Andrea Wilson Woods' Blog

Although I am working on several emotional blogs about far more serious topics, I realize that today—the anniversary of my sister Adrienne’s death—I need some levity in my life. Adrienne often teased me about being too anal-retentive; she thought it was funny to watch me obsess over tasks. However, she decided to “get more organized” when she began losing her homework because she couldn’t find where she had put it. Adrienne spent more than an hour rearranging her papers by subject, putting her assignments into separate pocketed folders and matching each folder with its own spiral notebook of the same color. She beamed with pride when she finished and said, “There! Now I can find everything.”

I smiled and congratulated her on a job well done. Inside I was thinking … And you think we’re not alike. Ha! A few days later, Adrienne was diagnosed with liver cancer, and she never returned to school. Although we both used humor to deflect our pain, we never discussed the irony of that particular situation. Funny how some things don’t need to be said aloud.

Wait … this blog was supposed to be silly and serve as a warning to others like me who need to lighten up. So in honor of my sister, who understood me better than anyone else, here are five signs that you might be too anal:

5. You own a label maker and will look for any excuse to use it. I don’t only label binders. I’ve labeled our pet-food bins, our recycling can, my husband’s water bottle (he requested it), and various medication containers (the fine print is too small). You know you are in love with your label maker if you have used the device so often that you have run out of tape more than once in three months, and you have memorized the refill tape cartridge’s model number. Right now, the Brother P-Touch M Series is on sale at Costco so I had better stock up!

4. You have a specific method for eating corn on the cob and any deviation from your method causes you great distress. For example, I prefer the horizontal approach. I eat three to four rows at a time from left to right. Then I go back over those same rows from right to left to make sure I didn’t miss anything. The cob, of course, is dripping in real butter. If I’m at home, I use our corn-on-the-cob holders; they make the process less messy and guarantee your teeth attack every kernel. When my husband told me that he varies his method—vertical vs. horizontal—depending on the corncob, I was shocked. I don’t know him at all.

3. You review a check list in your head before you leave your house. Mine revolves around the five senses:

• Do I look good? (How’s the hair, makeup, clothes?)
• Do I smell good? (Am I wearing deodorant, perfume, lotion?)
• Do I taste good? (Did I floss and brush my teeth?)
• Do I sound good? (Do I have a water bottle and cough drops? My throat often becomes hoarse.)
• Do I feel good? (Am I happy about where I’m going and if not, can I fake it?)

Disclaimer: While I may run through this check list every time I go out, it doesn’t mean that I look “camera-ready” at all times. Far from it. But I am always acutely aware of what I did and did not do before going out in public.

2. You color-code all activities in your organizer. Whether you use software (e.g., Microsoft Outlook) or an old-fashioned day planner (e.g., DayMinder), you divide your tasks into color categories (e.g., appointments—green, social activities—yellow). I started doing this toward the end of high school, and my friends have always made fun of me. Even though Adrienne thought it was hilarious that I highlighted my activities for the week in different colors, she told me I was “weird.” If she had only known just how anal I was … I hid the highlighters so she wouldn’t use them. (To be fair, she once “borrowed” my theatrical glow tape and used all of it to decorate her room.) For the longest time I only liked Zebra Zazzle highlighters, but I’m learning to be more flexible. The colors in my Outlook calendar don’t exactly match the highlighters I use in my day planner, and I’m okay with it. Yes, I essentially have two organizers—and no, I do not want a BlackBerry.

And the #1 sign that you might be too anal …
your organization system is so complex that no one else can understand it. For example, when my appendix burst nine years ago, my boyfriend (at the time) was frantically flipping through my address book trying to find my father’s phone number. Apparently, he had already looked under “W” while I was in surgery. Nope, not there. Still groggy from the anesthesia, I heard Adrienne tell him, “Sissy organizes everyone by first name. Don’t you know that?”
My boyfriend sighed. He turned the pages. My eyes were closed, but I could imagine his expression when he looked under “Z” for Zelmer. The page was blank. He shook my arm. “Dammit, Andrea. I can’t find your father’s number anywhere.”

I remember smiling because the answer was so obvious to me. “Look under D—for Daddy.” My boyfriend groaned, Adrienne laughed, and I drifted off to sleep.

AWW — XoXo

P.S. I hope I made you smile, kiddo.
For what it’s worth, you were worth all the while. – Green Day

Posted under Adrienne & General | 1 Comment »

My greatest fear is loss. Losing Adrienne, my sister, my child, and in many ways my best friend, is the greatest loss I can ever imagine. You expect to outlive your parents, some of your friends, maybe your spouse (especially if you’re a woman), but outliving your child goes against the natural order of the universe.

I have always known I would outlive everyone I love (I mean everyone)—even my younger sister, but I thought I would be 70 and she would be 56. Unless I change my own fate, I will surely outlive my father and most likely my husband. Though he didn’t raise me for much of my life, I am truly my father’s daughter in every way. I still want to make him proud of me—how silly is that at my age? And my husband is so much more than my lover; he is my best friend, my sounding board, my biggest fan, my constant companion, and he always kisses me goodnight. Who will do that when he’s gone?

When asked what the secret of her success was, Barbara Walters responded (I’m paraphrasing), “Surviving personal losses.” I understand what she means. I don’t disagree with her, but I don’t think I can take another loss—whether it’s the death of a loved one or the end of a friendship. The pain has become so unbearable that no amount of Valium or Wellbutrin or therapy can minimize it. I end up feeling lost all the time because of my losses.

But when I think about altering my destiny, choosing to end the aching in my heart (I marvel at how the heart really hurts on a physical level; I experience chest pains), I consider what that choice would mean to others in my life— particularly my husband and my father. I also wonder what Adrienne would think—she would be angry with me for wasting my life, for throwing away the opportunities that she missed. And I would be causing the two people I love the most, the worst possible pain, the kind I don’t wish on anyone. Then I realize I can’t do it. I’m stuck. Here. Now. In the present.

I cannot handle any more losses, but they will happen—for all of us—when we least expect them … like our own shadows stalking us on a sunny day.

There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot, a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build, a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance. — Ecclesiastes 3:1-4

The Bible got one thing right.

AWW — XoXo

Posted under Adrienne & People/Relationships | No Comments »

I’m sure you’ve heard the proverbs “The early bird gets the worm” or “Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise.” (Supposedly, Ben Franklin said the latter one.) My entire life I’ve been told I should go to sleep early, but I’ve wanted to stay up late for as long as I can remember.

When I was nine years old, I would “go to bed” around 8:30/9:00. My mother worked graveyard shift at the hospital, and my father (before the divorce) never bothered to check on me so I stayed up and read. Two hours later, I would walk into the living room and give my father a complete review of the book. He usually grumbled about me staying up too late, but I don’t think he cared too much since I spent the entire time reading. Plus, those late hours were our only time together. No mother, no brother (this was many years before my sister Adrienne). After listening to me discuss my book and then quizzing me on random world history facts that I couldn’t possibly know, my father and I would watch TV shows like Soap and Barney Miller. I may have gone to school with dark circles under my eyes, but nothing can replace what would become some of my happiest childhood memories.

Now I’m adult who has spent years struggling to wake up early with the rest of the world. I remember staying up all night once in college just to see the sun rise (definitely not my idea), and all I could think was This is it? A couple of streaks of yellow in the sky? Give me a smog-infused LA sunset any day over this morning crap. I promptly went to sleep afterward and have done my best to avoid sunrises ever since. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve woken up before dawn to go skiing, to catch a plane, and even to drive to work, but I HATE IT. No amount of coffee will ever make me love or even appreciate what the morning has to offer. The only time I’ve woken up at 6am without an alarm clock was on my honeymoon in Australia (my husband, a morning person, was thrilled), but the jet lag quickly wore off in three days.

However, I found myself in the most unusual situation last month. After many months of unemployment, I managed to get two jobs that allow me to work from home. I make my own schedule. Suddenly, it occurred to me. What if I just allowed my body to do what it wants? What if I just see what happens? I don’t sleep well anyway—especially when I force myself to go to bed early. Guess what happened? I’m sleeping approximately seven hours a night from 2am – 9am, and I LOVE IT. Sometimes I have restless nights that cause me to wake up every 2.5 hours, but that’s typical for me. But usually, I’m sleeping almost seven hours without the use of sleep aids, and that’s a miracle for an insomniac like me. I believe it’s because I’m going with my body’s natural rhythm instead of against it.

So while I admire those of you who are able to get up early in the morning, I also challenge you. How is my seven hours of sleep different from yours? (If you go to bed at 10pm and wake up at 5am for instance.) I accomplish many things late at night (grading, blogging, critiquing resumes (i.e. job stuff), etc.). I’m also able to spend time with our weird cat Marinol who is extremely nocturnal; he wakes up around midnight and plays all night long. I love not feeling guilty about the time I go to bed. I love curling up with a good book the way I used to when I was a kid. I love not forcing sleep. The best part about my new regimen is that I don’t take naps anymore. I used to take them all the time because I was so tired, but now that I sleep when my body wants to I don’t seem to need them.

So … if the early bird catches the worm … then the night owl eats it while sipping a glass of red wine and reading a good book.

AWW — XoXo

Posted under General & Health & People/Relationships | 3 Comments »