Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Dancing with the Stars

Congratulations to me, I stayed away from Rachel Zoe tonight to catch the end of Dancing with the Stars.
Or Dancing with the Who are they Stars - as most of them were not familiar to me.

It's funny with the fuss over Chaz Bono, that I see all the women looking like they are men dressed in drag - there is so much thick make up going on. Eyelashes do their own twists and they have made Nancy Grace look like a pantomime dame. British reference, sorry America! No wonder she farted live on the show last week - so I hear. Maybe she's getting ready to endorse Depends?

Susan Boyle made an appearance, singing not dancing. In fact I'm not sure she actually moves. I swear a puppet master was under her dress forcing her arms to stretch at one point. Her voice does not match her pained, sad expression, nor her bad hair day which I think is a knitted hat. Did you see the dancers in front of her? Both with sandpaper as thongs, for their faces too were screaming ouch. It's a pity her face does not know how good her voice is.

The audience is interesting too on this show. At one point I saw a Red Indian woman wrapped in a Mexican blanket pretending to be Cher, then I saw one of the Baldwin brothers and Pee Wee Hermen. I can't even stand writing that name!

I felt sorry for the teacup woman, (I think her name was China) who apparently went blank last night and got the cowboy boot tonight.

I did however love the piece for the remake of Footloose. As one of the original dancers, and by that I mean in my bedroom jumping around pretending I looked good, I could not imagine that movie being re made.
Looked great though, and the Hoff brother and sister reminded me of my brother and I. Meaning that after two red bull and vodkas, and a bag of pork rinds, we think we move as well as them - except we don't, obviously.

Monday, October 10, 2011


Any experience is different for each individual. There is no standard way of responding to anything. On top of this, as a care giver you feel like you are the only one dealing with issues. On top of that, you feel guilty, because you know there are other people with far harder situations to deal with.  I am certain too, that the patient feels completely alone with the diagnosis reminding them that they are no longer who they once were.
It becomes a circle.

It would be totally remiss of me to say to anyone "I know how you feel."
You know what I would like to say and hear: "How do you feel?"

Do you realize how guilty I feel being the well one? Do you know how ashamed I am when I complain and moan about something trivial like a door banging or a burnt piece of toast? Do you understand that part of me is dying and I am saddened that it is only emotional as it can't match the physical  time left for my husband?
Do you know that I watch him sleeping and whisper "get well" for hours? Do you know the times I've cleaned the bathroom in a day? Found the missing belt in a day? Changed the odd socks and shoes, quietly, without words? How many times I have to alter my day? How many times I reassure that yes it is OK that people see him with me? How many times I have to lie and say everything is great? Do you know how many times I stop myself from telling him something, because I know it's too confusing? Do you know how many times I have to hear how fat I am, how old I look? When will I exercise, when I will I run, when I will get more money?
Constantly caring and constantly questioning - am I doing the right thing? And now? And now?

The well is not endless. Its not an award I want, it's reassurance. It's not advice I want, it's a listening ear.
It's not an hour given with an annoyed tut. It's an hour offered honestly and thoughtfully.

Loneliness, love, shame, sorrow, laughter, guilt, bitterness, despair, determination, hope, bewilderment, depression, curiosity, wisdom, anger turned inward, low self esteem, emptiness all come way before tiredness.

How do you feel?

For my Universe

I have had so many thoughts recently for blog posts that could be inspiring for those around me, and yet I can never quite find the words. M...