The Fine Art of Putzing

I am a putzer. I almost feel like I am saying this in the same way that I say “Hi, I’m Linda. I am an alcoholic.” Both seem to have been inherited and drinking was certainly a way to putz through life for about twenty years. Putzing, however, is also the way that someone with slight to moderate attention deficit disorder (or in my case – “oooh, look at the pretty yarn!!) gets through life.

Some of you may not be familiar with putzing. I did a search and found a definition on the Free Dictionary that describes what I am talking about. The definition I am referring to is number three (which comes after a couple of rather colorful Yiddish definitions) – “To behave in an idle manner; putter.”

I learned how to putz from my father, Robert Little. I think he took great pride in putzing and I have found the same joy in my own putzing.

Putzing is usually done on a weekend morning when there are no other demands such as a work schedule and appointments. It does not require a written To Do, list but there may be a subconscious list of little things that haven’t been gotten to during the course of one’s more structured time.

My dad would start his putzing by getting up and starting the coffee pot at around 5:30 or 6:00 a.m.. I am not that dedicated of a putzer, but I do understand the inclination. He would take his cup and walk around the house, both indoors and out. It was sort of as if he was scouting out his day. He would go to his workshop and do a little hammering, sawing or sanding and then have coffee with my mother when she got up ( a little earlier than she would like due to the sanding, hammering and sawing). I remember their breakfasts vividly. It consisted of a full pot of coffee, a pile of toast with jam, and a lot of conversation.

The putzing would then start in earnest. A little work here, a little work there, another cup of coffee, a ride into town, a stop for coffee at the corner diner, maybe a stop at a neighbors, a little more work here and a little work there. A lot was usually accomplished by the end of the day but you didn’t see it actually happening at the time. The house would be rewired, cabinets would be made and, at the same time, all of the news of the day was discussed and gossip was heard (though my father would never admit to being a gossip).

I love to putz on the weekends. I get up, settle at the computer and do my socializing. Then I get a cup of coffee or tea and do all the little things that I don’t get to during the week – clean the litter box, wipe down the bathroom, change the battery and brush on my toothbrush, water the plants, check out the news on the web, sort out my knitting bag, pick up a little clutter, brush Boo, and call a friend. None of this is done purposefully. I would call it more of a meditative mode of mindless idleness that ends up being productive. Projects like laundry and vacuuming only fall into putzing if they are done with other little things rather than at a designated time for cleaning house. Cleaning can be done while putzing but putzing is not done while cleaning if the cleaning is intentional. I usually do my intentional cleaning on Friday evenings so I have more time for putzing on Saturday and Sunday morning.

It is very important to note, though, that doing nothing is not putzing. There has to be some action in order to actually be putzing. Putzing starts with the first movement towards some small task, even if it is just washing a dish. There is momentum in putzing that carries me through the day.

Errands are a part of putzing as long as there is no pressure. I love having errands on Saturday morning. Recycling center, grocery store, post office and library are all places to putz to while listening to Saturday morning NPR as long as the putzing leaves room to veer off ab chosen task when something else gets my attention i.e. “Look! A farmer’s market! An alpaca farm!! Ice Ceam!” and the aforementioned magnetic pull of a yarn shop.

I am usually thinking great significant and philosophical thoughts while all this putzing is taking place. I ponder on the current political scene, wonder why cats only throw up on carpets and not tile, question design flaws on the human body (really – why do we have ear wax?), and plan for more structured activities for later in the day. Putzing allows for spontaneous phone calls to grandchildren and friends, naps, internet shopping, a little yoga, and writing blogs without deadlines, and has no measurable and achievable objectives. Putzing is an end in itself and the finished results are really means to the end!

Remembering My Angel

Spring is a bittersweet time for me. I love all the reminders of new life but it is also a time when I remember someone who is no longer a physical part of my life. Five years ago this weekend, my dear friend, Diane, became an angel.
I met Diane when I was doing my graduate school internship at Norfolk Community Services Board. She had been there as a substance abuse counselor for a while and I was drawn early on to her office. She had a number of Native American objects and I asked her about her heritage and life. We quickly became close friends and she was my mentor for much of the next ten years.
Diane taught me a lot of things. She taught me that you should never judge a person by appearances. She looked like Mrs. Santa Claus, but when she was riled up she could swear like a trucker on steroids. I adored her.
She came into my life after a very bad period. I had spent the past twelve years trying to pull myself together after a divorce that had caused a rift in my relationship with my parents and I h was just coming off a relationship that had my head spinning for about ten of those years. Diane saw that I was wounded and she approached me with the care that one would with a suffering child.
Diane had her own wounds. She was a recovering alcoholic who had about twenty years of sobriety and was still dealing with the tragic death of her husband. Diane had survived beyond what many of us could and there was still more to come.
I think that Diane made me her project in the most loving and caring of ways. As a counselor, Diane felt that her goal, when all else failed, was to love someone back to spiritual health. She was determined to do that with me.
She gently tugged at me to join in on her family holidays and activities. I had spent quite a few Thanksgiving and Christmases alone and she was determined that I would find some joy in the holidays. It was hard not to feel her joy for the season. She often had three or four Christmas trees in her home and they were up until well into February. I think she would have kept them up all year if it had been possible.
She also loved yard sales. I have a whole line up of farm animal salt and pepper shakers that she found for me at various yard sales. She also did her Christmas shopping all year round. The only problem was she often forgot where she put the gifts by the time the holidays came around. I remember a couple of years when I had to wait until a few days after Christmas for my gift because she couldn’t find it or I received a gift in February because she suddenly found something she had bought for me the previous June and had forgotten about.
Over the course of five years Diane had a quintuple bypass, knee surgery, a hip replacement, lung cancer, and a number of infections due to her reduced immune function. I watched her health ebb and flow and was greatly concerned about her.
We spent Mother’s Day 2004 together. I took her to the Norfolk Botanical Gardens determined that we would find a way for her to be able to enjoy the full scope of the gardens even though she was unable to walk very far. She was very vain so she was not too keen on the idea of using a wheel chair. I did, however, convince her to take a ride on the trolley that traveled throughout most of the garden. We saw the rose garden, the azaleas, the ponds, egrets and geese. She was tickled and it showed.
A few months later she was feeling well enough for another outing so I told her we were going blueberry picking in Pungo, VA. I had her bring a stool and a bucket and when we got to the blueberry farm I had her sit with her bucket near a bush that was bursting with beautiful berries. She picked to her heart’s content and enjoyed the sun. We followed it up with a long ride through the countryside and saw a mare and two foals on a horse farm that we passed. It was a beautiful day.
Those are my some of my best memories of my Diane. She also accompanied me to our Unity church on many Sundays and was my greatest cheerleader when I would either play the keyboard (she would clap and get everyone started even though we rarely clapped after the music was played during the offering) and she smiled at me and nodded her head when on a couple of occasions I gave the Sunday talk.
Diane was also my Twelve Step sponsor. I did my fifth step (sharing my fourth step inventory of my life) and when I finished my list of all my failings and character defects she looked at me and very kindly said, “Now let’s talk about all the good stuff that you are and do.”
In September of 2004, Diane found out she had lung cancer. She had a rough winter the year before and they had been running a number of tests. She spent that Fall having chemotherapy and it was hard to watch her health slowly deteriorate. It was especially hard since she had recently retired and bought herself a lovely little house that she had plans to renovate. During her chemotherapy she had to move in with her daughter, Rachel, rather than enjoy her retired life doing what she loved most – digging in the dirt and planting a garden.
She completed chemotherapy and the tumor had shrunk to a point where it seemed she was on the mend. However, all of the operations she had over the years and her general poor health contributed to making her more and more susceptible to opportunistic infections.
Diane died on the first day of Spring in 2005. I was at her bedside along with her daughter. I was very grateful that Rachel had called when the hospital nurses told her that Diane would probably not make it through the night and she asked that I be with her at Diane’s side. We spent the whole night holding her hand and talking to her. I believe she knew we were with her.
I miss Diane’s physical presence in my life. She used to kiss me on the cheek and call me her “baby girl.” She also made me laugh on a regular basis with her antics and cussing. She was, and continues to be, my angel. There are many days when I can feel her presence and she often rides with me in the car as I travel the roads of New Hampshire. She was also with me in Nepal and Tibet in 2007 and she was thrilled when I got my new job here in Concord. I didn’t play the cello when she was alive, but I often play for her now. I know that when I am celebrating a success, she is right there with me, applauding and rising to her feet. Sometimes I can still hear that lovely giggle or her cackling laugh right before she says, "way to go, baby girl."

Sunday with a Dash of Spring

It’s a quiet Sunday morning. I am not sure I have anything to write about this morning and, in some ways, that is a good thing. It means that life is in balance at this moment. There is no angst or drama and I feel pretty calm and content at this particular moment. There is something very peaceful about sitting on my couch with a purring cat while I look out at the blue sky.
I went for a good walk yesterday. Actually, it was an excellent walk. I had been in a conference in Boston for a day and a half and my brain was ready to explode. I left a little early and came back home so that I would have time to enjoy the wonderful weather. I didn’t really have a plan. I just put on the walking shoes and walked out the door. I was soon walking down the road and knew that the SPCA was exactly a mile from my apartment. I set that as my goal and did not worry about how long that would take me.
Up until the past year moderation was not really something I had developed and as I was walking yesterday I had a few little negative voices berating me for considering a two mile walk an acceptable goal. I started thinking of the days when I would not have thought twice of running ten miles in the morning and then going on an extended bike ride in the afternoon, followed by a weight training session. That was twenty four years ago.
These days it is more important that I get the fresh air, sunshine and the moderate exercise than it is for me to set goals that I just can’t accomplish at this time. I envy people who have managed to maintain their healthy lifestyles for years, running marathons at sixty, climbing mountains at seventy and beyond. I realize, however, that because of my former inability to do anything in moderation I need to set reasonable goals that challenge me but can be accomplished even in the face of the damage I have done to my body by living a life of excess. Oh, what I forgot to mention (or maybe was just choosing to withhold) in the paragraph above is that a lot of my exercise was done before or after a night of heavy drinking. That is what I mean by living a life of excess.
So here is what I know for sure – walking is very important to me and if I can do it in the woods and near water – all the better. Yoga is a necessity because it keeps my muscles from contracting after a walk and I am able to walk more often. Yoga also keeps me mindful of my body and what it needs. My theme for exercise needs to be “listen to my body.” The best exercise goal for me is to just do it. If my body says we need to do a shorter walk today, then that will be it. If it feels loose and energetic, then a longer walk at a quicker pace will be the plan. If it wants to just be on the floor doing gentle stretches, then so be it.
I hope to eventually be able to apply the same philosophy to food. I have already done that in some ways. I realize that I feel lighter by no longer eating mammals and fowl and by incorporating more vegetables into my diet. I also know that I am ignoring my body’s messages about wheat products and sugar. I am aware of what my body is telling me but I am still ignoring it. I think the next step will have to be a gluten free diet and I am not sure how I feel about that.
After a month of being in a flu coma I have finally resurfaced at the time when Spring seems to be making an early appearance. I hope it isn’t just a visit and that it plans to stay awhile. I think the sunshine will do us all some good.

On the Mend and Cooking

It’s the last day of February and I feel like I am finally on the mend. I have high, but probably delusional , hopes for an early Spring. If the turnout at the Farmer’s Market at Cole Gardens in Concord yesterday was any indication, I am not the only one. I bought a beautiful succulent to add to my growing collection of plants. They are so important in the winter to help clean and humidify the air.

I hate that it took so much down time to get over this last bug that hit me. Is this part of getting older or was this just a really bad virus? A lot people that I know were hit hard and I hope I didn’t contribute to the spread of the germs. I tried hard to keep them to myself. I sat in a meeting the other morning and had two boxes of tissues, a large bottle of hand sanitizer, and a plastic bag tied to my chair. I would blow my nose, put the tissue in the bag and then clean my hands before passing out papers. By the end of the meeting my nose was bright red, the bag was full and I had gone through almost a whole box of tissues.

Enough of that, I am done with it. I am moving on.

It really wasn’t a waste. I read a lot. I finished Chris Bohjalian’s new book , Secrets of Eden. It was typical Bohjalian – some good research and a twist at the end. It was about a fictional murder/suicide in Vermont and the impact of the incident on the town.

The other book I have started is A Burning Desire by Kevin Griffin. He takes the concept of the Higher Power in the 12 Step programs and applies it to Buddhist teachings. I am finding the book fascinating and consider it a real find for my recovery and my spiritual path. I may write more about it after I finish reading it.

Last night I spent some time thinking about what are the things that contribute the most to my well being and

health. Number one is music. I have talked about that before in another blog so I won’t wax poetic on the riffs of the blues (which I am listening to right now) or the beauty of cello and oboe. The other things are nature and the joy of a walk in the woods, a warm blanket fresh out of the dryer before bedtime, a heating pad on my stomach, hugs from grandchildren, yoga, massage, and a happy cat. Sometimes the yoga and happy cat go together. This morning I had to include some new yoga moves – Rubbing Boo’s Belly, Scratching Boo’s Ear, and resting in Savasana while getting fingers licked.

Yesterday I also engaged in one of my other great joys. Cooking. I made a great soup for dinner and combined that with some wonderful onion dill rolls I bought at the farmer’s market. I found the recipe in a soup cookbook but once I started chopping I ignored the measurements and just went for it. Here is what I ended up doing.

I heated approx. a tablespoon of olive oil in my mother’s old cast iron soup pot. I love this pot. I remember her using it while I was growing up and I am glad to have it now. It is perfect for cooking soup.

Using my favorite kitchen tool, the Pampered Chef chopper, I diced 2 large onions, 3 large carrots (yes – carrots – I know some of you may be surprised by this) and three large celery stalks. Those all went into the soup pot and I cooked them on medium heat for about five minutes until the onion was translucent. Then I added about 2 tsps or more of curry powder (the recipe called for one tsp and I thought that was incredibly stingy so I just went for it) and four very large cloves of garlic that I had minced (again, the recipe called for two cloves and I thought that was just plain crazy). I let that cook on medium heat for about a minute or so before I added a half a pound of rinsed red lentils, a cup of V8 juice and a quart and a half of vegetable broth. That was all brought to a boil and then covered and simmered for about a half hour or when I couldn’t stand it anymore and wanted to eat. I also seasoned with fresh ground pepper and salt to my personal taste. Along with the rolls, it was a perfect winter meal. There is plenty left for two or three more meals. The recipe said it could be garnished with some sour cream or plain yogurt but I was saving the fat component of the meal for the butter on the rolls. The apartment still smells like onions, garlic and curry.

I am looking forward to getting back to work. My week is structured so that I have a preparation and planning day tomorrow, two days of travel and trainings, a tele-training for the Virginia Coalition on Thursday and then I will be spending Friday and Saturday at a Trauma and Addictions seminar in Boston at Harvard University. As long as the weather cooperates it should be an excellent week.

Rolling My Eyes at the Medical Community

I think it is quite amusing that I was planning on writing a rant on my blog this morning about being sick, taking time off of work and the unresponsiveness of the medical community, but after doing my morning yoga and meditation I have lost the edge and have mellowed out enough to be a little more rational.
I am on my fourth week of feeling ill due to one virus or another. I am not amused. I wasn’t feeling well last fall due to something they were never able to define and now I seem to have had at least three bouts of viral infections. Part of my frustration is that I have been sick since I made a new commitment to wellness and healthy living at the beginning of the year. My friend, Barbara, says that how I am currently feeling may be a result of my healthier lifestyle. She says I should see my runny nose and tiredness as my body’s way of releasing all the old toxins and preparing to be healthier. Sort of “out with the old and in with the new.” Well, I must have had a lot of sludge that needed to be cleaned out because I am currently surrounded by piles of used tissues that are higher than the snow outside.
I am going to go with Barbara’s theory, though. Because it is one of hope and right now I need to have some way of seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. I took three days off of work this week to rest, recuperate and tend to my inner and physical self. I just need to balance it all. There is this fierce warrior inside of me that is trying to control the whole situation. I see her. She is dressed like Xena and slinging her whip around and saying “let’s move on. You have three days to feel better. Drink that water. Do that yoga. Meditate. Come on.” The mere fact that I have that voice telling me that I have a timeline to be 100% better informs me there are some deep seated control issues going on in me that I was previously only faintly aware existed. I need to remind myself to take everything in moderation and I will be better soon.
Going to the doctor on Monday morning was an experience. I was scheduled for my annual physical so the fact that I was also going in with an upper respiratory infection was a bonus. The nurse took one look at me and said “I wasn’t expecting a cough.” I found myself apologizing for bringing it with me. I didn’t think I needed to cancel a doctor appointment because I was sick. Just didn’t seem right. But the nurse seemed a little upset that I was not the “annual exam” she thought I would be. I guess I didn’t have a name. I was just an “annual” or a “cough”.
Then the ARNP managed to push a few buttons. She focused on my depression rather than the fact I have felt ill for most of the past few months. She encouraged counseling. I rolled my eyes. I flat out told her that I was depressed because I didn’t feel well. She asked me if I realized how many good things I had in my life. She reminded me I was lucky to have a job in this economy. That voice inside my head starting screaming – “Yes, and I love my job. And I would love to be able to do it full time, with energy and not having to deal with being sick all the frikkin’ time!!” As a trauma specialist I should give her due for asking me questions about my life and past trauma but I have been in therapy for those things and if I went to a counselor right now all I would need to talk about is the fact that no matter how I try to advocate for myself with the medical community they do not listen to me. (Oops, there is the rant I thought I was going to be able to avoid.) I have a really good life right now but do not feel physically able to enjoy it. She is not understanding that.
I have left a message for her to call me today so that I can do two things. 1) Apologize for rolling my eyes at her - that was juvenile. 2) Let her know that I don’t feel she is listening to me and appears to have some preconceived notions based on my history. She probably won’t call until the results of my blood work are in and by then I will have calmed down and won’t really want to deal with her.
I do have an appointment with a naturopath medical doctor. I made that appointment last October and it isn’t until May. I am on a list if there is a cancellation. I hope someone cancels soon. I am really ready to try something different. Traditional western medicine does not seem to be the answer.
I have to give credit to my chiropractor and my yoga instructor. I feel better structurally and I have lost a few pounds. I have less back pain, no knee pain and I feel that as soon as I can breathe again I would be able to enjoy a good walk. I would even like to get a bicycle. And I think that the yoga, the adjustments and the physical therapy all helped with the issues I was having last fall. I am hoping the naturopath has some other suggestions. I am willing to try acupuncture, hyperbaric treatments, and any other sort of non-invasive treatment that could help. I want to be the busy, active person I was five years ago when I was hiking parts of Mt. Monadnock every weekend. Spring is coming. I am going to Santa Fe in April and would like to enjoy it.
I guess the bottom line is that I am a little frustrated. I am doing all I can here (except cutting out chocolate and we know that isn’t going to happen) and I don’t feel the medical community is willing to be a partner with me in managing my health. I am also frustrated that medical insurance does not see the value in complementary treatments and that I would have to pay for acupuncture or other treatments out of my own pocket.
Here are my goals for this week. Take everything in moderation. Do what I know works – yoga, meditation and short walks and laughing and talking with friends.
Note: Just as I was finishing writing this I got a call from the ARNP’s office. It was the nurse. She wanted to know what I wanted to talk to the ARNP about. I told her I had hoped to talk to the ARNP personally because I wanted to apologize for something and to also talk to her about a couple of things. I was told I would have to make an appointment as the “doctors” don’t usually make phone calls to patients. I said I would pass and that I would discuss it the next time I was in to see her for something. I guess I will continue to feel as if I am not being heard by my medical professionals. I guess I need to meditate again. I already had some laughter therapy by calling my friend, Barbara, and letting her know about the latest. A little short walk will probably do me good, too. Oh – and I no longer feel the need to apologize for rolling my eyes.

Spring Fever and Sunday Afternoons

I have a cold and Spring Fever. Not a good combination. It has me in a brain fog that does not bode well for writing or knitting. Everything I have needed to do this morning from making my bed and brushing my hair to folding laundry has had to be done mindfully and deliberately or it would need to be done again. Every room has a dwindling box of tissues and I have opened my bedroom window in order to feel a slight breeze and breathe the fresh air.

It is really too early for spring fever. Even though we in New Hampshire have had less snow than other parts of the country, there is still plenty of time for a couple more big snows. We have brown patches and dirty piles of ice but it is still too soon to hope for a quick mud season and an early spring. Being able to open windows and air out the apartment has been helpful in relieving some of the winter blues. I also had a plant blooming in my bedroom this morning. That encouraged some of the spring fever.

When I lived in Virginia we would have teaser days in January and February. These were days when it would warm up to 60 or 70 degrees and I could go for a walk in the Norfolk Botanical Gardens in shorts and a tee shirt. I would find a bench in the direct sunlight and let the sun bathe my body while I watched the ducks and geese prepare for the hatchlings that would soon be arriving. However, within a week of that teaser day there would be a bout of cold and icy weather that would be a reminder that it was too early to hope.

It almost seems the same way here in New England this year. We are getting teaser days where the breeze carries the scent of fresh grass or deep brown dirt that has been overturned for a garden. The breeze feels like a “come on” when the calendar says there is still a month until the Vernal Equinox and another two months until the scent of lilacs fills the New Hampshire air. The thought of May and June are what get me through the winters here. New England gardeners must have deep green thumbs. Their gardens come alive in May and June and the view of country gardens against stone walls can be breath taking. Spring – hurry!!!

Having been under the weather for most of the winter has not helped my mood either. I feel as if there is a large piece missing in my self care plan and that is walking. These cold winds do not bode well for me when I have an upper respiratory infection so I just stick to yoga and hope for warmer days and gentle breezes.

I am doing fairly well on my New Year plan for health and wellness. As long as I feel fairly well I am able to do my yoga and I have taken some short walks in the past couple of weeks. I am still avoiding meat. I woke up this morning to a craving for grapefruit and was glad that I had bought a couple of sweet red ones this past Friday. Chocolate cravings hit hard on some days but there are other days when I will realize that I haven’t had chocolate at all and haven’t looked for it. If I don’t have it in the house I will very rarely go out especially to get chocolate. I find it funny, though, that I can check out a full cart of healthy fruits and veggies and still need to buy three Lindor truffles at the checkout line. I seek out the line that has the truffles even when I know I could go through a line that does not have the candy. However, I feel that having had the ability to move past the cookie and chips aisles and the ice cream freezers, the three little Lindor truffles are my reward for a job well done.

Sunday afternoon, however, is when all resistance flies out the window. It is my time for fun and decadence in the form of my knitting group and a large chocolate triple trio or javanilla shake at the bookstore where we meet for two hours. This is where I get my laughter and chocolate therapy once a week. This weekly gathering of women has convinced me that when my ancestors went to stay in the menstrual hut with other women that they did so gladly and with a skip in their step. The men must have wondered why there was so much laughter coming from the place to which they had been banished. I wonder if some woman overstayed their time or if they even lied about how often they were having their period. The joy of being with other women sharing stories of joy and pain can be a healing force that I doubt men can experience in their sports bars and locker rooms. We are very blessed that we have these opportunities and the depth to be able to share our lives in such a way while creating beautiful knitted items. It is a feast of chocolate, laughter and wool on a cold afternoon that helps keep the winter blues at bay.