My Life in Cleveland, Part 1

Grandma and Grandpa Dinger with my dad and sisters.

I've had the good fortune of being a dual citizen of Cleveland, having been born and raised on the West Side and raised and educated on the East. It's pretty much been a theme running behind my life like an  underground crooked river.
My parents are both West-Siders, having gone to West Tech and Rhodes. Dad was actually born in a house on the East Side, and somehow Grandma and Grandpa Dinger ended up on Dearborn Avenue off West 73rd. They had dad and his two sisters, Joy and June, and lived in a big house with a small front yard and a big porch, with sycamores out front. They were from Romania and Germany, but since they had also lived in Crystal City, Texas, they brought with them the color cobalt blue, and trimmed the porch and painted the swing and rocking chair that color. Their living room was a dark, green-blue color, and Grandma had those vases with ladies faces on them on her end tables. The house smelled like baked bread, goulash and cigar smoke all at one time. Grandma had a hard time walking, so her bed, a hospital bed, was in the living room. The kitchen was decorated with Mexican motifs and decals and had a multi-colored linoleum on the floor, I think. The lion's foot table was covered with it also and had a stainless steel trim. Grandpa built the cabinets, the porch, the addition, the garden shed and more. The back yard had small rectangular stones leading to the vegetable garden and the shed. The yard was surrounded by the flower gardens with the grass in the middle. Grandpa even rigged a water line to fill the bird bath from inside the house. Dad had a paper route and was in Boy Scouts and youth group.

Gale and Mom

Mom's parents were from Scotland. They lived in a few different houses near the greenhouses and the valley. I never got to see their houses since Grandma died two years before I was born and by the time I could remember anything, we were in a house Grandpa lived in with us and was down the street from my great aunt. Mom got to work in the greenhouses and loved to look at the lights in the valley. She is an only child and her community was the Scottish community in Cleveland. They were held together by tradition, and gathered regularly for fun, dancing, food, and of course, music. Mom was a champion Scottish dancer, and everyone in the pipe bands knew her. So many of those are gone now, and it is sad. At least there are still Scottish traditions and games and some still gather, but it is not the same. When people came over off the boat in the 20s, 30s and 40s, they stuck together to find out where the good banks, grocers, butchers, and so forth were. They were in each others' lives all the time and family was all over the place. Now we don't seem to need each other as much, though that cannot be true.
So, we were on the best street-- West 56th. It was all I needed. Mom and Dad made our back yard a great place, putting in a swing set, a sand box, a swimming pool (above ground, of course, after we grew out of the blow-up pools). At that time, it was just me and my two brothers.

Grandpa built a playhouse for us. It was a nice yard and had a white picket fence. I can still smell the taste of water from the hose in the summer. We took our dolls out on the front sidewalk, set them out and tired of them, put them away. We ran wagons full of kids. We made mud pies on the slide. We slept with the windows open, waking to the sound of grass cutters. We watched cartoons on Saturdays, the only other time we could watch them outside of Captain Penney at lunchtime. We walked to Mark Twain School, home for lunch and then back to school. We had no gym, and no library. The bookmobile came to the parking lot.

We had neighbors to play with on  almost all sides. We had no fear, no color tv, no enemies. We had Velveeta cheese sandwiches or baloney sandwiches on white bread with butter. We drank Kool-Aid and had Kool-Aid popsicles made with the Tupperware Mom bought from Aunt Joy. We had Eskimo Pies and Fudgesicles and wore Keds. We practiced piano, went to ballet, spent time examining the water flowing down the seam in the driveway. We were bathed together, singing, with Krazy Foam and Fuzzy Wuzzy soaps. We had birthday parties and at Christmas, Santa would visit at the Christmas party and get us all excited about his visit later. Halloween was apples, plastic masks, and full-sized candy bars. We stayed out late on the front lawn, with the parents in lawn chairs, visiting each other while we caught lightning bugs. That was my West-Side life, which started to lose some of its happiness only when my favorite playmate, Pammy, moved to Colorado when I was in third grade. Third grade was also the highest grade in my school, so it was also time for me to make a move. Life was changing, but little did I know how much it would change.
Copyright Nancy Dinger Aikins, 2013 All photos and article should not be reproduced without permission of the author.

Definition

Hmmm. What defines you? Is that a fair question? I am still thinking about that.
This post was inspired by clothing. Since I got really overweight, I stopped looking anything like I want to look. It seems it hardly matters what I wear, it is still not "me." I wear clothes passed on to me from people who either gained or lost weight. Hardly any of it defines me. None of it speaks "artist" or "nature" or "color" or anything I usually spend my time dealing with. The big clothes look really big. There is mostly black or white. The tops that do not hide my bulging belly look silly since my boobs make everything stick out anyhow.
It's sad. If I get an interview this week, I will be at a loss. I have not been shopping in years and do not even know where I would shop to find things I like. Worse, my 223 lb body is no fun to shop for. If I cannot represent myself, I don't know how I will get a job.
I must reverse this whole mess. I am lost in other peoples' clothing.

Where's that space?

Too many days away from the studio make me crabby, angry, down. It has taken me a long time to figure this out, but that's it. Studio time means I focus on myself and what I want to do and need to do. Things like prayer, exercise, outside time and creative time. The Other Stuff of Life gets in my way, though and I have a hard time understanding that I need to do those things as well. But I don't want to do them sometimes. Like all of us.
There are also things that may not be things I need to do, but I did sign up for them. Things like motherhood, running the art guild, attending functions. But not getting Me time in to power-up makes those things more difficult.
Today, I am just getting dressed after 10 am. That is pretty lame, but I did not sleep well and woke up with  a headache and so I got tot work in my jammies and drank a lot of coffee. Now I have to take laundry to Mom's since our washer just bit the dust. Then I work from 11:30 to 3 and go back and do laundry. The day will be gone before I know it.
Yesterday was Art Guild meeting prep, then the meeting and then off to an art benefit. Home at 10:00.
Sunday was church and then company all day.
Saturday was good=== spent time with Des at the Flea Mkt. and then we went down to Tremont. Then I spent 6 hours waiting for her to do her zombie act at the laser tag thing. Good thing I brought two books. But no exercise means I sleep terribly and it starts a bad ball rolling.
Maybe tonight? Maybe tomorrow.

Days, weeks, months, years

I waste most of my time in the morning. OR you could say that is my ME time.
I finally get to work around 3 and like to work as long as I can after that.
I get irritated if things get in my way, like cooking dinner or helping kids with homework.
In other words, I am kind of all for myself until I come to my senses and remember that I like my kids and care and want to be involved in their lives. I also like to cook. But I get messed up because I don't have a plan. Days with plans work out so much better.
I get irritated when other people don't value time, until I remember that I have days where nothing gets done.
The pressure of too many options has always been an issue for me.
Having a cubicle job has always helped me to distill what it is I had hoped to do with my time:
Travel Ohio. Get up in the morning, get in the car and drive to any number of interesting places within an hour or two, take photos, paint, blog, go home. It is silly that I get up and put off my shower and watch morning shows and eat a second breakfast when I could be sitting next to a river in an old steel town. Just writing about it makes me excited about finally doing it. I could do an excursion a week or an excursion a day-- I have the freedom. Instead, I feel obliged to clean a room, clean a floor, sort papers, clean the garage-- order my personal world instead of expanding it and responding to it. 
Another thing I imagine I will do is get exercise and cook great stuff, but that usually only happens every so often.
It's 4 pm. I went to my Mom's group this morning, which was really wonderful, since connection with women of faith is big for me. We all seemed to be really happy to be back. I joined the group that is reading the book on Perfectionism! I feel it will help me break out of my "I'll be happy when" mentality which is so natural for me. I am also a dessert-last person and a you can only do that once you've done this kind of girl. I have to realize it constantly, since it is a curse I could put on my kids. I want them to be freer than that.
My studio is my home base for any of these little trips. I need it to be my place to respond and build and create. Right now, it is a dumping ground for my supplies and for the cats. I need a door built so the cats stay out. So now, I uncover windows and tables, trash old stuff, and get busy. Gene's making dinner.

End of August

I had a fantastic birthday.
Today I have a headache coming on strong and am now going to stay in my studio for as long as possible, cranking tunes.
We have about $25 left in total.
Not much food at all.
No new school clothes, except Desi's birthday outfit and Kota's new shoes.
The house is pretty clean, except for the kids' rooms.
We finally got some good rain.
Zombie golf on Fri & Sat, Fireworks on Sunday. I hope we have tons of customers and make some moola.
Could not wake up today, so sleepy. I wish we had some Pepsi.
You don't work, you don't get paid. I am working all the time, but only so much pay.
It will be a good year.

Where Does it Come From?

Stuff is in my house. It is always showing up in piles and boxes and bags, causing me grief and prompting me to write in my blog since it such a constant. Stuff separates me from my family and the activities I enjoy and need the most. No one else seems to notice Stuff. I am told to ignore Stuff, like everyone else. I ignored the two fishing rods brought into the house in mid-June. I do not own them, nor did I bring them in, but they moved around from the kitchen to the red room to the living room and back to the kitchen until I asked about them today-- the end of August. It is my fault they are still in the house, because Stuff is My Problem-- no one else has to notice it and I was supposed to Ask Someone to take them out to the garage so they can sit in there for the next few years, since no one actually fishes. The Stuff in the garage and laundry room are all my responsibility as well, and the closets, cubby hole, bookcases, kitchen, refrigerator, studio, pantry, garden, porches and bedroom. I am tired and it is a lonely job, interviewing Stuff, to see if they are needed or wanted or useful. I would rather be doing something more interesting, but getting Stuff out of the house is necessary if we want to sit down, eat, sign papers, find anything or have something to wear. I'm not really sure what to do about it.

Shop at my Etsy Store!

This, Not That

I seem to be running on someone else's schedule, doing someone else's To Do List. I missed my shower 2 days straight because I've been on my knees cleaning the floor in the kitchen-- the kids did most of the scrubbing, but I waxed, moved out units of cupboards, appliances, carts, etc. and we cleaned under, sides, etc. really well. I broke the big picture window's second pane. Des put in screens and washed the side windows. The only thing left is the hutch.
This is not what I planned on doing this week, but since a bag of potatoes was hidden under the onions under the sink they turned to mush and we had fruit flies. We had no idea what was causing the fruit flies until this big Kitchen Cleanup happened. It is one of those things I do every year, but missed last year. It really needed it and I would not have done it yet but Gene got the kids involved and it was in motion.
The cat was catching mice in the back yard-- I could hear the squeaking. Hopefully it was shrews. In most cases I would freak out, but I am too tired. To top it off, one got in the house. It's in my room.
I am going to take a shower now. I hope the cat finds it and I can sleep well...
squeak!!!

End of Spring

It's been a lovely spring, really. Not for other states, perhaps, but in our area, very nice.
I divided up my gardening and had the kids more involved this year. Last year, we were not home much and it had to be one of the worst years for gardening anyways, with the horrid heat and lack of rain. This year, we have had refreshing, dry days with blue skies and puffy white clouds. Every few days we get a good rain, so the weeds have been easy to pull. My  hands are sore and in the morning, it's hard to bend my fingers.
I am not saying we have had things planted in neat little rows since May. I've only planted a dozen sunflower seeds so far. We have about 5 plants 6 inches high. Two of their heads have been eaten off already. Most of my hostas are looking ragged, since this is the first year we've had the deer right up to the house as well as lounging in the back. I like this year in the yard because I've not been so alone and because I am allowing myself to enjoy it and FINISH it. I just wish we had money for more soil and lots of mulch.
Today I thought about how nice it is to be at ground-level with the plants and to hear the sounds of birds, leaves moving, the sound of pulling or clipping plants. The colors and smells are so nice.
I will probably plant all my seeds. Some are from this year, some from other years. I don't care- what do I  have to lose? I have no idea if the deer like pumpkins and squash, spinach, and the rest, but I will find out.

Not liking it

I live a half-life.

If everything on your to-do list has to do with what you did not finish yesterday, last week, last year, last decade, you are not much in today. That is what is nice about having kids-- they force you into today's list. I am tempted to rush through it to "catch up," but I know it is no good. So I slog along with hair unkempt, socks unmatched, laundry undone, checkbook unbalanced, food unchopped, floor dirty, calls unmade, letters unwritten-- and carry the guilt and shame with me everywhere I go.

I am just doing something wrong. Still fat, still broke, still tired, still not been to Europe, still lonely. Yes, I am doing many more things right. And I do give so much of my time away. I've been working on my church anniversary slide show for 3 days. Gave up some sunny days out in the garden. Missed weeks of workouts. Trying to catch up with my teaching jobs, which are bringing in less than expected. Spend so much time driving people around, going to things at school, errands, etc. I have little time for work that makes money. Gee one more thing to feel bad about.

Pressure

I need peer pressure in my life. With no peers, I don't care what I wear, what my house looks like (after awhile), what I am eating. Yes, I do care to an extent, and I keep on track for the most part, but the extra information that someone is watching me, is helpful. Maybe that is why I blog. It's definitely why I am on Facebook.
I've been reading a few different books for a few years. Though I am taking my time and haven't finished a one, they have been contributing to my growth and development-- the slow pushing me out of my bad habits. One is The Creative Habit by Twila Tharp. Thanks to reading that book, I've got a space now to work in, one that actually does promote creativity and accomplishment. Another would be Overcoming Underearning, by Barbara Sanny. A third is How to Be a Grown Up, by Stacy Kaiser. Of course, the Bible is a staple.
I'm taking the time to prepare a couple entries for an art show. I've wanted to enter it for years, and am never ready. Tonight is the last chance to enter, and I have to have the stuff up there by 7-8. It's also Desi's birthday, Dakota's award night and Dustin's tennis match. I don't have a gift (though she got some earlier) or a cake yet. I figure we have to have cake after Scouts? I need a shower. I'm nervous.
I'm too picky, maybe. I was educated to have certain standards-- what kind of tape, frame, glass, etc. and am tempted to talk myself out of it because it is not perfect. But it is just an entry. Doing that much is a big deal, whether I make it or not. I need the pressure.

Driving Hope

Today I woke up from a dream in which I was driving a pretty big jalopy. It might have been a Rolls Royce without a top. It was cream-colored and I don't think I enjoyed it and I know I had one passenger, trying to direct me. I came down a fork in a road, rather than approaching one, and chickened-out when it came to merging. I instead stopped in front of a sign with the intention of letting others pass on my left while I figured out which way I was going (though I had no choice anyhow). The sign turned into another vehicle, which I crunched into and the traffic which could have passed me pushed me along instead. We were in Cleveland, on a bridge, with many levels of ramps and buildings all around. We got into traffic at last and then I woke up.
Last Tuesday we drove down to Athens and had a very nice visit with friends in their new, simplified house. I've known these friends since we were all 18, and love them dearly. I left them with quilts passed on to me from another of our Athens friends. Then we all got back into our cars on Wednesday morning and made our way through West Virginia, Virginia and Tennessee, ending in Gatlinburg. The hills were steep and I am glad the car made it through all that. That same route was the scene of a 75-car pileup a few days later, due to incredibly thick fog.
Destiny was sick the whole time, with a cold. The indoor pool was not worth the extra effort and cost; it was too small and crowded. Gatlinburg is really kind of overrun and worn. Too many people. It was fun to watch the kids' reaction to the very wacky sights in Sevierville and Pigeon Forge, but I would rather focus on the national park and the crafters. The hype and commercialism is so over-the-top, but I think it's fun to have the kids see stuff like that at least once. By the time we drove  home, we were pretty tired, my hips were sore and I had picked up Desi's cold. Gene had to do most of the driving and it was a long day. Everyone was happy to sleep in their own bed again. Easter was the next day and I missed the service from the cold and slept all day. Kind of a bummer, it being my favorite holiday.

Yes, of course that's the Titanic.
I slept a lot, trying to rid myself of the cold since Gene was scheduled for surgery on Wednesday. Gene Jr. came up from Columbus and took him and sat with him since I was too germy. I missed the whole thing and stayed in bed.
Meanwhile, my friends had to meet people to see if there is any chance of keeping their newly adopted daughter.
Another friend had chest pains, back pain, a blod clot, cancer and then died at 67-- all in a matter of days.
Another friend was about to go leave and golf with a buddy, who died of a cardiac arrest. Then he himself fell and broke several ribs.
Another friend fell and broke her shoulder. Another went to hospital for possible pneumonia. Another one was still in hospital for other things. Another got a knee replacement, right after her step dad got total hip replacement. And then Bob died before we left and his service was today.
At least little Andrew, 4 BEAT HODGKINS LYMPHOMA this week. Thank God.
And my husband did really well in surgery.
And Dakota did NOT have lice, as a hairdresser assumed, seeing his scratches dues to his eczema. I spent all day cleaning, combing, buying stuff to clean and comb, and NOTHING. She was wrong.
I got a new vacuum out of it.
It's nice to be home and nice to have Gene home. Time to buy charcoal, clean out gardens, have some hope. It could be worse.

Confessions

Forgive me, for I don't feel my age.
Forgive me for overeating.
Forgive me for not being a disciplined person.
Forgive me for not looking good, or many times, not trying to.
Forgive me for not paying my bills on time.
Forgive me for not having kids.
Forgive me for not acting my age.
Forgive me for being messy.
Forgive me for being lazy.
Forgive me for not putting things back where they belong.
Forgive me for yelling.
Forgive me for wasting time.
...for trying to do too much.
...for not prioritizing correctly.
...for having too much stuff.
...for eating wrong.
...for not planning.
...for my dirty car.
...for being nervous.
...for being loud.
...for being silly.
...for not facing the facts.
...for being overweight and unhealthy.
...for not working in a cubicle.
...for loving change.
...for loving travel.
...for loving the man I love.
...for raising other people's kids.
...for making art.
...for singing in the rain.
...for liking calendars and clocks.
...for making lists.
...for forgetting.
...for not being athletic.
...for my many depressions.
...for not having you over more often.
...for not paying you back.
...for not spending more time with you.
...for not being honest with myself.
...for not believing in myself.
...for not being good in math.
...for reruns.
...for not cooking more interesting meals.
...for not pulling weeds.
...for not ironing.
...for not having a good lawn.
...for the junk in the back yard.
...for not liking to answer the phone all the time.
...for taking on too much.