bs post I wrote last week and didn't 'publish' because I knew it was bs...

well, my table came this morning, and I'm so happy.  it's nice to have a place to sit down and eat a meal in my own apartment without having to balance the plate on my lap.  there are still boxes everywhere, and probably will be for awhile, but that's just because I don't have any shelves for books, clothes, or chachkis!  I'm also grateful for the day off of work - I've been needing to catch my breath from all the activity.  I'm so proud of myself; even if I'm tooting my own horn, so be it.  I sent my stuff over,  I moved here, I'm learning the language, and I got a job in just under four months.  now, I'm nowhere near an expert in anything, yet, I'm just pointing out how I'm taking the proper steps to get where I need and want to be.  

 

the job isn't bad, but it does take a lot of physical energy - everything takes a lot of energy when it gets hot - and it's only halfway through May.  Hebrew school also takes a lot of energy, but it's obviously more mental energy.  I wonder sometimes if my mind is still elastic enough to pick up another language, and I'm glad it's not completely new to me...I think it helps to have heard it throughout my life.  that said, I can't understand most of what the kids I'm working with say to me!  I ask them to repeat what they say more slowly, but we often don't manage to connect.  it's fun when we do, though!

 

random internet stock photo of kids

 

I'm worried about money, because I finally had to break into that last $1000 I had in my American bank account.  there's nothing I can do right now about needing groceries, and payday apparently comes once a month.  knowing how Israeli paperwork goes, I'm not hopeful that the process of receiving my first paycheck will go quickly or smoothly, but we will see.  I should probably find out of there's a food bank somewhere.  in the event that you enjoy this blog, feel free to 'gift me a hot chocolate' through the link in the sidebar.  or just click HERE.  I would really appreciate it, and thanks in advance.  I'm happy to exchange any donations for a tarot reading, if you leave a comment on this post with a method of getting in touch with you.  or, just click HERE. 

www.paypal.com/paypalme/mysteriamb

 

I was off of work because it was Lag BaOmer Thursday night and Friday - which is celebrated for being the 33rd day of counting the days between Passover and Shavuot, and other reasons you're free to look up because I don't feel like doing it for you.  I just sort of assumed things were closed, so stayed home putzing around my apartment, not taking into account that it was also Shabbat, and anything I didn't get from the store right now I would be without until after work hours on Sunday (unless I can squeeze in a trip before work tomorrow).  I need to put ALL the Jewish holidays on my calendar, now.  so while I finally figured out that the grocery stores were open during the day (it's apparently more of a school holiday than a national holiday), I didn't have the motivation to get to one before they closed for Shabbat.  oh well. good thing I bought that bag of pasta!

now that I shouldn't/can't/don't want to splurge on things like pedicures, I wish I had brought my nail polishes, the polish remover, the pumice stone, and the little toe separators.  there was definitely room for them in the lift, and it would have been a few less items for me to re-buy.  I could of course go without cute toenails, but it's worth the small amount of time and energy invested towards my own joy.

I really do dig my little apartment and hope I can stay here long enough to make it 'feel like home', whatever that means.  for me, it may just mean having a place for everything, a bunch more plants, and feeling comfortable enough to invite people over to chill...(having people to invite over to chill).  the only thing I'm missing is money.  I definitely wish I hadn't had to spend so much of my savings before I left the States so I had more to spend over here, but c'est la vie, and I encourage you once again to drop me a $10, $25, or $100 hot chocolate tip to help keep me afloat while I'm undergoing the stress of assimilating to living, working, and studying in a new country!  and leave a comment - let me know you're here, reading along.  thanks ~

National Indigenous People's Day of Mourning vs. American Thanksgiving vs. Something Else Entirely

what an eye-opening visit I had with an old 'friend' recently - probably someone I'll be crossing off my list of people to visit when I have free time to play with in town!  as we've had more than enough Universal signs pointing to this being an important year for all of us to sever ties that don't serve us as we journey ever more fully into ourselves, it also comes as a staunch reminder of how the community I live near is decidedly toxic for me, and how I need to really and truly let go of any remaining connections I had to a small circle of people I used to know who also migrated to this area from other locales.  here's the set-up:  I tend to stop in uninvited to this particular person's house every few months, and just this week, I ended up having about 2.5 hours unaccounted for in my schedule as my commitments took less time than I thought, so I took the opportunity to do a little visiting.  was that my first mistake?  leaving unaccounted time in my schedule?  or stopping by someone's house uninvited?  here's what I puzzled out about it when considering how I would feel if that person (or any person I considered a friend or closer acquaintance) showed up at my door uninvited at 5:30pm; it might be a bit weird, initially, as it's dark this time of year, and everyone is so up into their electronic devices (and who even goes visiting anymore other than me), but I would invite them in, and into whatever activity I was involved in at the time.  the people I had dropped in on appeared to be watching a program or video that they shut off when I showed up, and when I asked what they were watching, they said it was something about whether or not the national November holiday - which many people still refer to as "Thanksgiving", and I call "National Indigenous People's Day of Mourning" - is racist.  "Ah!"  I said, "that's a hot issue, now, isn't it?"  and asked them what they do during the 'holiday', and why.

"you guys mind if I chill here for a few hours?"

for them, like for many people, it's a day of the year when families have traditionally gotten together for generations, to eat particular foods, and enjoy each other's company - an innocuous harvest festival, for the most part, celebrated by many people for both secular and religious reasons, across a range of dates.  so how and when did it become so politicized?  turns out, the American holiday is rooted in English Christian tradition, dating back to religious rifts in the church during the 16th century, mostly as a way to replace the ever-increasing number of 'holy days' on their calendar (and probably limit the amount of time servants had to be allowed to attend services).  these early 'feasts of thanksgiving' were usually celebratory responses to a victory in battle, or some other event where folks just felt like being thankful to whatever god/s they worshiped, and the colonizers of the United States brought this tradition along with them in their bag of tricks when they violently took over the Native Americans' land.  there is still much debate over where and when the first thanksgiving feast was held in America, with claims of a Spanish religious service being held in what is now Florida as early as 1565, and the ones in Virginia (1619) and Massachusetts (1621) being the famous misrepresentations for our current narrative, which had their respective histories whitewashed for generations, leaving out the parts that showed the settlers to be brutal murderers, and promoting the nonsense that has been taught in American schools ever since (that the Pilgrims and Natives shared a lovely meal, and everyone lived happily ever after - except not).  there was a feast of thanksgiving held after the Continental Congress enacted the Constitution in 1787, and the 'first national thanksgiving' was proclaimed by George Washington in November of 1789.  it makes me wonder about that supposed separation between church & state that was written into our Constitution just two years earlier, and even though it was considered a secular event, the name of 'god' was invoked in order to further push the agenda that all success was due to 'outside forces', which must surely indicate the spiritual superiority of the 'victors', and so must be acknowledged by showing gratitude to said 'higher power'.  apparently, some politicians from back in the day agreed with me about that particular hypocrisy, and some even saw it as an unwelcome declaration from 'the North', indicative of the long history of regional tensions between those above and below the Mason-Dixon line (the demarcation line between Maryland and Pennsylvania, showing the boundary between states that allowed slavery, and states that didn't, in 1767) .

depiction of the Pequot Massacre, 1637

all that said, "Thanksgiving" in its current iteration was midwifed by Abraham Lincoln in 1863 (in the midst of the Civil War), after decades of Ms. Sarah Josepha Buell Hale hounding everyone in government to do so via letters, and publishing poems, stories, and recipes that supported her vision for a national holiday in the popular 'ladies magazine' she edited.  it was only in 1941 when FDR - in a bid to extend the holiday shopping season - signed the resolution to establish the current date (the fourth Thursday in November) as a federal holiday across the entire US that we eventually arrived at the modern 'celebration' we know and love/loathe today, depending on your perspective.  for the above-mentioned 'friend' I dropped in on, it has been a day for them, as a parent to several children with different partners, to have all their kids (and sometimes one or more of the partners) together in one place, for a hearty meal.  and there's nothing wrong with that, is there?  for me, being 'cut off' from my family of origin the way I am, there are NO holidays that I celebrate with any blood relatives other than my own child, so I don't really care about That particular aspect of the traditional feast...also, being Jewish, I have no connection to any English or Christian feast or fast days, and the Jewish harvest festival of Sukkot happened back in mid-October, and is celebrated with foods and rituals indigenous to the Middle-East (though living in America, we do include indigenous American foods in our practices).  my people emigrated to the US from Europe in order to escape religious persecution in the same way the early settlers and colonists claimed to, the difference being that we didn't rape and murder millions of indigenous people, or force our religion onto them, in order to do it.  we were running from our own genocide, to be sure, yet I am well aware of how assimilated Jews have contributed to the racist and oppressive systems that continue to pervade our institutions, systems, and relationships - it's hard to be well-educated, and not accept that reality, however hard it may be to recognize our complicity.  in any case, this "American Thanksgiving" wasn't something my Romanian/Romani/Israeli father was overly familiar with, and I think that's why it hardly registers to me as anything other than a break in the school year, or a day off of work (if you're lucky enough to work at a job that doesn't require your presence for the gross display of mass consumption everything in America has become).

maybe give a little bit of yourself - take time to play a game with your family at home during the 'gift-giving' season.  bake cookies, make art together, sing songs, make memories by engaging in enriching activities together...

as a young adult living on my own, I never bothered with the national Thanksgiving holiday - I hardly had an oven to cook a meal in, let alone all that 'traditional' nonsense.  I usually had to work, or was happy to have a day off to catch up on some sleep!  during the years that I had a 'home' to go to, it became the horrible emotional roller-coaster for me that it is for many who are less than welcome at family gatherings for myriad reasons.  in my case, one of those reasons was my growing moral imperative to address the feast as the impetus for the genocide it became for the people whose stolen land I feel duty-bound to acknowledge we live on, even though my mother's people came here to avoid similar fates in their own lands (my dad's people went to Israel, and later to Canada - another nation with much the same issues as the US in regards to the indigenous people who live there).  social media can also make it harder, serving up a stream of pictures of people gathering together with loved ones, while I'm home alone with my kid, trying not to internalize the feeling of there being something inherently 'wrong' with us because no one wants us at their table - not that I'd feel good about going anywhere other than a memorial service for the murdered...  once I became aware of the true story of the colonial-settler-genocide this day commemorates, I couldn't in good conscience 'celebrate' anything about it, and in lieu of any local non-colonial-settler-genocide commemorations to attend (that I am aware of), my tradition with my son has become to light a yahrtzeit candle (Jewish memorial candle) in honor of National Indigenous People's Day of Mourning, wherein we eat whatever we feel like eating, and watch Native American centered movies.  when the rest of the national consciousness catches up with my understanding of how horribly the marginalized original people of this land feel about the 'celebrations' of their attempted murder, maybe I'll celebrate that.  I know change takes time, and I look forward to when it comes for this holiday (and many others like it).  it has nothing to do with me, and I don't need it.

this is where I got the name 'National Indigenous People's Day of Mourning'.  they've been trying to get us to notice these issues since the beginning of my life - I think it's time more of us listened to them.

so what does any of that have to do with my dropping in on someone who has to ask whether or not the day of feasting is racist?  well, I have a little bit of a problem with people who can't see past their own desires to continue to whitewash history, especially when they're the kind of people I expect to know better, because of their self-proclaimed 'advanced spiritual mindset' (remember that point from earlier in this essay?  how the colonizers saw themselves as being favored by their 'god' because they mostly succeeded in their murderous endeavors?).  I mean, how can you claim to be more 'spiritually-advanced' than the next guy, when the next guy is a Native American telling you how they feel on the third Thursday of every year while watching white people continue to eat the traditional foods they themselves have been disconnected from, while inventing narratives about what good friends we all were back in the day, before the colonizers tried to kill them all?  sure thing, man - take some more ayahuasca, and appropriate some more cultural ceremonies that aren't yours to claim (hint:  if the cops and paramedics get called out to your 'ceremony', perhaps you're doing it wrong).  for sure - I get having a day when you get to have all your kids together at once, but think about why you get that, why you need that, and what information you're passing on, given the opportunity to have a family discussion around sensitive, yet ultimately important, issues.  look into where your own family traditions come from, and decide whether or not they're worth carrying on.  look into your own ancestral history, and see if there isn't a celebration that makes more sense for you to connect with.  make up your own holiday, and share that with your family!  or take a moment to honor the people who died so you could have a place to spread your whiteness around.  yeah, I know...I'm white too, but I do my part to call out my fellow Jews and Roma on these points as well.  and there's plenty of stuff I get wrong and need to correct for - this just doesn't happen to be one of them.  aside:  also, I'm pretty sure people who are ever so spiritually enlightened ought, in my opinion, be more actively involved in promoting inclusivity through building community, rather than practicing exclusivity based on jealousy and petty rivalries, or socioeconomic status.

quote from a great article I read in Bitch media's Travel issue last summer - read the full piece here.

as to me turning up unannounced, etiquette begs several questions, and the mixed signals I got from the person in question wouldn't help me answer them, though I'm smart enough to figure it out on my own.  first off, I have known this person for 30 odd years, through two of their relationships (one with another former friend), and all through most of their children's lives.  I am often received with a hug, and a "come on in", though this last time I got the feeling I wasn't welcome.  if that was the case, I would have expected this person to know me well enough and/or feel comfortable enough to tell me it wasn't a good time, that they simply weren't in the mood to receive guests, or that they would prefer if I called before dropping in (or even that they would prefer I didn't drop in at all).  none of those responses would have hurt my feelings, and I would have found some other way to amuse myself for the 2 hours I had left to wait to pick up my son from his rehearsal.  the bottom line is that the mood in the room began to feel awkward at the first conversational lull, and their body language made it obvious that they wanted to be doing other things.  I asked if it was ok for me to just stay while they 'did their thing', as it was cold out, and I didn't have anywhere else to go, to which they responded in the affirmative, but again, I felt weirdly unwelcome, so I chose to leave after a bit anyway.  there are plenty of reasons for me to recognize that this is a relationship better left in the past, and virtually none to support continuing it, hence it is ended.  again, moving forward, I'm only going where I'm celebrated, not where I'm barely tolerated.  of my labeling the town as toxic to me, I'm referencing the few people I know who live there, and make overtures of friendship, yet act in ways that are the opposite of what I consider friendly behavior, regularly.  not only that, one of them recently got angry when I mentioned that I had stopped trying with them, because they always find a last-minute excuse not to meet up, then don't make an attempt to reschedule...if that doesn't say "I don't want to hang out with you", I don't know what does!  so the onus is on me to do a better job of scheduling my time there fully, or making sure I have somewhere to be if I happen to have an hour here or there between scheduled plans because something didn't take as long as I thought it might.  I'd take it personally, but since the advent of cell phones and laptops, people just don't seem as interested in spending time with each other as they used to, which I think is a shame, because I like to visit with my friends, and take inspiration from the conversations we have, and appreciate the ways in which live interaction deepens our connections.  guess I'm just weird like that ~




sources:

https://www.archives.gov/legislative/features/thanksgiving

https://time.com/4577082/thanksgiving-holiday-history-origins/

https://www.businessinsider.com/history-of-thanksgiving-2017-11

https://www.britannica.com/topic/Thanksgiving-Day

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Thanksgiving

Trip Tick (content warning: body fluids, sexual content, 'coarse language', possible sarcasm...what the fuck, we're all adults, right? make your choices.)

full moon blood ritual by the river...

nighttime.  the house asleep.  heart thumping, the sealed jar taken down and out beneath the swollen spring moon.  to the river, swiftly, through the forest.  down the rocks and across the sand, to the water's edge.  so beautiful...but there's little time.  draw, with the big stick, a circle in the sand.  mark the directions, and say hello.  open the jar, hold it up, think about what's in it, how old it is, where it came from.  why.  place it on its side in the river.  let its blood run out.  set it free.  is this what it was meant for?  didn't it seem like it had more of a story to tell?  why?  what has been set loose?  where did it go?  too long, too long..!  rinse it out and seal it up; time to go.  thank those who watch over, in the opposite direction.  grateful for the big stick, up over the rocks, across the grassy strip, into the trees.  heart back to thumping because it's bear season, but the sounds of footsteps and a big stick meaning to be respectfully heard should be enough, and the scent they would be after is back in the river, now, anyway.  the house lights comfortably close, steps slow, breathing expands out.  now what?


equinox sap, rutting season.

the drums bring her back.

where the hell..?  where am I now?

she wonders.

oh yeah, the River.  awesome!  I love these people!

her head bobs deeply with the beat as she smiles, digs the rhythm.  duende.  she changes her direction and does a little spin, changes it up, and one of the drums comes with her.  she lets him go because she needs to steady herself after such a bold move, and find the swing again.

I was lost just a minute ago, need to balance!

so she catches the net the drum throws out, and hangs in.

right.  it's time.

moving gently in waves towards the altar, she takes a deep breath and begins to gather in the energy of the drummers and the dancers, pulling it into her.  she throws another spin in, but wilder, and more focused.  feet stamping.  arms stretching, reaching, encompassing...she throws her head back and bends her knees, then lifts the bowl, slowly, carefully, overhead.  gazing up at it, and out into the heavens.  she pours a smooth stream of blood over the rocks of the altar where it pools around the bases of dozens of candles, offering plates, flowers and herbs, crystals, fruits bones grains mixed with honey and wine seeping into the stones  dripping into the earth  where they danced
                                                                                                                                   where they danced

hear us.  amen.

the drums were signaling, so she came back again.  swaying with the bowl in her hands, dripping its last onto the flowers before her feet, she bowed to the altar and replaced the bowl.  dancing back, she turned to face the drummers, and they all met her eyes.  yes.  they beat the ritual out.  a collective whoop from all those dancing set a seal on the night's work, and some fell to the ground, some shook out last ya-yas, and a few were left spinning...spinning...and laughing.  there were sighs, and lots of breathing.  then came the hugs.  everyone embraced in what became an all-group mosh, with many sighs, deep with feeling and the closeness of days of journeying.  the drummers joined in and all hands reached to massage arms
                                             shoulders
                                             necks.

of those who were hungry, they went to food.
of those who were thirsty, they went to drink.
of those who were tired, they went to sleep.
of those who were aroused, they made love.

many made love.  many made it with others.

many did it roughly, like animals - out in the open, biting clawing growling, with teeth blood and bruises.  like a good fight, fierce and tight.  a coupling.  a mating ritual.  death.

three did it hidden in a grove like fairies, all soft and fluttery, breath letting out in peals and tiny gasps, exquisite.  a wonder, a discovery.  life.

one did it alone.  and with everyone, everywhere.  rebirth.
(and they had pie)


his father's tools in his hands conquer the world.


this tragic hero, this...John of Arc.  John of Philly, California.  John of My Heart.

this motherfucker.

this work of art.

what can be said would be right?  shine on you crazy diamond?  I don't even know how that hurts.  I can't walk the walk, and I can't talk the talk, but I do my best, so fuck off.

sing for your supper.

in this world...
                                                                                                                                                       
                                                                                                                                                      amen 

Hannukah 2018

lame store-bought excuse for suvganiot, given how delicious my homemade version is...

it's the last night of Hannukah, and it's been a rough week, so I'm glad it's over, but I'm also feeling like I need to take stock of how my holiday panned out, now that I have a minute to sit back and think about it.  so here's a quick rundown of how it went:

1st night - it's a week ago, already, so I barely remember what happened, but I DO know my teen was away with his sports team until around 3pm, after which he had a 3 hour band rehearsal.  I lit the electric menorah in the window before we left for rehearsal so we'd enjoy seeing it's glow in the night when we returned, but there was no holiday food, or presents (other than the gift of being together, safe, sheltered, with electricity, food, water, our good health, and our cat, which is plenty good enough for both of us, but I'm sure the cat thinks she could have done better).

2nd night - the teen came home early from after-school sports practice, and discovered a package in the mailbox from his dad (no note or anything) with a cool pair of wireless earbuds in it.  we got out our 'proper' menorahs to light actual candles (we still light the electric one, but it doesn't feel right to me unless we light the real ones), and made delicious latkes for dinner.

3rd night - I completed an important overdue task before indulging in some much needed self-care (good meal/hot shower/clean clothes), and went to the laundromat while the teen was at music lessons & band rehearsal, where I ran into and chatted with a newer friend, before visiting the home of a much older friend, until it was time to pick up the teen and go home.  I think we forgot to light the electric menorah before we went out...it's pretty disappointing when you pull up in the driveway and those pretty lights aren't there to cheer you.

4th night - really rough...the teen had a spot of trouble at school, and as a result, was not allowed to compete with his team in their event after school that day, which broke his poor dear heart, but he learned that his less-intelligent actions can have serious repercussions, no matter how remorseful you feel in retrospect.  he needed to crawl into my lap (all 130+ pounds of him) and have a good cry about it, too.  we lit candles, but they burned down in the kitchen while we cuddled on the couch watching a movie and eating crap food.

5th night - we splurged and went out for a meal ($30 total, tip included).  another rehearsal night.  we may have lit candles when we got home, and I'm pretty sure we remembered to light the electric ones before we left.

6th night - the teen skipped sports practice to come straight home from school because he had to report to the venue for his gig by 4pm.  and there were gifts for him!  socks and comfy pajamas from some dear friends!  he did great at his performance, but I felt barred from entering the venue to watch him so...I didn't feel particularly celebratory, or supported by my 'community'.  it was an electric menorah night, and a rough one, at that.

7th night - I was gifted with the concern of several of the other parents at the music school who were wondering what had happened between the school and me to cause such bad blood between us so suddenly after 5 years, and their insistence that I offer those administrators (and the idiots who sowed the seeds of discontent with them) a big 'fuck you' by standing proudly in the middle of the room to watch my son perform.  while it was nice to feel seen, heard, and supported, I was too fragile to do it due to being blown off two nights in a row by the teen's friend who said they'd be there, but wasn't.  the teens are too young to drive, so it's not really the kid's fault for not making it, and who knows what their mom was struggling with to tell me she would bring her kid to the show two nights in a row, and not only Not show up, but Not call to make any kind of excuse...well, that's pretty insulting to me, and disrespectful of my time, and makes me have to reconsider how close I want to be with her in the future, as this isn't the first time this kind of thing has happened between us.  knowing one's worth - or being reminded to respect it - is an important gift in and of itself.  the teen performed another great show, and his gift was his mama's pride.  seeing our almost fully lit menorah in the window as we arrived home was a comforting sight.

8th night - we took the day off.  we literally laid around in our pajamas and did nothing other than watch some television shows we borrowed from the library, and munch on handfuls of cereal straight out of the box.  since we had no plans of any kind (for a reason - I wanted us both to have a break after our busy week), I had hoped that This would be the day that I would somehow magically have the energy and fortitude to make 500 latkes and 1000 suvganiot to celebrate Hannukah the way I know how - with lots of yummy fried goodness, and song (I'm still without the resources to provide material gifts, but yes, that's generally a part of it, too).  we didn't.  we did have to run out to the grocery store, and while we were there, I picked up the last, pathetic, getting stale, jelly donut in the case to serve as the symbol for our crumpled-wax-bag of a Hannukah this year.  we lit the electric menorah, ate our sad, commercial-grocery-store-bakery-bland, overly sugary donut (pictured at the top of the post), made a mockery of singing a few verses of various Hannukah songs ridiculously loudly, high-fived, and called it a holiday.

in stating my disappointment with myself at not having made the time to either decorate, or cook traditional foods, the teen wisely reminded me that it doesn't have to be Hannukah to make latkes or suvganiot, and I replied, "no, I only make them once a year, and that once is on Hannukah, and Hannukah's over now, so...I'm not doing it."  I knew in advance it was going to be a hard holiday for us due to my lack of financial wealth, a particularly bad case of 'winter blues/seasonal affective disorder', and the work/school/extra-curricular schedule, but there were still times that I could have made cooking a priority instead of plopping down in my chair to check facebook, or watch part of a movie.  there was definitely some gratuitous lounging around this week as I was having a hard time processing all of the emotional baggage into manageable packages so I could function at a base level, if not much more.  mainstream society doesn't often leave much room for cultural norms that fail to coincide with the status quo, and I'm not surrounded by a large and loving family/community that makes it easier to be festive by all being involved in preparing for the same party.  in fact, the one party I Was preparing for (my son's gig) left me out in the cold, and feeling the very opposite of joyful and connected.

still, all in all...the teen and I, in our tiny little two-person family, made some effort at keeping the traditions alive, which is better than not having done it at all.  the teen got some gifts that he needed (and loves), and even a gift that he wanted (and loves).  he sang his heart out, played the best solo of his life two nights in a row, and gracefully accepted some hard lessons.  I got reminded how important it is to be with people who cherish me rather than tolerate me, and that even though it generally feels like I'm out here all alone all the time, there are still folks who are willing to come out and support me every now and again.  the teen and I joked and laughed together, the way we always do, because even though our lives can be hard, we do our best to have fun and enjoy it anyway.  and to be fair, the one batch of latkes I did make were delicious (even if I did forget the sour cream and applesauce).  now it's time for me to retreat into my best version of hibernation, do some serious inner journeying for the Solstice, avoid the madness of late December consumerism disguised as religious posturing, and look towards celebrating my 50th birthday soon after the new year.  I hope it has something wonderful in store for us, we sure could use some 'wonderful' around here.

happy winter holiday season, whatever you celebrate!

💜

Framing Ford's Fiasco

content warning:  description of non-consensual sexual contact and related issues

when we were around 19 years old, a friend and I met two guys at a street fair where we were vending, and made plans to catch up with them later that evening at a local arcade.  at some point that night, while killing a game of Black Knight, I started to feel sick and began to slump over the pinball machine, but I was racking up the high score, and didn't want to give up the game.  eventually, I asked my friend to take over so I could go outside and get some air, yelling at her over my shoulder on my way to the door not to lose my ball, because I'd be Right Back to finish the game myself.  after walking around the parking lot a bit to clear my head, I decided to go sit in my car and relax for a few more minutes before heading back in.  the guy I had been hanging out with suddenly got in next to me, started touching and kissing me, making out with me, and I know I told him I came outside to breathe because I wasn't feeling well, and I'm sure there was a "No" or a "Stop" in there somewhere.  he started to climb on top of me, and managed to lower my seat back to a reclining position (I was in the driver's seat).  he started rubbing himself on me - took his penis out of his pants, and with his full weight on me, thrust himself between my breasts until he came all over my chest, at which point, he jumped out of the car, and was gone.  I remember laying there in my car, thinking "what the hell just happened?"  I don't remember finding something to clean myself off with, but I must have, because I Do remember walking back into the arcade, finding my friend, and telling her that we were leaving - Now.  she was confused, and made some half-assed attempt at arguing, but the guy she was hanging out with wasn't all that interesting, and I was her ride, so off we went.

and that might have been the end of it, however inappropriate it was.  I would have gone home, taken a shower, and moved on with my life without giving the incident too much conscious thought, though obviously, the experience has never left me.  I hadn't been hit, bruised, beaten, threatened, held down, or hurt.  I hadn't tried to scream or fight - mostly I remember being dizzy and confused, and wondering what was happening, what he was doing to my body, wondering why he was doing it.  it was over just as quickly as it had started, and he took off like a shot, leaving me lying there, covered in his mess, not understanding why I let it happen in the first place.  sure, I wasn't feeling well, I was dizzy and nauseous, and having to fend off an overzealous date wasn't something I thought was in the game plan for the evening, but I'm not a 'lay there and let it happen' kind of girl, so...why?

about 5 years or so later, I was living with a boyfriend, and in the cottage next door lived another couple we were friends with.  one afternoon, my neighbor and I were hanging out and she was gushing about this new friend she'd made, telling me how awesome he was, how she had invited him over that evening, and that my boyfriend and I should come over, too, and we'd make a night of it.  Sure, sure, no problem, we'd be there, can't wait to meet him.  so the four of us (the two couples) are sitting in the living room of the cabin when the new guy arrives.  the moment he stepped through the door, my blood turned to ice.  yeah, it was That Guy...I stared him down while our friend made the introductions.  The look of sheer terror on his face when she introduced us turned to shock as I smiled and reached my hand out to him.  "Nice to meet you," I said, as we all settled in for a night of board games, adult refreshments, and camaraderie.  my skin was on fire, or icy cold.  my head was pounding.  I found it hard to follow the conversation, speak, or make eye contact with anyone.  I excused myself, and went back to my own apartment, shut off the lights, and lay in bed with my eyes burning holes in the bedroom wall, fists wrapped tight in the blankets, while my boyfriend, our neighbors, and their new friend, all had a grand old time together.

this asshole now became a part of our group.  he was invited to all the parties.  he came on all the hikes.  he was brought to our special swimming spot (where he forged an inappropriate friendship with another one of our friend's girlfriends, go figure).  he 'was in the neighborhood, so he just dropped by'.  he came to my house, and expected to be let in to hang out with the rest of us.  I think that must have been the point at which I finally said something to my boyfriend.  I remember telling him that I didn't want that prick in my house, and I resented the fact that saying so would make me look like the asshole, because everyone just liked him so much.  I don't remember how my boyfriend reacted, but I do remember words like 'long time ago', and 'different person now' floating around my brain, trying to connect with words like 'it would be weird if we suddenly stopped letting him come around, especially if we're all hanging out'...

here it is more than 25 years later, and I no longer know those neighbors.  the old boyfriend is still around, less a friend of mine than a friend of a friend.  I have no idea what happened to 'the asshole', but I wouldn't be surprised to hear he ran for congress or something, because that's where these fuckers seem to end up.  I don't even remember his name (ok...wait, yeah I do.), but I can still recall the look on his face every time he spoke to me - it was like he was pretending to be sorry for doing something he knew was wrong, but also like he didn't get caught or called out for it, so he was smug about having 'gotten away with it'.  I should have knocked his teeth out, or pushed him down my stairs, or told my girlfriends, or...Something.  I shouldn't have just let him off the hook.  especially after he and that chick at the swimming hole cheated together on her boyfriend - a good friend of mine to this day - and effectively ended their relationship (it's ok, my buddy married someone way better than that bitch).  hell, my so-called boyfriend should have done All those things on my behalf as soon as I told him what happened!  I don't recall whether or not I told anyone else.

while it certainly wasn't the worst thing to ever happen to anyone, if he did it to me, he may well have done it to others.  others who aren't tough-as-nails like me, women who may have been devastated by less...or seriously damaged by more.  how might he treat his wife, if he ever got married?  his daughters, if he has any?  and to be fair, my beef is not specifically with this one person, it's with All the people who use others as if they have some special privilege (there's that word, again) to walk through this world without the consequences of their poor behavior to hinder them in any way.  he was neither the first, nor the last person who treated my body like it belonged to his personal desires rather than to me:  there was the inappropriate babysitter I just learned about recently; there were incidents with my brother's friends who spent the night at our house; there was the 21 year old college basketball player I gave my virginity to when I was 15; the high school footballer who took me into the bathroom at a keg party and made me give him head for what felt like hours; the 'boyfriends' who only ever wanted to have sex and wouldn't hang out with me if I refused; the high school hockey dude who got me drunk at the drive-in, had sex with me, and took my underpants so he could bring them to school and yell down the hallway, "you left these in the backseat of my car the other night!".  there was the random dude at some party where I must have been drugged because I still can't explain how I woke up in a strange bed, my neck black with hickeys.

do you want to know what I was wearing when these events took place?  do you want to know why I chose to give up my virginity to a college dude who was 'home on break' that I hoped never to see again when I was so young?  do you want to know what I was doing at keg parties while I was still in high school?  do you want to know why I went out with guys who were only after what was in my pants?  why I went to the drive-in and got drunk with that loser who stole my undies?  why I was at a party where I didn't know who I was partying with?  who cares?  I was a teenager - a kid.  and yeah, a pretty stupid one, at that.  I hitchhiked around in mini-skirts and three inch heels (and mostly got picked up by little old ladies who were Very concerned about my welfare).  it's called life.  it's called learning.  did I learn how alcohol works in my body, and decide that drinking wasn't really for me?  yes I did.  did I learn the mechanics and politics of sex?  yes I did - and after many years (and several kind and patient lovers), I eventually learned how to enjoy it.  did I learn that dating meat-head jocks was best left to some other chick?  abso-fucking-lutely.  did I learn to party responsibly, and only with people I know and trust?  definitely.  did I learn to recognize a dangerous situation and how to extricate myself from it?  yup.  did I spend years training in the martial arts?  you betcha.

does my working through my issues excuse any one of those boys from treating me like an object to be used for my parts then tossed aside?  No It Does Not.  every one of the above experiences (barring the babysitter) happened when I was a teenager.  less than 20 years old.  by the time I was 21, I took no more shit from anyone, for any reason.  and I'm in no way attempting to diminish my own irresponsibility in these instances, because I was most certainly irresponsible, but that doesn't in Any Way mean that a series of belligerent, entitled, white boys under the influence of drugs and/or alcohol had the right to use me like a sexual doormat.  the weird thing is, given all I've written above, I am also guilty of not having believed one of my college roommates when she claimed she was raped.  in the room next to ours...by one of the nicest, and most gentle human beings I have ever met.  to this day, I believe she slept with my friend of her own free will, regretted it, and made up the rape story to pre-empt and redirect her boyfriend's anger from focusing on her, to the guy who supposedly violated her.  I don't think he bought her story, either.  my friend, on the other hand, locked himself in his room, stopped coming to meals and going to classes, lost a ton of weight, got sick, and eventually moved to another dorm.  you'd think if the allegations against him were true, the school would have kicked him out rather than simply move him across the quad...

in retrospect, the other three of us roommates were kind of shitty to have looked at her askance, and thrown all the rote, misogynistic questions at her, making her go over it and over it for us so we could pick her apart, and still not believe her.  the thing was (still is, I guess), I knew a girl who made up a rape story to cover a lie she told her boyfriend.  I also knew a girl who made up a pregnancy story as a way to exact 'revenge money' from her ex, ostensibly for an abortion, with which she bought herself a pair of rather stylish and expensive boots.  so learning that there were women with the same poor judgement skills as the idiots I had the misfortune to cut my sexual teeth on definitely contributed to my general skepticism, but knowing a person's character gives you a really good idea about who a person is, and how they may behave.  in the case of my college roommate and my buddy, our neighbor, the differences in their characters told the story:  she was a social climbing, party-girl who came to college to find herself an athletic husband, and a career that offered a flattering uniform; he was a shy, sensitive soul, an art major with a low, quiet voice, and a bit of a dark edge due to a certain depth of knowledge.  who knows what happened?  maybe, for all I know, he did it, and they gave my roommate that line about how it wasn't fair to ruin a young man's life, blah blah blah, and they moved him away from us, but nowhere she didn't have to still see him most days.

we have to be sure about these things.  for instance, I can get behind the death penalty, but only in cases where the evidence proves beyond the shadow of any doubt, and all that.  there are few upstanding and righteous individuals - most of whom are not students of the law - I would trust to judge delicate issues, such as the one I've mentioned above, and others of a similar, or even darker nature, because of their understanding of 'truth & justice'.  what I've seen recently, in relation to current events, is one particular person looking to be appointed to the national committee we have in this country that oversees that sort of thing, but he's kind of just like that arcade-parking-lot-molester-type dude, and doesn't belong in that position.  was it a long time ago?  yes.  could he be a different person now?  yes.  are his buddies asking me to be silent in my own house so they can have their little boys club that benefits them, and harms pretty much everyone else?  YES.  am I going to?  NO.  why?

because they're going down in flames, these assholes, and they know it.  and they're grasping at every last straw of power they can get their mitts on before they go.  and that means it's going to get a bit worse before it gets better.  and that means a few more bodies on the fire before we manage to see this thing through.  but we will see it through, we're closer than we've ever been.  we have to build on the work that's been done before us, and smash all this nonsense that been going on around us with the words we've been holding in for too long.  and (white) guys, I get it...so many of you who are good and decent people are getting a raw deal because of these assholes, but the truth is, you all have had the benefit of the doubt for way too long, now, and it's time to share the sandbox.  that is all.  and stop touching women in ways you wouldn't touch other men.  or your mother.  maybe this is a good place to talk about sex work, even, who knows?  or a jumping-off point for that discussion, anyway.  it's all related.

we shouldn't even need to be having this discussion.  from what I saw on national television, the general consensus is that a certain party does not appear to be a model of impartiality, or an arbiter of justice, and we can do so much better.

Fail

I don't even know where to begin this week.  I'm really disappointed, let's start there.  it's been 24 days since I finished my Whole30, and I've been feeling a bit crappy for the past week or so...my digestion is kind of out of whack, I've been pimply and sore, and limping...my sleep schedule is off, and I feel bloated and thick.  I was at my mom's last Friday, and I thought I might have lost some more weight, so I got on her scale to find out that I Actually Gained Back 20 Pounds!  I mean, is that even possible?  I guess it is...if I can lose 30 pounds in 30 days, why not gain 20 pounds in 20 days?  I'm really frustrated and angry with myself.  all that hard work for nothing, and now I not only have to do it again, I have to do it better, and Keep doing it, forever.  even the teen is surprised - as he so blithely pointed out, I did a detox Last summer, and kept the weight off for over a year, so why didn't this Whole30 thing work out at least as well as that?  so I went from 245 to 215, and back to 235 all in 8 weeks.  that Can't be healthy...and here I was, walking around like I felt good about myself for accomplishing something.

frankly, I'm tired of blogging about my food, what I'm eating or not, how I'm affording it, what I'm doing when I can't afford it, how I'm coping...it's all getting rather old.  and I'm angry that I have to spend so much time thinking about it.  am I a victim of my own conscious conflict?  am I somehow simultaneously succeeding, and sabotaging myself?  how can I best deactivate/strip away my negative innermost limiting beliefs in order to not contradict my own desires? 

I still feel like 'I must have made some sort of mistake' in reading the scale, and meant to stop by the doc's office yesterday to confirm (or deny) those results, but I didn't end up getting to it, so no confirmation as of yet.  as far as my food issues go, my fridge is currently mostly bare (just like old times), and the few things that are in it are rapidly rotting veggies.  and in case you thought I didn't have enough to complain about, the power was out for most of the day, so I'm sure a portion of what is in my freezer isn't much good, either.  good times!

in any case, I think I need to spend more time - in 17 second intervals - working on focusing my desires in order to better manifest my dreams.  it seriously disturbs me that a post entitled "Success" gets half as many views as a post called "Relapse".  why are there more people interested in seeing me fail than people cheering me on to success?  so we're back to that disappointment I spoke of in terms of where I am, who's here with me (or who isn't), and what kind of energy it brings into my life.  seeing as how the people I tend to interact with let me down more than they hold me up, it's definitely time for me to change things around again, and as lonely as I already am, I can manage to endure just a little bit longer in order to give bringing the Right kinds of people into my life another shot. 

more than anything, I find I am once again disgusted at having trusted in people to be good to my son, who have turned out to do just the opposite.  if I had a penny for everyone who ever let us down, well...I'd be able to buy us something decent to eat.

A Whole 30!

I'm pretty done with writing down everything I eat for a bit - since I'm doing the reintroductions, now, I'll only post about the foods I'm reintroducing.  I did legumes yesterday, so I'll be back to 'regular Whole30 rules' for the next few days while I evaluate my reactions.  the hard part is, I woke up with a scratchy throat and a very slightly upset stomach the morning of my reintroduction, before I even ate anything.  naturally, I find that confusing, but am still doing my best to pay attention to what's happening with my body.  for instance - I feel a little sniffly, and have been coughing and sneezing a bit...is that because I caught a summer cold (why my throat is scratchy)?  or is it a reaction to the beans? to be honest, I don't really think it has anything to do with the beans!

I went to the doctor's office today to check my weight - guess what?  I LOST 30 POUNDS!!!

several days later, and once again out of food.  I mean, there's food, but there's very little meat, barely any veggies, and enough 'off plan' food to fill in the gap, but I'm not eating it.  nope.  no pasta or dairy for me, thanks.  and it's HOT so I don't want to cook anything.  now that my Whole30 is over, I've basically stopped eating...yesterday I didn't have breakfast, had eggs with some leftover slaw for lunch, and two raw carrots with pesto for dipping for dinner.  I haven't eaten yet today, and it's 4pm.  I was 'supposed' to reintroduce non-gluten grains yesterday, but I didn't, which is odd, because I was kind of looking forward to a big bowl of brown rice, but again - it's too hot to cook, so I didn't.  sigh...now I'm thinking this program may have triggered my mild eating disorder issues, and adding that into my lack of funds, I may be in some trouble in the near future in terms of my diet and health.  I'll try to work with it, but it would also be nice to lose a ridiculous amount of weight really quickly the way I used to when I was a dumb kid.  you'd think I might have learned something, but alas...dumb kids apparently grow into dumb adults.

and then I went grocery shopping, and cooked a meal with all the leftovers.  Brussels sprouts, red onion, butternut squash, ground turkey, tomato paste, veggie broth, herbs and spices.  it wasn't great, but it was good enough.  I thought I should go back to writing down what I eat, I feel a bit out of control now that I've taken a week to "ride my own bike" as they say.  ugh, and I'm quoting their stupid catchphrases...  I even chose to take a bite of the teen's pie that he made, even though I haven't finished the reintroductions.  it was only okay, and not worth it, so I was able to just have that one bite, but it did make my sugar cravings go instantly through the roof.  I do have cravings from time to time, but much like when I was pregnant, I can't identify what it is I'm craving, so it's hard to satisfy, and I'm willing to forgo the effort.  I'm obsessed with my belly, now, and spend time massaging the fat while I flex the muscle underneath, wondering 'if I get slender, will I have excess skin?'  so I'm trying to remember to engage my abdominals as much as possible.  I still haven't been able to get myself to exercise, which is probably the key to climbing out of this post-challenge low I fell into...the key word is Balance, I think.

from my facebook two days back:

going through a lot of 'feels' since I'm not using food as an emotional crutch just now. I have to face up to the fact that I'm alone and lonely, and why, and what that means in a larger sense. it kind of sucks to know that I'm an unlovable kind of person, and figure out how to move forward with that awareness without chocolate ice cream, cheese, & pizza. the phone never rings for a reason. no one stops by for a reason. no one invites me out for a reason. on another hand, it's fine that they don't, because I don't really want to hang with most people, anyway. pretending to care is exhausting, but a lack of human contact can be lethal, I hear...where's the balance?

 new day
around 10am - leftover Brussels sprouts/onion/squash/turkey/sauce with some black beans added in.
2 water

now here's something interesting - we went to this show last night at Levon's, it was Paul Green's 'farewell concert to Woodstock', with his show band that he's been on tour with for the past 10 days.  some of those kids have been his students for 5 years or more.  it was really emotional for all of them, and it was a great show.  there was A TON of food there!  at some point (after I ate the banana I brought with me), I decided I was going to eat some of it.  there were salads, but they either had dressings I couldn't identify, or cheese, or croutons...there were lots of cheesy pastas, and cookies, and brownies, too.  one family brought pulled chicken, and I thought, "oh I can have that!  with that other family's rice and beans."  so I did.  earlier in the day, we were supposed to meet a friend in Kingston for lunch, but she got held up, so we just hit the salad bar at the grocery store instead, and I put corn on my salad, and bought a bag of blue chips to spontaneously reintroduce non-gluten grains.  I think, like with the beans, I felt a bit bloated and gassy, and possibly even itchy, so I can take it easy with that. 

after I ate the chicken and the rice & beans, the gloves came off and I had some ziti...and then some Caesar salad.  then a few meatballs, and some more pasta, and a cookie.  then another cookie, and a brownie.  I kept telling myself it was a special occasion, and it was, but that's no excuse to lose all self control.  honestly, on the thread in the Whole30 forums where a bunch of us who all started on June 1st have been chatting, at least two people talked about going nuts at 4th of July barbecues, and it made me feel like, "gosh, I haven't gone off plan once, haven't even had a square of super dark chocolate to celebrate my victory, I'm going to let loose a little," and it turned into an all-out binge.  I brought home a tray of food, even, and had a chunk of that pie the teen made, because I'm off-track and running wild, now. 

new day
around 12 noon - scrambled eggs with red onion & spinach
slice chocolate pie
sunshine sauce with chips & veggies
1 seltzer, 1 water

ugh, I feel like crap.  I feel like I slept all day, and I might just as well have.  what a waste!  I could sleep through another day, too.  I'm tired and bloated, and itchy, and full of cravings...I feel like I gained 10 pounds (sshhh, don't even say that).  there's this mucus way up back in my throat, almost like post-nasal drip...

how much Does family matter?

my mom sent me this meme yesterday, and I responded to it with "did you send this to [my brother]?  I don't know why you seem to think the onus of the emotional work is on me - I never kicked him out of my house, or forbid my kid from talking to him or his cousins."  which is what my brother did to me/my teen when the teen was just a little baby in diapers - threw us out of his house.  and later, when the teen was 6, and we moved an hour up the road, bro dismissed us with an 'I'll never come visit you', and forbid his kids to talk to mine, when they had had a close relationship, and caused much anguish, confusion, and tears for my young son.

Mom:  "Of course I did.  Please do not get your knickers in a twist.  I won’t send any more stuff like that. I have given up."  but she hasn't given up, and she won't give up.  she's in her 70's, now, and has decided that she doesn't want the next time my brother and I to see each other to be at her funeral.  she wants to see her remaining family (me, my bro, our kids) all together in one place before she dies.  I don't know why, it hardly matters to me at this point (though it would be nice if the cousins could have a connection), but it Does matter to her, so she will keep trying, though she says she won't.  I think she probably doesn't know how deep the wound goes - nor do I, for that matter - I mean, I know how deep it goes for me, but I don't think my brother particularly cares.  I may be wrong, and he may be deeply wounded, too, but not having spoken to him in the past 7 years (and not much before then, though we used to be good friends), I can't say.  he's changed quite a bit, in my opinion, while I have remained constant to who I've always been (also my opinion).

so, because I am, for better or worse, who I am, I sent a joint message to both my mom and my bro this morning, and now I'm going to share it here, for my readers, because I'm the sick bitch who likes to share my pain with friends and strangers equally:

me to them:  "as per the meme our mother sent to us, I replied 'did you send this to [my bro]?  I don't know why you seem to think the onus of the emotional work is on me - I never kicked him out of my house, or forbid my kid from talking to him or his cousins.'  to you [Bro], I am saying that for a long, loooong time, I have been the bigger person when it comes to the ways I have been treated by my 'family' - no matter how much abuse, prejudice, belittling, and legal action you all have visited upon me, I have risen above, and not treated you with similar hate or arrogance.  I have lived my life, away from you, for most of 30 years, as it has been made clear that I am not good enough, my opinions are not welcome, my intelligence has been insulted, my lifestyle scorned, my parenting called into question, and that is Not, in my opinion, how a family behaves.  as a brother, you used and abused me when you should have been protecting me, and chased me out when you should have been inviting me in.  I have decades of anger stored away that has never been vented to you (though it has been shared with others), and you have much to apologize for.  how would you feel if one of [your son's] friends shoved a stuffed Odie with his tongue out between [either of your daughters'] legs?  what would you do if [your son] held his sisters down so his friend could do that to them rather than punch his friend in the face?  there are countless incidents as such that occurred throughout our lives that I could point to where you treated me like 'less than', when I have never done a goddamned thing to you, and you have perpetuated the lie that there is something fundamentally wrong with me to many family and friends to protect yourself from the truths that I have had to live with my whole life.  it's taken a lot for me to not succumb to the shame and pain you have caused both me and my child, but we are strong, amazing souls, whom you have lost out on knowing for your arrogance and erasure.  so go ahead - I have once again extended my neck for you to chop off with your need to protect yourself from the mess you attempted to leave behind.  Mom wants us to reconcile?  great - it begins with you acknowledging your part in treating me like a pariah, and apologizing for it, sincerely.  and then an ugly conversation in which you apologize for every action that directly followed.  in the rare case that I have anything to apologize for, do please let me know, though as far as I can tell, I've never done or said anything to you, or any member of your family, that can be construed in the same light as the malicious ways in which you have attempted to assassinate my character.  you go on and have yourself a lovely day, though.

"Mom - there.  I took the first step.  I'm sure you will both have quite a bit to say about how I did it wrong, or how I should have done it differently, or whatever it is you two say about me to each other.  even though [Bro] has been the favored child all these years, judging by the shitty things you have said to me about him, I'm sure you say similar things to him about me.  if you want to see reconciliation between us, you need to be responsible for your part in that conversation.  and judging by the times I asked you to be responsible for your part in that conversation with me alone, and you have done everything in your power to deflect so as not to ever have that conversation, I don't see it happening.

"I love you both very much, and have always remembered you in my prayers.  that does not mean that you deserve a place in my life, however.  seeing as how I'll be taking care of Mom after [Bro] moves away (which he absolutely Should do), I have no problem burying all animosity between she and I in order to help her get on with the business of living while she's still doing it.  I am happy to do the same for [Bro], if he deigns to take responsibility for his many cruel behaviors towards me, but I doubt there will ever be any real repair to our family unit that was torn asunder without [Dad] to hold it together.  too many years and too much bad blood - not to mention differing political views and socio-economic statuses - has passed between us, but I believe in Love, and have made it a point to only deal with those who show me love.  that is my opening statement.  Selah ~ "

I mean, you can see how that's an inappropriate thing for a teen-aged boy to do to his best friend's little sister, right?  and for my brother to not only Let him do it, but to Hold Me Down WHILE he did it, well...that's just a red flag for future behavior patterns unbecoming of a what I see as 'proper' big-brotherly conduct.

do you think my message was too harsh, on point, or not harsh enough?  do you think I should even have sent it?  should I have left the relationship to its death regardless of my mother's wishes?  do you have family members you have quarreled with and never spoken to again?  or family members you've reconciled with?  how has that come about, and how are those relationships functioning today?