December snow

So, it finally snowed. Now, I don't drive out-of-state to find a snowstorm. This will appease me for a while...

SINCE CHOKING...

I haven't written in a few weeks because, a few days after starting this, I went to a local diner and choked. I could have died. I lived to tell the story, obviously, but...I could have DIED in a DINER! The idea of that makes me now cringe.

I had gone by myself, since I had the day off from work and decided to treat myself to a lazy breakfast. It was a diner where they know me (and my husband) since we usually go there on Saturday mornings. I'd brought a book, had nothing to do for a few hours (not that I planned to stay in there that long) and was feeling really comfy and relaxed. I ordered my "regular" (cheese omelette, turkey sausage, no potatoes, no toast and lots of coffee) and sat back.

Since it was a weekday, and later in the morning, the place wasn't packed. Most of the customers were older---retired, probably. When the meal came, I dug in. I hadn't even eaten one third of it when...suddenly...GASP! (no, I couldn't even gasp; there was no air that got through) something got stuck in my windpipe and I started choking.

Being a stupid a**, and never the one to ask for help, I sat in my booth, trying to get air, trying to Heimilich myself, waving my arms above my head (thinking that it would open my windpipe) and NOBODY CAME OVER. TALK ABOUT FEELING INVISIBLE!

Didn't anybody see me? I wonder that now, on reflection. Where was my waitress, who always hovers over me with the coffee pot? (She knows how I like it fresh and hot and I always leave her good tips.) Didn't the old folks, sitting in nearby booths, think that I was acting like a crazy person? Maybe that's exactly why nobody came near me...but, still... 

I remember thinking, at one point, "I'm going to die." Everytime I tried to breathe, all I heard was a rasping, wheezy sound and nothing filled my lungs. NO AIR. Even as a swimmer, I knew when it was time to rise to the surface of the water and breathe again. I was in control. But not that morning...not in the diner...

I don't know what saved me, my fists pounding on my chest, my doubling over and trying to Heimilich myself, or just a gift from the gods and goddesses, but I did not die on that morning. The tiny, almost murderous particle of food which almost killed me, finally dislodged itself and I was able to gulp in air.

My hands were shaking. My body was shaking. I pushed away the breakfast plate--almost full of food---and forced myself to remain seated, calming myself, "It's OK. You are alive. You are well. Nothing is wrong. Just listen to the other diners' conversations. You can get up and leave when you stop shaking."

Eventually, I did just that. My throat was sore, the way it feels after a long bout of wretching. I walked outside into the cool, blue-skied autumnal morning and thought, "I might never have seen this. I might never have walked outside that diner." It did give me pause; I tell you.

For the rest of the day and even for the rest of that week and...well, I must admit...even to this very minute, I felt as if I were in shock. Of course, it's faded a lot since that morning but, I have this odd cough that just doesn't go away--ever since I choked.

I refer now to things as "Before I choked" and "After I choked". Kind of like my personal BC/AD time frame.

I see that is sunny outside. I must end this and go play.

The Mechanic

I had to take my car in to be serviced this morning. I've been to this place before and the guy is very chatty and friendly. One time, when I first started bringing my car there, he'd looked at the photo on my driver's license (weirdly enough, it's one of the best pictures of me) and had said, "Whoa!" as in..."You look good!" Then, he had glanced at me (my real face, as I stood across his desk) and I could see his face change. It was as if he was thinking, "But you don't look like that in person!"

Well, after yesterday's blog entry, I seriously wondered if my feelings of invisibility are, in fact, due to the fact that I am aging and, in essence, disappearing. I woke up this morning with my hair in really bad shape. It's normally frizzy and can get wild if it needs a cut (my appointment is early next week) and had this bizarre (and frantic) desire to look as good as possible. For the mechanic?! For myself? I don't know. It was just suddenly very important that I didn't look as ugly as I thought that I did. (And maybe do! I don't know anymore!)

There I was, at my bathroom mirror, smathering this anti-frizz grease all over my palms and, then, trying to "glue down" my hair so that it, at least, didn't look as if I was a Halloween left-over. Nothing was working so I had to finally give up. I had to get to the car guy as early as possible so that I wouldn't have to spend the whole day there.

When I walked into the place, he saw me and smiled. We bantered, back and forth, for a bit and then I told him what the car's problem was. He suggested that "we go for a drive" so he could try out the car. We did. He theorized what the mechanical difficulty was and said, "I've got a full house today. Can you leave the car?" When I said that I could, he offered to drive me home. He remembered the town I live in because he's done work on the car so many times. On the way, and I can't believe I'm even writing this, he started flirting with me. I know that some men just act that way and if a woman ever responded, they would run away, or vomit, or both.

I was amazed. All I kept thinking was, "If I were really repulsive, he wouldn't say these (stupid) things, would he?" He was never out-of-line; the guy wants to maintain my business, but I'm not a kid anymore and I know when a guy is being flirtatious, even if he's not being serious. Who knows? Maybe he felt sorry for me, being an old broad with frizzy hair, and he wanted to make me feel good!! Wouldn't that be the worse insult?!

The thing is...his attitude towards me lifted my spirits! He had no idea how down in the dumps I was feeling yesterday. I needed to hear (or believe) that I was "seen" and that's what he did for me this morning. Good timing~

Now, I wait for his call so I can go pick up my car. I'm leaving my hair the way it is!

Over and out...

Is it my hormones?

Why is it that now, as I am in my late fifties, I suddenly crave true, passionate love? I want to feel that somebody adores me...that they can't stop thinking about me, that they are obsessed with me!

No, not that last part. I'm not into weird stuff. Actually, I live a very normal life. I'm married to the sweetest guy. We've been together for over 20 years and I am not searching for a mid-life romance.

I find this all very odd. It's as if there's a hole in my spirit, for lack of a better word, as if I'm disappearing, becoming less visible than I've been. Where is this coming from? I have a gratifying job, some very close friends, my husband and I go out, we talk, we watch old movies together. I can only blame my hormones for my neediness. And get this, my needs aren't physical; they're emotional and now that they're popping out in full-bloom, there doesn't seem to be any way to deal with them.

I do have a theory that this, perhaps, has something to do with getting older. As a woman ages, she notices that men don't even glance her way anymore. I was never a beauty queen but I did have that little window of time, in my past, when I got appraising looks. Now, nobody seems to see me. Young men aren't interested in eyeballing a woman with wrinkles. Older men (or those my age) are drawn to women in their 20's. Even though I have a good figure, it doesn't matter. I'm slipping away...

This all seems so egocentric and that's not me! I have to ponder more about this...

Well, time to get the clothes out of the wash. Life marches on.