Spying on Myself and Finding Ghosts

March 16^th. How did that happen? Life goes by too quickly and sometimes I think that happens because I tend to over schedule myself but I know if I didn’t the Lord of Boredom steps up to harass me. And he has a wicked sense of humor. Monday I took Levi to the Foo-Foo Doggie Beauty Spa, then I picked up some lunch, stopped at the pet store and on to the grocery before swinging back around to collect the dog. Tuesday and Wednesday I emptied out my bedroom and bathroom of everything I could carry to get ready for the painters to come beautify my rooms. (You should have seen all the stuff I purged out of my media cabinet and my medicine cabinet!) Wednesday I went to a lecture on Music Theory and how it affects the brain. Thursday was book club day and I’m composing this post before the painters are due on Friday. Is this lineup enough to qualify as over-scheduling my life? It wouldn’t have been back in my heydays when if I didn’t have a half-dozen things to do each day I was on vacation.

Meanwhile back at the ranch I’ve been playing with my little spy tape recorder. Years ago when I was using it a lot, I had a bad habit of not labeling the tapes I made. And since I wanted to recorder myself sleeping to see if I snore with and without the Snore Stopper device I wrote about last week, I decided I should listen to a few tapes to see if there was anything worth keeping before I recorded over one of them. The first two I listened to were conversations with my dad---he died in 1999. Worth keeping. The third tape I pop in was a shocker. It was my husband’s last out-going message from his telephone answering machine. The forth tape had me cracking up laughing along with myself laughing on the tape. I was attending a lecture given by the humor columnist from our local newspaper but there’s no denying the other voices on the tape were mine and my husband’s from 25+ years ago. A few minutes into the lecture the speaker had asked the audience members to each state our names and why we came to the lecture. Here’s what I heard…

“My name is Jean and I’m here because I don’t get a lot of humor.”

The speaker: “Are there any comedians or comedy shows you do get and like?”

I like Barry Miller,” I answered, “but I don’t get Woody Allen. I really don’t!” Then the speaker explained the differences in the two kinds of humor employed in my examples. 

Next up was my husband. “I’m Don and I’ve got to agree with her. She doesn’t get all humor and I think she’s funny when she’s not getting humor.” I’m laughing in the background as he went on…and on. “Barry Miller is a classic and Night Court. I predict in the future there will be tapes of those shows we can watch over and over again and still see the humor in them. Robin Williams is another. When he gets on a roll---say on the Johnny Carson Show---he can have us laughing until our stomachs ache. Another thing I find funny are your columns.” Don was being a kiss-up, but I could tell he was nervous speaking in public because he always talked faster when he was. It made me feel warm and fuzzy inside to hear the two of us having a good time laughing and interacting with the group. But I’m glad he wasn’t around to see what happened to Robin Williams. Don dealt with a few periods of deep depression in his life---which few people knew about---and Robin’s suicide would have hit him hard.

The first night I set the voice activated recorder to find out if I snore I was in bed from midnight to eight in the morning but my Fitbit claimed I only got three hours of sleep, the rest of the time I was restless. Now I know why. I’m not snoring but I sure am having a lot of conversations in a language that would take an intergalactic interpreter to translate. Pure gibberish punctuated with laughter and some whimpering and apparently I must look at the clock because at one point I said, “Three o’clock” as clear as a bell. Interestingly enough it was after 3:00 when Fitbit said I actually slept deep enough not to be labeled ‘restless.’ The second night I set the recorder I was wearing the Snore Stopper “baskets” up my nose and my Fitbit said I slept 6 hours and 53 minutes with only 49 minutes being labeled ‘restless.’ But the funny part was the words I was saying were easier to understand and there were less of them. 

Talking in your sleep is generally harmless, according to my online search and the only treatment needed is having your bed partner wear ear plugs, but have you ever tried making a dog wear them? I’d probably forget to take them back out in the morning and spend all day wondering why he’s ignoring me. It’s the Lord of Boredom who makes me do experiences like this, but all kidding aside, how much does a sleep study cost these days? A $1,000+? And I’ll bet I wouldn’t have learned a whole lot more. ©

Silly Saturday and Secrets

I’ve got a tiny, voice activated tape recorder and I used to joke that it was part of my spy equipment. Not that I’ve ever been a spy any place other than in my imagination and in the spoof obituary/booklet that I wrote about myself 2-3 years ago. So what did I use it for? The truth is boring compared to the spy lie. Back when I was shepherding my dad and then my husband around in the medical community I used that recorder to tape doctor appointments. There was no way I was going to remember what was said and neither one of the guys in my life were in a position to recall those conversations. I dug that recorder out recently, thinking I was going to put it by my bed to see if I snore. I suspect I do because there’s got to be a reason why the dog leaves the bedroom part way through the night to sleep on the couch in the living room. It’s on my night table but I’m almost afraid to power it up. I have so many vivid dreams that I’m scared I’ll record some of the conversations I have in the dark of night. What if my voice isn’t the only one I pick up? I know I’m talking to someone, I’ve woke myself up doing that.

I jumped the gun before using the recorder and bought a couple of products that are supposed to help with snoring. First I tried Theravent Snore Therapy Strips. It’s like a bandage that fits over your nostrils with mesh in the center. Wearing one makes you look like you’ve got a pig’s snout. I didn’t like the feeling of having my air flow ‘regulated’ which was its whole purpose. Next I tried Snore Stopper, a little silicone device that looks like two tiny cone-shaped baskets connected by a strip of silicone. You shove the baskets up your nose and surprise, surprise they actually stay in all night long. I’ve been a mouth breather for many years and I was actually shocked at how much air that little device helped me breathe through my nose. If it didn’t look so silly I’d be tempted to wear it in the day time. Hint to an entrepreneur: make one of these with a jewelry-like loop instead of the silicone bridge that shows when it’s inserted. I could bedazzle one myself---they come in a four pack---if I had a glue gun and some glitter, but with my luck someone would make me laugh and I’d end up snorting glitter up in places it doesn’t belong and then snoring would be the least of my troubles. My Fitbit likes the Snore Stopper. It records less restless sleep when I've got the baskets up my nose.

My house cleaner/grad student artist came this week. You can tell she doesn’t do as good of a job as my last girl because she clocks a good 30-45 minutes less time on her sheet. I don’t care. She’s so upbeat and I love our conversations plus she hugs me good-bye. We talked a little about art and I was telling her about a style change I’m thinking of making because cataracts are probably messing with my color sense. “Try it,” she says, “I tell my students the only wrong way to do art is to stop.” That advice could apply to a lot of stuff we do in life, couldn’t it.

This week my Gathering Girls pals had another one of our two hour brunches. As per the norm for our group we laughed a lot which put me in a silly mood. When our cancer patient said she sold her kitchen table, I couldn’t help asking, “You’re never going to eat again?” Everyone laughed, thank goodness. She’s lost a lot of weight and we all knew she has no appetite. Come to find out, her daughter is house-hunting for a bigger place so they can move in together thus her son has started putting some of her furniture on Craig’s list. After she left our group, the rest of us talked about the timing of a move like that. One person said no one should make an important decision like that while going through cancer treatment, another person said she’s probably scared and it gives her comfort to know she won’t be alone. I agreed with both of them but house hunting, moving and chemo piled on top of each other is a Stress Sundae if I ever saw one. 

Speaking of secret lives---I wasn’t? Well, I am now. I’ve been working on a project that I can’t share with the world thus I can’t talk about it with my blogger friends and that kills me. But trust me when I say it’s been taking up a lot of my time and won't come to an end for several months. And here you probably thought there wasn’t any details of my life that I don’t upchuck for public consumption. So why did I bring it up? I don’t know but should probably call my niece and tell her. Someone besides the dog should know in case I die before Project Get-it-Done is finish. 

Change of topics: with any luck my painter will show up today to give me an estimate and put me on his schedule to get my bedroom and bathroom painted. Spring is coming; I need my Beach-Cottage-Bedroom project behind me. When the good weather comes, I want to play……. ©