Life's Funny Like That

Weirdo

2012-01-26T21:40:00.005-05:00

I got my case study finished, and after reading it a half dozen times, I sent it off. Really, I'm one of those people who could agonize over a paper and spend hours trying to make it better. I would let it chew up and spit out a whole weekend, one that I have set aside for my husband. I acknowledged my own shortcoming, took a deep breath, and I attached the assignment to an e-mail and sent it off. It is done, submitted 3 days early.

I then went out and mopped the kitchen floor. I stood at the door enjoying how it gleamed. I polished furniture, and put text books away once again. Room by room, I put my house back to rights.

Isn't it strange that I should get as much satisfaction from polishing wood as I do from sending off a seven page paper?

What I'm Doing Now.

2012-01-25T21:00:00.003-05:00

I'm writing a case study now. I'm doubting my own sanity, really. This case is a toughy. The client's interests generally guide the intervention, but the fact is, this client has few interests, and has participated in little activity/occupation/anything for a long, long time. She has to be physically returned to the point where she is able to participate again, and then it will be a process to allow her discover her interests, and enabling her to take part in them.

I'm on my fifth page of this write-up, and I'm feeling a little stressed. I'm wondering "why oh why do you do this to yourself?" knowing full well that I could have picked an easier client.

But the fact is that this client responds well to me. The fact is that I can see progress after less than two weeks. The fact is that following the path of this client for as long as I can is going to make me a very excellent COTA. It is stretching my mind as I stretch her body. I am learning to use my words effectively, how to encourage properly, how to use what I know to make a difference. I could have taken the easier route, I suppose, but it wouldn't have been nearly as rewarding.

But doing it and writing about it...two different things. UGH!

I'm busting butt on this assignment. My goal is to have it done by Friday night. I want to be able to have a whole weekend to devote to Tim. He responds well to me too. :)

My turn

2012-01-23T21:11:00.002-05:00

Friday, I scooted down to Clarion to bake bread with Cara, to celebrate her 22nd birthday, belatedly.

Saturday, I returned home, and I was glad to be pulling in the driveway. I walked in the house calling, "I'm home," and I heard Tim's voice from the back of the house.

He came up and gave me a hug, and I hugged him back, but I'm always jangly after a long drive. I said, "So, have you eaten?" and he said, "No," and I headed for the cupboard.

Tim said, "You don't miss me anymore."

Surprised, I stopped.

"I do," I said. "I have been missing you for a long time. Between school and work, it just never seems like we have enough time together, and when we do...we seem to be talking about projects, or what needs doing next, or your back. My mom died, and the holidays. It's been so busy, but I do miss you. I thought I was the only lonely one."

I felt so badly about that. I still do. There are times in a marriage when you are so close that you can read each other's thoughts, but apparently, we have drifted. Usually, it is me, pleading for closeness and conversation, but this time, it was him, saying softly, "I just don't feel like you miss me."

This time it is me who has to step forward, and reach for my husband, hold him close. This time it is my turn to prove it, to make him feel beloved, once again.

True Love.

2012-01-22T20:11:00.007-05:00

An widower told us that he loved to dance, that he and his wife of nearly 70 years had waltzed.

A woman said, "Oooh! I have never waltzed..." and before you could blink, we were hearing where the hand went, and what to do with the feet, etc. They waltzed briefly, and then the gentleman sat back down in his chair.

I nearly cried when I caught a glimpse of his face. His chin quivered and his eyes were filled with tears. He had a far away look in his eyes, and I know that he remembering the fit of another woman in his arms.

Today I worked at Tractor Supply, and an elderly man came in to buy his dog food. He is a widower also, and he told me previously that all he has left is his little dog. He buys her the premium dog food, and special treats. He believes that she is the only thing that keeps him going some days.

So when I saw him today, I asked him how things were going. He's so thin that I worry about him. He told me that they were okay. Then suddenly, he said, "There's just so much. I never worried about meals. She handled the money. She paid bills. She did the cooking and the cleaning." And he looked so helpless that I said, "Listen, if you can't handle it alone, you really need to let your daughter know so that she can help." He told me that he had, that she does help him.

He lingered, and as always, there were tears in his eyes. "I miss her," he said. "We were married for 62 years." Today, I said, "Remember this: some people today spend their whole lives hoping to find what you had. You're a very, very lucky man that you had this for 62 years."

"I AM lucky," he said, "and I know it." I patted his hand, and he smiled his teary smile as he always does, and he pushed his cart out the door.

True love infuses two lives with magic, but that magic splashes over and blesses the life of anyone who is lucky enough to catch the tiniest glimpse of it.

Cara's Birthday

2012-01-21T16:15:00.004-05:00

Cara's birthday was Thursday. Unfortunately, I could not travel to Clarion until last night. I hauled my KitchenAid mixer. The plan was to make a birthday cake, and whip up a batch of pepperoni rolls.

During the 1 1/2 hour drive there, I reminisced. I remember the first time we drove there, dropping her off at college. I cried almost all the way home after leaving her. It was no different. I always cry the first time I drop a kid off, or watch them head out for that first time. It feels like such an ending, but it's not. It's a beginning, and it is theirs.

Cara is no longer in the dorms. She and her friend Taylor have an apartment, and the girls had raved so much about homemade pepperoni rolls that Rukie was coming over to sample "those little bites of heaven" she'd heard so much about.

I got there and had a couple hours alone with Cara. The apartment is small and neat. Although the furniture came from here, there, and everywhere, it all matches nicely. Vivaldi played on Cara's record player, and we baked together. She unwrapped her presents and we laughed together. She told me that she just felt like 22 was going to be a momentous year for her, and I had to smile inside...I am turning 55 this year, and I feel like this will be a momentous year for me as well.

Rukie came bearing the sauce, and we watched an "Affair to Remember," and the girls sighed at the dresses and the romance and Cary Grant. They groaned at the cuteness of the children and their songs, and they rolled their eyes at the stupidity of Deborah Kerr ~ why didn't she just TELL him, for pete's sake?

When Taylor came home, she was in need of consolation. Her second day as a waitress netted her just $2.68 in tips. She had just one customer, which was a big improvement from the previous day when she had none at all. We plied her w/ carbs and sympathy. It seemed to help.

It was a pleasant night, and I slept on the futon in the livingroom. How much has changed since that first day of college. When I left this morning, there were no tears at all, just a satisfied feeling that I have a daughter who is self sufficient and resourceful, funny and intelligent. It made me glad.

Laughing with the Oldies

2012-01-19T20:44:00.003-05:00

An elderly woman wheeled up to an elderly man, and said, in a very concerned voice, "Your hand is very swollen."

The gentleman looked down and good naturedly agreed that it was. The lady peppered him with questions...what happened to his hand? why was it swollen? did it hurt? Her concern was not gong to be stopped, so finally, the elderly man said, "Well, it's been in a sling quite awhile, and it just started swelling and..."

I looked over and said "Well now that surely explains my butt. Lord knows, I've had that in a sling times too numerous to count..."

He slapped his knee and guffawed while the elderly woman covered her mouth and giggled like a school girl.

In the Dark

2012-01-19T07:46:00.002-05:00

I'm one of these people who get up in the morning and pad around in the dark. I don't turn on the lights. I know where everything is, so I just pad down the dark hall and into the dim kitchen (there is light there, from a lot of small sources). I make my coffee in the dark, and a bagel, if I am having one, pad into the library to sit at the computer for a few minutes, while I drink my first cup of coffee. Then I get up, pad back to the kitchen, pour my second coffee, and head down the dark hallway to the bathroom. I set down my cup on the stand at the side of the sink, and then I shower in the old clawfoot bathtub. Once I'm out, and towelled off, the lights come on. I can't deny it then. The day officially begins.

This morning was like the rest of them.

Except this morning I did toast a bagel. I grabbed the packet of cream cheese thinking "Tim must be eating bagels too," because the cream cheese was opened. I had just bought a new package thinking we were out at the same time I picked up the bagels.

Except that he hadn't. I figured it out when I took a bite of my bagel at the computer. I padded back out to the kitchen, opened the refrigerator and threw the opened packet of cream cheese away, noting the new unopened packet of cream cheese on the top rack with the butter.

I could have toasted another bagel, I suppose, but the nasty taste of mold in my mouth had caused me to lose my appetite.

Riding the Storm Out.

2012-01-17T19:18:00.004-05:00

Tonight, I was meeting a prospective tenant at one of the buildings. I haven't driven for a while. No real need to. I can walk almost anywhere I need to go, and lately, it just doesn't seem like I have any real place to go. I go to work in the morning, come home, putz around the house, and then go to bed. It feels nice to have time to stay caught up, and to relax. Talk on the phone to a friend, read a book, or even watch TV, although I have to say that I keep forgetting that I have television, and when I do, it's mostly turned to a New Age music channel that plays while I do something else. I've forgotten how lovely it is to be surrounded by music.

In any case, I went to my car tonight, because after the appointment, I wanted to get Cara's birthday present, and run a few little errands. The last time that I'd tried to start it, back when Cara was home, it would not start. Tim looked at it, and pronounced that it was fine. I haven't needed it for over a week now, and when I jumped into it, natch: it would not start.

I took off at a brisk pace for my appointment, and then decided that I could quickly run over town to pick up some of the things that I needed, and so I did.

I took my time in the store, intrigued as I was by a very vulgar woman on a cell phone. "Sure, drown yourself in food. That's what you need to do. Weight does not matter. Eat yourself to death." She was a pretty rotund woman herself. "And you can quit trying to manipulate me into coming to England, because you're beginning to &(%$ me off." She strolled around the store, yelling into her phone. "Oh, okay, so now you're going to drink instead. Poor you! Poor baby! Everybody's got problems. Wah! Wah! Let's all feel sorry for you, you big baby. Meanwhile, you're killing my husband. Think about that!" Around the store she strolled, bellowing her head off into the phone, sounding like a strange mix between Dr. Phil and one of Maury Povich's guests.

In any case, I went to the checkout, only to hear a weather alert. Serious line of thunderstorms headed our way. A woman walked into the store dripping and wide eyed.

"Crap!" I thought.

My purchases were rung up, and I left with four bags. It has been unseasonably warm here, and the wind was like none other. A cart corral had blown over from the grocery store across the way, and carts were on the loose in the parking lot, flying every which way, crashing into vehicles. I began to feel very fortunate that my car was safely in my driveway, dead as a doornail.

I headed home into the wind, and there were times that I could not step forward because the wind was just that strong. My hair was everywhere, and my coat whipped around my legs. The rain had let up considerably, and I made my way home in the dark, through a violent wind, watching strange flashes across the sky.

I've been struggling lately (so many changes!), but tonight, making my way home, I felt exhilarated in a way that I have not felt for a long, long time. There were no questions. There were no doubts. There was no fear. There was me, and my four bags and the elements. I sidestepped puddles, and gave little skips. No obstacle was too great, I handled my load easily.

Wielding Power

2012-01-16T21:08:00.003-05:00

I overheard a discussion about 'the gay guy'.

Period.

The gay guy.

There is a man, probably a multifaceted personality. Maybe he is a good neighbor, a valued friend. A beloved brother. A devoted son. Maybe he helps little old ladies across the street. Goes to church. Runs errands for the elderly. Is kind to animals. I mean, there is a million things that can probably be said about this guy, but all of that was dismissed. He was summed up in one adjective: gay, and it was uttered like an epithet.

Now this is what teenagers do to one another. They call each other names: Slut. Whore. Gay. They diminish each other, gossip about one another. High school is a place where people are bullied with words. If they are lucky, that is all that they are bullied with.

I am 54 years old, and my high school days are behind me,but I've held enough low paying service jobs to understand that the mean does not stop, that middle aged women can be just as malicious as any high school girl. Their goals are the same. They want to be at the top of the pecking order. They want to wield the power, whether we are talking about a social clique or the local Kwik Fill.

So, yes, I understand it. But then I went to college, and I thought that with education, I would be entering a new world where people made sense, and where I understood the rules.

It is more disappointing than I can say to find that I've walked through that door and the view is, so far, not all that different.

Decision

2012-01-15T20:24:00.004-05:00

Today I made a decision. I have left my church. It was a hard one.

I know that politically, the pastor and I are on opposite sides of the fence, but really, really, I never felt that it mattered. I went there to be strengthened spiritually. But more and more, the politics crept in. It became impossible to ignore, at least in my heart.

Today from the pulpit, he decried political correctness, and said that it was nothing more than watering down the gospel. That sat me back on my heels a bit as I pondered it. Can political correctness go too far? Sure. Sure it can. But I don't believe that Christ stands for intolerance. I don't think that if you are Godly, you stand in judgement of the world.

Sitting there, pondering these things, I realized that I was missing most of his sermon.

Is our pastor Biblically accurate? Yes. I believe he is, but I believe that he is applying these truths inaccurately. I've tried to see it another way, but I cannot, and today, even as he read from the second chapter of Revelation, telling us what it meant, I read those words and felt strongly that it meant something else. I also realized that there is no room for opposing views in my church any more. Increasingly, there is only one right way to see it.

It's something that I've been wrestling with for some time now. Today, I stood up at the end of the service and there was no doubt in my mind. This church is no longer the place that I fit.

I walked across the parking lot for the last time, and I grieved that decision, but in my heart, there was no conflict. The decision is right for me.

Catching up

2012-01-14T20:54:00.003-05:00

I was back to work at the Tractor Supply today, and oh, my gosh! How I missed that job! I've been doing clinicals, which has really knocked my availability down, and I've only had a few hours each week.

A couple came in, and the guy was wearing a (honest to pete!) stove pipe hat. Like Abraham Lincoln. It made the customers stare. When he checked out, I said, "Nice hat!" and he replied that he'd forgotten that he was wearing it. He was buying horseshoes and volunteered that he had his own business. Crackerjack Farms. He has horses, but he hires out. He has two Victorian carriages, fully restored, a trolley, a stagecoach, even a hearse.

I told him that I lived on Water St. and that a horsedrawn trolley had gone by around Halloween, and that I thought it was an event put on by the local historical society. "It was," he said, "and that was us."

He told me how they'd recently done a funeral in Pittsburgh. His business is popular for fancy weddings. The stagecoach is a popular attraction too, and his son 'rides shotgun', keeping an eye peeled for robbers. He said, "It's a lot of fun."

He paid for his horseshoes and left, and I watched him go. I love it when I see people who love what they do. Made me smile.

I know that posts have been pretty sparse lately. It's not that I am out of stories. I am not. In fact, I am up to my eyeballs in stories, the most wonderful stories, but I cannot tell them. These are my clients, and I have a responsibility.

The one thing that I have noticed is this: that no matter what cognitive deficits an elderly person deals with, there is one thing that they do not forget. They do not forget home. They all want to go home. That is the one word that is never lost. Home.

Tim and I have mended our fences.

If Tim has his mind made up on something, he will not budge. He will simply repeat his viewpoint, over and over again, until I throw my hands skyward and say, "Just do it then...be done with it." There are very few things in this world that I feel so strongly about that this has really been a huge issue before, but after months of watching him deal with some serious chronic pain, well...this surgery was something that I felt very strongly about, and for me, there needed to be a discussion about canceling it. He did not feel the need for this. He called, he canceled, and that was that.

I was so mad at him I didn't even know what to do with that much mad. I stomped out the door for work, and I was in a fine temper, and it had not abated 9 hours later, stomping back home from work. In my mind, when you are married, you don't get to totally disregard your spouse's view on things, and I felt that this was what he'd done. It occurred to me that if he had the right to do this, well, this meant that I did not have to discuss whether or not I could have a dog. It was my choice, because I'm the dog person. The fact that he feels quite strongly that we should not have another dog does not matter, because I like dogs.

This morning, I told him that I'd decided to that I was going to get a dog. He suddenly saw the error of his ways.

I hate being mad, and I'm glad this is behind us. The first argument in our house was a lulu though.

The Coyote

2012-01-13T22:36:00.003-05:00

Written after a jolting experience last summer, recently dredged up for my church's newsletter:

It means a lot to me to be a Godly person, and recent circumstances had gone very bad. The final straw was this: I had been accused of stealing. It was mortifying, and it was not true. What do you do in a situation like that? In my heart, after prayer, my mind was made up. I would not go back into this place. I would not open myself up to further slander. I was after all, a Christian.

I sent an e-mail to another person involved in this whole sorry mess. I was finished. I was not going back. Her response, was quick and heartfelt. “Oh, no you don’t. You will NOT send me into this den of wolves alone.”

This weighed heavy on my heart as I drove to another appointment, this one in Erie for a scan that was going to determine if the pain I had been suffering for months now was cancer. I was afraid of that, and grieving about the e-mail, and I really had no idea what to do next, what would happen next. I was fearful and overwhelmed. I felt attacked on all sides.

I listened to Chip Ingram, who was relating a similar time in his life, a time when everything was upside down, and nothing he could do was improving things. His ministry was in trouble, his wife was grieving over a family situation, and he was troubled in his own heart. One night, lying in bed, he realized that his wife was crying on her side, and that he could not comfort her. It came clearly to him that his family was under assault by Satan. He immediately sat up in bed, and rebuked Satan to be gone.

I listened to this, and I turned down the radio. I prayed out loud commanding Satan to leave my life, to leave me alone. As I drove, praying, I saw the carcass of what appeared to be a deer along the road, and as I swung out around it, I got the shock of my life.

It was a coyote, with his head thrown back at an impossible angle over his back, his tongue lolling between his teeth. The most startling thing was this: the dead thing’s eyes were wide open, as if he was looking at me.

“Oh, no you don’t. You will not send me into this den of wolves alone,” that e-mail had begun, and I suppose that it was way too much to expect that God would have brought a non-native animal to Pennsylvania to be killed along the road as a message to me, but I knew exactly what He was trying to tell me. I must be brave enough to believe that, and to step forward in faith. God could handle the wolves.

Later on the way home, I stopped to tell my good friend the news. The scan showed no cancer. Two middle aged women danced for joy right there in the driveway, Mary still holding the hose that she had been washing her car with. My God-given friend then looked at me and said, “Debby, I have been praying for you about the other situation too. I keep getting the picture: You are dealing with wolves in sheep’s clothing.”

I looked at her and laughed once again. “I am not so afraid of the wolves as I was before," and I told her what I have just told you now.

God knows His sheep, and He will not leave us to the wolves, my friends, because we are HIS sheep. Believe this, for it is true.

Gonna be mad for a long, long time...

2012-01-12T06:22:00.001-05:00

This morning, my husband got out of bed. We were traveling to Erie for his surgery. He felt better, he told me. I told him that he still had the problem that caused the pinched nerve. He said he wasn't having surgery. I told him he needed it. He told me he would not go.

It is the first argument we've ever had in this new house. I'm so mad at him I cannot stand it. He has called the hospital, called the surgery off, and I am so angry at him I don't even know what to do with myself.

Purposeful Intervention

2012-01-05T21:35:00.004-05:00

There is a woman that wants to go home. So very badly. But she needed to be where she was, because she had a serious physical problem. A meeting today determined whether she was ready to leave or not, and yesterday, she was fretful and impatient. I knew that she worried. I get like that, myself. Been there. Done that. I was not put off by it.

This morning, I asked her if she were excited, and she said "I have learned not to get excited. It's just too disappointing when it doesn't happen." I asked her when her meeting was, and she told me. I promised to say a prayer for her.

I was amazed to be invited to sit in on this important meeting. I agreed, and I took a place at her side. Her daughter was excited that I was there. She recognized me from the paper.

I listened as it was discussed. Would it be possible? How could we make this work for her? Although I had not planned to speak, I did.

Long story short, my friend will go home. At the end of the meeting, I hugged her neck and she whispered "Thank you," very emotionally, although I'd done nothing at all. But it was a galvanizing moment for me. I realized my own purpose. I don't want to work in a facility. I want to be in home health. I want to help people go home.

Surprised.

2012-01-04T19:43:00.004-05:00

My feet are still doing well. I'm so amazed by this continuing miracle, there are not even words. I walk down the street to where I'm doing my first round of clinicals each morning. Seriously, a month ago, I'm not sure that I could have done this. I don't know what to attribute this to, but my feet are nowhere near as painful as they have been for (what?) months now?

I walk to work and walking is a pleasant thing. It allows you time to observe, and to see the details around you. I realized again, what a beautiful little community I live in. Every morning, I see something that makes me realize it anew. Every morning, I feel very blessed, very lucky.

It is an interesting world we live in. I've been offered a job, a part time job, from a man who was impressed by my courtesy. Maybe the fact that I am observant. I'm not sure. I spoke with him politely, and he spoke back. We talked, discovering (as per usual) people that we had in common. That is the way of small towns. He knew my grandfather. He lives on the same road as my aunt and uncle. The conversation turned to a more personal nature as he asked me questions about myself, what my husband did, where we lived, etc. In any case, he asked me if I were interested in a job. I listened to what he detailed, and realized that this would fit my schedule. I told him yes.

So strange that simple courtesy would have opened such a door.

The house is tidy and I'm waiting for Cara to get home. She got a job today, as well. We are watching the Harry Potter movies from the first to the last. I've never seen one all the way through. When they started, I drove her and her friends to the theater, and fell asleep within minutes (I worked 3rd shift). Before it was done, she was driving herself to the movies. The last movie was watched in a Korean theater, half a world away.

We can never predict where we will wind up, how things will go, can we? I like that about life.

Miracles

2011-12-30T19:03:00.002-05:00

Been a hairy ride, that's for sure.

My clinical work was scheduled to begin next week. However, no one could seem to determine what I had to do to begin, and I've been talking to people since December 23rd trying to arrange something that was supposed to have already been set up. So much is riding on this. I need 640 work hours before May 20th to graduate, so I have been a little sick about this.

I prayed, and I prayed hard, and what I came up with is that I headed down this path in faith, and step by step, I was reaching my goal. In the words of my wise friend, "He's brought you too far to drop you on your head now." Last night at midnight, trying to print off a clearance that I needed, the computer froze and I received an error message. Of course, the help number did me no good, the help center being closed at that time of the night. I got up this morning and called only to discover that explorer 8 is incompatible with the state police website. Natch.

My work site had explorer 7, and so I was able to go there to fill out the paperwork once again, and to submit it on line with yet another application fee. This time it worked, and triumphantly I carried the paperwork to the appropriate department. Long story short? I have been cleared to begin work on Monday morning at 9.

I am so very grateful and relieved that there are not words to tell you.

Want to hear my Christmas miracle? My feet have been giving me such problems for just forever now, it seems like. After the last scan, and the good results, I had a decision to make about this pain. I took a deep breath, decided that I needed to be functional. I made the decision to avoid the pain killers, be stoic and deal with it, comforting myself with the fact that whatever the flip this is, it is not cancer. Dealing with chronic pain wears on a person though, and sometimes it did not appear that resolution alone was going to get me from one day to the next.

Christmas day came, and Mike brought me a pair of alpaca socks, from the alpaca ranch next door to his 'hunting lodge'. Tim read up on these socks, and thought they might help my poor feet, so he asked Mike to pick up a second pair for him to give to me. I opened their gifts, and I was grateful, because they are very nice socks, but as to helping my feet...well...logically I could not see how that would happen. Still, these are some very nice socks, warm and soft, and I've been padding around the house in these socks and loving these socks more every time that I put them on.

Long story short. I got up the morning of December 28th, and was darting around in the dark getting ready to drive to Erie with Tim for his pre-surgical tests and appointments. I'd been up for some time before I realized that my feet did not hurt. This is very odd, because generally speaking, I hobble for the first hour of the morning.

During the course of that day, we walked a lot. All over the hospital, and then we had time to kill between the hospital appointments and the surgeon's appointment, so we went to the antique store, to Hobby Lobby, to Target, etc. My feet were a little sore by the time we were headed home, but I woke up the next morning pain free once again. I worked in the afternoon, and my feet were twinge-y and uncomfortable when I got home, but this morning...well, I am on my third painfree day.

I do not understand this. I keep telling myself that it cannot be the socks. I keep telling myself that this makes absolutely no sense at all. But when I walk and wiggle my toes, I want to cry with the joy of it.

I have two things that I am so grateful for there are no words.

Christmas at the Low-Tech Grandma's House

2011-12-26T13:09:00.013-05:00

Balls. Lots of 'em. One got away. William is very concerned about this.

Boxes are a good thing.

He doesn't understand all the fuss about thinking outside the box.

Not all balls are created equal.

Some are created bigger than others, and those are fun too.

...plus they make interesting squeaky noises when you rub your hands on them,

and echo-ey sorts of noises when you hit them.

And despite our concerns, he knew what to do with his truck... He began hippo hauling immediately.

He likes Aunt Cara's taste in clothing.Shorts which do double duty as a hat. Cars. more cars.

Grandpa and Grandma got The Wizard of Oz, with holographic pictures.

Cara believes that flying monkeys have traumatized another generation.

Christmas 2011

2011-12-26T11:42:00.004-05:00

Still here!

We had a wonderful Christmas. It was a mad dash to the finish line, to get things done on time. There were so many side trips, and distractions that came up that slowed things down. A death, some family news that made us concerned, the decision (finally!) that Tim would have surgery (he's a stubborn man, that one...) The days ticked by with maddening speed, and I was not once able to get everything I done that I meant to get done. I get a trifle ornery and worried in crunch periods. (Shut UP, Cara!) At one point, I'd gone looking for a dining set for Buddy and Brianna. I went to many stores, including a store that carries both second hand and new furniture. I found a set for them at a reasonable price, but I also found, tucked away behind all the ultra-modern furniture, a used sofa. A huge thing, over six feet long, with a firm seat and high back (just the item for a man with a bad back). It was a style that matched with the house, antique looking, muted colors. We have furniture in the library, but nothing in the livingroom yet, and this looked like it would fit the bill. Perfectly. I could tell this was an expensive piece of furniture, so I stopped dead at the price. It was only $169.

"Okay," I thought, musing. "What's wrong with it?" I began to look. All over. I couldn't find anything wrong with it. No stains. No missing buttons on the tucking in the back. No broken springs. I tried to walk away, because the last thing we needed was to be spending more money at this point, but on the other hand, the Christmas tree was in the living room, and it would be nice to have a place for us to sit while we opened presents...

That night I came home and mentioned it to Tim. He said that we should take a look at it. So for the second day running, we were back to the store. Tim waded through all of the junked and damaged furniture, and I could tell that his hopes were not high. He is very particular about this house. We got to the sofa and I waited. He looked at it and said, a little surprised, "Gees. This is nice." He sat down on it. "Wow," he said, bouncing a little, "this is really comfortable." He sat there musing. "I don't see anything wrong with it," and "it would go perfectly" and "this is an expensive piece of furniture." Finally, "I thought you said it was $169?"

My heart stopped a little as my eyes went straight to the tag. He was right. It wasn't $169. It had been reduced to $139. That was the clincher. We have a couch for our livingroom, and it is beautiful.

Come Christmas morning, we lounged around our sofa opening presents. Cara made me a darling calendar to count down my days until graduation. She gave Tim a history of our house, hand written deeds from 1850s and 1904, about the people who lived here, and the people who died here. Obituaries from microfiche. Maps of our town. A house that was here, and then disappeared, before our present house was built. She'd been busy in the court house and the library reference room. We loved those thoughtful gifts.

I have new earrings, and alpaca socks that Mike got from the alpaca farm right next door to his 'hunting lodge'. If you have never had alpaca socks, I highly recommend them. They are so very comfortable, I don't imagine the alpacas gave them up without a fight.

Cara got new things for her apartment, Netflix for struggling college students who will not have money for luxuries. Appliances and the like. Mike and Bethany spent the morning with us, so there was a tree stand and a portable heater for the season. Santa bought Tim one of them too. In the afternoon, Buddy and Brianna and little William came. They were pleased with their table and chairs and their shower curtain and matching towels. William got warm clothes that he can wear next winter. I am a practical grandma, and knew that he had way more than enough clothes for this one. Tim and I will be the low tech grandparents. He got a big dump truck, and a fascinator, a toy which lights up. He got books and clothing, and Cara got him a box of balls. He seemed very happy with these things that for the most part, made no noise, and did not light up. He is crawling now, and was all over the place.

At the end of the day, we collapsed on our sofa and watched a sappy movie about a dog named Christmas, and wept together (well, maybe that was just me...) and predicted the predictable ending. Then Tim and I went to bed and curled up together under our new electric blanket with the dual controls. And not a creature was stirring. Except for Cara who'd gone out with friends and knocked something down the stairs when she came in, waking up the entire house.

We have a family Christmas party tonight, but there will be a Christmas tour posted by the end of the week.

Bush Babe has her holiday post up. Wander over there to read her accounting of the day. I hope to read about the rest of yours as we continue on through the week. (no pressure!)

Quick Post

2011-12-22T09:29:00.003-05:00

Cara's home.

Doing some serious Christmas shopping.

Went to scrapyard. Truck blew a tire on the way home. Long walk, pleasant talk. I can't imagine wanting to be stranded with anyone else but Tim.

Sister's birthday. I did the math. I'm still older.

Went to Erie yesterday to Tim's doctor appointment. When the doctor brought up surgery, this time, Tim agreed. January 12th. I'm much relieved.

Gotta run. A lot of stuff done. Plenty more to be done.

Sticker Shock.

2011-12-19T22:10:00.005-05:00

You know, today, I was out looking for a very specific piece of furniture. I compare prices, and I found what I needed at a used store. It was in perfect shape, and strongly built. It was $199.99. I was tempted, but I wanted to talk to Tim first, since we don't spend that kind of money without discussing it, and I wanted to stop at another couple places, including the one Tim asked me to stop at, one of those rent to own places.

Now, I hate those sorts of places. They prey on the poor, in my opinion. Yes. They offer low low weekly rates, no credit check, but you wind up paying triple or quadruple the prices by the time that you are done paying those low payments for extraordinarily long periods of time. The particular store that I was stopping at is owned by a former man of the cloth. He has painted scripture references on the side the trucks, but still, I find it hard to understand how those two mindsets 'fit', if you will. I cannot see how the operator of a store like this is much different from the tax collectors of Jesus' time. They made their living gouging the poor.

But Tim told me to stop in. Apparently they sell used furniture in there at times, inexpensively. I had my doubts, but I stopped in. Much to my surprise, I saw the exact same style piece I'd seen earlier at the other store over in the corner. I headed for it. I noticed right away that it was not as sturdily made. The wood pieces were thinner, and screwed together. The other had been good thick wood, and it had been pegged together. I stood studying it, and a very smooth young man came over to ask me if I needed help.

I told him straight out that I would not do rent to own, that I objected to them on sheer principle, and that I wanted to know how much it cost to buy the piece outright. He did some checking for me, and said, brightly, "You can take that home for $469."

I was so shocked I could do no more than gape. "You must be joking!"

Seriously, people, you can go to Walmart, or Kmart, or Big Lots and buy that sort of furniture for way less, in the $250 range. If you've got $469. to spend, well, heck, you can get a VERY nice piece for that price, of much superior quality. (LATE EDIT: buying this piece on their payment plan would have cost an addition $200.) "No thanks," I said, "I'll get it where I saw it first." He shrugged his shoulders and smiled. I buttoned my coat around me and I walked out of the store.

It amazes me. Tomorrow, Tim and I will go pick up the piece I looked at (it is a Christmas present, and so I am being circumspect here). The owner of that shop is a guy Tim used to work with. He offers used furniture. He has one set price, whether you buy it outright, or whether you put it on layaway. He's an older fellow. Rougher around the edges. He doesn't have trucks, but if he did, I don't imagine that he'd have Bible scripture on them.

You know, it's God's place to judge the heart of man, and judgement is not my business, but if God was looking for a sofa, I bet I know where he'd do his shopping.

Today's 'Moment'

2011-12-17T11:16:00.003-05:00

I was busy, and I heard a siren, and it sounded close. When you live in the big city (joke, people ~ this is a small town), you get accustomed to things. If I would have heard that siren out in the woods, I would have dropped everything and dashed to the window to see where it was headed, but not here.

Anyways, I was in the front of the house and I heard the back door fly open. I head Tim's voice. Excited, like a kid. I heard 'Santa' and 'firetruck', and the door closed.

What?

I went to the front window and looked and there was a firetruck in front of the house, moving slowly, with a little girl running along side. Sure enough. Santa stood on top with a elf (one that appeared much larger than you'd expect an elf to be, actually). I wanted to take a picture, but I couldn't remember where I'd plugged in the camera to charge. (Sorry, BB...)

But that's life in the big city. I love that I have a husband who finds that exciting stuff, so exciting that he'd climb down off a ladder to check on it, and then rush in to call out the news to me.

I wonder if he was a shepherd in a previous life?

No Joke

2011-12-16T19:56:00.004-05:00

I got up this morning to make cinnamon rolls for one of the kids.

I met up with my sister for an appointment, and then I came home and whipped out 2 dozen pepperoni rolls.

My niece and nephew were coming to have supper, and to move Dylan's childhood bedroom outfit to a new place, to another little boy. Danny walked around in pants that were too big around for his non-existant butt, and we kept tugging them up. We all moved furniture, and talked and laughed.

While we were on the second floor, I said to little Abby, "Wait, wait for me. I have something that you will love," and I darted up the stairs to the third floor playroom to retrieve the two bags of balls. Their mother looked doubtful as I came back with them, but I assured her that it would be fine, that they were balls that could be thrown in the house, with no worries about damage.

What a fine time we had, throwing the balls about. I had an idea. "Let's dump them all down the stairs!" and we did. We gathered them up over and over again, and Sarah hauled them to the top of the stairs to dump them all. They bounced up and down, step by step, a primary colored waterfall richocheting everywhere. And the kids waited at the bottom of the steps wide eyed with the excitement of one hundred balls headed straight for them, and over them, and all around them. The looks on their faces was priceless.

We said grace, a never ending grace, because there are a lot of people that need prayer, along with a friend's lost dog, and supper eventually came, loud, messy, with spills. Abby loves pepperoni rolls and enjoys singing little 'dipping' songs to herself as she dunks her pepperoni roll in the sauce.

Abby recorded a new greeting for my answering machine. "Merry Chrissmiss. Leave a message," she said.

Danny darted everywhere.

There were calls for the potty, and shrieking and running feet.

At one point their father looked at me, and said, "So. Are you sorry we're here?" and I looked at him. "No," I said. I think that he thought I was joking.

They've left now. The kitchen is put back to rights. A dozen pepperoni rolls are cooling. 100 balls in their net bags carried back to the third floor. The house once again settles into quiet as Shadowfax plays quietly from another room.

No, Jim. I'm not sorry at all. No joke.

I did some small Christmas shopping today as I killed time between grocery shopping and my appointment. I walked into Cara's favorite book store to buy her some sort of a history book. While there, I got the idea to look at the children's books for William. I found a Winnie the Pooh collection printed the year I was born, and I had that in my hand. I wanted to give him the stories that I loved as a child. I had decided on Winnie the Pooh, but... but...then I saw...Uncle Remus stories! Oh. How I loved Uncle Remus as a child.

In these politically correct days, you do not hear much about Uncle Remus. A shame too. I believe with all my heart that 'all men (and women) are created equal', but 150 years ago, there lived an old man, a slave, and he told wonderful stories, and those stories kept him alive. Today, 50 years after I first heard those stories, I reverently pulled the book from the shelf, and flipped through the pages, looking at the illustrations, remembering, smiling, and today, in Warren, Uncle Remus breathed life once more. He will breathe life still once again, as a little boy sits before me to hear those stories for the first time.

Thinking in the Dark

2011-12-15T21:54:00.004-05:00

Tonight, I began to decorate for Christmas. I put the tree up in the living room. I put another tree up at the window of the second floor. I put my the nativity on the buffet where it has always been, except that this year, the buffet is not in the dining room, but in the foyer, at the end of a stretch of gleaming hardwood floor, beneath a huge mirror. This year, my Christmas village is spread across a fireplace mantel. All these old things seem to belong in their new place.

I sit curled up on the sofa looking at my Christmas village. The first piece of that set was my own purchase. I remember looking at it way back when I first came back to Pennsylvania, when I had no idea how things would work out. Where would I work, where would we live, how could I take care of the children? The children felt my fear too.

I remember hearing Dylan crying in the bathroom once. I knocked on the door and he opened it. He looked at me and he was crying hard. He was afraid that I would never be able to afford college for him. He was afraid that we were always going to be poor. It broke my heart, but I held his skinny towel wrapped body close, and I promised him that it would be okay, that he would work hard and get good grades, and I would work hard too. I promised him that he would be what he wanted to be, and I meant it, even if I wasn't quite sure how it was all going to work out.

I was sick inside in those days. Filled with fear, self doubt. I was starting over, with three kids. In the middle of those hard times, I saw a ceramic house, a Victorian. I remember staring at it, and thinking how lovely it would be to have a house like that for my children. I just wanted a house, a place for us so desperately. On the spur of the moment, I bought that little ceramic house and I used it as a night light. I would fall asleep at night looking at it glowing in the dark, wishing. Praying. I just wanted to take care of my kids.

Over the years, it did work out. There was my Tim, and he was not afraid to make a new family. We both worked hard. We got four out of five through college, and now Brianna is taking classes, which makes me glad too. We have houses, and the house I sit in now is grander than anything that I ever could have imagined. My children are what they want to be. Come May, I will what I want to be as well. It amazes me how far we have come in these 15 years.

Looking at my little ceramic Victorian house in the middle of my Christmas village, I remember what it was like to be so afraid. How it would have eased my mind if, 15 years ago, I could have had a glimpse of what the future held. All these years later, I am ashamed at my lack of faith and my fearfulness. I am also awestruck at the sheer number of miracles in my life since then.

I look at that little illuminated house on my mantel, and I remember, and I realize once again how very blessed I am. My cup runneth over.

The Playroom

2011-12-15T08:36:00.003-05:00

On the third floor, we are putting together a little playroom. It has a bed for dolls, and childrens books, a place to curl up to watch Disney movies, an old white desk. Art supplies. Stuffed animals.

My grandson William is not old enough for this room, but one day he will be. My grand-nieces have played up there and enjoyed themselves. Abby is a shy little girl with big eyes. She whispered to her mother in an urgent sort of way. She couldn't find the 'bunny room'. Where did it go? Sarah laughed. "What's the bunny room?" I asked, puzzled. It was the playroom. There were two stuffed bunnies that she had put down for a nap in the antique baby crib. It's a big house for a little girl, and she was unable to find her way back to the playroom.

I have bigger plans yet for this room, and in quiet moments I spin great and unrealistic plans. This room becomes like the Disneyland of playrooms. I have dreams of glow in the dark stars, and I want to make a little kitchen set. Not the molded plastic ones, but an actual wooden stove and refrigerator and sink like we used to play with when I was in kindergarten. I want sleeping mats for children to take their afternoon naps on. My list goes on and on. I want this room to be the stuff of dreams.

Yesterday, I headed out to buy curtains for the guest room. I'm a thrifty person, and so I stopped at the thrift store to have a quick look around, although I did not expect to find anything. That particular room has three windows, and you don't generally see that many of the same curtain. I was right.

I wandered over to the children's section, and...be still my heart...I found two large net bags filled with the balls that you find in a ball pit. I found a hanging mosquito net that could be used to contain two net bags worth of those sorts of balls. I found a large carrying case of those snap together pieces that go on the floor, the big padded foam tiles. They had numbers on them, and I envisioned hopscotch. My shopping cart runnethed over. Total expenditure? $8.00.

I was so excited that it was all I could do NOT to run home with my finds and work on the playroom. After all, there were other things that needed done...three sets of curtains for the guestroom, and a shower curtain and bathroom rug for the upstairs bathroom.

I was responsible. I did what I needed to do. And then I came home and did responsible things. Today, I have some more responsible things to take care of, but also, I'm going to play for a while in the playroom. I need to borrow a kid for a few hours.

Funny the way it is.

2011-12-14T13:37:00.005-05:00

Today has been another putzing around day. I moved the party to the second floor. The second floor bathroom is done now. I'll be heading out to do some shopping for it and to get curtains for the second guest room up there as well. Cara's friend Taylor is headed home with her, and the girls will be here for about a week.

I have been so happy and so contented, enjoying my little piece of peace. It is fun finding places for everything, and it is fun to stand back and have a look when you are done and realize how much you like the effect of it.

I've also been calling people that I haven't talked to in a while. Christmas cards are coming. I do so need to get started on that...yeah...started. You heard me right. Shopping. The tree needs to be up and it's not looking like it will do that on its own. So yes. I have a lot to do, but I just needed a moment to breathe deeply. So I took it.

In the midst of my joyful moment, a card arrived today, from a classmate. I sat down to read her newsletter. People complain about them. I don't. I like them, especially when you don't see the person often. So I sat down at the kitchen table with Cindy's newsletter and prepared myself to be entertained. It began with a pondering of her legacy. (What?) It went on...'stage four breast cancer, multiple bone metastases, nothing to be done, management'.

Fuck.

She's been remembering lately she says.

In my beautiful home, on this dark afternoon, in my peaceful place, I remember too. I remember being a young girl. I remember being surrounded by other young girls. We stood on the fringes and watched the popular girls, and the jocks, the important people, and we recognized that we were not important. We were quiet, but laughed together. We found our own space. We made our own niche. We were a small but happy subgroup. We couldn't imagine what it would be like to grow up, or to get old, and maybe that is why, when I look backward, I see us all as suspended in time...almost as if we were different people. I suppose there is some truth to that.

The woman I am bears no resemblance to the girl that I was. I sit in my home recognizing how blessed I have been, even as I wonder about it too. Why me?

There is no answer I suppose.

There is no point this post, I suppose.

It is just the thinking of a grown woman two weeks before Christmas, sitting quietly hearing the ticking of the hall clock, looking pensively out the window at the gray day, remembering the voices of young girls. And we are laughing.

The Party Continues...

2011-12-13T19:05:00.003-05:00

Know what I did today? I got up at o'dark-thirty and went in for freight day and worked hard. I was in a good mood, and sang with the Christmas carols. Did I mention I'm done with school? I mentioned it a time or two at work as well. I wasn't sure they knew. So it was a fun morning. Lots of laughing.

On the way home, I stopped and picked up a bright red trashbin for the kitchen. Last week I bought a bright red clock, like something that you would see from the early 50s. It's not normally my thing, but the week before that, I'd bought two tea towels that looked very old, and it just suited the kitchen somehow. It just fit. So, I guess that the kitchen is headed off in an unexpected direction.

I also bought some furniture polish, and some cleaner for the floors. I spent the day cleaning. It felt great. I polished woodwork, and cleaned glass. I threw out a ton of school papers. I put my school books out in the office. I did laundry. I put things away, found places for things that had not yet been put away. Today I just wallowed in domesticity and it felt like a luxury, because I have not been able to do that. I played house today, and I loved our house all the more. I was able to cook a meal for my husband.

Tomorrow will start the great rush to get Christmas underway, but today was a quiet bit of sanity and I sure did enjoy myself.

Party on...

Wild Party

2011-12-13T03:50:00.003-05:00

Yep. It was one wild party at my house last night.

I was tired. Really tired. I did have that celebratory glass of wine. Then I put on my fuzzy jammie pants, curled up in a chair and turned on the TV. I found a Walton's marathon. I vegetated.

Then I went to bed early and slept the sleep of the unworried.

Good night, John-boy. Good night Mary Ellen. Good night...

I'm a dork.

clink

2011-12-12T16:25:00.002-05:00

Guess what I'm doing?

Nothing.

That's right. You heard me.

Not a darn thing.

And know what else?

I'm not going to do a darn thing for the rest of the night.

Raise your glasses, peoples, because there is some serious celebrating going on tonight.

It's here...

2011-12-12T06:40:00.003-05:00

Today's the day!

The last day of school.

The day that all projects will be handed in.

The day of the final final.

I didn't know that a person could be so glad to see a day arrive that she'd been dreading so much. I keep telling myself that if I am standing at the end of it, we're going to call it a win.

Meet back here in...oh...say eight hours?

2011-12-09T23:29:00.002-05:00

Well, now here's something that will give you a laugh. Remember when I said that I couldn't possibly be sick until after Wednesday? I woke up Thursday morning with a rotten headache. By Thursday afternoon, my back was killing me and I was so tired that I couldn't even focus on the homework I was trying so hard to finish. This morning, I got up, and still felt awful. I took a deep breath and stayed home today. It would have been an awful thing if I'd been coming down with something, and gave it to everyone before our final on Monday.

I have gotten a great deal of work and studying done. It seems hard to believe that in just 72 hours, I'll be done for the semester.

Completely done.

And then, by golly, bring on the holly, because I'll be anxious to throw myself right into Christmas.

Brianna got word today that she was hired on by the company she's been working for. I was so glad for her.

Still standing. Barely.

2011-12-07T19:12:00.002-05:00

The date that will live in infamy.

December 7th is over. I got through the morning. It did not go as I'd hoped, but the fact is, sometimes it is not a good day for a client. It wasn't for mine. His attention was elsewhere. I had a hard time focusing him.

December 7th program went well. Very well. I was prepared, and I listened to a hero talk today.

Too tired to talk. Must. Go. To. Bed.

Short.

2011-12-06T23:53:00.004-05:00

This is a short one. Tomorrow is my 'crunch' day. I have one intervention, I've got a major presentation, I've got two big projects due (both of which are done). I'm so busy but...

Today at work, an Amish man walks in. He buys some hardware cloth, and some pulleys, and he says, "I'll take a couple boxes of those dark chocolate mints there." Being the wisenheimer I am, I said, as I was grabbing them from the basket, "I've learned never to get between anyone and their chocolate. A person could get hurt that way." He laughed a big laugh.

Now that's unusual. They smile. They are friendly. Still, most of them keep to themselves somehow. In this world, but not of it. That's how the Bible puts it, and I guess this applies to them, as well. Still, this fellow laughed big. The lady behind him said, "I just bought my husband a big candy bar. I'm hoping he'll share." I said, "Well, if I have to share my chocolate, you can bet bucks that I'd have bought the biggest candybar in the store." The three of us laughed together.

Mr. Byler says, "Well, now, I have a joke for you: There's a fellow goes into a train station, to buy a ticket, and when he comes out, he realizes that the lady at the ticket counter has given him the incorrect change. He goes back in, and says, 'You made a mistake when you gave me my change...' to which she replies, 'Well, it's too late now. You should have brought that to my attention when you were at the window.' The man says, 'but...' and she snaps, "I can't fix it now. There's nothing I can do about it now. You need to count your money at the window." He says,
'You can't do anything about this?' She's plenty mad by now, and nearly yells, 'NO!!' to which he replies, 'Well, then fine. I'll just keep the extra five bucks then.'

He laughed at his own joke, and I laughed too, just because he was so pleased with himself. I said, "Well, I can see now that I'd better count your change twice." He laughed once more as he put his money away. He went out the door in his somber black and blue clothes, and he chuckled to himself.

I like that, when a person surprises you.

2011-12-05T10:06:00.002-05:00

Friday, when I finished with school, I went straight to work, and when I finished with work, I came dragging back into the house with a ton of books and assignments and wearily dropped them on the table. Which I hate, because I'm trying to make different habits for the new house. I am trying to avoid clutter. I want the house to look nice.

So anyway, I grabbed a bite to eat and sat down at the other end of the table to read the paper, and there at the bottom was a note from my husband. 'I love you,' it said. I wanted to cry. He works second shift, so my days are long and I come home to an empty house. It's not easy for him either, because he gets up in the morning to an empty house, and he eats his lonely breakfast and lunch and then he goes to work.

Lately, I'm feeling like I'm missing everything. I'm not sure how it happens. You get so focused on what is on your plate that everything else seems to fade into the background. It doesn't mean that stuff is not important. It is. It's just that it's not a priority at the moment.

So things happen like my friend's husband dies, and I miss the obituary (with the picture). A fellow from church dies, and I run into visiting hours, only to discover I'm at the wrong viewing. His is the following day, and I cannot make it because I have school followed by work. Cara calls, and after chatting briefly (way too briefly), I say, "I love you, but I'm in the middle of something..." Brianna calls, and leaves a message, and I get home late, and am not sure when to call her because she works irregular days and she works nights. Yet, I'm never around when she calls me. when Tim or I are home together, generally speaking, I'm working on an assignment. I'm really starting to hate it. I want to work on getting the house just so (I still have a pile of pictures to hang, for instance). I want to bake cookies. Get started on my shopping. But I don't have time. My hair is shiny, and I can't even figure when that happened. On and on it goes, life passing by, life taking me by surprise.

I have four more days of school. Four. I am so grateful for that. I need time to breathe. I need time to be more than a spectator in my own life. I'm so far 'out of the loop' as they say that I am not even sure that this is normal.

Before I left the house this morning, I wrote a note and I left in at the kitchen table. 'I love you more than..." and beneath it, I left a candy bar wrapped in a phony $1,000,000 bill. Tim won't find it until I'm gone, but when I walk into the empty house tonight, after school, after work, I imagine there will be a response.

Husbands

2011-12-03T21:18:00.006-05:00

Tim has been sick with a stomach bug. He even missed two days of work because of it. He's back to work now, even though the symptoms have not gone away, not completely anyway. His stomach is making the most alarming noise. I have to tell you that I am sitting in one room. He is in another, watching television. I tell you true. His stomach is making such loud liquidy sorts of noises that I can hear them a room away. No exaggeration.

I have to tell you that I have responded sympathetically. Well, if 'sympathetic' sounds like this: "Stay away from me. I am serious Tim. I cannot get sick now. I have not got time to get sick." It's the truth. This is the last full week of school and I have so much stuff going on that I cannot possibly schedule the flu in until Wednesday evening.

And I hope that God believes me when I tell Him this.

Today at Tractor Supply, I felt so badly that I burst into tears. I saw a friend in the store with her sister. I'd not seen her in forever it seemed like. So being the wisenheimer like I am, I said, "Gees, since you've gotten married, I don't see hide nor hair of you..." She was a newlywed, having just got married last summer, just a few short months ago. She smiled weakly at me and said, "My husband died two weeks ago." I was so flabbergasted that I did not know what to say aside from the obligatory "Oh my GOD!!!"

She is such a shy person, and her new husband was even shyer than she was. The last time that they came to the store, I'd greeted them, and it tickled me that he talked. Usually he stood there shy and awkward and ducking his head and smiling. But that day he spoke, and the three of us visited at the register a moment. I had watched them leave and I was glad for them. If there ever were two people that were made for each other, it was them.

Today, I stood there at a complete loss of words and I reached across to give her a hug, and told her how very, very sorry I was. She cried. "We didn't even have six months..." I cried because it seemed like the only thing to do. Life is so hugely unfair sometimes.

Ooooh. Shiny...

2011-12-02T22:04:00.002-05:00

I was up and running today. I had my presentation, and a meeting, and I hopped out of the shower, got dressed, and started blow drying my hair like I do every morning, and suddenly something struck me. It just stopped me dead in my tracks. My hair is shiny again. I'm not sure when that happened.

Sounds stupid doesn't it? It kind of felt like my hair had changed when it grew back after the chemo. It was there, but it was just sort of dull and lifeless, and I kept it short just so it would look neat. I was grateful to have hair. I tried not to think much farther than that on it, but sometimes, I'd find myself seeing women with pretty, shiny hair, and I'd feel a twinge of jealousy...and I am not given to jealousy.

And then this morning, blow drying my hair, I realized that once again, my hair was shiny and smooth.

This is a big deal to me, and when I put on my red coat, and wrapped my gray scarf around my neck, the one that makes my eyes look very blue, I stepped out of the house and I felt good about myself.

Just checking in.

2011-12-02T07:04:00.002-05:00

Looking forward to getting this day under my belt. That's pretty much the way that I'm approaching every day at this point, with a head down, git 'r done attitude. There will be plenty of time for joy later. Monday the 12th is my last classroom day. Final grades will be in by noon on the 16th. I will be so glad to see the 16th. Even though it means that it will be 9 days before Christmas, and I haven't done jack.

December 7th activity is coming up quickly. I've got that pretty much under control. Sunday the 4th is our Christmas party. I'm baking the turkey breast. I have responsibility for the gag gifts. I did it last year, and it was pretty darn funny. I've got a lot of plans, but no shopping done.

Our store is so slow, especially when you consider this is a prime holiday shopping season. I think that people are being very practical this year. I know that we are. But because there is so little business being transacted, they are cutting hours. Also fine with me, right this minute. I've got way too much to do.

I've gotten a spate of spam from a Mexican pharmacy trying to hawk its wares in my comments section. The final one pointed out sternly that he was having a hard time accessing my site, and that he would return to see if I had gotten it fixed. Mr. Viagra? Not fixing it. Buh-bye now.

Discoveries

2011-11-30T19:19:00.003-05:00

After my 3:30 wake-up this morning, I snuggled back under the blankets and slept in. It felt good.

I was really dreading my morning. I was doing my first assessment on a client, and I am not a confident person. This was a class project, a two part 'practical' that will be our final exam. So it's a big deal, and I wanted to do well. I researched a lot. I tried to anticipate anything that could go wrong. I felt uncomfortable 'playing OT' with a patient but came up with the idea of using Bill's picture book "Gift of the Whales" as part of the therapy. It worked perfectly. It gave me a chance to watch him flip through the pages and assess his fine motor skills and hand pronation and supination. Talking with him about the book and the pictures was a chance to break the ice as well as assess his cognition and memory, his speech and his attention. This man belongs to the Seneca Nation and was interested to see a tribe he knew little about. I flew through the assessments. I finished up so early that it was a little embarrassing, as if I'd not been thorough. But I had. I'd done all the work, filled in all my little boxes, and because of the book, knew what sort of things interested my client, and was able to almost immediately come up with an activity that would work for him. I'd come with my own little box of supplies for sensory testing, and I had studied the tests long enough to know exactly what I was doing. All of that uncertainty? I don't know where it went, but it is gone. Today, everything clicked, and I knew that I was good. I watched my client clutch that book to his chest and shuffle out, and I felt like a success.

Wow. Who knew?

I also made another amazing discovery: Liquid Bandage. It's good stuff to have on hand if you own a piece of crap can opener. It's like super gluing yourself back together.

It snowed today. Tim's sick today. I'm set up for my nursing home visit tomorrow. I'll study tomorrow afternoon, and then I'll go to work. I have a presentation on Friday. I stood before the dry erase board today, and I began to mentally check off the things that I've got finished and turned in. I realized that out of all the things listed, I've got over half of them done and turned in. The rest are at least half finished, save one project, which I've not begun yet, but it is just a small assignment.

That was an amazing discovery as well. It's been so long since I looked any farther than the next project. Today, I got a clear view to the finish line, and it is a lot closer than I thought.

Good Morning.

2011-11-30T07:35:00.002-05:00

Know what I love?

It's when you have a big day ahead of you, a big day that you're even dreading a little, and you go to bed, tired from typing for hours (with a missing finger tip), brain dead from trying to put it all together. You set your alarm, and finish the 17th century melodrama that you've been reading on your kobo, and fall promptly asleep. You awake with a jolt, grabbing for the alarm, horrified that it did not go off only to discover that you still have two more hours to sleep.

I love that feeling.

Today

2011-11-29T19:47:00.002-05:00

Today, I went to work at o'dark-thirty. For freight day, it was an easy freight day. I was walking out the door by 10.

I came home and settled an overdue bill, one that had been paid on September 28th. Good news? I had the receipt. I don't know where a lot of our paperwork is, but I happened to have the receipt for this neatly folded and in my purse. Aha!!! I called up and was prepared to do battle and emerge the victor, but unfortunately the nice lady said, "No. You have a zero balance. I'm not sure why it took your hospital over a week to forward that payment to us, but we got it on November 6th, two days after our bill was sent. You have a zero balance." I hate when that happens. Just once I'd like to do battle and emerge the victor. It's hard to do that when a pleasant lady on the other end of the phone is just as curious about what happened to that payment as I am.

Hallelujah, I got the printer fixed after a nice live chat with "Jacob". No accents on live chat. This works for me.

I got one class completely finished today. Completely done. All done. So done that I put the text book and my notebook on the bookshelf in my office, and if I ever look at them again, I'll be plenty shocked. (This was a class on Aging, and since I'm living that adventure, I doubt that I'll need to reference it.) I submitted the final, and two papers to go with it, via e-mail, which makes me nervous. I'd like to get an acknowledgement that she has them, but I doubt I will. I'll double check with her Friday, which is when this is all due.

I completed another assignment today, and wrote up a professional resume for Friday. (I'm starting to hate this computer.)

I have downloaded and studied a great deal of material for a patient assessment that I am doing tomorrow, my first real assessment. I will design an intervention for this patient and implement it next week. I've got my supplies assembled for that. Sounds darn professional for someone who is dancing awfully close to the "Gone Crazy. If my mind gets back before I do, please tell it to wait."

I have printed off my portion for a presentation to be done on Friday.

I will wash my dishes, and I am going to bed early. Tomorrow is a big day.

You know, I've only got five more class days. *Gasp*

The buyers contacted us today. We'll be closing in the next week or so.

Strikes me as hilarious...I walk through the livingroom, the place with no furniture yet. There's a small TV sitting there. Know what? Tim has watched a football game on it. That's it. Maybe some day we'll get a chance to sit down in front of the tube and 'veg out'. I can't wait.

The Votes are In.

2011-11-28T21:01:00.003-05:00

Remember when I discovered that I did not have a can opener? And I was forced out into a wangdoodle of a storm to buy one?

Well, the other day, Tim said, "This can opener is a piece of crap."

"It's alright," I said.

He disagreed.

Tonight I managed to peel off the tip of my finger trying to open a can of mushrooms. It was just as gruesome as it sounds. Dripped my way down to the bathroom. By the time I got bandages to stick, it looked like I'd slaughtered something there. I even managed to get blood down the outside of the pedestal basin. I cleaned up the mess in the bathroom. I made my way out to the kitchen, wiping the floor as I went.

In addition to making a mess, it also makes typing all these darned school papers kind of difficult.

Tim and I are now in agreement. The can opener is a piece of crap.

Cara

2011-11-28T08:13:00.003-05:00

Saturday, Cara spent most of the day sorting through her bedroom. She's got a lot of stuff. She's always been a packrat. She says it is my fault. I kept a memory box for them, things from their childhood, pictures, clippings, momentos, report cards, the like. Cara's got several memory boxes of her own, boxes with notes to herself from when she was in the fourth grade, for example. She found letters she'd written but not sent. Toys. A pencil her fiance had used to do magic tricks with in gradeschool. (Yes. She was afianced very young. To this day, the boy introduces her as his first wife.) She moved enough stuff to get her bedroom furniture out, and we did so, driving it up, and setting up her bedroom here as she continued sorting through her things.

It's a lot of stuff, even though she's thrown a lot of stuff out. It got to the point where she was holding a broken object in her hand, and smiling at of the memory invoked. A very rational voice inside her snapped, "It's broken, for pete's sake!" She shut her eyes, and threw it out.

She woke up with a cold over the weekend. She went to the drugstore to buy cold medicine. It is now kept behind the counter. She asked for cold medicine, and the cashier reached behind her to grab a box from the shelf. It was brand name. Cara said, "Wait. How much is that?" The cashier told her that she would not know until she rang it up. She rang it up and said, "$30." Cara said, "I need something cheaper, please. Generic." The cashier got quite huffy that she "would have to call the manager to do a void." The manager was quite huffy too. Explained that she would have to take more of the cheap pills to do the same thing. Cara is her mother's child. She said, "I'd rather take four pills that would cost me a dime each than one pill that will cost me a dollar."

The girl is back to school now, but over the weekend, I have rediscovered the jumbled up mixture of practicality and emotions that is our Cara, and I see myself a bit more clearly.

Tractor Supply

2011-11-26T19:43:00.004-05:00

There's a couple who come into the store pretty regularly. He's funny, she's funny, I'm funny, so we generally exchange wise cracks and share a good laugh. I get a kick out of both of them.

Anyway, Tim and I were in the Walmart. We're talking, and I happen to see this couple. I said, "Gees. I cannot get away from you. You're everywhere!" And just as quick as a wink, the fellow says right back, "I wasn't sure whether I was allowed to speak to you in public or not. Your husband knows about us?" and he made a motion with his finger pointing to himself and then me, a couple times for emphasis.

I do have to say, I am seldom at a loss for words. I didn't have a clue how to answer that one, and his wife stood laughing her self silly at the produce section. I haven't a clue about Tim's face. I was gaping.

I finally got my speech back, and uttered some lame comment about "Oh, great, now I'll be the talk of the neighborhood!!!" That's always a danger in the Walmart, too, some gossip hanging around hears something like that, you're the pariah of the county quicker than you can blink your eye. I don't really give a crap, because to be perfectly frank, I'm getting quite used to being the pariah. I mean, gees, I've got family.

I was back at the register yesterday, ringing up a customer, and blabbing like I do, and I turned to hang up my scanner, and there he was leaning on the little partition. I jumped, because he scared the mess out of me.

"I'm supposed to apologize to you," he said.

"Why's that?" I asked. I'd forgotten the great Walmart exchange. Shoot. It was like a couple weeks ago. I have a mind like a sieve.

"For embarrassing you. I hope your husband wasn't mad." He had a very sincere look on his bearded face. His wife stood there with her arms folded.

I laughed out loud at her stern look. "No," I said. "You did not cause any problem. My husband and I have been married a lot of years. He knows me well enough to know that I would never, and I wouldn't either. He's a good man, and I would never shame him. You didn't cause a problem."

His wife came over. "I nearly died," she said. "Your husband looked so surprised. I was very relieved when he finally grinned."

I laughed at the two of them, and loved them too. Most people don't care about other people enough to even give a second thought to something like that. To stop and consider whether they'd given offense, or caused an argument or whatever, well, it means that they think something of you. I was very touched.

"Don't give it a second thought. In fact, just to show you there's no hard feelings, here you go." I reached into my apron pocket and gave them a Friends and Family coupon. "You come on back on December 5th, and you'll get my employee discount for the night."

They were very pleased with that and thanked me. I looked over at the husband and said, "Yeah, don't be getting the idea that I'm going to claim I know you all the time, but for this one day only, I'll admit it." And once more, we all laughed together, and away they went.

I love the people I meet at my job. Really. Salt of the earth.

This Weekend

2011-11-26T07:57:00.004-05:00

This holiday weekend was all I could ask for. Grandbaby. Kids home from farflung places collecting their childhood memorabilia from their rooms to take back to their homes. Talk of childhoods. Dylan and Brittani will have a tree for the first time. Dylan was home to collect 'his' ornaments. We had a fun time going through the boxes of ornaments to separate them. "This ornament was made by your grandfather's mother" and "this ornament was from your grandparents' first Christmas tree and was on every tree every year that I can remember." Stuff like that. Relatives visited, and we laughed our hindends off. We babysat a three year old. Dylan read her "Walter the Farting Dog," and we talked about Dixie and Bob who'd sent the book. And we had a tea party with the pretty blue espresso cups. They played in the playroom after I left. Cara said, "Did you see the dead tarantula under the crib?" Dylan said, "Yes I did. And I thought to myself, if Brittani had seen that spider, she would SO not be sitting on the floor right now" and Brittani said, wide eyed, "What spider????!!!!" And everyone laughed.

Cara said, "This house is such a happy place. Everything just flows from one room to another. It's just perfect for company." Last night, she said, "I wish you would write these stories down. We never talk about what it was like when you were a child anymore, and you tell such good stories."

It just felt perfect, this first holiday in our first house.

Thanksgiving at our House.

2011-11-25T05:54:00.003-05:00

The 'it's-at-the-other-house' syndrome struck a couple times as we prepared the Thankgsiving meal, but over all, things went pretty smoothly. We figured out how to make do without what we didn't have.

At one point, I heard Cara say to her brother, "You can't put in on the table like that. It looks so 'redneck'." Without missing a beat, Dylan looked at her and said, "Cara. We just opened a bottle of wine using a power drill and a pair of channel locks. You don't get much more redneck than that."

We about fell over laughing.

It was a good day with lots of laughing. Except for little William, who was having an unhappy day. Too much noise for the little guy, I guess. I hope he gets used to it. We are not a quiet family.

Okay. Now I need to know. Is this funny or not?

And what about this?

I thought it was "Laugh and the world laughs with you." I laugh 'til I cry. Every time. And the rest of the world, at least the ones sitting in this house look at me like I've lost my mind. And no one laughs.

The kids are home.

2011-11-23T22:32:00.003-05:00

The phone rang, and Cara answered it as I was baking. She talked although I could not hear who she was talking to. I heard her say, "Do you want to talk to my mom?" (pause) "Well, she's not impaired if that's what you want to know." 'What? Who in the world is she talking to?' I grabbed the phone quickly. It was a telemarketing call. Our last phone number was listed on the do not call list, and we did not receive them. I hadn't thought about it at the new house. She was selling ADT security systems. I interrupted, and said, "No, we're not interested, but I hope you have a nice Thanksgiving at your house," and I hung up.

I looked at Cara. "What was the whole 'she's not impaired' about..." Cara grinned and said, "When I asked her if she wanted to talk to my mother, she asked if you could make decisions for the house. What kind of question is that? This isn't the 1950s. So I told her you weren't impaired."

Yep. Cara's home.

Dylan's home too, with Brittani.

Brianna called, and the three of them will be coming in tomorrow.

Mike's coming for dinner too.

I'm grateful for Thanksgiving and families gathered around the table. The turkey is stuffed and in the fridge, and fortified with two glasses of wine, I'm ready to hit the hay.

Happy Thanksgiving to everyone.

Questions Answered.

2011-11-23T08:28:00.003-05:00

I drink two cups of coffee every morning. Doctor says "Do you really need two cups of coffee in the morning?" At the time, I was struck speechless contemplating mornings without caffeine. There were no words. I just sat there. The picture in my mind was not all that purty.

It is now morning. I'm sitting here in my bathrobe, drinking my coffee. I'd like to answer that doctor's question: "I'm afraid that you would have to show me clear and convincing evidence that two cups of coffee is negatively affecting my health, because this girl needs caffeine in the morning." (That or jumper cables. One of the two.)

What are we doing for Thanksgiving? Cara will be home this morning. Dylan and Brittani will be in this evening (they both work nights.) Buddy, Brianna and William will be over tomorrow. Mike will be here too.

Will there be pictures? Well. I'd like to think there will be, but they will likely suck.

Pete and his wife will be stopping in towards evening or so. We will play a rousing game of Scrabble.

Do I shop on Black Friday? Good heavens, NO! I did, once, for a deeply discounted computer. Dylan and Cara, and her friend Sarah went along. It was actually so crowded that it was scary. I don't like mobs of people. People trying to save money are the most ruthless people of all. We witnessed people fighting over things. I am not talking about verbal disputes. We are talking about actual physical confrontations. It's not truly Christmas until you see a young woman kicking at a little old lady who paused to look at a cart full of Milton Bradley games, thinking it was a display, not realizing that it was someone's shopping. That being said, I will be at the store on Friday. All day. I actually had a really good time last year. We all bring food in and eat out back. Because I am the cashier, the customers part like the Red Sea parted for Moses. I am allowed to proceed to my register, and they are all glad to see me. The best thing is that people are tired but in high spirits, and it is a hilarious day with a lot of laughter.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone! Posting will likely be sparse as I get right down to celebrating our first holiday in our new house.

Do We REALLY need television?

2011-11-22T17:50:00.001-05:00

The satellite dish was supposed to be installed on Saturday. The young man came to the house, but decided against installing it. He decided to call in the experts. We figured that he needed a truck w/ a 'cherry picker' or a tall ladder or something. He said that someone would be in touch with us within 48 hours.

We did not receive a call, so today, after over 72 hours, I called Direct TV myself. The young woman said, "Well, I don't know why he would have told you that. You have to call us to set up the appointment."

Me: "Well. We did, for the initial appointment. But he told us that someone would be contacting us to make arrangements."

She tells me that this is not the way it is done. I need to call to reset the appointment.

I was a little grumpy about this. Seems like someone would want to speak to the young man about this error. I explained carefully that we had been told something different, and that when someone comes out but does not complete the installation, it seems only right that they follow up with me. I mean, we were expecting to have service by now.

She cheerfully says to me that if I'd like, I'm welcome to call over the next few hours, repeatedly, and see if someone cancelled and I could get an installation done.

Very carefully, I said, "No. I am certainly NOT going to do this. You are going to provide me with a service date, and we will arrange to be home on that day. I am not going to waste a whole evening trying to get you to come out and hook up my television. I have lived without TV for a number of years, and I am completely prepared to continue living without it."

Long pause. She curtly tells me that someone will be out Sunday between 12 and 4.

I hang up wondering just what in blue blazes has happened to customer service.

Just keeping it real.

2011-11-22T15:12:00.002-05:00

This clock has chimed the hours in every home I've lived in since 1986. This is my kitchen table. Please ignored half unpacked stuff. You asked for settling in pictures. You've got them.
This is Tim's mirror, hung over the sideboard at the end of the hall. Please ignore boxes and unhung pictures in front of it. Use your imagination, or something, okay?

I don't know why this picture is so crappy, but it gives you an idea, maybe....I don't know. You want pictures, head over to Bush Babe's, or to Novel Woman's place or to Linda's blog. I'm not a photographer. This is my cheerful little kitchen with the pot of cream of potato soup simmering patiently waiting to be delivered.

Grateful

2011-11-21T21:23:00.003-05:00

Today was my only class day for the week, but it was a long day. Mondays always are. I had a presentation today, and my group worked so well together. We did a very nice presentation, one that was so nicely done that when we were finished, the instructors had no questions...we'd answered them all during our talk.

I headed for home, and I was glad to be headed for home. I stopped at the grocery store and picked up a ham steak and a 10 lb bag of potatoes. I will deliver a heapin' helping of homemade soup with bread to a lady having chemo. I'll be taking along a jar of my mother in law's homemade jam. It was one of those things that tasted so good to me during my own chemo. It was easy to toast a slice of whole grain bread and have some homemade jam on it when I was too tired for anything else. It never failed to hit the spot.

I opened the door with my skeleton key. I brought in the groceries and my school books. I stood in the middle of my cheerful yellow kitchen chopping the ham, chopping an onion, and setting it to simmer in the crock pot.

The smell permeated the house while I worked at (and completed) 3 homework assignments (yay me!)

Justin stopped in to blab a while. I just finished chopping up 5 lbs of potatoes to put in it before I head out to work at o'dark thirty (freight day...)

My boss called from where I am doing my fieldwork, and you know, I like her so very, very much! I'm lucky enough that they want me back next semester, when the classes are done, and we simply go off to work every morning at our fieldwork site. You can't possibly imagine what a gift that is! I'll be going to a place where I already know the people there, a place I am familiar with. I'll be able to walk in there and immediately begin to focus on the work that I am doing. No nervous jitters! I'm so lucky.

I am very happy tonight, sitting in the dark in front of the fire. My clock ticks away in the hall. The house smells like ham. Dishes are done. Homework set aside. I'm taking a moment to savor where I am, this very tiny moment of a very busy day, the people in my life, the impending holidays.

I am so incredibly blessed.

I am so incredibly grateful.

Tim's Eye for Design

2011-11-20T09:05:00.002-05:00

You know what makes me smile? The fact that Tim is just as taken with this house as I am. He's begun to fret about things that I never knew Tims could fret about. He notices things that he has not noticed before. Things that he's always kind of left to me to figure out. Things like this: 'Those drapes are too light colored'. He was right. I found it out after I hung them, and then took them down and followed his instructions. There is this huge old mirror. I didn't like it. He did. He knew also where it was going to go. The old side board is at the end of the foyer. I hated that mirror, but hung above the side board, I discovered a) it matches perfectly, b) it reflects the light brought in from the side door which is about 23 ft in front of it and c) as Tim said, several times, "That looks grand, doesn't it?" Tim was right. For a man who never seemed to take note of his surroundings, it does seem that he has quite an eye for that sort of thing. Perhaps a better eye than my own.

We've been in our house for a full week now. This weekend was spent finding homes for our things. But this morning, I got up and padded barefoot to the kitchen to make my coffee. I padded into a library that has curtains up. I am once again typing in the dark as I sip my coffee. I am surrounded by the pictures of those that I love. I am surrounded by the old familiar things that I love. Routine by routine, thing by thing, the place slowly becomes ours.

Yep. I know. Pictures....

Train Trip

2011-11-19T09:39:00.004-05:00

Here is something I keep forgetting to tell you, a neat discovery about life in the new house. I wake up in the night all warm and drowsy under the blankets and I hear the sound of a train. Isn't that cool? Like the church bells I hear during the day, the sound of the train is not a sound that you hear in the woods. I like to hear that train, and it always makes me smile.

I remember being a small child, hearing the sound of trains in the dark. This will sound very stupid, but the sound made me feel strange, even as a child. The best way to describe it is that it made me feel like I wanted something very very badly, something that I could not have. I was only 5 or 6, but I remember this restless itchy feeling and I did not understand it. I remember trying to explain it once, and my mother thought it was funny. I heard her telling my father in the other room. I remember laying in my little white bed, and wondering why this was funny.

Now, half a century later, a grown woman lies in her bed, next to her husband, listening to the train, and remembers being a child.

The Story of a Boy.

2011-11-17T21:25:00.002-05:00

Once upon a time, there was a very well to do woman who never let you forget that she was well to do. She had two sons, very spoiled young men who had everything that they ever wanted. I cleaned their house. I used to feel badly that those boys had everything. I felt bad about the things that I could not afford for my own.

Today I saw one of those boys. He's been in prison twice since I knew him. He's still immature and loud, and silly. I looked at him and realized how lucky my children are that they did not have everything they ever wanted.

It's snowing like crazy outside. Three inches. If school was canceled tomorrow, I would not cry.

Reporting Live!!!!

2011-11-16T18:22:00.002-05:00

Reporting LIVE from the library! Yep. We have the computer hooked up, which is darned good news because it was very difficult trying to keep up with school stuff without it. Plus, I missed having my morning coffee with you all!

Last night, Tim hooked up the new phones we got. They are the fancy schmancy things. I was sprawled across the bed with some heat and vibration going on my legs, reading when the phone rang. I reached over and grabbed it. It was Tim who said, "I need you to come to the library please." Smart aleck. But the intercom thing will come in pretty handy. Especially between floors.

Today, I went to school. Tim stayed here, and managed to hook up the washer and dryer. Every new chore that I can do makes me feel as if we are one step closer to being settled in, really and truly settled in.

Tonight, we got some grocery shopping done. We had tomato soup and grilled tuna melts for supper. (I know. Not fancy, is it?) I've also got a crockpot with broccoli simmering in chicken broth. Tomorrow, we will have my famous (well...we like it...) cream of broccoli soup. Feels like home when you can cook.

I really love this house, and still, I find that I am pinching myself to make sure that I'm not dreaming. So far, I am not. I feel like the luckiest person in the world.

Update

2011-11-16T08:29:00.002-05:00

It's been very nice staying at the new house. Very exciting. Also very frustrating. We have a lot of conversations that go something like this: "What shall we have for a quick supper? Mexican pizzas sound good?" After the agreement, we pick up a can of fatfree refried beans while we're out and about looking for a clothes hamper. I already have the salsa, the cheddar, and the jalepenos in the fridge, as well as the tortillas, so it seemed like a logical supper. We get home and stand there looking at each other, me holding the can of refried beans. The can opener is at the other house. Back out to get a can opener.

Last night, we just decided to get a pizza, since I had to run to the store to get shelf paper. Neither of us was actually hungry hungry. So I get the shelf paper and the pizza and get back home. I find myself standing stupidly (yet again) in the kitchen holding the shelf paper. "We don't have scissors here, do we?" (Of course we don't...) We also don't have the baking sheet for the pizza. (Oh this is getting better by the minute...)

That is one of the downfalls of moving a little bit at a time. What you need is always at the other house.

We had one wangdoodle of a storm the night of the can opener debacle. I drove down our brick street and watched the water rushing from the uphilll driveways like actual rivers with currents. (We are one of the uphill driveways, btw.) I was in water so deep that it 'threw' the car as I moved through the water, which was a little frightening. The lightning was brilliant and the rain so torrential that inside the store it was all that you could hear, the rain on the roof. Tornadoes touched down twice just over the New York State border. (We are about 12 miles from the New York State line.) I tried to remember. I don't believe that we've had a storm this violent during the whole course of the summer. We kept the radio on, since we do not have the internet hooked up yet at the new house, nor the television service.

Other breaking news? Well. We've got curtains in 5 of the 26 windows. (Woot!) We've got our bedroom set up and it is nice. I've got my cappuccino machine there. The newspaper is switched over and coming to our house downtown. When I called to change the delivery address, the person verifed the old address, entered the new address, and then said, "Where do you want it delivered?" Me: (blankly): "Um...at the 417 address?" The person, patiently: "I mean, where do you want her to put your newspaper? Front porch? Back porch? Driveway?" In the country, they just put it in your newspaper box at the end of your driveway. I've never had a choice before, and it made me laugh. Life in the 'big city' is going to be different alright. Remembering the water rushing out of the driveway, I told them to leave the paper at the side portico, to insure that my paper didn't wash down the street during the first storm. The side portico is covered, and there is no need for the paper person to walk all the way to the back of the house.

This morning, I was ironing my 'professional attire' for school. There was a knock on the uncurtained window that nearly made me jump out of my skin. Justin stood outside the window grinning. I let him in and he blabbed to Tim while he finetuned the flame adjustments on the gas stove. Somehow, our neighbor had managed to miss that we were living there now.

At school, under the advisement other students, I just decided to meet with my advisor, the one who had gotten so angry. We'll discuss the situation. It is unfair for me to be in a situation where I feel that one wrong word is going to get me pulled from field work next semester. I've got too much invested in this to lose the opportunity to graduate. My grades are solid, and I've done the work. It should not all hang on one disagreement over a letter to an elected official. I've also been advised that there is a counselling center, where you can request an advocate attend the meeting with you. I'll give her the benefit of the doubt, that she also spoke hastily and angrily, saying things far more strongly than she meant to. If however, this meeting does not go well, I will request another with an advocate.

Tim has an appointment with a neurosurgeon in Erie next week for his back/leg/foot/pain/numbness/burning. He'll be released to go back to work this week, which I don't quite understand, but we are hopeful that this can be 'cured'. He's been miserable, and so have I.

The Move.

2011-11-13T10:11:00.004-05:00

Last night, we 'officially' made the decision. We live in the other house now.

We don't have the phone hooked up yet, but we have the cell phone. I made lots of lists, lists of things we absolutely had to have at the new house. Like pillows and blankets. Yep. We had those. And soap. Shampoo. Conditioner. Towels. You know. The basic necessities of life. Blow dryer. Clothes. The like.

Stopped to buy toothbrush and toothpaste on the way home from family party yesterday. Made up the bed in a guest room when we got there, because our own bed is at home.

I had a 7 AM meeting at the store. Guess what? The alarm clocks were at home. By our bed.

Luckily, I have leapt into the previous century. "Tim, we can use our cell phone!" That little endeavor took 15 minutes to figure out, and I did not sleep well, waking up repeatedly to see what time it was because I had no confidence in my abilities to set the alarm on my cell phone.

This morning, the alarm went off on my phone, a sweet little sound, not harsh and annoying like my regular alarm. Despite the gentle start to the day, I ran out of hot water in the shower while I still had shampoo in my hair. I discovered that I had no caffeine, the coffee pot still at home. I had my blow dryer but no hairbrush. No make-up either. I made the meeting. (Looking like death warmed over.) The french toast the manager made contained no caffeine, but God bless Ike, he had the coffee pot going. (Note to self: bring bigger cup to work.)

Someone asked, "Are you all moved in?" surprised.

No. We're not. However, the balance is tilting. We've got more of our stuff there than we do here, and so the scale has tipped. We live there now. Kellie said, "75-25?" Me, thinking, "Nah. 60-40." That probably isn't even right. More like 51-49, probably. But we're getting there.

And it IS very exciting.

Today the kitchen appliances, the washer and dryer, our bedroom, a couple toolbenches and a wheeled tool chest will be moved. Maybe some other stuff. We'll see what time allows. We're getting there.

The final papers for this house have not been signed yet, but the good news is, we will not be moving in the dead of winter, which was Tim's worst fear. We'll still have sixty days after the papers are signed to continue moving our stuff out, one load at a time.

Where'd he go?

2011-11-12T09:13:00.003-05:00

We're going through stuff at an amazing clip. Questions come up. What do you do with that box of unmatched socks that sits in the laundry room? Do you take it with you? Because as soon as you throw that box of socks away, you're going to find the missing socks. And now is the prime time for finding stuff, because we are finding a ton of stuff. (Most of which causes us to scratch our heads and think, okay...so just why were we saving this....?

The washer has been running nonstop. We're washing all the bedding so that everything is clean and fresh in the new house.

The burn pile has been burning all morning. Reminds me of the store advertisements: "EVERYTHING MUST GO!!!"

We've got lists. What must absolutely be at the house tonight. What absolutely must be done before the end of the day. Responsibilities are divvied up. I've got to go to work.

In the middle of this chaos, my beloved looks at me and says this:

"You know, people should move every ten years."

Me: "I know I've said it before Tim, but this time I really mean it. I don't want to move anymore."

Tim: "Well, you don't know. You can never tell what the future holds." And out the door he goes grinning happily.

Okay. What happened to that man I married. The quiet guy. The one who didn't like change. The one that I thought would live on the top of the mountain forever, his roots wrapped tightly around the Scandia rocks?

I wonder if I'll find him during this 'redding out'?

Leaping Ahead

2011-11-11T13:46:00.003-05:00

Big news from the woods:

Tonight is our last night in our old house. We will be living in the new house from tomorrow forward.

We signed up for our new internet service, and got Direct TV too. We have leapt into the previous century, by golly.

If we can adjust to that dramatic change, we might consider joining this century as well.

Maybe.

*drums fingers nervously*

Moving kinda fast, ain't we? My neck hurts. Might be that there whiplash I hear tell of.

Arrgggggh! (revisited)

2011-11-11T09:41:00.003-05:00

I've got multiple group projects going on at this point, and really, I have to say that the majority of them are going well. However we have one due on Monday. MONDAY! I have never worked with this girl, but you kind of figure at this point, everyone has learned how to work in a group. Lord knows we had plenty of projects to practice on.

We divvied up the work, and I got mine knocked out because that's how I roll. She was not so prompt, but she did seem to have a handle on things.

I have taken criticism from the instructors for not allowing the contributions of other team members. At the time, I felt it to be unfair. The instances they referenced were groups in which members were either not doing the work, or simply waiting until it was done, and then wanting to change everything at the last minute, because they were procrastinators. It was frustrating, but when I tried to defend myself specifically, I was interrupted. She didn't want to hear it. She told me that this was a complaint heard repeatedly from the rest of the class. Really kind of undermined how I felt about fitting in to the class.

I took those lessons. I've tried to apply them. I do not critique the work of my teammembers. We just pool our work. I don't add to theirs. They don't add to mine. I just keep quiet. I don't think its the best way to do a group project, but I can't figure another way to handle things without appearing to take charge of the group.

Now after a year, I have a pretty good idea of who is best to work with. Other students, the older ones, usually, are anxious to get things hammered out as quickly as possible. I look for people who have a lot on my plate, like myself. It's worked pretty well. Most of my group projects have been successful this year.

In the van coming home from Buffalo, my classmates were talking. I was daydreaming, looking out the window, wondering about the lives of the people who lived in the big houses in the gated communities we were passing, or the lives in the rundown trailer parks that we were passing. The lives of the people in the (mostly neat) tiny square homes that went on for miles and miles, divided up into a gridwork of homes that looked basically the same. I gazed out the window imagining stories to go with the homes that I was seeing.

I felt a nudge, and jumped a little. Andrew, sitting next to me said, "We know about that, don't we?" I said, "What? I guess I missed it." They were talking about groups. About difficult people in groups. The like.

I said, "Groups are hard for me. I got slammed for being controlling, but when you're working with people who don't do their share, it seems like someone has to take charge, and I simply do it. I'm not so good at groups." I sidestepped the complaints that were circulating about specific people saying only, "I hope that the teacher sees their shortcomings, and that their grades reflect this." I noted that I try not to talk about people, because I know that I have a reputation as well.

It was a gratifying moment. Other students looked at me and said, "The only people that complain about you are the same people who complain about EVERYONE, and they complain because they are slackers and want to blame everyone else." It's true. The names that they mentioned were people that everyone tries to avoid working with. Proscrastinators, inflexible people, or people who simply don't do their part of the assignment. It was just nice to hear that from my peers. I've been walking around feeling like I had a problem. A big one.

That night, I got home to an e-mail from my partner on a group project. She attached her portion of the project. To my horror, it was not done. Not even close. It's due Monday. It is so half assed that it doesn't even make sense in places. I noted my corrections politely. All sorts of grammar issues on top of gaping holes and undone portions. My comments were longer than her entire report. But I didn't rewrite it.

I noted that I was very afraid for this project.

I know that she expects me to rewrite it. I'm not going to. One portion of the report goes for one class, the other portion for the other. Her portion, as it stands now, will probably get me my first zero.

I took a deep breath, e-mailed the instructors. Let the chips fall where they may. I can rewrite part one, but it will not be done by Monday. I can rewrite it, but I will be submitting it in my name, not as a group project. If that solution is unacceptable to them, well, I've gotten a zero, and I do not know what this means for my overall grade.

I'm not sure what this says about me, whether this attitude is a good one or a bad one.

Happy

2011-11-08T20:01:00.002-05:00

Today, I had the nicest day.

Really.

I spent the day setting up my new kitchen. It looks so very nice. Our appliances are still at the old house, but still...We hung the curtains we'd picked out last summer, and we moved in my baker's rack, and arranged the antique bottles and tin collection. Tim sat at our old table at the new house, and he said in a wondering sort of a voice, "This is really nice." The new paint glowed and the wood floors shone softly in the light. It is nice.

I hung my clock in the front hall and wound it. I moved the furniture into place in the library. I put William's playroom together on the third floor (someday that room will be his favorite room in the house I think.) I assembled beds and daydreamed. The wicker furniture has been painted white, and tomorrow it will be set into place. I hung pictures.

I'm so happy.

Getting it done...

2011-11-07T19:42:00.002-05:00

I have my portion for two of the group projects done.

I'm working with the most awesome group right this minute. Everything just worked so perfectly, just flowed. Everyone pulled their weight and was truly creative. Good group dynamics make for a truly excellent presentation.

And I only have 14 more days of class.

*fist pump*

BOO-YAH!

Finish Line, Ruby Slippers, Whining.

2011-11-07T07:15:00.002-05:00

Over the weekend, I discovered that I have 15 more days of school.

15 more days.

One would think that would galvanize me. That I would be thinking, "15 more days?!!! Shoot. I can do that standing on my head!" That I would be a ball of energy, flying through these projects, getting things done. I mean, I have a crap load of stuff to do, and I've been pecking away at it daily, getting it done, one smidge at a time. Seems like seeing the finish line would be a big encouragement, that I would be tearing through this like my tail was on fire.

You'd think.

Mary called. She and Danny are out yard-saling. "Hey," I said. "If you come across a corner cabinet, wooden, let me know. It can be either white or oak finish. We need one for a bathroom."

My friend said, (almost wailed, actually) "I can't wait until I can just call you and ask you if you want to do something, and you'll be able to just pick up and go with me. I miss that!"

I do too.

I think of doing things with my sister. Or my sister in law (and my two cute nephews). Or my friends. Of taking part in church activities once again. I think of just sitting to read a book and not feeling anxious because I should be doing something else. I think of what it would be like to have a tidy house. To have time to fix a meal instead of simply grabbing something quick (preferably that I don't have to cook so that I can hit the books.) I think of standing in the yard and visiting with our new neighbors instead of flying in the door and back out again, waving gaily.

I am so busy. This is a very exciting time in my life, but I am tired and frazzled, and I simply want to be done. My life has been hijacked, and I want it back, thank you.

*sigh*

No matter how I click the heels of my ruby slippers, when I open my eyes, it is still not done. But I figure the only thing standing between 15 and 14 is this day. I'll heist up from my chair, carry my empty coffee cup to the sink, and I will get the party started.

Git 'er done.

2011-11-06T15:45:00.004-05:00

Well, we've gotten the furniture from three bedrooms and an office moved. Tim stayed home because I wouldn't let him come. This pinched nerve thing (or whatever it is) has been an unending source of grief to him.

Justin and I ferried the stuff down the hill on the truck, making four trips. It was a good day, and this house is emptying out. We'll move a carload at a time this week, and then next weekend, my sister and her husband are helping. That should be the bulk of it, except for the kids' stuff. Dylan is coming home at Thanksgiving, and will load up his things. We're hoping Mike and Brianna will come home. I've got a box for Mary to take. Stuff for Goodwill. Boxes of books. I advertised them on Freecycle, and someone eagerly claimed them all...and then asked me to deliver them. I hate that. For heaven's sake, if someone is giving you something, seems like you could at least make the effort to come and get it. Cara's got to hoe through her room too. That will take some time. We're hoping that Buddy and Brianna will come up and sort through things and take what they want for their home.

I've got a busy week coming up at school. A trip to Buffalo on Wednesday. Practicals (again!) on Friday. I go to school three days a week. Somebody pointed out that we have fifteen more days of school. 15! I figured it out, and she is right. We have 15 more days of school, and then the semester will be done. Next semester, we will be working 5 days a week at a work site. If we begin our work program as soon as the holidays are over, not waiting for the school break to end, we'll be finished with our semester in April.

Wow. I'm coming into the home stretch.

Stuff

2011-11-05T19:40:00.003-04:00

Tim is a guy who likes his 'stuff'. And Tim has lots of 'stuff'. Lots o' stuff. He's got a three stall garage. Full. He's got a shed. Full. He's got two more smaller sheds. Also full. He's also got a garage in the basement. That's (surprise!) full too.

We've had some discussions. We are moving, and he has a two stall garage, with a second floor. He's got a shed. He's also got two garages at the rentals. He began to fret that he did not have enough room.

I said, "So, maybe you don't NEED all this stuff."

The man was outraged. He actually said, "If I can't take my stuff, I'm not moving," and off he went in a huff.

So, I figured not to worry about it. He'll figure something out. Tim's been working away as best he can with his back. He can't lift. He's been cleaning out the garage. I haven't see it, yet, but he said to me yesterday, in a surprised voice, "You know, I have gotten rid of a lot of stuff. There's a lot of it I don't need."

He may have been surprised. Me? Not so much...

My Project

2011-11-03T20:57:00.005-04:00

Today I went to the nursing home where I will be working for the next five weeks. I really like the activities director there. I have to assess a need, and design a program for it. That's easy enough. I knew what the need was going to be before I even walked in the door. The need is that the staff is too busy to do a lot of interacting one on one. The need is that patients need that one on one interaction. The director was quite excited to hear that. I'd hit it dead on in her opinion. We talked quite a bit during my orientation, and we found that we had a lot in common.

Walking the halls, I ran into a lady from church, and then the mother of one of Cara's friends, and then one of the girls from Dylan's class. There were people that recognized me from the paper. People I used to work with at other places. Even a woman I work with now. Lots of customers from the store. It was kind of cool, like old home week.

What sort of activity would I like to do for my project? December seventh is the anniversary of Pearl Harbor. I know a Pearl Harbor veteran. Larry sure likes to talk. I know the veterans are quite proud of their service, and enjoy talking about their service. Wouldn't it be cool to set up a 'canteen' with period music, and we could run documentaries on Pearl Harbor. The old soldiers could sit and talk about their service time, and drink coffee or tea or whatever. I think it would be great fun, very interesting. I'll bet that I could get a couple of actresses from the local theater group to be 'waitresses' for a couple hours. I'll bet some of the local veterans would love to come in and listen to the old guys and swap yarns of their own. The activities director thought it was an excellent plan. I wonder if I can pull it off?

William the lion-hearted

2011-11-02T20:45:00.001-04:00

Little Lion Man.

Wonder

2011-11-02T07:37:00.003-04:00

I love that there are still people left in this world who understand 'wonder'? This is totally stolen from Novel Woman. (Thanks for sharing it, ma'am!)

Doesn't it just make you want to do something mysterious and wonderful, just for the sake of bringing joy to others?

I have a plan to do just that.

No. I'm not telling. It wouldn't be mysterious then, would it?

A post about nuthin'

2011-11-01T20:12:00.003-04:00

I got nothin'. Really. Last night was Halloween. Little William was a lion. Cute as a button. Did I get pictures. No. I was scrubbing the bathroom floor at the new house and putting down an acrylic finish. I didn't think to bring a camera. I'd come straight from school.

Justin clattered in, in his gawky big footed teenage boy way. I get a kick out of him. He chattered on, and I listened, glad to have a kid around the house, again, even if he is just borrowed. He's got it all planned. We need a giant plasma TV, and we 'need to put it right here'. He stands in the livingroom making giant plasma TV motions with his hands.

We had a few trick or treaters, not many. The house has been vacant for so long, I don't think that anyone expected someone to be there. Still it was fun. Trick or treating is not permitted out in the woods. I'll like that part of living in the city.

Latest amazing house discovery? The carriage house is made of chestnut. The sheeting boards are a foot wide. Why is this remarkable? Chestnut, once common here, was wiped out, made completely extinct by a blight in the early 1900s. Chestnut trees do continue grow up from the root system of old trees, but they die young, victims of the same blight. To have a building made completely of chestnut, is quite a find. Foot-wide boards means that they were taken from old trees. There is no such thing as old chestnut trees in this day and age. Tim carefully saved the old wooden stairs. Those pieces of chestnut are rare and precious. In the hands of a craftsman, they could become something beautiful.

What the HECK?????

2011-10-31T08:16:00.002-04:00

She hasn't blogged it yet, but I gotta say, I think that Bush Babe has lost her ever loving mind. Truely. On facebook, she showed a picture of a very large snake in a crock, which is being held by Mr. Incredible.

She has shown us all manner of wildlife in Australia. She even takes photos of goannas and snakes. However this snake was a seven foot python. It was on the top shelf of her pantry. In the house.

She points out that the snake is not venomous.

I point out, once again, that it was seven foot long and on the top shelf of her pantry. In the house. INSIDE the house!

She pointed out that it was pretty placid.

I'm starting to worry about her mind people. I will point out once again, that it was seven feet long and on the top shelf of her pantry. Inside. the. house.

There are little details of this story which are disturbing to me. Now BB is a fairly tall drink of woman, but my question is, can she see the top shelf of her pantry, or is she like me in that she gropes blindly, locating what she's looking for by feel? And if you, in the course of grabbing the tumeric or the coriander, grab yourself a seven foot python, I want to point out that python is not listed as a substitution for any cooking ingredient that I am aware of.

Allow me also to say that if I ever reached up on the top shelf of my pantry and grabbed a seven foot python, I would have immediately peed my pants and then dropped over dead on the spot. Yes. This is correct. I am sure that at some point there would have been the scream heard round the world, but then I would be history, on my way to meet Jesus wearing wet pants.

Another little detail of the story is that apparently he made quite a mess up there, knocking things over and such. But it also is pointed out that the placid little fellow was not housebroken. Now that brings up another picture. Seven foot python...just how big...oh...never mind...

Anyways, I think that you want to hie over to her blog right now and demand that she post that story with its accompanying pictures. Demand it I say!

Sunday

2011-10-30T22:40:00.002-04:00

We went to church today. Our minister's wife is dealing with cancer, brain tumors. This has come as a shock to our church. Our little church seems to have had more dealings with this disease than you'd expect. Ray and Sallie sit in front of me, and they were not there this week. I was grieved to find that their 20 year old grand daughter has just found out she has ovarian cancer. It's everywhere, really. All you can do is send out encouragement, or volunteer to cook a meal, or pray. It doesn't seem like nearly enough.

After church, I went to work. We were busy today decorating for Christmas. (Yikes!) Despite my misgivings about the earliness of all of this, I still wore my Santa hat.

A couple from down the road came in. He likes to give me grief. Once last year, I priced a pink Carhartt coat for a woman, and stupidly forgot to void the thing after I priced it. Lo, he was my unfortunate next customer who was a bit startled to find himself being charged for a pink coat. He's never let me forget my mistake, and I've never ceased to tell him that I think he just ought to give in and buy himself that pink coat, because I know how badly he wants it. His wife is a hoot too, and we generally get kind of uproarious when we get a chance. Today, we were out of the drill bit he wanted, so we took one out of our store drill, told him to bring it back when he was done. He was a bit surprised by that.

"That's how the store makes up for having cashiers like me," I quipped. He laughed, but his wife said, "ALL the cashiers should be like you," she said. I cocked my head and said, "Are you angling for more free stuff?" We all laughed. We have some pink TSC hats. If those things ever go on sale, I swear I'm going to buy one and hang it on their front door. They will know exactly where it came from.

So it was a busy day, and a nice day, as usual, shooting the breeze with everyone.

It's 11 now, and my homework is done. I'll leave you with a question: Who do you think the ninny was that forgot to buy more computer paper? Who do you think can't print out her homework? *sigh* Never fails. There's always some stinking stupid thing...

The people I meet.

2011-10-29T19:55:00.005-04:00

Today, after I got off from work, we took a washer and dryer up to Buddy and Brianna's new home. Coming back, we saw an older guy pushing a bike uphill in the wet snow. My own feet were cold and wet, and I could only imagine how cold he was. It was also getting on towards dark, and he was wearing a khaki coat. Not highly visible.

"Tim," I said, "we should ask the guy if he wants to throw his bike in the back of the truck."

Tim turned the truck around, and we drove back. I rolled down my window. "Hey," I said, and when I asked him, he flashed a big grin. "Yes," he said.

So I hopped out of the truck and helped him load his bike. He told me where he was headed, and said, "but you go to where you need to go, and just drop me off."

He seemed surprised when I said that we were headed the other way, that we'd turned around. "Well, that's really nice!" he said. And he clambered up into the back of the truck. He didn't need to ride up front where it was warm, he told me. He was fine and grateful for the ride. So we drove him where he was going, and I got out once more. He was standing his bike up, and I reached for it. "You hold it for me, till I get down. I'll lift it out," he said.

But I lifted it down, and waited for him to get off the truck. Really. He was about our age. His old coat was tied with a piece of rope. His boots were old and worn out. He thanked us again for the ride. Dylan has a blaze orange hunting suit, warm. I offered to get it to him.

Nope. He was fine, he said. I pointed out it would make him a lot easier to see at night. He thought it was a very nice offer, but no, he said, once more.

You know, we are surrounded by people having a hard time. I saw an elderly couple. Probably in their nineties, pushing his and her walkers. He struggled to open the door for his wife. "Oh, gosh!" I thought, and I darted over. It was a bit of a struggle, because he could not back up his walker because she was behind him, but I squeezed by, and held the door. I got them to step to the side, and then I opened the second set of doors for them.

As they walked out the door, his wife said, "We've both got neuropathy."

I was sympathetic. "That's a horrible thing," I said.

She said, "Oh, I've only got it in my feet, but my husband has it in his lower legs. I can't imagine that," and they slowly made their way out the door and to their car parked in the first handicap spot. "Do you need any more help?" I asked.

They assured me that they were fine. I watched them from the door, just to double make sure. He opened her car door, and she got herself in the driver seat. He walked to the trunk of the car, which she opened from the inside. He was pulling her walker. He folded it, and put it in the trunk. He folded his, and he put it in the trunk as well. He shut the trunk and leaned on the car for support, making his way to the driver side rear seat. He opened the door, and got in with much difficulty, at one point, nearly lying down. I was just about to go out and shut his door, but his white head popped back up, and he shut the door. Carefully and slowly she backed the car out, and away they went.

I also saw a woman waiting in front of me. You see some mighty rough women. This one had a bandanna on her head, and carried herself like she was a bit of a bad ass. As much of a bad ass as a woman my age can be. But she turned to me, and with a shock, I noted the lack of eyebrows and the bloated face. I realized that the bandanna was not covering hair.

This will not make sense. Cancer seems to lurk around in the back of my mind, but at the same time, I forget sometimes. I forget, and I see something that triggers the memory, and it comes almost as a shock..."Oh, yeaaaaaah....I remember..." I can't explain it any better than that.

I wanted to say something encouraging to her, but as always, I found myself without words. I stood there awkwardly. She stood in front of me, her back toward me. Neither of us said a word. I remembered what it was like to have no hair in the cold. I thought about how I could have never gone out in public with my bald head exposed through the back of a bandanna. She was a far tougher woman than I, far braver. I stood there waiting, and trying to think of encouraging words that never came, but before she left, it did occur to me that she probably was a bit of a bad ass, and that it probably was serving her well during this time.

The past two days, I've been really aware of the misery in this world. It surrounds me. Probably surrounds you too. Maybe if we all just reached out to do what we can, maybe it would make a difference.

Let's try.

Dog Stories

2011-10-28T21:15:00.003-04:00

Today at the store, I heard two nice dog stories. A fellow came in and bought some premium dogfood, and toys, and a collar, a leash, dog treats. I said, "Did you get yourself a dog?" and he said no, that he'd had one for a few months now. He rescued it, a dog his in-laws had. The dog turned out to be too much for them, and they just kept it in a crate. His kids couldn't stand to see it, and begged him to take the dog home. He caved.

Now that's interesting. I asked him how the dog was doing. It's a pit bull. Sometimes an animal just doesn't recover from treatment like that, and it had spent most of it's three years in a cage. "Oh, that dog is wonderful. She has two acres to run on, and she is the biggest baby you ever saw. When I get home from work, she's so glad to see me. She jumps up on my lap and leans up against me." I told him I'd like to meet her sometime, that he should bring her in. And he went out the door with nearly $100 in dog supplies, and it made me glad.

Another fellow came in and he bought a big bag of dog food and cat food up to the counter. He paid with a check. I noticed the address on the check, that we lived on the same road. He lived some miles away though. I thought. I said, "Are you the folks with the Australian Shepherds?" He wasn't, but they have rescue dogs. They collect dogs from humane societies, dogs that nobody else wants. Old dogs, handicapped dogs, abused dogs. They have an electric fence system set up, and the dogs are free to run. One of the dogs is blind, and they've set it up with gravelled boundaries, so that the blind dog can tell where he's at. They have a rescue cat, and they have horses too.

I like that. I like knowing that there are people in the world like that. I also like that I work at a store where I meet folks like that on a regular basis.

Oh. And I had a test today. I think that I rocked it.

2011-10-27T21:09:00.002-04:00

Interesting: when I was freezing to death because there was no fire, my beloved husband told me that it was not cold. I disagreed. A lot. I said that I wanted a fire. He said he needed to clean the chimney. He'd get around to it. I said I was cold. He told me it was not cold. It's been going on like this for a couple weeks. Our only source of heat was the ventless propane heater in the livingroom. When the sun went down, I was freezing. Unless you talked to Tim. Then I wasn't cold at all.

Well, my beloved 'gimpy' has been home since Wednesday.

We have a woodfire going.

Coincidence?

I do not think so.

Oh, and PS. It is snowing today. Bill posted a picture of Kalib on his daddy's shoulders in the first snow. Look at the wonder and joy on that child's face. Adorable.

The look on my face contains no wonder. No joy either. Just saying.

Unless of course, you are talking about the fire.

No Doubt

2011-10-26T19:00:00.003-04:00

I do have to say that the conflict with my teacher has been on my mind. I find myself wondering if I am a professional? School's been hard, and I do get discouraged from time to time. So lately, I've been discouraged and wondering about myself.

I am about to do my first round of field work. I was lucky enough that I was picked for a position very close to home. As a matter of fact, the facility is next door to one of our rentals, on the same street as the new house. I had the name of the occupational therapist there, and I was supposed to contact her. Coming home from school, I dropped off a bag of dog biscuits for some friends, and then headed into town to meet Tim at the doctor's office. I had about 15 minutes, so on the spur of the moment, I decided to drop in to the facility, and leave my home telephone with the reception desk. That way the occupational therapist could call me at home, and we could set up a meeting. The receptionists told me to wait, because they were very sure that she'd want to see me.

And so I did.

A wheeled cart came by and I stepped out of the way. I looked up and into the smiling face of 'Goof' a guy that Tim and I used to work with at the factory where I was a janitor when I moved back to the area 15 years ago, during my family's hard times. It was great to see him, and we blabbed a while.

A smiling woman strode towards me saying, "Debby?" and I turned and saw a familiar face, a regular customer at the store. I was shocked, because I did not know what she did for a living.

She looked surprised too. "Where do I know you from?" I told her.

She said, "Of course!" and she was so glad that I was a little speechless (not a common thing for me). She looked at me and she said, "You are going to be perfect!" and she told me that I was funny and friendly and adaptable. She'd noticed this from watching me interact with people at the store.

You know, some days are discouraging. Other days are encouraging.

I felt as if, today, that all my yesterdays came together. As the three of us stood talking, Goof talked about our days at the factory, and of following my column to keep up with us. My new temporary boss was so excited to be my mentor that it just made me glad. At the end of our short visit, she gave me a hug. This woman doesn't know the doubting of my heart, but she tells me that 'I have what it takes'.

Know what? I believed her. I looked at her, and I had no doubt that I have what it takes.

I left there, and went to the doctor's office with Tim.

As I write this, PBS' Independent Lens comes on. Much to my surprise, I hear names I recognize, and I turn to see Cara's friend on TV. How strange is THAT?

Pay-offs

2011-10-26T07:16:00.005-04:00

Tim made me mad yesterday at about 3 AM and I really got my dander up. He's in pain. Serious, serious pain. Sometimes he can't walk, but he ignores things. Yesterday, the alarm went off at 3. Freight day at the store. I lay there trying to wake up. I became aware that Tim was gasping in pain on his side of the bed. I started asking questions. He did not answer me.

Then I got a little ornery.

I was still a little ornery when he came to the store at about noon. "You can't just ignore this Tim. Something is really wrong here, and Physical Therapy is making it worse, not better. You need to..." and he interrupted to say, "I'm not going to work today, and I'm going to make a doctor's appointment. I think that I'll wind up taking temporary disability until we figure out what this is."

*blink*

My temper tantrum worked. (Payoff?!!) It usually doesn't go like that.

You know, I think that I have reached a turning point at school. I've been struggling to get a handle on Bobath and Brunnstrom and Rood and PNF and NDT and last night, going over the stuff yet again, I began to see it. I found videos on line, and watched the therapies on actual patients. I felt as if the pieces had begun to fit together. For the first time, I realized that I was going to graduate from this course. I mean, that's been the goal, always, but I always felt as if that could be snatched away from me at any given moment.

But it can't.

I've worked hard, and it is coming together, and in May, I'll graduate.

2011-10-24T20:48:00.004-04:00

Yesterday, riding along to church, I was mesmerized by the sight of a naked tree against the sky, and suddenly it occurred to me: where did fall go? Summer, for that matter? I'm so busy!!The holiday season will be begin NEXT MONTH!!!! We're between two houses. Tim can't move furniture because of the sciatica issue. (At this point, it's pretty bad, and he is receiving physical therapy, which seems to be making matters worse, not better). I began to panic a little. How is this going to work out? How is this possibly going to work?!!!!!!!!

I said, "Tim, really, we need to hire professional movers. There is just no way to get this all done. Thanksgiving is coming, and it's chaos, just chaos, and what if it's Thanksgiving and I(gasp of horror) DON'T KNOW WHERE MY TURKEY ROASTER IS?"

*wild-eyed look*

Of course he looked at me like I'd sprouted an extra head. "We don't need to worry about that right now," he tells me.

Our livingroom outfit is in the new house. The dining room set is here. The stove is here. Most of the dishes are there. I've taken all my office books there. My desk is here. You get the picture, right?

*shriek*

It's kind of like school though. I worry about every assignment. I worry about every test. I feel stupid, and I worry. Sometimes, I am actually sick with fear. But when it comes down to it, well...I do okay. Usually, I do better than okay.

A woman is dealing with cancer, and the husband said, "We'll have to make a decision about chemo, and we have to..." I recognized the disbelief and the 'deer in the headlights look', the look of someone just coming to grips with the whole concept. I wrote him a little note. "Don't look at the big picture," I said. "You can't. It's overwhelming. We are not designed for that. The big picture is God's perspective. Just look at things one day at a time. The worries of the day are sufficient. One day at a time, you'll get through this."

Sounds pretty wise, doesn't it? One day at a time. Don't try to look at the whole thing. I'm a fine one to be giving advice, don't you think?

So tonight, I took another load of stuff down to the new house. I put the dishes away. I brought the empty boxes home. I'll fill them up again before I go to bed, and tomorrow, Tim will haul another load down, light stuff. A carload at a time, we'll get it done. One day at a time, I'll get through school.

Maybe, before this is all over, I'll learn to walk the walk, not just talk the talk.

At the Tractor Supply

2011-10-23T20:50:00.008-04:00

Yesterday at work, it struck me the sheer number of 'characters' that I meet there. Lots of them.

I met a tall rail thin man with long white hair and a beard. Probably in his nineties. He was headed home to partake of a walleye that he caught. It was a big one too, he said, and he was very happy with himself. Of course, fishing around here is nothing like it used to be, he explained, and he told me that he remembered a time when he would tell his wife that he was headed out to get supper, and he would go ahead and do just that. There's no guarantee of that, not anymore. Sometimes he comes home empty handed. But he'd caught a walleye, and he was headed home to cook it, happy as could be. He was still talking away as he strode to the door in his raggedy old jacket torn through in several places. He doesn't freeze his walleye, not ever, he tells me. He cooks it and eats it fresh and there is no finer eating. "Well," I told him, if you ever get too many to eat all at once, you just remember where I work then," and he laughed hard. He can put away some walleye, he lets me know. When he was a younger man, he'd go fishing. He'd come home with his catch, and he and his wife would cook it up and people would come in, and they'd still be eating fresh cooked fish at 2 in the morning. That is one truly, truly contented man, and I was pleased to meet him.

Not long after that, another man came in, and here's the funny thing. He looked sort of like my fisherman friend. This man worked on a dairy farm, and had probably come straight in from the barn. (Lots of folk do...farmers are busy.) We're supposed to greet customers as they come in the door, so I called out 'Hi!' as he walked in. He swept by without a word. Without even a look, for that matter. He came back up with a pulley, and he paid for it, without a word. I thanked him, and wished him a good day. He never looked, he never spoke. Out the door he went. It made me wonder what sort of a life he'd had, to be like that. I also wondered how long it had been since he spoke at all.

A big burly fellow came in. Red faced, blue eyed. Probably 60. He was thanking us for a donation we'd made for a fundraiser he and a horse group had done for St. Jude's. He had a certificate. They'd raised over $3800 and he was glad. He was just as quick to say that it had been a group effort, that it was a result of many people working together. I told him, "Don't hesitate to stop by the next time you do something like that. Tractor Supply prides itself on being a store that gives back." I pointed out the manager to him. He was a bit nervous because he had a very expensive saddle in the back of his pickup that he was repairing for someone. He was afraid it would be stolen. I assured him that I'd keep my eye on it. So off he went. Soon he was striding back up to the front of the store. His boots stopped at the Leanin' Tree card display. He looked through them and then he was back at my counter with a wedding card. "Going to a wedding?" I asked him. And he said that he was. I can't remember exactly what he said, but I mistook it to mean that he was getting married. I congratulated him, heartily, and he said, embarrassed, "No...no. Not me! He paused, flustered. "I'm not married...I mean...well...I don't know what I am, exactly, but maybe one day...I'd like to get married one day." He tucked that card inside his Carhartt, pulled his hat down, and out the door he went.

Early in the morning, fellow came in, quiet guy. Things were still slow. I was stocking candy and we got to blabbing too. He said it was his birthday. "Really!" I said, "Now what are you going to do about that?" He didn't know exactly, but he'd decided to buy himself some warm socks and a new Carhartt sweatshirt, because he works outside and it's getting cold. But joking around, he said, "So, because it's my special day, you're going to sing happy birthday right?" Just kidding around. Little did he know. He took his good old sweet time shopping and the store was a bit busier by the time he got up to the counter, but I sang him the birthday song. He wasn't expecting it and he stood there a little surprised. The other customers looked amused. He thanked me, and said, "You know, I honestly don't think that anyone has sung happy birthday to me since I was a kid." He stood there thinking. "No I really don't think they have." He walked out the door saying, "That was sure nice!" and he was happy too.

I met three couples traveling together, and they were well to do. Not rude, but definately aloof. They were looking around the store. I think that we were a bit of a novelty. They were having fun looking at the Christmas decorations and things. They bought quite a bit, between the six of them. One man was buying a Schleich dragon, for his daughter who had just begun college at Drexel. He and his crew were definately from a different world than me, but in his world, just like mine, they are proud of their kids, and inside, I smiled to know that we had something in common.

All day long I met people and talked. The dogs came. Scooby the Newfie. A mastiff. Thor the Great Dane. Greta the golden, all mudded up. I petted dogs and gave them their cookie. I called kids 'pippersqueakers' which almost always makes them laugh. There were young folks, and old folks, and middle aged folks like me. One of those customers walked out the door, and he said, "God love ya. I hope you don't EVER change."

I do like my job. It doesn't matter how dumb I feel at school, or how overwhelmed I feel at the busy-ness of my life, I can go to work, and it's almost always like a break, a breath of fresh air. I do so love that job.

Keys

2011-10-22T16:21:00.003-04:00

The other day, Matt called from work. A set of keys was missing. Did I have them?

And I answered, "No. Remember? I just borrowed yours when I needed them. I'm afraid to sign keys out anymore, and if I have to, I note exactly which ones I took, because I'm afraid that people will think that I did something stupid." Which is valid. Keys come up gone on a regular basis there. They're gone, we do a major search, we find 'em. But it's driving our poor manager nuts.

Anyhoo, Matt said, "Oh, yeah. You were using mine. Let me talk to Pete." And that's the last I heard of it.

I walked into work the other day, and saw the manager, and called out, "So did they find those keys?" and he said, in a very unhappy voice, "No. They did not." But it turns out that the other set of keys which had been missing had been found, in another cashier's apron. Good news. Good news. I pulled my apron out of my locker and said, "I did not sign out keys on freight day..." and lo. My apron felt heavy. With a sick feeling I reached in the pocket. Yep. One set of keys. Oh, the boss was a happy man.

I'm glad I could make his day, but this still boggles my mind. I have not the foggiest clue how those keys ended up in my apron pocket, because I did not take keys from the key box. That was mortifying to be running my mouth. "No, I don't have keys. Not me..." and then pull the stinking things out of my pocket.

Oh well. It makes a good question for the Tractor Supply Trivia Game I am putting together for the Christmas party.

Fire

2011-10-21T07:17:00.004-04:00

I usually wake up about 5:30. I've begun to set the alarm for 5:30 even though I don't really need to. My oldest friend Mary and I have a pact. We pray for our children at 5:30 every morning. I pray for hers. She prays for mine. It is hard being a mom. Your emotions tend to cloud things sometimes, but whenever we talk about our kids, she always sees clearly what I can do, or what I should do. It works vice versa too.

It was her idea, actually, and I think it's a good one. I like the idea of starting the day with prayer, knowing that my friend is praying from her little house on a whole 'nuther hill. She's strict too. You have to get out of bed and on your knees. I'm generally a 'pray where I'm at' person. But I get out of bed and on my knees and I pray. Because I love my friend.

That's one heck of a sacrifice too, getting out of bed. We still have not lit the woodstove and it is cold in here. Unless you talk to Tim. He'll tell you that it's not cold in here, but let me tell you that man is full of...well...how do you start a post talking about prayer, and then have it take a turn like that? You don't. And so I won't. But I'm darn tired of being cold, let me tell you true. It is in the 30s outside, wet and raining. I'd just start a fire myself, but he wants to clean the chimney first, and sure as tooting, about the time that I stubbornly go on and start a fire, something terrible will happen.

Did I ever tell you about the time we did have a fire?

I'd headed down to pick up Dylan from wrestling practice. He was 16 and just got his permit, so he was driving. We watched the firetrucks go speeding past as we waited to turn right at the stop sign at the top of the hill. "Oh," I said. "Somebody's got a fire. We should pray for them, whoever they are." And Dylan turns right, and we are following the fire trucks. They begin slowing down where we'd be slowing down. Much to my shock, the firetrucks pull in our driveway. There is a flagman standing in the middle of the road flagging us through, and getting a bit impatient because we had just stopped. He angrily snapped his flashlight, motioning us to get going. I leapt from the car, and said, "This is our house!" to the flagman and ran through the front yard.

All I could think of is that I had thrown wood into the stove before I left. I was horrified to think that maybe I hadn't shut it properly or something, and set our house afire. I left a boy with a learner's permit in the road with no responsible adult in the car, too, but that never dawned on me until later. So I'm bolting through the yard in the dark, praying "Oh, please, oh please, oh please!"

Suddenly I notice that the activity is taking place in the driveway. I also notice that Tim's truck was a smoldering heap. He was standing there studying it with a herd of volunteer fireman. I was so relieved that I burst out with "Oh, thank God it's your truck!" Which sounded kind of crappy.

Turned out, Tim had arrived home shortly after I left. He parked his truck, walked into the house, picked up the newspaper, and sat down in his recliner. He said, later, "I don't even know what made me get up and go to the window, but I looked out and my truck was on fire."

Cara picks up the story. She was in the bathroom, had just stepped out of the shower. She heard the front door open. She heard the front door shut. She heard various cars being moved. (We had at least four other vehicles out front.) As she was heading out of the bathroom, she heard the front door open again. She heard the front door shut again. From her bedroom, she heard Tim talking to someone on the phone. She then heard the front door open once more. She then heard the front door shut once more. She didn't pay any mind.

The phone rings, and she takes the call in her room. Her grandmother says, "What's on fire?!!!" in a frantic sort of voice. Cara says, "Nothing." Her grandmother said, "Well, a call just came across the scanner that there's a fire at your house." Cara said, "OUR house?" Her grandmother said, "Cara? Where are you?" and Cara said, "I'm in my room." Her grandmother suggests that she look out the window. Cara does and sees firetrucks. "Ummmm. Grandma? I gotta go. Right now," and she hung up.

Later she complained, "Tim needs to learn the proper use of an emergency voice!" It's the truth. He never gets rattled. His voice is always careful and quiet. He would tell you that your head had exploded in the same calm voice that he would ask you to bring the ketchup from the refrigerator please.

Anyways, Tim's truck was a total loss. We never found out for sure what started the fire, only that it was electrical in nature.

Now, where was I? Oh. I was talking about how cold I was.

Tim and I are going to have a long discussion about fires tonight. It's cold.

Nothing else to say.

2011-10-20T19:11:00.000-04:00

http://www.rockymountainnews.com/news/2005/nov/11/final-salute/

Foiled Again

2011-10-20T17:46:00.005-04:00

I managed to get my column out this morning. Last night I ~~spent~~ wasted 5 hours trying to make it work. I should have just given up earlier, worked on homework, and then went to bed, because the column wrote itself in my head while I was sleeping.

I've been doing homework all day. Yay! Definately got a lot of homework done.

I've got to get the house squared away for when the new owner's insurance guy comes to look at the place.

I'm still in my bathrobe and nightgown at 6 PM. (But I did shower at 3, which is an improvement).

So why am I still sitting here at my computer?

Because in 'treating myself' to 15 minutes of blog surfing for all my hard work, I read The Pioneer Woman. Now I'm googling bunny scene Fatal Attraction.

I gotta know. Somebody tell me the story behind the bunny scene.

And dagnabbit! while blog surfing, I discovered that THE WORLD IS ENDING TOMORROW. According to Nanny, Harold Camping has refigured his calculations and decided that his original date of May 21st was incorrect, because the world was actually going to end on OCTOBER 21st. Why the heck was this not publicized?!!! That's irresponsible media right there. I have spent my last day on earth hunkered over a computer keyboard doing homework. Luckily I know about it now, and have saved myself from cleaning house all through the last night on earth.

I don't suppose God will mind if I show up there in my nightgown and bathrobe, right? I did take a shower at 3.

Working

2011-10-18T20:54:00.006-04:00

Got a lot done today, even though I don't feel as if I got enough done. Hard to believe that I am half way done with the semester already. I don't know what will happen with field work next semester, after the conflict with the teacher. I had straight As at midterm except for one C+ (wince). I'm not sure what is the right approach to take here. Normally, I'd just meet with her, set out my misgivings and have a discussion, but I'm a little leery. The last meeting was not a discussion. She did not listen. She spoke, and she made it clear that I had no right to be critical of a teacher. I believe that if I disagree with anything she says, it might well be construed as being critical of a teacher once again. I think that the only option here is to keep my head down, and my mouth shut, just maintain a professional distance, and study harder. The other students are supportive (privately) but they also are keeping their distance from me. That's okay too. We'll just see the way the cards play on this one.

Today, I visited with an elderly woman. She told me about the house that her grandfather built. She said, wistfully, "I'd just like to drive past that house and see what it looks like now." The house is a simple 15 minutes away. I talked to the people there, and asked if it were possible to take her out for a couple hours on a Sunday afternoon, and stop for ice cream on the way back. They thought it was an excellent plan, and thought the daughter would approve. I gave my phone number to them, so that the family could call.

I walked out into the fall day. I saw a bumper sticker. It said, "Be the change." You know, there are a lot of things which cannot be changed. Sometimes, it seems like the smallest changes are the ones that make the real difference though.

Well. I've pondered stupid stuff long enough. Time for bed. It's been a long day, and tomorrow is even longer.

Tractor Supply story: Today I was working away at the store, and a elderly fellow comes up, big white beard, and a shock of white hair. He says, very seriously (but with a twinkle in his eye), "I've been thinking to take up a new crop. Do you have any books about getting started in marijuana farming?"and he gestured at our magazine/book rack. I knew he was joshing me. I like to josh too, though. My eye caught a magazine cover, and I looked right back at him and said, very seriously (but with a twinkle in my own eye), "Yes sir, we do." He looked a bit startled. I reached down and said, "Here's a magazine called 'Mary Jane's Farm'. Seems like you'd be able to find some good information there." I had him, and he burst out laughing, a big bellow of laughter. He went his way, and I went back to stocking.

Hearing problems.

2011-10-17T21:49:00.003-04:00

Tim's been saying he's having trouble hearing, and I've been thinking, 'well, he doesn't want to hear sometimes...' and all that. Then yesterday, he came home with an earwax removal kit, and promptly removed a wad of earwax from his ear that scared the crap right out of me. I thought it was a beetle, and I figured that if a bug could crawl into his ear, it could crawl in mine as well. I nearly ran screaming from the bathroom in horror until he explained what he'd done.

Well. Shut me right up. Of course the man had trouble hearing, and here I was convinced that he was simply ignoring me, and I felt pretty bad about myself and my wife-liness. Or lack there-of.

Last night, I put together a strata which has to refrigerate over night before you bake it, and I used a lot of onion and green pepper and some nice venison sausage and eggs and cheddar cheese. I got up this morning and baked it while I was getting ready for school. I said to Tim, "This is finished, and all you'll have to do is warm yourself a slice of it up in the microwave for lunch. I can't put it in the fridge, because it's too hot from the oven. Don't leave it sit out all day. Put it away once it cools down enough..." and he said he would and out the door I went.

I got home tonight, and half a strata was sitting on the stove where I left it.

Don't feel nearly as bad about myself and my wife-liness.

Tim? You need to do some more work on that ear.

Autosave

2011-10-17T07:32:00.004-04:00

I worked like crazy at the store yesterday. When I came home, I had homework. My feet were killing me, and so I got the bright idea to plug in a vibrating heating pad, and rest my feet on it as I was typing. However, when I plugged it in, the computer shut down. I didn't take the time to figure out why, having more concern about the document that I'd been typing. I was very relieved to see it there in the autosave. I sat down and finished typing it. The vibrating heating pad felt great on my feet.

When I was done, I reached under the desk to unplug the heating pad, and the computer shut off once again. This time I saw why. The big plug of the heating pad was touching the switch on the power strip. The computer shut down once again as I unplugged the heating pad. I thought grumpy thoughts and turned it all back on. However when I went to the autosave, I was horrified to see that the document it saved was only the original first two paragraphs from when I plugged in the heating pad the first time. My work had been lost.

I'm actually surprised that the shriek was not heard in Australia.

Good news? My short term memory is not as bad as I thought.

Yesterday

2011-10-16T07:25:00.005-04:00

Yesterday, I worked. It was a busy day, raining like crazy outside. I feel partially responsible for this. As soon as Tim and I decided that it was time to begin moving furniture, the skies open and it has not let up. In fact, in the weather forecast, it shows the only clear day this week being Monday. And I spend that day in class.

In any case, I was working away between customers trying to restock the candy. We are selling a new candy. I carried the box over. It had a map on it. Queensland caught my eye, and then New South Wales. I recognized city names. Darlington Downs is where BB went to university. Alice Springs. We sell Darrell Lea's Soft Liquorice. It made me laugh that these names were familiar to me, that there is a orphan poddy that I have named from there, that someday, Tim and I will be driving these roads, reminding each other to drive on the other side of the road. I did not have time to make out the rest of the names on the map, but I broke those boxes down carefully, and put them with the boxes that have been set aside for me to take home for moving.

I had my review yesterday, and it was a nice one. The manager told me once again, that if I ever decide that the life of OT is not for me, he'd take me on full time in a heartbeat. It's nice to hear that you're well thought of. I'm a self starter, takes initiative, attention to detail, volunteers for special projects, quick to see what needs doing, always busy, excellent customer service. I got my raise. I signed the papers and stood to leave the office. "If they ever drop kick me out of the program, I'll be in to talk to you," I laughed. And Mark said, "Let me make a few calls."

After work, yesterday, I headed home. I had exactly one hour to spend with Cara, before she was headed back to school. She'd unexpectedly come home Friday night. She needed to drink wine and have a deep philosophical conversation with her lucky mother. I stayed up later than I should have, because I had volunteered to go into work an hour early. I tried to set her self doubting to rest, but felt as if there wasn't enough time to do it properly.

Then Tim and I went down to the house, to begin work on the upstairs bathroom. The surround needs to be replaced. I was downstairs, and I heard a knock on the door. I looked, and saw no one. I walked to the other door, but saw no one there either. The kitchen door opened and Justin came in laughing at my confusion. He'd knocked and then stepped off to the side, so that I could not see him. I get a kick out of that boy, that he's comfortable enough to tease. And to be teased back~ as Tim and he were ripping out the bathtub surround, a piece of molding broke. Tim knew it would, and had no intentions of salvaging it, but when Justin ripped it down, and it broke, Tim said, in a mock stern voice, "What are you doing?!!!" Justin looked horrified for a moment before Tim and I burst out laughing. And later, Justin and I played a prank on Tim. I miss having teenagers around, and I didn't realize how much until I had one around once again.

Underneath the bathtub surround, there was glue that held it to the wall, and that glue was done in a wild zigzag pattern, but in the middle of it, it said, 'Melissa (heart) Joe'. These people did the original rehab of our beautiful home. They owned it and loved it and took great pride in it for several years. A divorce led to the sale of the home to the people who did not care, and the people who did not care about the house were the reason that Tim and I were able to get the home so cheaply. It made me sad to see those words there. 'Melissa (heart) Joe'. They did, for a time, and that love made things beautiful, and now it is no more. Things change.

Tim and I went to Lowe's once again, made a decision on a new surround, picked the knobs and the drawer pulls for the kitchen. We looked at bathtub reglazing kits. We ambled through the store, secure in the knowledge that our love makes things beautiful...and that this is a thing that won't change.

Ay yi yi.

2011-10-15T06:06:00.003-04:00

So, you know how sometimes on facebook, somebody will make a smart comment, and then you'll come up with another smart comment, and it sounds really funny rolling around your brain, and so you rapid fire off a response and hit 'reply' and the thing is up there for the whole world to see, and then (and only then) do you realize that the words could be taken a whole 'nuther way. Furthermore, if the words are taken that way, you have just posted what amounts to pornography on facebook? You know how that happens sometimes?

*waits hopefully*

Nobody? This has never happened to anybody at all?

Darn it. Hey? Doris? Wanna send me a little instruction about how to delete comments on facebook? Oh...and thanks for deleting it.

Thinking Twice

2011-10-14T07:11:00.003-04:00

My friend Mary feeds the birds. Black oil sunflower seed is pretty darn expensive these days, over $30 for a 50 lb bag at my store. Our latest sale began Wednesday, and those 50 lb bags were on sale for $24 dollars. Unfortunately, Mary is busier than a one armed paper hanger up on her mountain, and wasn't going to be in town, so I stopped in to pick up a hundred pounds of bird seed and a dozen suet cakes for her.

Ryan, the expectant father at our store, greeted me cheerfully, and said, "You're a little early aren't you?" I said, "I'm off today. Work tomorrow." He looked doubtful. Which made me doubtful. "Maybe I better go double check that schedule," I muttered.

Gosh. I am sure glad that I stopped in to pick up Mary's birdseed. I had a good night at work.

We have begun to move stuff into the house. I'm being kind of ruthless about what we keep and what we get rid of. My sister Anna said, "Oooh. These dishes are pretty." I said, "Want 'em? Somebody gave them to me for Buddy and Brianna, but they don't need them. I was going to take them to Goodwill." She admired the pretty china pattern, dainty little pastel flowers, turning them this way and that. "No," she said reluctantly, and set them aside. Half a minute later, she said, "But these really do match your house...."

I looked at them again. They are beautiful. Suddenly I could seem them in the cupboard. I could see the family eating holiday meals off them.

*sigh*

They fit pretty nicely up on the top shelf of the dish cupboard. I still have plenty of room for the everyday stuff.

You know, yesterday, in the paper they critiqued a movie, a full quarter page review of a movie called 'The Human Centipede'. I glanced at it, briefly. We don't see a lot of movies here, not until later, when they come out of DVD, but this movie was such a disgusting and gross concept that I was, plainly and simply, shocked. Why was this movie made? It was described as 'artistic'. I tried to imagine how a story like that could be portrayed artistically. I went on line. Big mistake. The movie is not art. It benefits no one. Some of the comments left were the work of sick minds. There were video links to other disturbing stuff.

We live in an ugly and twisted world. I knew that. But seeing the proof of it has disturbed me more than I can say.

Voice from the Other Room

2011-10-13T13:57:00.003-04:00

So, today, we got four (count 'em) FOUR credit card offers in the mail, including one for a card that we already have. They were offering me a unique opportunity to get one in my name. Throwing the stuff away, I said to Tim, "So why would ******** think that we needed two cards?"

Voice from other room: "So we can get more stuff."

After some thought, I said, "You mean right now. Without waiting. We could have everything we want?"

Voice from other room: "Yep."

Me: "We could buy everything we wanted for the house right now, all the rugs, the livingroom furniture?"

Voice from other room: "I suppose."

Me: "Tim, we DESERVE to have everything we want, right now."

Voice from other room advises me to throw the stuff away.

You know, I was just goofing around, making a joke. I would have thrown the crap away anyhow, but it bothers me to think of all the people who receive these offers and don't throw the stuff away. To all of you people, let ME be the voice from the other room, the one that advises you to throw the stuff away. If you can't pay for the stuff right now, you're not going to be able to pay for it next month either.

2011-10-12T21:38:00.004-04:00

This is the key to our house.

The old brass hardware was taken off the door, and padlocks placed on it when the place was foreclosed up. The locks and knobs were all placed in a pile. Looking around, Tim found a ring full of skeleton keys. He had a hunch, and his hunch was right. He painstakingly took the lock all apart, and reassembled it, and it worked. Only problem? This isn't a key you can get duplicated by walking into Lowes.

Just seems really real that we are moving. My sister came up to help pack, and we went from one room to another, boxing things up, taking pictures off the wall, finding memories tucked away in drawers, sealing these things up in boxes for their trip out of the woods, I was surprised to discover that for all my excitement about the move, I was feeling a little sad, too. I was glad for the company of my sister.

Justin

2011-10-10T20:02:00.004-04:00

Justin is our neighbor at the new house. We like Justin a lot. He is an amiable kid, very good natured, a hard worker. He has been Tim's right hand man for the last few weeks, and this is a good thing. Tim needs him badly.

Tim is really in quite a bit of pain now. His sciatic nerve is giving him trouble and he can barely walk. I suggested that he go to the doctor today, and he did not answer me. That is what he does when he doesn't want to do what I want him to do. He pretends he doesn't hear me. So I whipped out the big guns. I said, "Tim, you just never listen to me." That's a bold face lie, actually, because he's pretty good at listening, except for when I want him to do something that he doesn't want to do. And then he pretends he didn't hear me. So he ignored me for a couple hours, but I could see that the pain was getting pretty bad. So bad that when I suggested, once again, that he stop in to see the doctor, he didn't pretend he didn't hear me. He said, quietly, "Yeah. I can do that."

Long story short, Tim is off work for a couple days, and on some pretty powerful steroids and muscle relaxers and pain killers. He feels better. Or at least he feels numb enough that he thinks he feels better. Hard to tell.

Anyways, while Tim's been pretending that he can't hear me, refusing to go to the doctor, and suffering in (sort of) silence, Justin's been an enormous help to him, and we are grateful. He tickles me with his little stories of the neighborhood. Like Booker C. Now Justin calls him 'Buttercup'. He doesn't know if Booker C./Buttercup has a home, but he does know that Buttercup doesn't like pumpkin seeds. He was sitting on his own front porch eating pumpkin seeds and when Buttercup ambled over, being a generous boy, he offered him one, and the cat said no.

Now, Justin's a veritable font of information. He knows our neighborhood. Saturday night, I heard a horse clopping down the street, and I looked over to see a horsedrawn trolley go by. That was kind of cool, and I figured that the Historical Society was having some sort of event. I mentioned this to Justin, that their Halloween walking tour was quite interesting. Trying to catch his attention, I said, "Did you know for instance, just one street behind us, there used to be a cemetery? They moved it, dug up all the graves and moved it out along Dorcon."

Justin says, "Oh, I know all about that." He pointed to the house that butts up to our property. "Joanne found a casket in her basement wall."

I stared a little. Joanne's house isn't any newer than our house. That little walkway in our back yard, the one that goes to no place? I'd been wondering if it used to go to that old cemetery. Tim pooh-poohed that one. He thought the cemetery was too far away from our house. I thought that it was completely possible that the cemetery had extended the length of the block. This is interesting, and it makes me all the more curious about the large piece of sandstone that lies at the end of the lot. It had been buried under about six inches of dirt.

Justin talked on. "I don't know if it's still there, or whether she had it removed or what..."

Late edit: I don't actually believe that our property was part of the cemetery, but it would be interesting to know where that old sidewalk went to, because we live between 4th and 5th St, one street in front of where the cemetery was, which meant that side walk would have led to the east side of the cemetery.

Words fail me...so I made some up.

2011-10-09T20:00:00.008-04:00

Gratuitous grandbaby shot.

He's dribbaliscious

Remember this ooogly light? The one that I said I was glad was broken, because it saved me the trouble of breaking it myself?

I would have too, and I would not have bothered to make it look like an accident either.

Anyways, this is the light that we got to replace it.

That price tag?

Nah.

We didn't pay it. It was on sale.

And see how beautifully the floors shine? We have two stories of beauteous, sparkalous hardwood floor. I do so love those floors. Tim did a good job. This is the guest room for when you all come to visit us. Fresh new paint. Nice little gas fireplace for ambience. I got a house where you can use the word 'ambience' and not sound like an id-jet.

(Oh. I do sound like an id-jet?)

This is one of the two sconces we got for the far end of the foyer. The picture is not a good one.

These are gran-jus too.
Sigh. The windows just are so reflectful and brightsome.

There are 26 of them. Plus the french doors and the glass fronted book cases and the heavy wooden entrance doors with the huge glass panes. I am so happy with this house, but cleaning windows today, all day, I started having a few misgivings.

Justin here risked life and limb to capture a ferocious predatory cat. This picture does not show the bloody scratches. You'll note that the boy does not have fingers on his left hand. He did. Until he tried to pick up this vicious cat. It was horrible.

Okay. I made that up.

This is the long awaited picture of Booker C.

Happy now, Bill?

****************

This is a short post, and I apologize, but Tim is having a pretty horrible time with sciatica right now, and I need to get back to him.

Today at the Tractor Supply

2011-10-08T19:49:00.004-04:00

'Bunny lady' was back at the store today. She was returning the cage she bought for the bunnies. "Oh no!" I said, but she assured me that the little bunnies were doing just fine. She just wanted to buy the other cage.

We were busier than heck today. We had a woman in there with a thick Italian accent. She was buying Carhartt stuff for her grandsons back in Italy. Apparently a Carhartt jacket runs $350 over there. That's kind of neat to think of, bagging up clothing that was going to wind up half way round the world.

A couple came in with the sweetest baby, just a few weeks old, so wee, with a head of black hair. Just adorable. The woman said, "The last time I was holding something like this, it was that baby goat, remember?" I did. She'd come in the store with the tiniest orphan baby goat tucked inside her jacket, his little head peaking out. It had made me laugh hard. "Both of 'em are darn cute!" I said.

A mother from Eisenhower school came in. This football rivalry crap is getting out of hand. Youngsville High and Eisenhower have been rivals for some time. They beat us at our homecoming game, but if that wasn't bad enough, tires were slashed, and then later, the kids came back to our school and broke windows. I really think that if kids cannot behave any better than that, they should not be allowed to play.

Two fireman came in, pricing snow fence. I gave them the price, and they sighed, "Well, it's back to Lowe's then." Their price was three dollars lower, and every dollar counts for the small volunteer fire departments. "Stop right there," I commanded. "You're not going anyplace. We do price matching." And they stayed put and bought three rolls of fencing and blabbed a while too.

A little boy, came up to chatter away with me, and another customer sighed that we did not have a German Shepherd calendar 'You have all kinds of dog calendars, all kinds of horse calendars, even outhouse calendars...just everything. Why not German Shepherd calendars?' she wanted to know. "We do," I said, and I dug one up. I fed biscuits to dogs, and talked to little folk about how school was going. I saw an old farmer I knew from when I worked at the Conservation District. He was buying his wife a lawn mower. "Aw!" I said, "You are the romantic one!" And he laughed.

I like that, being in a small store where people know my name, and not just because it's written on my apron. I like that I know them as well. I like being able to visit with folks. An elderly woman said, "I always thought this would be a fun store to work in."

It is. It really is. It was nice to be finished with practicals at school, to be able to relax, to have a moment to breathe deeply and enjoy myself, and today, at work, I enjoyed myself a lot.

A Big Weekend.

2011-10-08T06:54:00.002-04:00

Today, after work, I'll go to the new house, and we'll put the heavy front doors on again. They'd become swollen and twisted from the water damage. Tim took them to be planed. We'll replace the french doors which he took down while the hardwood floors were being sanded and refinished. He's done a lot of work on that house, and he has done it alone. I've either been at school or work, it seems like.

This weekend, I have Sunday off work. I've determined not to even look at a school book this weekend.

We're going to begin moving things into our new house.

I really do have to take some pictures.

Maybe I'll even get a shot of that cat.

I'm very excited.

Today at the Tractor Supply

2011-10-06T09:36:00.002-04:00

Yesterday, I went into work to begin setting the Christmas area. (Yeah. I know. It is not even close to Halloween yet.) It was voluntary. Everyone has been working so hard. We've lost a person. We have two people out for surgery. A rotten cold has been going around. The people that are left behind are working their hindends off and need a break. I, on the other hand, have people working around my school schedule and basically being like the little queen of the Tractor Supply, which makes me embarrassed.

So when the manager said, "We're just going to have to pull an all nighter and get that display set up," I looked around the room, and I saw some weary, weary faces. "I can do it after school on Wednesday," and the boss took me up on it. The new girl, Sam, volunteered to help get the 5 pallets of stuff up on shelves too.

I went dragging into work last night at 7 PM. I was tired. I'd fallen asleep on the couch after coming home from the practical and getting Tim off to work, and it had taken everything in my power to get up and moving. Bob looked at me. "Are you okay?" he asked. "Why?" I mumbled. "Your eyes are bloodshot." I assured him that I hadn't been drinking or doing drugs. "I just woke up," I said.

Anyways, a woman comes along. She's a tall, skinny woman, a good looking woman. Kind of scary looking, tattooed, doesn't take any nonsense. She admires me greatly, because she was there at the store the day I told an ignorant, loud, and vulgar customer to get out of my store or I'd call the police. She liked that a lot. I think that she thought when I tore out around my counter after him that I was going to kick his butt. I wasn't. I was just making sure that he did not lay a hand on that boy of his.

Anyhow, I digress. She motions me over, and I burst out laughing. There, nestled in her cleavage, were two of the tiniest bunnies you ever saw in your life. They looked content, half asleep. Their little ears twitched when I spoke, and their eyes opened a moment or two. Turns out she'd stopped to make a purchase with some Amish, and they had these bunnies for sale. She was sure that they were not old enough to be weaned. She felt so sorry for the tiny things she took them on the spot. She stopped by the store, and was buying all manner of things for bunnies. I helped her load up her cart.

Anyhow, she pulls her cart up to the register, and she's standing there at the front of the cart. There's a tiny old lady in front of her standing behind hers. The old lady squinted, and then peered closely at the woman's chest. She exclaimed, "Oh my goodness! Are those real?"

There was a guy passing by whose head just about pivoted off his shoulders.

I about fell on the floor laughing.

...and the good news is:

2011-10-05T06:46:00.003-04:00

...I'm way too tired to be nervous about part two of the practical. (Thanks, Cara.)

Hey, did ya know, I named a calf in Australia! The interwebs are a beautiful thing!

And Mikey's got javelinas.

This blog is getting deadly dull. Thank goodness there are people with exciting lives to keep me entertained.

Coffee is done. I need to heist up and get myself going.

LATE EDIT: Practical done. I was nervous. But I think that I did okay. One of the teachers said, after my partner and I had completed our portion, that it was good to see that some students had studied. Good sign, right? I hope so because driving down the road, I realized that I had answered one of the questions wrong. Knee flexion? Prime movers? I said gluteus maximus as opposed to the sartorius. How could I make a mistake like that? The longest muscle in the body?

Cara Yelled at Me.

2011-10-04T23:40:00.005-04:00

I've been working on these muscle cards for some time now. Two weeks, maybe three, a little bit every day. I carefully went on line and compared pictures of teres major or rhomboideus minor or flexor carpi digitorum etc until I found the picture that displayed the muscle best. This was a tool for us to use, index cards with the joint movement, the muscles responsible, goniometer tips and manual muscle testing, against gravity, and gravity minimized. So I've been collecting the information over the weeks.

Imagine my horror to discover that we needed a 'works cited' page. It did not say that in our written instructions, but she had told us, and somehow I missed that. I did not think of it in term of a paper were were handing in, but a tool for our own use. One that was going to be graded. There was no way to figure out where all of those pictures had come from. Not at this point. I was pretty upset at myself.

Yesterday, I worked on those cards and I knew that I would get a poor grade on them, despite my hard work. It was my own fault, but I'd been studying too hard to go back and do them all over again. Cara IM'ed, and I told her about my project. About the poor grade I was expecting to receive. 'I didn't care,' I said. I'd been studying for this practical, and I had to be at work at 5 in the morning. 'Too late to change it now,' I said.

Cara proceeded to read me the riot act.

Long story short. I got up at 5 AM. I worked until 1. I came home and the two weeks of work? I did it ALL over again in one very long night. I redid all my pictures from one website online, and just for good measure, double checked my measurement information. It's midnight. Tomorrow I'll get up early, run to Walmart to get laminating sheets, and then I laminate it all before I turn it in tomorrow, while I'm waiting to take the second part of my practical.

I'm tired, but I am not too tired to point this one out: Cara? I have never read you the riot act about your school work. Just saying.

Monday

2011-10-03T16:57:00.004-04:00

I got to school early today, and I studied in my car for a time. It actually scared me, because that study session almost seemed to be muddling everything up in my mind. I took a deep breath and I closed the book. Shut it. Put it aside.

I began to look things over at lunch time, but again, it felt as if the last minute studying was making me more nervous. Again, I stopped. I closed the book. I treated myself to a salad for lunch. I worried about things as I ate, wondering if I was making a big mistake not trying to cram for the last few minutes.

I was just about sick sitting there waiting for the tests to be handed out. I shut my eyes, took a deep breath, opened them back up, picked up my pen and resolutely began the test. Question by question. It did not seem hard to me. I think that I did better than okay. I'm afraid to say that I did well, because some of the questions were wide open, create your own answer type things. I think that I got everything, but you can never tell for sure, at least not until you are holding the returned papers in your own hands with the teacher's grade marked at the top of it.

On the way into school today, I mused about Friday's confrontation. In the end, I decided that, number one, that professor's response does not reflect the attitude of any other professor I have ever met, and it certainly does not reflect the attitudes of my college as a whole. Number two, I know that she does deal with some insecurities based on some anecdotes that she has related during class. Number three, I am not insubordinate. I take school seriously, I take my assignments seriously, and I do the work required. In the end, I decided that her response revealed more about her than it did me.

Tonight, I am drinking coffee and finishing up one last assignment. Tomorrow, I will be at work at 5 AM, and I will spend the afternoon studying for part two of my practical. Wednesday night, it will be done.

I have decided to spend this weekend with Tim. I'm not opening my books at all. I feel like I've had my nose in one book or another for just forever, and I think that my husband needs a wife. I know this wife needs a husband.

gak II

2011-10-03T06:08:00.003-04:00

It always amazes me how a good night's sleep can change things all around.

F'rinstance, it is still cold and rainy this morning. It looks as if there is wet snow mixed in. The house is cold. We do not fire up the woodstove this early in the season. It's that uncomfortable season when it is not quite cold enough for a day long fire, but not quite warm enough to go without heat at all. We go through this period every spring and every fall. I'm drinking my second cup of hot coffee and contemplating getting up to begin this day. I'll wear a warm sweater today, and everything will be fine.

The appraiser will be coming this morning. The house is fairly squared away, but I haven't had time to do more than a lick and a promise, because I've been studying my hind end off. (Although sadly, it is still there.) I'm glad that I do not have to deal with her. She is a loud woman. I actually had to hold the phone away from my ear when she called. She is pushy and will have her way. I'll be somewhere else and that is good. Tim can handle her.

Our apartments never stay empty long.

The practical, part 1, is today. By the end of today, the practical, part 1 will be over, and I am grateful for that. I will walk in there and I will take the test. I know what I know, and I am sort of confident that I know enough. Kind of. Pretty much.

In other words, just ignore yesterday's comment. It was written after an entire day of pacing about the house flexing various joints and calling out muscles and muscle range and goniometer placements. By the end of it, I was weary and cranky and not fit to post on a blog.

But about that kimche, Cara...

gak

2011-10-02T19:38:00.004-04:00

Sing it with me peoples!...'Mama told me there'd be days like this. "There'll be days like this," my mama said...'

Today, it snowed. On the second day of October.

And Cara, I have a question? Just what the flip am I supposed to do with the half gallon of spicey kimche taking up most of the top shelf of the refrigerator?

I spent the day studying. I'm burned out. Tomorrow is the first day of our practicals.

Discovered this weekend that we are losing not one, but two tenants. *eek!*

The appraiser is coming tomorrow morning. Tim will have to handle that one. The house is semiorganized, sort of tidy, sort of vacuumed, and sort of ready.

I will admit. I am just the slightest bit edgy. Okay. I admit it. One misstep, and I topple right over the edge.

Today at the Tractor Supply

2011-10-01T20:44:00.003-04:00

Today an older couple came in. I said, "Would you like to donate a dollar to the 4H today?" and the woman quickly replied, "Do you want to donate a dollar for hospice?" I told her that she ought to come in and talk to our manager. We do stuff like that sometimes.

Anyhow, I was ringing stuff up, and I commented that the husband looked kind of ornery. The wife burst out laughing. She said, "He hates to shop." I leaned forward and said, in a confidential kind of way, "Yeah. It shows." She laughed again. The man rolled his eyes and made impatient noises. The woman said affectionately that she wouldn't trade him. I said, "I wouldn't trade mine either. I'm pretty lucky. You know, I really do believe that the best thing you can bring to a marriage is a sense of humor." She agreed quickly. I said, "As hard as you two are laughing, well, I think you're going to make it." The man said, "We've been married 40 years. I always say that I wouldn't trade her for a million dollars. I also say I wouldn't take another one like her if they were giving 'em away." The woman laughed again.

Well, they left and I thought how folks like that brighten up a day. Next thing I know the woman was back. Her husband had forgotten to bring the 10% coupon in with them. "Oh, that man!" I said. "I see he didn't even come back in with you." "No," she said, laughing once more. "He's hiding out in the car."

While I was adjusting her bill, my nephew came in and called out to me, some sarcastic thing. I snotted back to him. I said to Virginia, "That's my nephew there." She called out "Where's de-niece?" and he looked confused, but stopped. That was his first mistake. It popped into my head to have a little fun.

"Jim," I said, "Do you remember cousin Virginia?"

He looked closely. "No," he said.

"You don't?" I said. "Really? Well, she's a relative...Virginia? This is Anna's oldest. You probably haven't seen him in years."

She exclaimed, "Oh, my gosh! Really. This is Jim? How is your mother?"

Jim stood there looking gobsmacked for a minute, but then Virginia blew it. "She still sing in the church choir?" she asked. The gig was up. She doesn't sing any better than I do, and is definately not now, nor has she ever been in the church choir. And the three of us burst out laughing.

It felt good to be goofy. Even 'cousin' Virginia said so walking out the door. She really enjoyed shopping at such a cheerful store.

October

2011-10-01T07:54:00.004-04:00

This is the first day of October, and it is downright chilly here. (The dreaded 's' word is being used in the weather forecast, unbelievably.) We heat with wood, and so we do not fire up the woodstove until it is good and cold. Chilly is not good and cold. Chilly is something that you are for a time until the sun comes out. Chilly means that you fire up the little propane heater we have on the wall of the living room. Chilly means you wrap yourself up in an afghan, sipping hot coffee while you type on the computer. Chilly means that you wish you had a cat, because a cat would be curled up on your lap under the afghan, generating heat which would warm you. The cat would also be purring, which would soothe your soul.

My legs are bad today. Very bad. I can scarcely walk. Cold does seem to make things worse, so I am hopeful that things settle down before I have to go to work.

Today's a new day, one step farther away from the chaos of yesterday. Apparently being sensitive to the differences applies only to OTs and their patients. It does not apply to OT professors towards their students. My note was designed to not call attention to myself or my position in a classroom setting. She read it on the way up front, and she was angry. I knew that much. So did the rest of the class. The session in the office was not good. I am insubordinate, she does not like my demeanor, all the professors have noticed it, and she doubts my fitness to do fieldwork, anticipating that my superiors will have problems with me and my attitude. I was proud of my behavior in the office, anyway. I did not cry, although I very much wanted to. She could not provide any examples of my insubordinate behavior except one: A professor was having problems with the class, and I put a note on the test we were taking saying that her rules were different than Heather and Sarah's rules, and that she needed to let people know what she expected from them. "Who do you think you are? What gave you the right to speak to this teacher directly?" The hierarchy is that I need to bring all situations to the attention of the department heads who will address that teacher. I listened. It was not my goal to embarrass the teacher professionally. I did not think it was important enough to bring her superiors in to counsel her. I tried to explain this, but it was explained to me that I am a student and have no right to counsel my teachers. That is not my place. That is not my position.

After leaving, I had a good cry. But I know how it is now. There will be absolutely no more differences of opinions with my teachers. I will keep my mouth shut, and I will do the work. I will graduate.

But they will not mail the letter. That is my choice.

Life's Funny Like That

Weirdo

What I'm Doing Now.

My turn

True Love.

Cara's Birthday

Laughing with the Oldies

In the Dark

Riding the Storm Out.

Wielding Power

Decision

Catching up

The Coyote

Gonna be mad for a long, long time...

Purposeful Intervention

Surprised.

Miracles

Christmas at the Low-Tech Grandma's House

Christmas 2011

Quick Post

Sticker Shock.

Today's 'Moment'

No Joke

Thinking in the Dark

The Playroom

Funny the way it is.

The Party Continues...

Wild Party

*clink*

It's here...

Still standing. Barely.

Short.

Husbands

Ooooh. Shiny...

Just checking in.

Discoveries

Good Morning.

Today

The Votes are In.

Cara

Tractor Supply

This Weekend

Thanksgiving at our House.

The kids are home.

Questions Answered.

Do We REALLY need television?

Just keeping it real.

Grateful

Tim's Eye for Design

Train Trip

The Story of a Boy.

Reporting Live!!!!

Update

The Move.

Where'd he go?

Leaping Ahead

Arrgggggh! (revisited)

Happy

Getting it done...

Finish Line, Ruby Slippers, Whining.

Git 'er done.

Stuff

My Project

William the lion-hearted

Wonder

A post about nuthin'

What the HECK?????

Sunday

The people I meet.

Dog Stories

No Doubt

Pay-offs

At the Tractor Supply

Keys

Fire

Nothing else to say.

Foiled Again

Working

Hearing problems.

Autosave

clink

gak II

gak