Treatise on life and death

Why does a society that professes to be so religious, such as the US, fear “end of life” death so much?  Shouldn’t belief in a religion which promises some form of afterlife to its believers be comforting?  Not that all religions promise a form of afterlife, but the majority of people in the US claim to believe in one of the religions that do.  So why has end of life death become the enemy? 

I certainly understand the fear and grief associated with “early” death – a person taken in their prime, a child, or infant, taken before even starting to live a fulfilled life.  But death is the natural end point to living.  No one has escaped it (that we are aware of), and we shouldn’t wish to escape it.  If everyone kept living on this earth, forever and ever, what would happen to new generations?  It would be chaos; it would be the end of the earth.  Look what has been happening due to increased life spans, improvements in health care, decreases in infant and early child mortality, decreased death due to wars, decreases in famine.  Previous generations had war, disease, and famine to cull the herd of humanity.  We have conquered most of those cullings. We haven’t made concomitant decreases in the birth rate, so we are crowded and resources are becoming scarce.  We have literally changed the earth – and not necessarily for the better. 

Why have I started writing about life and death.  I had pain from a sinus infection last night and couldn’t sleep well.  My mind starting pondering the initial reactions to the Obama health plan – “death squads killing off” grandma and grandpa.  How totally ludicrous!  As someone who has been involved in health care (or, more accurately, sick care) for many years, I strongly believe we have taken saving “lives” to an extreme.  Does your 85 year old grandma deserve the same intensity (and, yes, we must include cost) of “life saving” interventions as your 60 year old mother?  Why?  In general, an 85 year old person doesn’t have the same ability to bounce back from those invasive “life saving” actions as a younger person.  Ok, not everyone is the same and there are some 85 year olds who are a lot healthier than I am.  But on the average, as you age, your body changes, the skin changes and doesn’t protect you from invaders as well, your organs have aged and don’t work as well, if at all, your brain isn’t synapsing as efficiently, and your immune system isn’t functioning well.  Assaulting that person with anesthesia, complex surgical procedures, multiple invasive devices, medications and other strong toxins (yes, a medication to a younger person can be a dangerous toxin to an older one), and hospital associated microorganisms, can have a much graver outcome than to a younger, healthier person.  Rather than prolonging life, it prolongs death.  And it can be an agonizing death.  Not at home, but in a hospital, hooked up to machinery, your privacy non-existent, your ability to choose what you want often taken out of your hands.  Whoa, I hope that doesn’t happen to me!

A century or more ago, when an older person was nearing death, the body started to shut down.  In general, it was accepted (although not always welcomed) – by the person and by his or her loved ones.  The appetite diminished, interest in activities diminished, and life came to an end.  In some cultures the old person wandered off to a culturally accepted place to face their end.  Family members would look for them in a day or two to perform whatever rituals were associated with their passing.  It was natural, a life was celebrated at their death.  And others continued on. 

Now we fight death as the enemy.  When grandma’s appetite slows down she is often hospitalized and fed via a tube.  She is made to feel guilty for reaching the end of her life, because we love her and want her to live.  How inhumane!  When the cancer patient is in agony from the pain associated with end stage disease, we don’t allow them to choose to terminate their life.  That is seen as a crime, they can be made to feel guilty for wishing for their end (again, because we love them and want them to live)  We make them hold onto life, prolonging their inevitable death, glorifying in their pain by calling them “heroic” or “long suffering” as if their excruciating pain is some sort of gift.  How inhumane!

I’ve told my son that in 10, or 20, or 30 years and I am ready to go, if I wander away into the wilds around my home, to let me go.  Don’t send the searchers after me right away.  Find me after I have found the right tree, or rock, at which to meet my end.  Find me after the coyotes and ravens have starting to feast.  That’s the way of life.  That’s the way of death.   

Living Solar

We have lived in an off-grid solar home for over two years now.  We have twelve PV panels on our roof.  It’s a 48 volt system, with a huge bank of AGM batteries, a xantrex inverter and an OutBack Flexmax M80 controller.  We have a backup propane generator.  All that probably means something to those of you out there who know solar houses – it meant nothing to us two years ago. 

When we started planning our home, almost a decade ago, we knew that we would want solar.  We were moving to a very sunny place, so why not take advantage of it.  We were also a long distance from utilities.  Whether it would be off-grid on on-grid was a toss up, depending upon how expensive it would be to hook up to power.  It continued to be a toss up until we broke ground for our home.  At that point we found out that pulling power, and running water to the location of our house would cost approximately $75,000.  Since we knew we wanted to have solar even if we pulled power to our house (and had already sunk $12,000 into the PV panels) and since that would cost ~$35,000 by itself, it became pretty clear to us that we would be off grid and drill a well.  So the solar, with the backup generator, was ~$40,000 and the well was ~$15,000.  Big ouch, but a lot cheaper than being on-grid with county water.  Plus no monthly fee for either.

We were so ignorant and naïve about solar energy.  And, unfortunately, our installer (although very knowledgeable about installing systems) didn’t take the time to explain in kindergarten (or preschool) terms what living solar entailed, or to ask us what our expectations were.  When we first met with him, I had compiled a year’s worth of electricity bills from our on-grid house in the city.  I told him that I had brought them, but he waved them away and said they were meaningless.  What??  Over time I have learned that he may have been right, but at that time I was astounded.  That was how we lived – didn’t he need to see that usage to determine what our needs would be?  He looked at the tentative plans for our new home and when asked, he said that we would probably need 10 PV panels, based on the size of the home, not on our current usage.  So we bought 12.  We didn’t want to be underpowered.   Other than that he made a number of comments to the draftsman about design (who attended the meeting with us) that sounded pretty expensive.  He said we would just live “normally” and have “regular” appliances (albeit energy star), including a microwave.  No need for a propane refrigerators like two of our neighbors have.  Whew!  We asked about whether we should have the panels on the roof, or on a tower.  He told us how much his tower cost ($15,000 extra – outrageous!) and that answered the question for us, they would be on the roof (more on that later).  I also didn’t want our beautiful scenic view interrupted by a big tower of panels. 

Jump forward to the building process.  The installer found a great deal on a slightly used 48 volt inverter, so we said yes, despite the cost of the doubled size of the battery bank (ka-ching!).  As it turns out it’s a good thing we have such a robust system because our expectations were that we could “live normally” just like he had told us at the first meeting.  And, we would feel like “failures” if the backup generator had to come on (in addition to not wanting to pay the additional cost of propane).  Are we living normally?  Not by our previous definition of normal.  But, we are establishing, slowly and sometimes painfully, a new definition of normal. 

Some things we found out in the first few weeks. 

·        The motorhome refrigerator uses a LOT of energy when running on electricity.  We used to keep the motorhome plugged in at all times with the fridge on when we were home, but we don’t do that anymore.  We empty the fridge when we get home from our trips and turn it off.  

·        Our old non-energy star chest freezer was an energy hog.  So we got rid of it, and eventually bought a small energy star chest freezer that is very energy efficient.

·        Hair dryers are major energy hogs, so I retired my old 1600 watt dryer, and purchased a 250 watt unit with a roll brush on the end that actually does a better job on my fine, thin, wavy hair.  Many times I don’t use a dryer – who cares out here if I’m frizzy?

·        Old style CRT televisions are energy hogs, even “energy star” rated ones.  No more leaving the TV on as “background noise” while in the house.  Eventually, when we have some throw away money (or the old ones break) they will be replaced by energy efficient LCD TVs (but not all LCD TVs are energy efficient!).  Desktop computers, even with flat panel LCD displays can also use a lot of energy.  So don’t just leave it on all the time – turn it off or to hibernate.  Laptops don’t use much energy at all.

·        Incandescent lights are energy hogs.  We have now replaced all our incandescent bulbs with compact florescent bulbs – that was an expensive move, but worth it.

·        Energy star refrigerators still use a lot of energy.

·        Gas ovens had a 10 amp heater coil that stays on all the time in the broil setting (but not in the oven setting – it only comes on to ignite the burners in the oven setting).  Why??

And then there were other problems.  We have a monitor in our laundry room that shows us how much we are charging or using at any one time.  It also tracks the battery discharge percentage, amp hours used, etc.  We became obsessed – looking at that darned thing all the time.  How much were we using, how much were we charging.  Why aren’t we charging when it is full sun?  Why is the generator coming on, or not coming on given what is on the monitor?  We were also told at the time the installers were finished that the panels were at the right angle for year round use (even though we have adjustable brackets).  We were so stupid – we didn’t look at them and say “huh? they are set all the way down.”  So as Fall progressed and we were charging less and less, we were scratching our heads in confusion.  Then the generator needed a new battery, and since it was under warranty, one of the installers came out.  His comment was “you need to set the panels as high as they will go at this time of year (start of winter).”  We looked, and after our initial anger at how they were set (full summer low) we raised them to as high as they would go on the brackets, and low and behold, we began charging like gang busters!  Then we noticed that after a discharge down to ~70%, we would sometimes not charge to full, despite several fully sunny days.  We called the installer, and he said maybe the Outback controller needs to be replaced, so sent someone out (100 miles) to do so.  Better, but still the same problem.  So we called again, and the installer gave us some “song and dance” about the reasons why it was happening, but it’s hard to explain something to someone 100 miles away.  So my wonderful husband contacted via email the manufacturer of the Outback, and got a much better response.  When we told him what our system was, his response was that they had identified that the Outback had some communication problems with the xantrex inverter, and were working on a solution.  Meanwhile he told us a work around until his company was able to program that solution.  Two Outback units later, and we have version 2.0000 and it works fine (they mistakenly sent us version 1.95000 first, which worked better, but wasn’t a full fix).  They are a wonderful company to work with and we highly recommend their product!

So, now it has been two years - and are we living solar?  Mostly.  We got lazy this year and decided to leave the panels all the way up in what we call the winter position (although it isn’t quite high enough to really be considered winter, actually spring/fall) for the summer and see how it worked.  We though, “longer days, more sun, no furnace” – it will probably be ok.  Well, it was mostly ok.  What we didn’t count on was a robust monsoon season this year.  That means we had lots of cloudy afternoons, and afternoons are when you get your most efficient charging.  With all the storms, the generator had to come on a few times, but it wasn’t enough to outweigh the inconvenience of having to change the panel height twice a year.   All in all, I think our experiment worked, and we will most likely leave the panels in the high position.  We think about whether it is sunny or cloudy when we plan meals, especially in the winter – if we have lots of sun and the batteries are reading “full” we use lots of our electric appliances. Why use a gas oven when the little electric oven is “free” or the stove top to cook rice when the electric rice cooker is “free.”  Might as well “use” the sun when it is out.  If it has been cloudy/rainy/snowy, and our batteries are heading down, we use those appliances more sparingly.  In the winter our small south-facing sun room gets toasty – so toasty that we open the door between the sun room and the house and the let that warmth heat our great room.  So we have passive solar too.  We bought a small corner fan for the door, and it helps to pull that warmth into the house.  Doing that saves us lots of propane. 

One problem we have encountered that is a potentially dangerous nuisance, is snow on the panels.  You don’t get any charge when the panels are blocked.   There is no easy way to clean snow from the panels.  Once or twice each winter we have lived here my husband has to get on the ladder and onto the very snowy and potentially slick roof (even though it is almost flat) in the freezing cold to scrape the panels.  That isn’t fun.  It’s harder, and a lot more dangerous, than shoveling a sidewalk.  But if the snow falls right before an “arctic express” freeze, we know the panels won’t melt, sometimes for up to a week. That would be expensive, living off generator charges for that long.  Our “normal” snow storms are usually followed by sunny days in the 30’s, which means that by late afternoon they are clear.  Snow on the panels makes us wish we had put the panels on a short tower, in which case a roof scraper used at ground level would easily clean them off.  Oh well, hind sight is so clear. 

I’ve probably forgotten a few issues, but that is enough!

Are we glad we have solar?  Yes.  Would we do it again?  Yes.  Was it easy?  Not really, and we were very motivated. 

The vacation that almost wasn't

We haven’t had vacations in a LONG time.  Retirement isn’t like a vacation – we still need to get away.  About three weeks ago we had a short 2-day trip to Lake Powell, driving both the car and the motor home over, and “camping” in luxury in the full-service part of the campground.  We decided to do it again, this time for three days. 

Part One – the Motorhome

Last Monday we took off from home at about 1pm.  I was driving the Explorer, following my husband who was driving the motorhome (with our two dogs).  About ten miles from home, right when several large trucks were passing us (going the other direction), and seeming to throw out or kick up lots of “stuff” onto the road, the motorhome had a dramatic blow out of one of its back tires.  It exploded - large and small pieces of tire flying through the air.  He pulled over and I pulled behind him.  There wasn’t much of a shoulder to the road so we were still in part of the east-bound lane.  The inner tire of the driver side back pair was history.  The outer tire was still inflated.  However, the blow out had been so forceful that it distorted the heavy metal bracket for the mud flap.  That twisted mess sat right on top of the remaining tire.  If the motorhome was driven it would cut the remaining tire to shreds.  What a mess.  My husband is very strong, but due to the position of the tire and the metal and the wheel well, he couldn’t force the metal piece out of the way.  A DOT worker stopped and helped him, and after a while they were able to raise that twisted mess high enough that the motorhome could be driven, albeit VERY SLOWLY.  While they were fighting metal, I was on the cell phone (with a very tenuous signal).  I called the campground and found out that we would be out $40 if we didn’t show up that night and I called our mechanic and found out that he didn’t have the right size tires in stock, but could have them by Tuesday afternoon.  The DOT worker suggested another source for the tire, and they had it, so I called our mechanic back and cancelled that order, and called the campground back and told them we would be there come hell or high water (we hoped).  It took almost an hour to drive into town.  Another hour or so to get the two back tires replaced on the driver’s side.  Then we hit the road again a little after 4pm, and make it to the campground only 3 hours later than we had planned.  Not too bad.  End of first day.  $350 in the red so far.   

Part Two – the Boat

We picked up the boat from the storage lot on Tuesday morning.  Excited that it was a new day, we put the boat into the water, and headed out to a spot we enjoy to start fishing.  We drove for a little while, looking at the fish finder.  We found what seemed like a nice spot and I turned off the boat motor while my husband got ready to start the trolling motor.  After a minute or so, he said “we are really low in the water back here.”  Then as he was starting to lower the trolling motor, leaning over the back, he repeated “we are really low back here.”  A few seconds later he yelled “start the boat and head back to the dock right now, and don’t worry about the rpm’s or speed, we’re sinking.”  Did I mention that my husband can’t swim?  So I got us started, on top the water, red-lining the engine, and back to the dock.  We didn’t sink.  I stayed in the boat at the dock while he got the car and trailer; I drove the boat onto the trailer and he pulled us out.  We hadn’t sunk (WHEW).   When he took out the plug a huge amount of water drained out, instead of the few cups-worth that we normally have.  We had a problem.  So off we went into Page, to buy a new plug and marine silicone to re-seal everything we could think of that might be leaking on the boat.  We had dinner in town, instead of the dinners I had in the motorhome fridge – too frazzled to even think about cooking.  My husband siliconed the boat, after dark, using the lights from the motor home.  End of day two, which was supposed to be our first nice day on the water.  Only a few dollars in the red from today since plugs and silicone are pretty inexpensive.   And we didn’t sink….

Part Three – the Boat, again

The next morning we were both pretty hesitant to take the boat out – dreading that it would still leak.  So delayed a bit, had a few sweet rolls, and talked about our “plan” for determining if we were still leaking.  After a while we couldn’t delay anymore, so we went to the ramp and got started.   He backed the boat in, I started it, but stayed on the trailer, checking in the engine compartment to see if we were taking on any water.  There was some water at first, but then in didn’t increase.  After ~10 minutes of that, he backed me off the trailer and I drove over to the dock.  We stayed at the dock for almost an hour.  Since we weren’t taking on any more water, we decided we would risk going out into the open water.  I drove us back and forth, forth and back, over and over, for a half hour, not very far from the dock.  We stopped every 5 or so minutes to look in the engine compartment.  No additional water.  Unfortunately, we hadn’t brought any fishing supplies, or food or water, with us, so after another 15 minutes of driving around, we pulled the boat out of the water.  A bit more water drained than usual, but not nearly as much as the day before.  So much for a fun day on the water, but we didn’t sink!  At that point we headed to Page for a sandwich, and to see if we could find a different propeller.  The propeller we had on the boat was not the right pitch for Lake Powell – it was for higher altitude use.  We found a propeller at a wonderful little marine supply store (a hidden treasure) and went back to the lake to demo it.  It was wonderful, just right for Lake Powell.  So we drove around again, checking periodically to see if we were taking on water (we weren’t), but still didn’t have fishing supplies with us.  So we pulled the boat out and headed into town, yet again.  We paid for the new prop, and again had dinner in town.  So much for packing food with us!  But we didn’t sink!  End of day three.  $110 (plus dinner) in the red.

Part Four – Fishing, finally

Our last day at Lake Powell - we planned to head home in the afternoon.  Excited about the new prop, and the fact that we didn’t sink (yet), we went out onto the lake, with food, fluids, worms, and anchovies, and had a lovely time.  We didn’t take on water, but we also didn’t take on any fish.  I shouldn’t say “we” since I drive and my husband fishes.  We were right over fish at 50 to 100 feet, but none of them thought that dangling anchovy was tasty enough to try.  We also tried worm fishing in a beautiful little cove, but no luck there either.  It was a gorgeous day, we had a boat that wasn’t leaking, a propeller that was sized correctly for our location, and a motorhome with two new tires.  What more could we want? 

Our next vacation will be better, once we pay off the debt from this one.

Utah scones and other regional treats

When I first tasted a Utah scone, at the tender age of 21, I thought “what the hell is this???”  I’d been raised in the middle-Atlantic east coast, so to me sweet, fattening, not-good-for-you items consisted of Tastykakes (butterscotch krimpets – YUM) or PA dutch sticky buns (which we called cinnamon buns, I’ll get to that misnomer later).  I had spent a summer in the Pacific northwest where I had been introduced to “real” scones, whatever they are, and thought they were interestingly good.  So, I ordered a scone….again, “what the hell was that???” 

A name is only a name is only a name.  You don’t think how very regionalized the US is until you move throughout the regions and find out what the locals call something.  Is it pop, or is it soda, or is it sodapop?  Do you want a bag for that or a sack?  Do you have a baby tender or a baby sitter watch your kids?  What is a hoppy taw?  Whew!

Back to scones….   The scone I had been given was a hunk of deep fried bread.  I wasn’t sure if it was yeast bread or biscuit bread, although I found out later it was most likely yeast bread.  I actually like bread of most kinds, but I’d never had it deep fried before.  It was actually pretty tasty, once I got past my shock.  They are served dripping in butter, with a squirt bottle of honey butter, just in case there aren’t enough saturated fats for your liking, and to increase your blood sugar so you don’t notice your arteries clogging.  I didn’t fall in love with the taste, but they were pretty good so every few years I would order one to add to my early demise from heart disease.  At the not so tender age of 62, this morning I just made my first successful fried bread scone.  Just threw a flattened lump of yeast bread into hot vegetable oil, watched it bounce around and brown for a few minutes, split it in half, spread some of my diet butter (can’t believe it’s not butter light) and drizzled a bit of honey onto it.  Wow, it worked, and it was darned good.  My husband liked them too.  I won’t make them very often because I’m closer to worrying about demise from heart disease, but they will be an occasional treat.

Another fried bread treat around here is Navajo fried bread.  I just learned how to make it a few months ago, and it was wonderful.  It isn’t yeast bread, but a very plain recipe of flour, water, salt, and a pinch of baking powder.  I throw a little vegetable oil into the recipe to make it easier to handle, but it isn’t needed.  Knead, let rest, roll into thin rounds, fry, drain, and then put whatever you want onto it.  Navajo tacos have beans, sometimes meat, lettuce, cheese, and tomatoes.  We’ve tried them with eggs, bacon, and cheese for brunch tacos and they were great. 

To get back to cinnamon rolls, when I first moved west I thought cinnamon rolls were synonymous with PA dutch sticky buns.  Big mistake.  The first time I ordered what I thought was a sticky bun I got a fat white spiral with white icing on it.  It wasn’t even warm.  Another culture shock.  I remember Sunday mornings going to Montgomeryville Mart (when they were breaking the Blue Laws yet again by opening on Sunday), and buying a half dozen sticky cinnamon buns, fresh from the oven.  As soon as they came out of the oven they were inverted, so the sticky, brown, delicious sugary, cinnamon, raisin mix that was on the bottom coated and dripped down the top.  They were a rich dark brown sugar colored, about 2” high and 4” square - pieces of heaven.  They don’t exist in the west, at all.  A few places think they have them, but not like my childhood buns.  Thanks to the miracle of the internet, their recipes are readily available, and I can make a delicious batch when I want.  And freeze half of them for later.  They are glorious when heated in the microwave for a few seconds.  When I was a kid you had to eat them fast because they weren’t very good reheated in an oven. 

I’m now salivating too much to type.  Until next time.

The Rough Spot

Earlier this summer my husband and I went through a rough spot in our relationship.  Rough spot is a gross understatement – we came closer to breaking up than we ever have in our 22 year relationship.  The precipitating factors leading up to this rough spot will be described in one of more of my “Building Fiascos” posts.  The underlying cause runs much deeper in both of us, and we are working to modify those so they won’t wreak havoc on us in the future.

I’m controlling.  I like to know what’s going on around me, and feel like I have input into, and (yes) control over, my surroundings.  Surprises aren’t fun, they are just being out of control (let’s face it, you can always pick up on the undercurrent of planning that goes into a surprise…and that means I am not in control)  If I feel well balanced, not too stressed, and “in control” then my controlling nature doesn’t get out of hand.  If, however, I’m very stressed, and/or external factors over which I have little to no control are impacting my life, I go overboard.  Control, control, control - over whatever is around me that I can impact, because I’m overwhelmed by things I can’t impact.  I get nit-picky to the extreme.  Something being out of place (in my view of the world) is like fingernails on a chalkboard to me.  If it isn’t “just so” I want to fix it.  And in the midst of dealing with this need to CONTROL, my sarcastic, nasty tongue, gets carried away.  I can be pretty darned clever, so yes, my comments could be seen as humorous, as long as you aren’t on the receiving end.  

In May, we started having water pump problems.  The pump problem escalated and became problems with leaks, check valves, broken lines, broken floats, and overflowing tanks.  Because of all those problems, there is a large, deep, hole in the expansive clay surrounding our water tanks.  There are piles of dirt, being blown around, and seeping into the leaks that were in our tanks.  The big hole is right outside our bedroom windows.  Every time I open the shades in the morning, there it is, reminding me of the problem.  The leaks, valves, lines, etc., were finally completely repaired in mid-September.  YES – four full months after the whole mess began, and at about three times the initial cost estimate.  But the hole remains.  I know it will be filled in and regraded before hard freezes set in, because it has to be.  But it is still there, still a reminder (but at least the problems have been fixed). 

Anyway, I had plenty of reasons to feel out of control, and plenty of impetus to get nasty.  And guess who was on the receiving end of that nasty?  My dear husband.  He was upset enough over the problems himself – he also felt out of control - and then I had to add to the problem.  In hindsight, I was the shrew from Shakespeare, the wicked witch from Oz, everyone’s nightmare wife.  But at the time, I was trying to deal with being out of control.  I thought I was doing pretty well controlling my controlling nature.  WRONG!  I essentially broke my husband.  He put up with my nonsense for as long as he could, and then he reached zero tolerance, and he cracked.  I hurt him so badly - I certainly didn’t mean to, but I did.  I was actually surprised and very hurt when he cracked.  I didn’t think I had been that bad.  But I knew things were extremely bad between us when he couldn’t talk about it – at all. 

When my husband gets upset, he closes down.  He learned from a not so terrific childhood that things said in anger can never be taken back.  The damage is done, period.  So he shuts down, and processes, until he can talk about it without lashing out.  It’s a good way to approach things, but I always freak out, worry that the end is coming because he isn’t communicating with me.  Over the years, he has gotten much better at talking things out sooner (hours rather than days) and I’ve gotten a bit better at dealing with the uncertainty of being closed out (that controlling nature again, darn it).  He doesn’t realize (although I’ve told him) that while he is “processing” he is very closed to me.  Instead of looking into his beautiful brown eyes and seeing through to his loving soul, it is like looking at a blank, mirrored, wall.   That’s painful, but I’ve learned to wait it out, and as I said, the wait has gotten shorter over the years.

This time the “wait” was three weeks.  THREE WEEKS.  Yes, we were communicating, but superficially.  I am used to lots of physical affection – there was none.  I am used to lots of verbal affection – there was none.  I was crying at least once every day (not in front of him, because that is seen as manipulation) - this from a woman who cries maybe once or twice a year.  A few times I cried so hard I wasn’t sure I could stop, but I finally did.  I felt empty, I felt like I was dying inside.  I started to go through the 5 stages of grief – denial, anger, bargaining, depression, acceptance.  During that process I finally looked hard at my own behavior, and how it was at least 75% responsible for what happened.  I can only be responsible for my own behavior, I wasn’t, and I needed to fix it.  What good does it do for me to go for the jugular, the soft underbelly of the one I love?  The brief “ah-ha” moment of being in control is so quickly followed by the pain of causing another person pain.  Why do I always have to have the last word?  How does controlling others help to resolve that external cause of stress? 

I started to think before I spoke, and didn’t strike out.  I started accepting suggestions.  I started to be less nit-picky, less argumentative, and less controlling.  Believe me, none of those were easy (that darned hole was still there, the pump, etc., not fixed).  My husband noticed.  Sometimes I was able to see through his eyes to his soul.  And then one night, after almost three weeks of him not telling me he loved me, I went into my office to cry, yet again.  It was another long one, but I got it under control, and came into the living room again.  After a few minutes, my husband said, “what was that about?”  Tears started rolling down my cheeks as I said “do you love me?”  He said “of course I love you.”  We were on the road to healing.

Our relationship is solid, it weathered this storm.  Something we need to remember at our age - every minute spent in anger at each other is a minute we can’t ever recapture, and minutes are becoming precious.  So don’t every let it get that bad, nip it in the bud. 

A quote I saw just a few days ago that is so very true – “Never take a person’s dignity; it is worth everything to them, and nothing to you.”  Frank Barron