One Year Later

KMAT post is below this one-and please visit it-first and foremost life goes on-and KMA is necessary and vital.

John left a year ago today.   He's had a year of not being trapped in the body that betrayed him.  Ok, that's harsh, I doubt his body betrayed him, it just failed him, like bodies eventually do.  But, as you can see, from the word betrayal, I'm still a bit angry at the turn of events.

I'll get over it, I'm sure.  One day I'll even get over wondering where John "went"-most likely when I arrive at the same place.  Or yes, I'll admit to wondering if he went anywhere at all.

The fact that there might just be an end, as in THE END, no more-has never really bothered me.  I've never worried about "dying" on the table during an operation either.  I'd be asleep, so I probably wouldn't notice. I'm not real crazy about thinking about events that might lead up to the end.  I've never been a big fan of pain, fear, etc.

So much of that we probably bring with us to the party.

The reality of Uncle John's death was he was awake less and less as his body failed, slipped into a place where he couldn't be roused, and died.  He informed me about a month before he left he'd be checking out soon.  His exact words "I'll be reporting for duty in a permanent location soon.  I'm looking forward to settling down."

Allrighty, that memory just made me cry.  But I'm not crying because he's dead, I'm crying because I miss him.  Does that make sense?

The same holds true for Dottie.  I still slip and call Prissy Dottie, and then I tear up.  But, to be honest, the tears are for me, who misses her dog, not for Dottie.  Dottie was clearly ready to go and let me know in no uncertain terms.

There is more to come-I will likely outlive (if I'm lucky) my current animals.  Daddy is headed for a pacemaker, and Mom's memory is slipping more rapidly, the tremors in her hand more visible.  On a cloudy cold day like today, it seems Death is all around.

The trick is not to be dismayed by it.  Death IS all around, and always has been.  Just because we don't choose to acknowledge it doesn't mean it was never there.  Death, Life, Love, Laughter-they exist everywhere and no where, all at once.  The choice to see or not to see is ours.

I've always been one of those people who HAS to look.  I can't seem to not look.  Even today, a year later, with fresh tears, I'm glad I looked.  I'm glad I sat down and thought about how I feel, remembered how I felt then.  At first, I thought, "how self centered," but John is dead, the only thing that remains is my memory of the event.

I think, sometimes, we get so caught up in the whole selfless notion we push ourselves aside and miss out on a lot of our own lives.

What a rambling post this has been-started out with John, ended with me.  But that's kind of how it is-John is gone, I'm here, I miss him, I still have places to go.  And where ever I go, I take his memory with me.

Farewell, My Uncle

Uncle John passed away this morning.  It was just like John to start a new journey on a Monday morning-he's very orderly and conventional.  I felt him go-I was driving around the parking lot trying to compose myself and find a parking spot and "Poof"-the tension just left and I knew he'd just died.  I even giggled out loud-"You died while I was trying to find a parking spot."  My being late was a running joke with us.

I've never actually seen a dead person that wasn't in a coffin or a picture.  John pretty much looked like he was asleep, minus the shaking that was the calling card of Parkinson's disease.  His hand was still warm and his body relaxed further while I sat there with him.

I remembered reading that the body should not be disturbed so as to give the soul time to leave, so I sat there until I felt like he had really and truly left the building.  While I sat there, I talked to him about what I was feeling-and was surprised to realize that the grief I felt was for me not having my Uncle-I was truly glad he was freed from his body that had failed so. 

 Is that always the way of things?  Is grief an emotion for the living and not the dead?  If so, that doesn't make grief seem very noble at all, does it?

I admitted freely I'd rather sit with John's body than go tell any family members, and there was no hurry.  Grief can wait a few minutes more.  I told Mom and held her and comforted her, and went to Daddy and told him it was OK to cry.  My parents are neither one very comfortable with crying, so I led the way with some more tears and hugs, until it felt like it was enough for them.

I thought about how people put quantity values on tears-"she hardly shed a tear" but I know those few tears cost my parents dearly, and was a fitting tribute to a man they loved.

A few nights ago I dreamt John was at a party with me and was fat and happy. I gave him a hug in the dream and I knew at the time it was him telling me how he wanted to be remembered.  Mom agreed with me when I told her.

A few months ago I moved everything out of the trust and back into John's estate-when he's gone, I'm done and back to my own devices.  I will stay in Oklahoma and take care of my family still, but I am also ready to have my own life too.  No one ever intended for things to get the way they did, but they did, and since they did, that must be how they should have been.  But I'm ready for a new direction too.  John's off on a new adventure and so shall I be-and probably neither of us knows which way we are headed.

John was a good man, a kind man, without a mean bone in his body.  I know Dottie was waiting for him, I could feel her in the room with us, and there is always that part of me that wants to go be with them.  But now is not the time.

John, I miss your smile and your quiet humor....I miss you.

Deja Vu-oooooh

Beam Me Up Scotty: Shit  was the title of last year's Thanksgiving entry.  I really didn't need to look it up to remember what was going on last year.  Poor dear Uncle John didn't even know what the event was (dinner at his assisted living center) and shortly thereafter he was moved to the hospital and then the nursing home.  This Thanksgiving he's trying to die and will soon succeed.  I got a call Tuesday night that he had a fever and I had to decide whether or not to give antibiotics or not-antibiotics is not "extra ordinary" and I ordered them given.

His fever is down and he's resting, but it is not likely he'll wake up with any meaningful interaction and one day he won't wake up.  And selfishly (although he's in no pain) I prayed "Please don't die till after Thanksgiving"....because I have a huge amount of food and two old people who have placed bets on whether or not I'll really pull this lunch (that I didn't want to do) off.  Because I'm trying to redeem myself for being "antisocial" last Thanksgiving.  I'm just barely dealing with all the holiday pressure and arranging a funeral on top of that is just way too much.....so rest my dear, but please don't go.

How awful and how trivial of me to even think that way about someone I do dearly love.  And if he were in pain, I wouldn't even have the thought.  But I am one, finite being, since I haven't mastered the infinite all that well, and I can't be a hostess and an aunt and a executrix.  I AM human, and I do have needs too.  How bizarre is that to be planning the seating arrangements and get a casual call that amounts to "let him live or let him die?".

The antibiotics issue was one we left open at hospice, but faced with it, I had no doubt that I am not capable of issuing a death order (with hold them).  Which is strange, because I support euthanasia, but I cannot support inaction, though the result is the similar.

 

Today my brother and I will go visit and we will ponder questions of our own mortality-then go pick up tomorrow's Turkey and Ham and Pie.

Somewhere Uncle John knows I'm really not being selfish, just spread too thin and I really think he'll wait for me.  But if he doesn't, I'll understand too.

Two Thanksgivings ago it was just he and I in Dallas-we ate a lot and watched Emperor of the North and the football game....that's the one I will remember when all the fuss is over.

Sunday

I took Mom to see Uncle John today. He didn't want to go to church (thank God) and we sat in the main room. John isn't really able to visit, and Mom is uncomfortable with silence. Mom spent the last 50 years in Oklahoma City as a housewife, John was an engineer in Silicone Valley. Sometimes one obviously thinks the other is making no sense, when actually, if you know what they are talking about, they really are.

I've pretty much given up trying to translate and their new mode of conversation is to talk to me. At this point, I think Mom is just glad I'm there (forgetting that JOHN is there at my doing) and we've all surrendered to the process.

John wanted to go back to his room and we all sat on the bed and visited until he was ready for a nap. Mom and I helped him lie down and we left.

It was truly a bitter sweet thing-because although it is terribly sad, we've never been closer.

Scared

I want to write that I'm scared. Yesterday I signed Uncle J into hospice care, literally at least 10 forms giving him permission to die if he wants to and revoking this permission if he changes his mind.

I do understand fully why we have to go through this-we must protect our elders wishes to stay or to go. But this body and mind are more wired toward granting life, not granting death. My heart knows I did the appropriate thing, but my mind is going "this just really doesn't make sense does it?"

I started a series of writings and poems called "down the rabbit hole" because I knew that John's dementia was going to lead to some strange things. What I didn't realize was that it would lead me to the dementia we have created within our own society-where I have to grant an elder the right to exit with dignity.

I don't want to tell you these things because they are so bizarre and I'd rather frolic with the dogs. But, maybe if I tell them, someone else won't be quite so shocked.

I used to not understand why people wouldn't sign a DNR (do not resuscitate) order. Yet I kept putting it off. Now I know why. It's not an abstract order or idea. It's pretty specific. Without one, if the staff comes upon an elder who has died in their sleep, they are required by law to intubate, administer CPR and IV's until a doctor comes in and pronounces them dead.

I immediately thought of my Grandmothers, who died within 24 hours of each other, in their sleep. And yes, it was in their sleep and what happened after I didn't know about (till now) and it really didn't make any difference to them, but I was crushed to contemplate it.

In Oklahoma a DNR doesn't preclude oxygen or pain pills, deemed "comfort support", it just means when the heart stops, there will be no tubes or pounding. We have to legalize common sense, and worse, there has to be a responsible party-someone must sign on 12 dotted lines saying no tubes, no I won't sue if you don't use tubes and if some strange relative comes out of the woodwork, send them to me.

I've signed lots of papers in my life, made decisions for me and all kinds of people, some good, some not so good, but this one seems to be the hardest. I've explained it to the family, calmly and quietly, but I wanted to scream at them "I DID THAT...ME....DO YOU UNDERSTAND? I SIGNED THE PAPER" and in the same thought I feel just awful for making this about me.

No man is an island. Who said that? But it's true. John is not, and neither am I. We are both affected by what is happening.

But that was Thursday and today is Friday. Today I will visit Uncle John, take him some Butter Pecan Boost cause it's his favorite. If he has questions, I will answer them as best I can. Because I am not like the Pilot person-I don't sign things and wash my hands of them. I sign things, then I go hold his hand and wait with him.

This really is the part of the journey that no one speaks of, but if no one does, how will anyone else know what to expect?

I know what I'm going to do with regards to funeral arrangements, but hospice has suggested that I get prelims set up with vendors. And I do see the wisdom in that because I can easily see how people end up with ticker tape parade funerals. But vendors will have to wait till Monday-I'm going for some Butter Pecan Boost and a visit-and right now that is the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

Two Things I had to do today

Find Mom's keys-done. Go visit Uncle John-still undone. I'm going in a few minutes. I've got to get a grip on the Uncle John visits-I procrastinate and mope around all day, and I don't know why. I really don't MIND going to see him. Often, it cheers me up.

It is actually probably just a convenient excuse to mope and procrastinate, and I need to give that one up. It isn't honoring my Uncle to use him as a procrastination excuse. But I have enjoyed a relatively quiet day after several days of hustle and fuss. So, thank you Uncle John!

The sky is falling----or the roof

Enroute to Dallas yesterday I came down with the flu, making the return trip longer and more painful than it needed to be. This is a nasty bug, involves puking and running noses at the same time. I made the round trip and fell into bed.

The roofers showed up at around 8:30. I still have the flu, making the roofing expereince a lot longer and more painful than it needs to be. It's now 12:10 and I'm losing my delight at the percussive noise-like drums on my rooftop.

Mom went to have lunch with Uncle John and take him the Valentine cookies. I do feel guilty for not going, but bringing in a bug to an institution full of residents is probably bad form.

I don't have any gatorade and I don't feel like leaving the house, and I certainly don't feel like asking for help. SO-I combined honey (sugar) and vanilla soy milk (some protein) and I'll be darned if it didn't settle my stomach and make me feel a little better. Now, I'm not claiming this is a miracle cure, anything on a completely empty stomach would probably make you feel a little better, but it did work by staying down and and by supplying energy.

Yikes, the roofers have taken a lunch break-time for a power nap!!!

Fat Tuesday!

I didn't actually realize that that is what today was, but when Oliver and I showed up at the nursing home this afternoon, it became apparent to me that it was, indeed, Fat Tuesday.

Oliver was the life of the party, proving to me that he is a born dog therapist. It was also interesting to watch people interact with him-in New Earth, the author talks about how puppies, babies, etc. are unblemished and in touch with their true natures. I've taken the older dogs, but never a puppy.

Now, I'm not saying puppies are superior to old dogs for therapy. Dottie is quite serene and she passes that on to her people she visits. But for Mardi Gras parties, scruffy pups are the bomb.

Waiting on the Phone to Ring....

I hate waiting on the phone to ring. Working from home seems to make it worse-can't leave, can't focus....wwwaaaaaaaaaaaah. Based on the calls I will need to spring into action, make decisions, etc. in a fairly quick manner. Until I get the calls, I can do little to research, etc. because, well, I need to know exactly where we, or rather, Uncle John, is at.

Now, I pretty much KNOW where he is at, but I need the medical profession to tell me. That's what they are getting paid to do-so why don't they do it?

This is the limbo that I've remained in limbo for the past few months. And I am glad that I'm not a a new job somewhere trying to focus when all this is going on. It wouldn't be pretty. Well, none of this is pretty.

The thing about waiting is that each hour chips away at my existing veneer of bullshit and calm. By the end of the day, I'm borderline distraught.

Around noon today it hit me this is likely how it's going to be for awhile and I just need to make peace with that. Parkinson's and dementia has its own timeline and now some of th worse things that can happen are happening.

I'm over the "I can beat this if I just think harder/try harder" mindset. How arrogant, as if I could achieve what medical science, Michael J. Fox and Mohammed Ali could not. But you know what-we DID beat it for awhile and got Uncle John a couple more years that he wouldn't have had.

I actually said today "it's like he's rushing headlong into madness...." like it was his fault. And it's not, not his, not mine, not anyone's. It just is.

From a caregiver's standpoint, it's a lot easier to do the job when progress is being made. When the tide turns, and it's a losing battle, it's a lot harder and a lot less gratifying. But this isn't about self gratification. It's about making a loved one's time here as easy as possible.

We westerners are sooooo anti-death. It really offends us. And decline is in many ways worse. Death is final....decline is ongoing.

Two houses down from my parents (both older than Uncle John) I have to be very careful to share in ways that don't agitate their own fear of decline. Never in my life have I had to consider the impact of my own words and actions like I do at the moment.

But maybe that's how it should have been all along. So much to learn...

The Fall Tour

I spent 12 hours solid (starting at 6 am) in the car with both my parents and a small dog and no one died or even got their feelings hurt. Of course, all of us, including the dog, were on good behavior, as we always are on trips.

We drove over to Arkansas and I realized that Daddy was probably getting to see the mountainside for the first time-he was always the driver. He kept saying "wow, oh wow". Mom got to pick the lunch spot and shortly thereafter she and Prissy were snoring in the backseat. PRISSY got to prance around two states in a new coat, AND a Doggy Boutique in Poteau Oklahoma, where I purchased a pink doggy t-shirt that read "I do Bad Things".

Prissy was wearing her shirt when we stopped at a truck stop for me to pee. Daddy offered to take Priss for a walk while Mom and I tended to our business. I cracked up when I looked outside to see my little old father walking a very prancing Prissy in her pink T-shirt. (Priss weighs about 3 pounds). I congratulated Daddy, saying a man had to be very secure in his sexual identity to do such a thing at a truck stop.

It was a long day and I didn't overly complicate things by thinking too hard, I just drove and watched the road and stared at the leaves and said "uh huh" when necessary. I love road trips.

Tomorrow I have to take Uncle John to the neurologist and things aren't looking all that bright, but tonight I'm just going to black it all out and sleep well. Tomorrow can take care of itself tomorrow.

Still Working on Brave Thing Number Three

I have a lot to own it seems like. One of the things I'm sorting through is what I want to keep of my "old life" in Dallas vs. my "new life" in OKC. Seems the move to OKC didn't increase my hours in a day allotment to anything over 24. And this new idea of health eats up hours-for things like regular sleep, meals, exercise. AAAGH.

I added some social needs on to that-I've been getting out a bit lately with new friends. Yeah me. Added exercise, morning coffee with Mom and Dad on a daily basis and yes-a new habit-reading the paper. Seems the internet is not big in OKC and if I want to get a feel for the city I need to connect in some way.

With the weather changing I'm going to have to get Uncle John suited up for winter. He doesn't do well in the cold and he doesn't like heavy coats, so that is going to be a looooooong shopping trip. This afternoon we are off to the neurologist, but afterward we'll have a nice dinner. I like to end such tasks on a high note.

I'm putting on my gameface for the doctor visit, because they usually require my best, most unblinking don't look away self. My job is to face what John can't, and make the best decision possible for him. His Parkinson's is kicking up big team lately. I'm always torn between just letting him go (mentally) and not being willing to let him go. I still believe he has good days left, and every one of those good days is a day worth fighting for.

For those of us who still have good days, being in touch with someone whose days are limited can be a powerful way of appreciating what you do have.

Scenes from My Life

Me at Mom and Dads. I've taken the two Spotties and Ms. Bitty down for a visit. I'm feeling pretty virtuous, I've taken Uncle John to the doctor out to lunch, I met with the lumberjack and I am spending time with my folks before going to pick the cat up at the vet.

Me: John had a nice Dr. visit and then we went out to eat.

Mom: Where'd you go?

Me: We went to eat Mexican food, John really chowed down.

Mom: He always chows down.

Me: I didn't know he liked Mexican food though-I'm excited because you and Daddy won't eat it with me.

Mom: That's not true. I would, you never ask.

Me (thinking I had it covered): Great! Next time we go you are invited, we'll have a blast.

Mom: Ok, where do you go?

Me (completely, blindly walking in to it): On the Border

Mom: No, I don't go to high dollar chains like that. There is a local business around the corner Jean Stewart goes to.

Me: OK.

Now, the Ok is a good idea and I think I'm going to use it as often as possible from now on. Because there is clearly no way out-I can't make Mom go eat at a high dollar chain for God's sake, and I don't really feel that I'll save a lot of money or time by driving across town, picking up John bringing and him back here for a sumptious meal at a locally owned business and then driving him BACK across town. Yet, if I try to play the gas card I'll open myself up for criticism of some sort, I'm not sure what.

In fact, for the remainder of the week, when I'm blindsided like that I am going to "Just say OK".

Task Mode

Today's tasks-take Uncle John to Dr. get him fed and shopped and back in time to meet the lumberjack who is going to chop down my big tree. Somehow I have to go pick up the cat before 6, but I can run do that while the tree is being chopped.

I keep talking about setting boundaries and schedules, but as I mentioned earlier this week, I'm not sure what it is I want. If you don't know what it is you want to achieve, how do you know if you are making progress?

I'm in the ever predictable cycle of angst, messy house and I'll just spiral down, clean the house and then it will be better. Part of the dance involves over scheduling so there is no time to clean the house.

Ahhhhh, the maid is coming on Friday to restore some order and sanity to my world. Time to doctor the dogs, saddle up and head out.

Ok, I m pretending not to know that the constant (so it seems) criticism, or rather the increased criticism is bringing me down. Hell I went shopping at night and snuck some clothes in so that no one could ask me where I got them or how much I paid. There is no good answer to that-today's shirt was on sale for 6.99 but Mom could have gotten it at the goodwill for 50 cents.

I've got to find a balance between shutting down completely and being open and just tryign to shrug it off. Maybe if I actually learned to shrug it off it would work, but how the hell does one learn to shrug things off?

Pretty good day

Today was a nice day-Bill came down and saw the new horny toads and rode with me to take the dogs to the kennel. No one in the family has ever witnessed what it takes to leash up and transport 4 dogs and they were all reasonably well behaved. We had a nice talk about this and that.

Mom fixed leftovers for lunch because we had to eat up all the leftovers she didn't want to freeze before we went on our trip. In contrast, I will just clean out the fridge when I get back-actually, more likely when I get back from TJ.

I took Uncle John to have his eyes examined, and got mine done as well. Then we bought glasses, two pairs a piece. While we waited (he wanted to go to a national chain, preferably Pearle) we went to the Food Court and road the famous glass elevator-firt one in Oklahoma City I think. We ate a gyro.

He was nervous, even saying he might have a panic attack in the food court, but I wanted to push him a bit. Afterward we went and I had him climb in the photo booth and we figured out how to work it and had a photo sketch made. It was hard for him at first, but then he got into it and was very proud.

We picked up our glasses and he suggested ice cream. I was glad because I was afraid I'd pushed him too hard-and if he wanted to stay out longer that is a good sign. However, enough newness was enough, we both got Rocky Road.

After taking Uncle back to his place, I stopped and bought some mealworms and crickets for the horny toads since the ants didn't arrive. Then it was off to the store for our trip tomorrow-I am in charge of my own breakfast and dinners. I think I did good, got soups for a light day, salmon for one day and chicken breast for another-gotta love those new aluminum packs.

I think Mom is expecting TV dinners-she's been a bit crabby about not knowing what I was going to do, but I promised her she wouldn't starve. She finally surrendered to the process-if she isn't going to cook (and she shouldn't have to) she doesn't get to dictate what we are having. I was deliberately vague about what I was doing because dang it, I AM IN CHARGE OF DINNER!!!!!! Well, that and I thought it would freak her out if she knew it was the eve of the trip and I had no idea what I was going to go buy.

I gassed up the truck and reflectd on my somewhat domestic day. I even remembered to take the trash out to the curb-just like a regular domestic diva. As I served my biggest python her second rat on a platter, I decided I was the June Cleaver of 49th street today. Well, maybe not.

The sink is still full of recycling and dirty dishes and we will be driving out tomorrow in a dirty truck (or SUV as Daddy calls it). But all the really important stuff got handled. Well, maybe not. But, maybe enough.

Crazy Sexy Cancer

Just watched it on TLC-I recorded it last week because I didn't feel like I could manage to watch anyone's illness or pain. It was actually very good-and upbeat. It talked about living through whatever life dealt you-we all have challenges that cause us to grow and become (hopefully) better people.

Today was a nice day. I went to lunch and shopped with Uncle John. We stopped in for a scoop of ice cream on the way back. Uncle John is easy to be with and always has been. He's like my brother-some people are just born agreeable.

I had a weird pain in my port incision off and on all afternoon. I swear it felt like a gas bubble (from the surgery) was bumping it. I'm sure it's still healing. My foot has been assaulted with various shooting pains lately-but I think that's the nerves healing.

I feel like today and yesterday was my pleasant respite from the previous week's angst and bad moods. Maybe it was the Lunar Eclipse-the whole Dark Side of the Moon.....and if the dam breaks open many years too soon, and if there is no room upon the hill,and if your head explodes with dark forbodings too-I'll see you on the dark side of the moon.....No finer words were ever written.

Unspoken

John is having trouble and I'm not sure what it is. He is having trouble with the TV, but I think he really just wants me out there for some reason-so I'm going to go. Maybe he doesn't know either-sometimes things just work that way.

Tomorrow is my daughter's birthday and the year anniversary of when John got sick. I wonder if he has the same cycle/body memory thing that I do. Or, maybe he senses I need him because I miss my daughter.

The ties that bind families are very mysterious indeed.

Lap Band update: Energy level-hmmmm, moderate. Pain level-almost non existent. Even the morning roll out of bed wasn't bad at all. Each day is the remaining pain has a noticeable decrease. I'm pleasantly surprised at the little pain from the non-port incisions, because stitches on a wiggly jiggly body part can be painful. I've had boobie stitches before a couple of times for lump removals, and those were bothersome.

In High Demand

Ok, HGTV aired the 2007 RV show and the little Scotty was on it. It still looked "new" though-why don't they ever make something just the same way it was before? As expected, demand for the old ones has shot up and I could double what I paid for mine just as it sits-no improvements. But, you can't sell off your mid-life crisis-those other 40 somethings are just going to have to do their own digging.

You only make a profit if you sell, and after losing my butt on a thousand "ideas" I finally turn a profit on the one thing I won't sell. The irony is, well, ironic. I'm ok with the fact that I'll never be a big business mogul, I don't have the wardrobe for it anyway.

One annoying thing-my walker leaves "tracks" in the carpet-it's easy to see where I've been and how straight a path (not very) I'm walking. Oh the horrors of public handicappedness. And yet, it's temporary, so I dare not complain too loudly. I did fetch my own coffee today (nerve wracking) and figured out how to stow the walker in the back seat so I can tote Uncle John to the doctor on Thursday. This will be our first solo adventure since my surgery. I'm a little nervous, he needs help, I need help, we'll just figure it all out.

Good Times

Remember in the show Good Times when James dies and Florida holds it together through two episodes then finally throws the punch bowl down in the floor and cries "damn, damn, damn." I'd really like to do that, but I don't feel like I'm there yet.

Not to be offensive, but it's just like an orgasm that doesn't quite happen.

Ooooh, is that what depression is-the overwhelming, low grade feeling of dread? Am I depressed in spite of all my perky projects?

Uncle John is a little more vague and a little more paranoid and I don't know if I can bring him "back". Parkinsons. Damn Damn Damn. Watching this isn't like a stab through the heart, it's a long, slow tear of the heart. But love means not looking away.

I do hope Kahlil Gibran is right-pain hollows us out so that we may hold more joy. The hollowing out part, I must say, isn't all that pleasant.

I'm not an Urban Chicken person, or a Freecycler any longer, or even a Compacter. I will do what I can to save the world but I just don't have the energy for gather up in clusters. The Freecycle thing and some of it's offshoots felt like begging....If I see one more ad that says "I am in need of....." I will go ballistic, so I unsubbed from those groups. I'm not an agility person any more, no more clean run, can't do the horse thing, mountainbiking gone. Who am I?

Who am I today? A woman who can't get out of the house to go take a walk (2 more days and off comes the cast) trying to keep her spirits up, waiting for the bills to flood in and the office politics to turn up a new wrinkle.

Isn't it funny how the blues can just swing down on us with no warning? I wonder if that happens to men, but not enough to bother to ask them. I got worries of my own.

The Retic (unknown to be dwarf or not) is shedding and she is one cranky girl. That's what I love about snakes-they get all new skin every so often-and like us, it isn't easy or pleasant (at least for some of them).

Cody, one of my dogs, knocked over the trash and spilled some coffee grounds and I skidded into them because my casted foot was down. So now when I go to the Dr. and the tech takes off my cast, about a tablespoon full of coffee grounds are going to fall out. If I end up with the snotty tech and he says anything I am going to say "Coffee is a natural way to exfoliate".

In he meantime I can look at pictures of the inside of my trailer, and my two jacks and my hitch (which are currently keeping the lid on the big python cage).

Trailer Porn

Look at my new three ball hitch....nanny nanny boo boo.

A co-worker also called to let me know they rearranged the office again and I have been moved, closer to my boss (well that makes sense) but not in a window cube. Strangely enough, I couldn't care less. Someone was worried I would be upset but it pretty much takes stopping my paycheck to upset me these days.

Ok, I do admit, I look at some idiots who have offices and wonder "why them and not me" in much the same manner as you look at someone with a Mercedes and wonder the same thing. In my case, it's just idle wondering, I don't really want either.

Now, in the corporate world, this can lead to exploitation and having people walk all over you. THAT I definitely do not want, but since I don't tolerate it anyway, it sometimes tries to happen, but rarely comes to fruition.

Between Uncle John and my leg I've had a good six months of flexible working conditions, so I am not going to shout about moving to a different cube. The co-worker was concerned I would be upset because they didn't unpack my stuff for me. I looked around at the UPS boxes in the living room with my trailer jacks and upside down tomato garden (yet to be assembled) and thought about my back bedroom full of my stuff and John's stuff, now combined since so many people have helped me clean the room. I don't think the unpacking thing will upset me either.

Uncle John, I Salute you

Picked up a birthday cake (red.white and blue) and went to the Assisted Living Center to have lunch with Uncle John. He's 71 on this very day. We had roast chicken and some really good eggplant (need to crash lunch more often) and lots of good conversation. Not everyone was quite aware of what was going on, but they liked the cake and the chance to celebrate.

Some things I learned:

A full sheet will feed an awful lot of senior citizens and staff (wow)
Red/White/Blue icing really gets messy when you are cutting it
A piece of cake on a plastic plate with people who really appreciate you tastes better than a 5 star restaurant.

I don't know if I'll make it to 71-I never really expected to make it to 46. Not that I planned on dying but I had no set agenda for life at 46. And agendas are made to be broken anyway.

I've noticed the older you get the better it is to plan for some things though, so I'm really trying to put some thought into my life. But the old guys at our table at lunch really supported the idea of a horse and buggy, as did Hannah, my friends' 2 year old. Hannah also supported the idea of world destruction too, she's easily swayed.

The fierce spring winds have blown the tarp off the Scotty-I hope it doesn't rain before I can get it back on. (That's kind of tough from a wheelchair). I also hope the winds stay down a bit or the thing might just catch a breeze and set sail. Oh well, I can't worry about everything.