00-11:30 a.m. at the E Street office. We look forward to seeing you there.

Best regards, 

Carol Adoption Information Specialist" 

 ...and even if it's a long shot to work, and

even if you aren't sure you're ready for it to work, even if it were possible for it to work. 

Yeah, summer is a fine time for exploration. 

Nothing says summer like...

...a few friends, and some wine, cheese and fruit, gathered together on a humble, but sunny, patio. 

For these things, and for summer, I am so thankful. Despite the snow storms that continue to rage on in my life, there are sunny patios and wonderful people to bring relief and laughs.

Week 25 of Photo 52: Nothing says summer like....

Now granted, if I'd planned this photo to be part of the photo challenge, I'd have staged it better. I might have used the fancier wine for the photo. I'd perhaps have strategically placed these items on the cute (new) red bistro table located just a foot or two away, instead of this old TV table. I'd for sure have placed the grapes in a white bowl to allow their rich red color to pop out...

In fact, I'd originally presented the food quite beautifully - in a way to complement all the colors - but later, when I ran back in to get more grapes, I just quickly threw the second batch in this little bowl and ran back out. After all, the middle of a party is not the time to worry about colors - rather it's the time to enjoy your guests.

I'd hesitated far too long to have a little party... after all, we're in an apartment with just a small (cozy) patio. We don't have a grill or extensive and well furnished patio space to host a perfect summer party. But why was I waiting for our home to look like a magazine? The truth is, it never will - because we are us and we do not live in a magazine. And that's good enough.  

Later, as I reviewed the photos we took to capture the fun evening, I realized that, though not perfectly staged, this was the photo that summed up the week's summery theme perfectly to me - and so I went with it.

Life isn't about perfection, after all. Life isn't even about faking perfection, or at least I don't want my life to be that way. There is a lot of pasting on a smile, despite my heartache - I have to do that sometimes, especially at work - but that's not who I really want to be. I find that when I can be real about my heartache, my smiles are realer too. 

Besides, maybe nothing says summer like throwing off the extra layers and going with the flow a bit more.

“And so with the sunshine and the great bursts of leaves growing on the trees, just as things grow in fast movies, I had that familiar conviction that life was beginning over again with the summer.” (F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby)

Texture

Textures... they really are all around us.  Some we love, some we hate, some are somewhere in between. In matters of clothing, furniture, and food, I tend toward the textures I love - soft and smooth textures - and avoid the ones I consider unpleasant. It's too bad that in life, the choice is not always ours.

Week 24 of Photo 52: Texture

Even so, there are some textures we dislike, but which are good for us, I suppose. As one example, I really dislike the texture of beans... they're very grainy and VERY unpleasant to my tongue. This has been a very strong dislike of mine, since childhood.

Even knowing that beans are good for me, my tendency would be to avoid them at all costs. It took falling in love with a man from another culture - one for whom bean-n-rice is a staple and a comfort food... and it further took for my (then) future ma-in-law to come for a visit and prepare said bean-n-rice for us, much to my dread... rendering it impossible for me to say no to giving it a try. (How do you say no to your future ma-in-law??)

Well, turned out that when mixing bean-n-rice and cooking them properly together, I like it. Who'd have thunk? It's not a love, but it's decent. I still won't eat beans straight or in a broth based soup because I still hate the texture, but when mixed with rice or in a tortilla - when there is something there to balance out the texture - I'm okay with them... and even sometimes choose them, knowing there are such good health benefits there.

And so, I've found ways to enjoy beans well enough and incorporate them into my cooking, for Ar's benefit and for mine.

Wonder if I can sort of do the same with other unpleasant textures of life?  I spend a lot of time trying to get over certain things, trying to push through, only to find myself thrown back and feeling worse than ever.

Maybe I need a new strategy. Maybe I need to make bean-n-rice.

(Yes, these are the strange things that just suddenly occur to me when I go to post my photo challenge photos. Once again, I felt like I had nothing to say - certainly nothing new - but I feel that I've committed to myself to post the photos and try to keep writing, even though I often feel too discouraged.

Yet as I start to write, crazy things come to me, like comparing infertility to beans. It's not a perfect analogy, but as Ar reminds me, I started this blog to help myself process life as I know it, not to make sense or please anyone else, so beans it is. Although I suppose I could have at least photographed some beans or something... oh well!) 

Nothing ventured....

nothing gained. I had the job interview this morning and.... well, I kinda stunk! I'm quite sure I won't be getting a call back on that one. Oh well. Hey, I went for it and ya never know of course - maybe she digs rambling idiots!! ☺

It does sound like it would be a good opportunity and I think I'd like it. I also told my boss about it today. I sort of fretted about that all day, especially since I can't imagine that I'll get the job.... but, though I have some disgruntled feelings about certain things in my current situation, I very much like and respect my boss of the last 11 years - she deserves to know and she's supportive. She says that if I don't get it, we'll see what we can figure out for making my current job more challenging for me again. Problem is, it's not really under her control. Nonetheless, I feel much better having told her because in the off chance "rambling fool" is listed in the job description and I get an offer, I don't want my boss blind-sided. 

So, chalk this up to something ventured - and now it's the waiting game. Perhaps all my experience with two-week waits will help me in this waiting game... 

Somehow my May photographer's choice photos seem to fall under the title of nothing ventured, nothing gained, as well, at least in my mind. 

This, this here...

Week 22 of Photo 52: Photographer's Choice

...is the gain for my venturing into a tiny oyster can with wings and being hurtled across the sky by psychotic, peanut-wielding strangers with death wishes. It's called Big Bite and Ar used to fish here when he was a youngin'...  Of course, that's true of much of the Utila shoreline. 

Ahhh, I sure wouldn't mind picnicking right there on Big Bite: Ar, sushi, and some white wine. There was no sushi to be found on the island, but a girl can dream. Then again, in this place of unbelievably rugged beauty, a girl would also "settle" for a picnic of almost anything. 

 This one, this is the ladder that Ar ventured to create...

...which allowed ma to venture down into the sea - her piece of the sea! The piece of sea, right off the piece of land where her mom grew up, where she grew up... where she raised four children, but where she hasn't been able to get into for so very many years. 

Don't you just love the look on their faces?  Such beautiful gain!!

Now this one... 

...well, I'm not quite sure what this is, but I surely do love this photo. (Insert heavy sigh here.) I hadn't ventured to pick up a baby in so very long, quite intentionally... it just hurts too much. 

Oh, but this baby - the one who I cried in the store, while picking out adorable shoes for - well, quite unexpectedly she actually picked me up and held on tight for those two weeks. She just could not get enough of me for some unknown reason. 

This one was taken the day that we ended up toting baby around the island for hours on the golf cart and tromping around the iron shores with, because she just wouldn't stop wailing and running after me when we were trying to leave the house - and wouldn't let anyone else come near her. I rather miss this little lady. 

I'm not entirely sure if this one counts as a gain or a loss, but venturing doesn't guarantee a gain -  just that you are more likely to gain if you venture. There's probably a little of both in this one...

Wheel in the sky...

I'm such an 80's girl. Almost every word I hear turns into an 80's song. Right now my head is singing, "Wheel in the sky keeps on turning...Ooh, I don't know where I'll be tomorrow... Wheel in the sky keeps me yearnin' " 

Ahhh, Journey!! In any case, it's way better than the "What about Me" song I wrote about in my last post.  

Come to think of it, "Wheel in the Sky" may be from the late 70s, but that is every bit as good.  

So... Photo 52: week 21 - wheels. Whether or not we know where we'll be tomorrow, wheels are turning all around us. Utila sure had some different sorts of wheels than I'm used to around these parts.  

Photo 52, week 21: wheels

They also had a lot more wheels than I'd have expected...  here are very quiet moments on this street, but there were frequently scooters, motorcycles, and cars - yes cars! - zooming up and down here all day. It's a very small island, why anyone feels the need for a car is beyond me. Okay, so I think there are literally only two on the island, so that's not many, but if you came there you'd see why I still think it's two too many.

I should have perhaps photographed the traffic, come to think of it, but I preferred to try to ignore it. Carts and bikes and such seem reasonable and practical, but the super fast cycles and cars and taxis got a little out of hand. Also, there seem to be no traffic laws there than anyone can tell and it can be a little dangerous.  As I've mentioned, it's a little wild, wild west meets paradise.

I really liked these kind of wheels though, because it meant more things were being planted. Mmmm, breadfruit!

Mostly we walked places, but for two of the days, we picked up a set of wheels to go to the further reaches of the island.  Gotta love that new cart smell!!

Hey, baby... want a ride? 

Following friends to the water caves...

Putt-putt-putt... that's us! 

Speaking of putt-putt-putting, the wheels in my head sure have been turning. I keep thinking how I need some change - more than the super short new hair-do I'm sporting or the new tablecloth I bought yesterday, which is super cute by the way. Those things do help, but there's something more I feel I'm ready for, though it's not clear to me what that is.

I've been needing change for a while... something to brighten up the place, like adding that splash of yellow place mats did for our dining room. I've been thinking more about.... could we move to Utila - at least half the year? Could that work? I really miss being there, this time.  Or how hard should I work toward maybe moving back to Milwaukee area, where all my family is?

All I know is that I want - and need - to keep my wheels moving forward... to continue to work toward not dwelling on infertility, on my constant and overwhelming loss. There are successes and failures there, which is fine - as long as I'm mostly moving forward. I don't think I'm looking (anymore) to run away from my heartache, but to reconcile it better - and to still enjoy the journey - even if I don't quite know where it's leading. I do know I'm so blessed with wonderful travel companions, regardless of the details.

In any case, I actually have a job interview tomorrow! My first in... oh, eight or nine years. I've been at my company over 13 years now, in two different positions (my current position, I've been in for 11 years). It's an internal opportunity, so not the hugest of changes there - but it is on the other side of the world, from what I do now. I've started to get a bit nervous, just today.

So, Monday morning at 9 am, I'll be rollin' in to something new. Whatever the outcome of that, it feels good to take a risk - to try.

Culture

Week 20 of Photo 52: Culture 

The theme for week 20 of Photo 52 was culture, for which I conveniently happened to be on Utila. I thought it would be interesting to ask Ar's ma (78 years old) and his uncle (67 years old), who both lived there till their 20s/early 30s, how they would define the culture of Utila - now or then.  Well, I sure got some interesting stories about how Utila once was, and what they think of the changes that are happening. 

The culture has - and continues to -  change emphatically, particularly as more cultures have moved onto the little island. It's hard in a lot of ways. I suppose we don't notice changes as much when they happen slowly, when you're there every day. When you go away for some years and come back, the change seems so drastic - even to me, and I only knew it from Ar's stories. I know it makes Ar and Ma a little sad, but I also know this is the way of life. Wouldn't it be lovely if we could just go back in time?  I'd love to visit the little boy who became the man I love so much, and to see the land he loves so much - the way he once saw it.

Well, I chose the photo above for week 20 because of how it resonated with Ar. Growing up in Utila, this was a very common sight and experience - it's less so, these days - it's a good picture of the culture that shaped him. Besides, no way could I resist a solitary fisherman in a rustic boat along a rustic shore.

These are three little boys, who grew up right there on Utila... playing right there on this Iron Shore. 

One of them never left Utila, one followed love to Sweden as a young man, and one came to the US at 13, studied and worked his behind off and... just so happens to live in my apartment. Indeed, these three little boys turned into three very different men, with three very different life experiences - but what a blessing to be able to meet back up together like this, to still fish and play together. No judgment or comparisons, just life. 

This cute little guy is a swamper iguana, which is endemic to Utila. These were abundant when Ar was growing up on Utila - they even hunted them for food. (Delicious, so I've frequently been told!) The iguana lived in the mangrove swamps, but has experienced habitat loss and over-hunting because of the influx of new people moving onto the island. As a result, they were brought to near extinction and are now a critically endangered species. 

The swamper is seen here in the back yard of our family's property. They now largely reside in these rocky areas after being driven out of the swamps. Every time we go back, Ar and ma are just amazed to see them there... they simply don't belong in these rocks: culture change. 

Yet some things don't change with time. You can tell the native islanders by their umbrellas. While I donned a nerdy looking hat and sunscreen, the native islander women stay out of the sun if they can, and use umbrellas when they can't. I think that it's kinda cool - even though they couldn't get me to use one. (Hanging my head in shame. But... I did want to get a little color, at least!) 

Porch-time greetings and frequent impromptu visits haven't changed either. While I, upper midwest girl that I am, am uncomfortable with unscheduled drop-ins, and have a higher value on privacy, I do hope this part of culture never changes on Utila.  

Delicious food can still be found, though changing cultures has definitely impacted the food selections. Don't you just love Ar's hands and poised fork in the shadows in the background??  Poor guy always just wants to eat, but waits patiently while I shoot photos. (This one was Ar's; I got the fish fillet... I'm a wimp, I know.) 

Stories and laughter under the almond tree is something that, thankfully, is not likely to change!

Nor the abundant coconuts.

I sure hope the sea life doesn't change any more than it already has!

Something that always surprise me out there is the more direct approach to life... and death... and everything in between. Things don't seem left unsaid there, for better or worse... people tend to say what they think and don't seem to consider various topics taboo or impolite. It is somewhat refreshing to this generally polite and appropriate (people pleasing?) midwest girl, but sometimes could also feel somewhat harsh to my ears - and, um, yeah - emotionally devastating, at times. 

Another noticeable part of the culture is the integration of the haves and the have-nots: those who made their way and those who have spent a lifetime wandering. 

And then there are those who, like a my Ar, never stop dreaming...

...never stop seeking...

...who learned early on from his ma's example to start by just taking a step, and then another: you've just got to keep going.