Sunday In the Garden

A day spent in the garden is quite honestly my idea of a good time.  I'm a mess from head to toe but I'm completely in throw the seat back and relax mode.  That's not to say that there won't be two Tylenol in my future because oh yes, there will be two Tylenol in my future very soon.  But it was a happy day that now is edging into a quiet night which (insert sigh of contentedness here) I am more than ready for... 

Early To Bed Far Too Early To Rise

So what do you get when you go to bed too early?  You get the joy of waking up in the middle of the night long before your alarm even thinks about waking you up.  The only good thing about being awake when the rest of the world is mostly fast asleep is the absolute silence.  Everything is so still and quiet save for the distant rumbling of a garbage truck making its rounds somewhere down the street.

 I don't mind so much being awake. It's moments like these when I find my head clear and free of the business of the day.  Thoughts come and go without form or reason, free to be as they are with neither pomp or circumstance to get in the way.  I am a night thinker and a day dreamer...

Wah Wah Wah

Accidental words after months spent avoiding you and here I am crying myself to sleep tonight.  Every time I think I've got my heart under control she goes and proves me wrong. Stupid heart.  Stupid love.

Almost Completely Random

Random things I'm thinking so I have something to post about...

I love fall.  It's by far my most favorite season.

The Stacey's Mom song is playing right now on a TV commercial.  I was over this song the very first time I heard it.

I am drinking a hot cup of Green Tea.  I am out of milk.

Today I punched in to work at 7:45 this morning.  I did not punch out from work until 9:26 this evening.  I am really getting to the point of hating my job and upper management who doesn't seem to think that I should have a personal life from August to November.

I do not get paid overtime.  Instead I fall into a category called salary flux.  This means that the more hours I work over my forty, the less I actually make per hour for anything above and beyond.  I like to call it getting screwed without so much as a thank you...

I am not a fan of tennis.  (This thought brought by the local sports section of the nightly news.)

Considering what time I have to be up and out the door tomorrow morning I should be in bed.  Problem is my sleep schedule is so out of whack, I'm not the least bit tired.

I will be absolutely exhausted when my alarm goes off at 5:30 tomorrow morning.

I'm just realizing that it may not have been the best idea to have a cup of tea now.

I have another bag of garbage that I could take out to the curb tonight but I'm too lazy to do it now and willing to use the fact that I'm afraid of the dark as an excuse to leave it until Thursday.

Supposedly gas prices are going to start dropping...  I'll wait until I actually see this before I'll believe this.

I've been awfully whiny, weepy, and really not a person even I would want to be around lately.  I need to figure out how to fix this soon.

I bought two new coffee mugs.  They are a very pretty light blue color.  I need to go buy two more before there aren't any more to be found at Target.

I missed the season premier of Big Bang Theory...  I am sort of pissed about that but thankful I have prime time on demand...

I am nursing this cup of tea.

I think I might be starting to get maybe a little bit tired.

The fact that I just yawned probably supports that theory.

I saw a funny thing on Pinterest... I am going to add this to my photo collection that I have on my scrolling picture frame at work.

I may have to just make one for each day of the week.

On that note I've now met my requirement for writing today so I can go to bed now that my homework is done.

Tell you what... If you happen to find yourself reading this why don't you use the comment section to just say hi...

I am not beyond begging...

No really.

I'm not.

Not so much a writer...

I"m having guilty feelings over not having been here to write.  Truth is sometimes I just don't feel as if I have anything worthwhile to say.  I can't imagine that anyone really wants to read what I have to say right now. My mind is just too full of sad thoughts and sad things.

I'm just lost in the darkness looking to find some light to lead me home.

So, so...

I'm seriously over not being able to sleep...  I've lost track of how many weeks it's been since I've slept a night through.  But I am so, so tired.  And I am so, so awake.

Rainy Day Woes

How many times do I need to tell myself that my worth isn't based on someone else's opinion of me?  Their approval?  Their rejection?

How many times do I need to try to convince myself that someone's exit from my life isn't my fault, isn't always for me to take the blame, isn't because I'm someone who can't be loved?

No matter how I look at it, I'm the common denominator and I can't figure it out what it is that I must be doing wrong that things seem to start so good only to crash, burn and disappear in the flames.

How do I trust when I'm all out of faith?  

How do I ask for help when I've carried my own world for far too long?  I don't know how to need people when I'm so used to being needed.

How do I let myself love when my heart has died too many times to be revived?

I wish someone would tell me what it is about me that makes the men I've loved go away... Because I'm still here.

A Whole Lot of Not So Much

Tired, cranky and in need of a coffee fix is not the ideal way to start my morning but it's the way my morning has begun.  Or restarted I should say as my morning really started at five thirty when my nephew was dumped quite literally on me (I was sleeping on the couch downstairs) and instead of choosing the sleep and snuggle option went with the crawl all over and kick Aunt Stacey one.  My bruises have bruises and I'm making a new rule that E's shoes need to be removed prior to him being placed anywhere near me.  That boy knows just where to kick for maximum pain.

So I'm working on the coffee which really means that I'm too lazy to go make a cup even though the kitchen is literally one freaking step away.  I don't have it in me...  And to be quite honest Keurig brewed coffee just isn't as good as one from Dunkin Doughnuts... All hot, steamy and ready.  Of course I'd actually have to shower and get dressed to go that route and if the kitchen is too far away, Dunkin Doughnuts is on the other side of the hemisphere.

Maybe I need a word of the day like they have on Sesame Street...

Today's word is MOTIVATE.

New Directions

So my daughter has been hand delivered to college and I am just beginning to learn what it's like to live on my own all by my lonesome.  And it's odd not having to wake Kate up for school or run her here, there or everywhere or worry about whether I've remembered to give her lunch money or not.  (Usually the or not as I suck when it comes to having cash on hand.)

People are already asking, "Are you doing okay?  How's it going?"  My answer... "It's easy.  At least right now."  But considering I'm only about a week in I didn't really expect to be out of sorts just yet.  Give me another three weeks when this becomes the routine and then ask me and I'm sure my answer is going to be quite different.

But as I always do when faced with a change or something new, I've decided that there are certain things I'm going to need to do to make my empty nest not seem so empty.  Thankfully (but not really) we are at the time of year in my job when I work stupid hours, ranging anywhere from 50 to 80 hours a week for the next two to three months.  Trust me when I tell you when you work around the clock you have very little time to dwell on anything other than trying to get the work done so you can just go home and go to bed.  This year is proving to be no different...

Beyond work I'm always trying to make improvements in my personal life although I often begin with good intentions and then find myself hung up the small stuff.  But I have to take advantage of the fact that this is the first time in more years than I can count that I can actually focus on me and do some much needed tweaking. 

Health wise I've started the journey to putting myself back on track.  I've been to the doctor's office more this year than I have in my entire life.  I almost feel like Norm on Cheers...  But I've done the mandatory blood work, had the routine physical, scheduled my (first ever) mammogram, saw another doctor about some other things I need to make some decisions on and on a whole feel like I'm starting to take this aging thing a little more seriously than I ever have.  It turns out that turning forty this year may also be a wake up call that I'm no longer in my twenties.

So enough about that... Although you can bet your ass that you'l be hearing all about it when my ass gets back to the gym on a daily basis.  My inner athlete has decided she wants to make a come back and I can't tell you how excited I am to have to go through the blisters, shin splints and general oh my God why do I do this to myself pain all over again.  That however is what I get for falling off the wagon and losing as I always manage to do my inner balance.

Next on my to do list is to start writing... Every gosh darn day.  I fell off that wagon in 2006 and haven't managed to truly get back on it since.  Completely inexcusable considering that a writer who doesn't write won't ever publish a book if it's not actually written.  And seriously, who would have thunk it?  And yes, I did say thunk because I like the sound of it better than think and it's my blog so...

The question remains what do I write?  Well for starters just silly little blogs of random thoughts, the good, the bad and the ugly.  Whatever words that find themselves here should just be happy that I'm actually putting them back up for public consumption.  

That being said I could be quite wordy today but as I look the house there are probably a few things that are a little more important to do than write... At least right at this second.

Always In Our Hearts... Ashton

Two years ago yesterday my family lost a very special little boy.  Ashton had just barely passed the milestone of becoming eight and on a day where the sun was shining and any other little boy in town might have been outside playing beneath it, our little boy took his final breaths and let go.

Ashton's death rocked my world.  In many ways when I lost him, it felt as if I were losing what could have been my son.  Which is not to put myself in the place of his mother - I was and will always be Aunt Stacey - but I loved him in the same way a mother loves her own child all the way deep down to my soul.

When I think of Ashton, I can't help but smile.  He was just the biggest ball of love you could ever hope to find.  He taught me lessons he didn't even know he was teaching.  And it's because of him that I will always value every moment no matter if it's good or bad.  And I will be happy for each day even if every day doesn't have a happy ending.  He taught me how important it is to love with everything you are and all that you have no matter the outcome.  And he proved to me that sometimes it's okay to just relax sit back smile and simply be silly.

I wouldn't trade a single moment we had unless it was for a thousand more of those same moments.

I miss you Ashton. 

Pity Party for One

I wish I could just disappear.  Go hide out in some cabin on a mountain with just my dogs and a few good books to keep me company.  I'd spend my mornings sipping hot black coffee from an old red mug on a porch that only had one chair, watching the mist fade away like an old gray ghost as the sun slowly took over the Adirondack sky. 

I'd be content to be alone there.  Mountains after all were made to be lonely.

And as the morning progressed to afternoon, I'd find my old pair of hiking boots and leash the dogs for our mid-day walk.  We'd walk up the old mountain road in the direction of nowhere special and notice little things like wild mushrooms and green patches of moss, while the birds carried on their own conversations overhead.  We'd breathe in the smell of the forest and twirl around in wonder at how such a perfectly imperfect place could make us feel so whole.  With only happy thoughts we'd begin our trek back home to our small rustic cabin with a porch that only has one chair and only room enough for one woman with two small dogs to stay comfortably there.

The rest of the afternoon would drift lazily by and I'd feed the fire and feed the dogs and make my own dinner to the soft sounds of the camp radio playing soothing songs of simple verse and quiet refrains.  It would be dinner for one by candlelight as the moon climbed high and bright in a star filled sky.  Safe and warm, a cozy fire, a soft chair for reading and the dog eared yellow pages of a well read book I'd lose myself for a few hours before closing my eyes and crawling beneath the mounds of blankets that cover my big soft bed. 

And how I would sleep... Soundlessly dreamless with no thoughts of waking until the next morn.

The good thing about a mountain is that a mountain is enough for a single soul.  It puts to right all the things that have gone wrong.  It doesn't make promises it never intends to keep.  It doesn't offer lies in place of truth.  It doesn't say it loves you to make you stay or tells you it doesn't to make you go.  It's just a mountain.  Just a place that says welcome home.

Okay Now

Beneath the stars of a cool Adirondack night in the last place you and I were supposed to be together I finally decided to let you go...

I know now that the time is right.

My heart is ready to move on from being broken.  Forgiving as she forgets.  And this is what I knew I needed to do.

I really do wish you well.  And in many ways I will always hold a piece of love for you in my heart.  But I've let love go... And like the memories I have of the time we had together it will fade as each day goes by.

So I'm okay... I'm really okay.

And maybe no... I'm not ready to start up with anyone new.  But I know I don't have to race to replace the space you've left.  Things that are meant to be will always happen in their own time.

Maybe a Broadway show with a man named Scott.  Maybe dinner some night with Kyle.  Maybe just me alone until I figure out what it is I really want...

Either way it's okay now.  

Changing

Change is coming.  I feel it every morning when I wake.  Sitting here looking out the window while the cardinal surveys the world from his perch in the old pine tree.  Change is coming with every morning that rushes by, with every lazy afternoon that blisters in the summer sun.  But unlike before I will not hide from change.    I am change.  And I am in motion...

An Open Letter to My Last Lover

I've been thinking a lot about us lately. 

And I think I finally admitted to myself that there never really was an us.  There was you and there was me and there were moments when I thought maybe. 

I wanted so desperately to be wanted.  Needed.  Loved.

I wanted with all my heart to believe you when you said you loved me.  I wanted even more to believe myself when I said I loved you too. 

But if I loved you, you would know everything there is to know about me.  But you never looked to see below the surface, content instead to skim the top.  And all the secrets I have stayed silent.  And all the words I could have said chose to say nothing at all.

But oh my foolish heart.  She wanted to be yours.  She would have slayed dragons for you, fouht against any injustice, stayed by your side through think and thin.  She would have been your warrior.  Your best friend.  Yours for all time... If you had really wanted her.

My heart cried for days until my head told her to just hang on.  We've been here before we said to ourself.  We may bend but we never break.  He will not be the last man you love.  And what you felt only felt a little bit like love.  A little bit with a whole lot missing.  He never even knew your favorite color was brown.  Or that sometimes you wake up in the middle of the night screaming for your Mother.  Or that there are some hurts so deep he'd never be able to unbury them all.

The truth is he was in his own orbit.  And you were a star circling his sun. 

You loved who you thought he was.  You loved who you thought he might be. You loved the idea of what you could be together.  You loved a dream that fell asleep too fast and woke up too soon.

So now you're left with only silence.  You don't know how to go back to just being a friend and you know you can't move forward with someone who didn't tell you the entire truth.  And so you mourn both a failed relationship and a friendship that was worth even more than the short few months you thought you might be something more.

And so you do the only thing you can... You move on. 

And you forget all the little things he said.  And you forget how you used to smile just to hear his voice or the sound of his stupid ice machine.  And you avoid even thinking about any memory that holds a piece of him.  You can't survive an avalanche if you insist on standing beneath it.  And this time you're saving yourself from a heartache you just can't let take control.

So you push back and you reach out and you grab an opportunity to grow.  And when the new voice says hi you say an even steadier hello.  And the conversation begins just with a new name, a new face and a new we'll have to wait and see.  It doesn't have to be love but that's not to say it won't bloom and grow...

I admit it.

I can get absolutely bottom of the pit down in the dumps melacholy blue from time to time.  It's a feeling I know well in a been there, done that one too many times kind of way.  And so I do the only thing I know how to do.  Pull in, pull back, buckle down, take a deep breath and fight my way through until I can see some sign of daylight through the darkness.

But I've got a gift for climbing mountains and a heart that never gives up even when it breaks.

I am enough if not for anyone else than at least always for me.

Excessive Thinking Damages the Soul

It's only when I'm thinking that things begin to go wrong. 

So I've tried to stop.  Stop thinking.  Because I can't figure out any other way to go about my day without just wanting to break down and cry.  And I don't have time to break.  And I honestly know that given enough time my heart will heal on its own regardless of how much it doesn't feel that way right now.

Truth is I miss talking to him.  I miss his good morning darling calls and his fall asleep on the phone goodbyes.  I miss the man I called a freind for years and the lover I knew for a short five months.

The common sense side of me tries to understand.  Seeing things from his line of vision.  The stress of ending an almost 20 year marriage.  The stress of raising two boys on his own.  The stress of dealing with bat shit crazy behavior and a divorce that couldn't and as far as I know still hasn't happened soon enough.  All of that and so much more weighs heavy on a heart and mind.

So maybe we just had poor timing.

And yet...  I have this awful sense of loss. 

Because I loved him.

And it seems even though he claimed he loved me too, he never really did at all.

I don't know how to write anymore.  I haven't done in it so long that I have to stop and collect my thoughts just to get anything down.  I guess that's what comes of living in an emotional coma for the past two years. I turned it all off.  The good, the bad and all the in between.

So where do we start?  With truth?  Or fiction?

Or do we just say hello and stop with an early goodbye to see what tomorrow may bring?

Will it bring me here?  Or will I wind up back in hiding with a thousand and one voices urging me with things to say only to be silenced when I'm too tired to entertain my muse or deal with all those thoughts running through my head?

And I have so many thoughts...

Of where I am and where I'm going.  Of who I am and who I want to be.  Of old hurts and new hurts I've picked up along my way.  Of things I've always said and all the things that I've been meaning to say.

How I found my faith and lost my faith.

How I found love and watched it leave.

And how I begin again to piece myself together until I'm as well mended as a broken person can be...

Thoughts on KC's Senior Year Drawing to a Close

Around me everything is changing.

And I stand here frozen in place waiting for the world to stop.

To let me have this moment where I can pretend that this year is going to be like every other year...

I'm not ready to let you go even though you are so ready to fly.

The Joy of Ordinary Moments

Childhood is a kite flying free on a summer breeze.  It's the fastest speed your feet can carry you and it's the longest night that seems to never end in anticipation of the morning.  We - like so many other families - believed that tomorrow was a given.  An unspoken promise that would lead us from one transition to the next.  Our movements marked by the seasons of all the time we'd yet to spend. 

Ashton was absolute happiness.  The kind of joy that was impossible to contain.  His smile could melt hearts and his laugh was big enough to fill entire rooms.  His capacity to love was limitless.  Wherever he was was where you wanted to be.

So many people helped our Ashton last summer.  Nurses, doctors, friends, family and people we may never ever know.  To all of you who prayed with us, wept with us and mourned with us there are no words to tell you how much you helped our broken hearts.  You gave us courage in the face of overwhelming sorrow and fear. 

There is no getting over losing Ashton.  After a year I've accepted that even though I have learned to welcome new joys into my world, there will always be an Ashton sized hole in my heart. 

Today in memory of our sweet boy I encourage you to hug your kids, forget about the dishes that they didn't do or whatever chore they might have been assigned.  Hold their hands and go for a walk.  Maybe get an ice cream or just snuggle down with a book at bedtime.  Whatever you do cherish your time...

How the Heart Breaks

My dear sweet, silly boy is gone.

My heart is broken.

I've tried to wrap my head around the events of the last five months to no avail.  I can't tell you why kids get cancer, or why an eight year old who loved to laugh and smile had to endure so much in such a short amount of time.

All I can tell you is that it hurts in a way I've never felt pain before.  Hollowing me out on the inside until I'm numb enough to think that the worst of missing him is over until it swings back around again to burn my face from all the tears I cry.

I cry a lot.

The smallest things can make me cry... The sound of children playing, walking by the clothing section for boys in Target, hearing something Ashton would have found funny, reading a story to little Jack the next door neighbor boy - who in an emergency situation, I found myself babysitting last night. 

My heart - though it did its best -  I learned is just not ready to be around little boys, especially little boys wearing pajamas with the same cartoon face that was on the blanket my nephew had slept under all of these months.

I miss the sound of Ashton's voice.  The way he said, "Hewwo," and "Aunt Stacey."  I miss his giggles.  His jokes.  And his sweet, one thousand beams of light smile... 

I miss him making me laugh. 

I miss making him laugh too...

 

Honorary Officer Ashton...  Thank you to Make-A-Wish for making Ashton's Dream come true...

There is no better gift to give then one that makes a child smile from his heart.  In Ashton's memory, I pledge to make a yearly donation for the rest of my life to help bring joy to others.  Please consider donating to Make-A-Wish as well...

It's hard to find your happy some days. Especially when you're 8 years old and attached to an IV in a hospital that is far away from your home and your family. My nephew says "I hate it here," and I for one can't blame him. He's been in the hospital since March with only two tiny breaks in between of real life.

 And yet this is reality.

 Ashton is fighting Leukemia.

 Most days he has a smile on his face and his personality is so warm and funny that the nurses can't help falling just a little bit more in love with him each day. Proof of this can be seen on a daily basis. When Ashton calls for a nurse it's usually more than one that comes running. And they never leave right away either... Instead they pull up a chair alongside his bed and laugh as he decides who he feels like "firing" for the day.

I spend my weekends at the hospital... I come up on Friday nights after work and leave late on Sunday afternoon in order to give my sister a chance to do what she needs to do at home. Ashton and I watch movies, play video games, sing silly songs and sometimes make Mr. Potato heads that bear a strange resemblance to my father.

Ashton has two different types of Leukemia:

 JMML (Juvenile Myelomonoctic Leukemia) and AML (Acute Myeloid Leukemia)

Somewhere along the way I stopped reading the definitions and the prognosis.  The big words didn't scare me but the tone of implied hopelessness did.  Instead we take it day by day.  The good, the bad and the sometimes ugly...

And each night I send words of prayer into the night... Blessings for healing, blessings for hope and blessings for a miracle to come our Ashton's way.

2011

It seems only fitting that I should find myself here tonight posting my final draft for 2011 while noting that it's only my seventh post of the year. I will probably find myself years from now wondering what could have kept me from writing. And to answer I will probably remember this year as one that contained mostly stress, strife and general discontent mostly of my own making.

But I really have no regrets. What good are regrets anyway? They serve no purpose save to make you feel miserable about having felt miserable. And since I cannot change what has already been, I can simply look forward to a new year, a new beginning and the hope that somehow I will make those much needed changes to promote better health and a better spirit for me and for those I love.

In the Running for the World's Shortest Poem

Copper pennies. Water fountain wishes.

Waiting on dreams.

Dog Days of Summer

Sunday Morning

Far too early to be awake on a Sunday morning and yet I'm almost reveling in the quiet solitude save for the sound of the washer currently spinning out a load in its attempts to rattle the rest of the house awake.

Golden sunlight skims across the tops of the trees and pours itself like liquid gold across the darkness of my hardwood floors filling the house with its soft translucent light. The only thing that could make this moment better would be a steaming cup of coffee by my side. Alas having been spoiled so recently by the Keurig coffee machine at work, more specifically Timothy's Italian Blend, the folgers sitting solitary in my fridge lacks the same temptation.

The Unsuspecting Unexpected

Sometimes I like to send unexpected emails to unsuspecting people. Emails that make odd statements. Statements that are often meaningless and untrue. For example, "I want to be a ninja," was a message I sent last week. But I don't really want to be a ninja. I'm just not hardwired for violence that way.

But what I like best is when those unsuspecting people who read my unexpected emails write back... Today's response, "So do you still want to be a ninja?" received yet another unexpected reply.

"No. Today I feel my true calling would be handing out turkey legs at a Renaissance Fair."

And this my friends is why even when I'm in the most foul of moods, I can still make time to laugh.

Insomnia

The inability to sleep when your eyes really want to close. Or the consequence of going to bed at 8:30 at night.

I'd say more but there is a bedroom ceiling I've got to get back to staring at.

An Imaginary Life

The exactness of what he said I can't remember.

Something along the lines of a suggestion. (As if he were anyone to be making any that might make sense.)

"Get your head out of the books," he said. "Go out and live a life."

I should have said the first thing that came to mind... But I held the truth from tripping across my tongue.

Instead I replied, "Make believe people are nicer."

I saved him the reason behind my words. Things he might understand. Like make believe people don't insist you drink vodka. Or try to douse your reason with wine. Or leave you without a word after you've become used to having them around. Or pretend to be your friend when they've already proven that they're not.

Maybe my books are indeed the better place to be... It seems there isn't a man alive - at least not in my life - who knows how to be a man.

Not Yet the New Year

It's getting close to the time to start thinking of my new New Year's resolutions list. And though I do wait until the absolute last minute to write them, I do like to be pragmatic in how I list them. Categories in my case are quite useful. Things I'm bound to do, things I'd like to do but won't and things on my list simply because without them my list just wouldn't be politically correct.

I am not however ready to write my list right now. It's just not too last minute to do it just yet. So practice your patience because your waiting has just begun.

KC's Gift Exchange

Seeming as I've already proven time and time again that sitting across the room in opposite chairs trying to do the right thing doesn't work when it comes to my experiences with men and my inability to stay on the other side of the room, it can be no surprise that when my daughter invited her little teenage boyfriend over last night to exchange gifts for Christmas, I was quite beside myself.

Shuttled off upstairs politely within minutes of his arrival, it was all I could do to not keep going back downstairs for little odds and ends reasons to keep an eye on things. So I settled for making noise upstairs, sitting on the stairs, running down the stairs in false pretense to use the bathroom, a desperate need to make hot chocolate and of course just a quick peek to check on the dogs. In other words, privacy be damned. I trust no man nor boy in this house.

Perhaps however my daughter is smarter than her Mother who thinks with emotions first only to follow it up quite after the fact with logic rather than when that logic would be put to better use. That being said, the time has come to have the talk of all talks. I may not be able to stop time and my little gutsy girl is going to keep growing up regardless of my desire to have her stay my wee babe forever but I can lay out a working plan for her to be able to date and for me not to lose my mind. Maybe.

Keeping Unwanted Company At Bay While Keeping Your Heating Bills Down

The fact that it's cold in my house is neither new or noteworthy. It is however a good reason to make a cup of coffee and snuggle up inside a sweater and wish with all my heart that spring or better yet summer were closer to being back than the winter which always seems to last too long.

I am however a miser living with rules that consist of not turning the heat on until November first and shutting the heat down no later than the start of April regardless of whether or not there still might be a hint of snow on the ground. My answer to the chill? Find a sweater and your socks and carry a blanket with you at all times. Warmth need not be elusive if certain measures can be made to keep you warm.

Laughing In Her Sleep

Read

Horizon Lyrics

here.

She sees right through me... Gives me a hint of a smile, raising her eyebrows as if she had a question to ask rather than just to mimic the moves I make. She sees right through me and I search her eyes hopeful to see if any part of her remembers me and knows I'm there. I hold her hand and brush a kiss against her cheek, trying not to cry even as the tears steam down my face.

It breaks my heart to see her so helpless. Unable to do more than sit in her chair and wait. Wait to be moved from one spot to another, wait to be wheeled down to the dining room for dinner, wait to be wheeled back to be put to bed for the night. She's so tiny and frail... Too small to be the formidable woman I've always known her to be. My Grams... Dangerous with a cane, quick with words and independent to her core. Too much of everything to be reduced so dramatically before my eyes.

Grieving is a process that starts long before the body stops. My Mother has been grieving for months... And I know that a week just isn't long enough to help lift the sorrow from her shoulders, for me to remember every last line on my Grandma's face...

And so she sleeps... Sometimes muttering in a language that is all her own until she smiles and laughs deep in sleep, far away in dreams.

The Urge to Purge

I really need to schedule an appointment with one of those white coated people... As much as I dread the very thought of it, the simple fact that I haven't had one day in the past few weeks that hasn't consisted of feeling like I need to vomit every other second pretty much makes the decision almost easy. And let's be honest, WebMD only gives you about a million and one life threatening options to worry yourself silly over. So maybe this week I'll actually pick up the phone and make a call. Maybe.

In Want of Motivation

I really need to start thinking about getting ready to get ready to go out the door to the store and back in again to make something to bring to Karen's party tonight. I also really need to decide which costume I'll be wearing. The one that makes me look like bad drag in a blonde wig or the safe may I bring you a beer tavern wench. Decision, decisions, decisions...

Random Thoughts That Go Through My Head When I Hear the Neighbor Guy Start His Truck

Asking where a man goes at six something in the morning when he has no job to get to is kind of like asking yourself why keep sleeping if there's nowhere you need to be...

If it doesn't make sense, guaranteed I understand.

Here Again...

There are so many things running around my mind tonight that I've decided it would be pointless to give chase. Not to say that my mind hasn't come to rest on one thing in particular but as I'm as tired of stepping around it as I am of stepping right on it, it's enough to say I remember and leave it at that.

At the same time it's a true statement to say I really should be sleeping. It's a known fact that at this time of year my job more than makes up for any spare moment that I might think I have. Not that I have any. I live, sleep, eat and breathe work until the snow starts flying in earnest and it can't snow soon enough for me.

Here I am however taking up precious eye closing time to put a mouthful of miscellaneous on this page. I'm not really sure why other than the mood has taken me to write even as my brain has already taken leave.

That being said I've really nothing more to say... So it's me and the dogs and a date with my bed.

If You Lived Here...

Sometimes the only real thing you need is a hug.

On days when it's a challenge to keep your head above water, your mind on the task at hand and your mouth from saying more than a few things you both mean and don't mean, a hug can go along way...

Hugs are natural stress relievers.

Just a Long Day

It's been the kind of day where I wish I had it in me to just run far and run fast... To go until I run out of road and lose my way.

"Cover me up in a blanket of leaves, let the grass be my bed and my shelter this tree... I'll hibernate, let the months slip away... Let me sleep."
- Michelle Featherstone - Hibernate - Blue Bike album

I absolutely hate the feeling of being lost. And yet the truth is I am. Lost. And losing whatever strength I had left to fight. Some days it seems far easier to drop the sword and wave the white flag, to just admit defeat and say I'm done.

And as much as I've carried this all on my own for so many years... Holding up my world is only serving to push me down. And tonight it feels like the weight of my world is too much a burden to bear.

Fright Night Pre-Fright

So I Know without a shadow of a single doubt that God never intended for me to be a blonde... Ever.

In fact, I look like bad drag in a blonde wig.

In other words, me with blonde hair is something quite beyond scarey and should only be done as a last ditch effort to pull off a Halloween costume. That is if I have to nerve to go through an entire night wearing this hideous thing on my head. In public.

A No Mouse House

There is a mouse in the house. I heard him screaming. In fact, it was his screaming that woke me up. I didn't know mice could scream but evidently when there is a cat trying to have them for a midnight snack, they've no problem becoming vocal.

Octavia had it cowering beneath the bathroom sink while I stood cringing near the door trying to figure out how to solve my latest home owning dilemma at an hour when cognitive thought is not my strong point. I grabbed a dustpan and a box in lieu of a broom that could not be found.

The plan?

Scoop the little rat bastard up and get him outside of the house. And it would have worked! Would have worked if the damn thing hadn't scurried below the bathroom shelves where I'm guessing must have been his original point of entry and that of his apparent escape.

With the cat standing guard in the bathroom, I'm hoping he won't be back for a second showing. At least not until I've had a chance to have some coffee...

On the Off Chance

There are things you know...

Things like no matter how early you go to bed, five minutes later your alarm is ringing to get you back up again. Or how when you're hungry for something that you can't quite name the thing you finally choose to have for dinner is never the thing you were hungry for. Or no matter how much it may seem like a reasonable request, your boss just won't go for bringing your dog(s) to work day.

Life is just unfair.

It's hard to...

Make grilled cheese when you don't have a single slice of bread.

If You Lived Here...

If you lived here...

You would know. What it's like to grow up,

In a house that taught you.

Silence.

Taught you to be. What you needed to be. So as not to upset.

The apple cart.

If you lived here...

You would know. How many hours you would sit.

A wood stove. Burning hot at your back. Until you fell asleep.

Because you wouldn't.

Couldn't.

Eat your vegetables.

If you lived here...

You would be the cause. Of every voice raised.

In Anger.

Of every cross word said.

Across the table.

If you lived here...

You would remember plates.

Breaking.

And the picture that hangs. To cover the hole.

In the wall.

A Matter of Speaking

Sometimes it's perfectly okay to avoid people. It also happens to be a well known fact that people who annoy you should be avoided at all cost. And in my case, it's sometimes safer to be far away from those who annoy me than very nearby. Or at least able to hang up a phone quickly in order to hold my tongue. Let me explain...

You are an obnoxious asshole. The world would be a better place if you were castrated. The beauty of silence is only amplified when you're not speaking. Men like you make women like me want to become lesbians. Or join a nunnery. Or give up sex in general for the rest of our natural born lives.

I'm just saying...

Between Floors

According to my sources, I am the kind of person a person might want to get stuck in an elevator with. Granted they might change their minds within five minutes of that actually happening but I am more than happy to take a compliment in whatever form its given. It also helped to finally confirm what I've always thought... I have issues that others find entertaining! Sweet Jesus! Wonderful! I am relieved!

That all being said, I'm exhausted. Another wacko day at the office and I'm tuckered out and ready to sleep so I can wake up and do it all again tomorrow. Kind of like the sort of deja vu you don't want to keep experiencing. I have that. I am a long time sufferer of suffering on a daily basis.

Yes, my friends it's true... Put a creative girl in a boxed up world and you spend your days feeling cubed.

Awake and Sleeping

Why I'm bothering to write anything tonight is beyond me. I'm so tired from another goodness only knows how many hours I worked today day that I could quite literally cry from the sheer exhaustion of it all.

I should have also finished the post that I wrote yesterday but I'm afraid you're going to have to settle for disappointment tonight because that post is not happening. At least not until maybe - possibly - tomorrow. If I get to it that is.

But for now I am going to go upstairs with my dogs to curl up beneath the covers and get some sleep. I pray the alarm clock takes its time to wake me up...

Celebrating the Harvest (Early)

I made a going back to school dinner for my daughter tonight. Call it a celebration if you will, because Lord knows I'm so over the moon ecstatic to send her butt back with book bag in hand that it was worth my effort to spend my afternoon cooking. So I made her her favorite meal. Oven roasted chicken (with thyme, rosemary and lemon) mashed potatoes with the requisite gravy, and corn on the cob. Followed by an apple crumble desert which she decided to pass on (without trying) made from the apples we hand picked yesterday at the apple farm.

Life is good...

A Moment To Get Sappy Over Fall

I have to take a moment to talk about the weather because it is the most fantastic fall like feeling day we've had since summer started winding down. And I have to say that I absolutely love how the wind is cold and crisp, and how something as simple as a sweater can warm you up and make you feel more alive than you have felt in months.

I love fall. It's true. Of all the seasons it is and will always be my favorite. From the colors painted on every leaf in every tree, to thoughts of candied apples and hay wagon rides, to walks in the woods over a dense Autumn floor. Fall is perfect. At least it always is for me...

As Good As It's Getting

Bored beyond belief is sitting home with nothing to do and at the moment no one to call watching your cats and dogs have stare downs with each other. What makes it even worse is being amused by said stare downs...

I really, really do need to get out more. Oh yes.

Garden Sheds

I covet garden sheds. It's true.

All I have to do is catch a glimpse of one and I start salivating. Almost uncontrollably. I just can't help myself.

Give me a shed, throw in a window or two and adorn it with shutters and I am in love. Love, love, love, love, love...

Sadly I do not have a garden shed. At least not yet... Oh but a girl can dream.

Sunday's

You take a few days off and then when you try to figure out what to write about, you stare at your computer for twenty minutes and shoot down every idea that comes to mind. That being said, it's time to simply jump in and wing it. I'll keep it simple.

This weekend I...

Mowed the yard barefoot. And spent most of my time worrying that one wrong move on my part would end up with me lopping a toe off.

Purchased a new bedspread because it was far too good of a deal to walk on by. The downside? It doesn't match the current paint color of my room which means I'll have no choice but to change the color out. Not really a horrible idea really since I wasn't the one who picked the current color in the first place. Life lesson, don't switch bedrooms with your teenage daughter after you've already painted it in a color of her choosing.

Wrapped chicken wire around my light post to help my morning glories climb to their full potential. I'm thinking I've come up with this brilliant plan a little late in season but it's still worth a try.

Once again resisted the temptation to bring another Italian Greyhound into our home. Honestly though two is just not enough. It is however enough for me right now...

Made coffee and listened to the birds outside my window feeling lucky indeed to have my little cottage to call home.

My Name Be Not Grace

I took a face planter earlier tonight in a parking lot and saved my face with my hands. To say my hands hurt would be putting it mildly. One hand is torn up from gravel ripping apart my skin and the other hand is mostly numb with sharp stinging sensations of pain pretty much whenever I move it. Save for my thumb that is because I can't currently feel my thumb.

There may or may not be medical attention needed at some point but for now Advil is my best friend...

Sleepy Head

When you need to go to bed and you insist on staying awake, it doesn't really work out all that well. So I'm going to take my own unsaid advice and call it a day and indeed a night as well.

Goodnight. Goodnight. Goodnight.

Sketchbook Thoughts: If You Lived Here...

At some point I'm going to have to put pencil to paper and start my sketchbook. Until then I'll just jot my thoughts down here until I've the courage to mar its clean white pages with whatever it is I come up with to write...

I'd like to take credit for coming up with my topic all on my own, but the truth is that there was a list of choices to choose from and of all of those listed, this is the one that immediately said yes to me. It's not hard to explain why given my penchant over the last few years to talk about homes and what they mean or have meant to me. It was actually a no brainer, as most of my choices usually are, although rightly so some with better consequences than others...

I thought about how different my answers might be depending on who the You was... These are a few I wrote down earlier today. (Names of the guilty parties have been omitted for good reasons.)

If You Lived Here...

I wouldn't have to drive hours and hours through endless mountain regions to see you... (Mom)

I'd take up sky diving with parachutes as an option only.

I might consider moving.

I'd have to rethink storage.

My heart would be filled with J O Y !

I wouldn't waste a moment. (Have I mentioned how much I miss my Grandmothers?)

We'd have tea and scones regardless of whether or not you like tea and scones while having the most fabulous conversations. (This ones for you Karl.)

I would probably want to throttle you 98.9% of the time.

I would kick you out after four hours.

An Eye for Caution

Sometimes I sleep with the lights on. On the nights when I need them I like to take a book to bed. And even though my eyes are already closing before I've even managed to read the first word of the first sentence on the first page, I always open the book as if I'm really going to read. The book however is an excuse to leave the light on without having to admit to needing a night light on to fall asleep.

And then there are the nights when I absolutely need the light off in order to go to bed. Nights when the light is a beacon calling out my place in the world when all I want to do is hide. It seems that regardless of the lights being on or off, I rarely feel as safe as I know I should considering my penchant for checking every window and locking every door behind me. When it comes to being cautious, my motto is you can never be careful enough and I drive both myself and my daughter nuts with my need to keep us safe.

My daughter has learned to roll her eyes each time I recite the rules to her whenever she leaves the house. Her answer, usually said with a sigh, "I know Mom... I'm not stupid." How can I explain to my daughter that I can't help but be a bit too much when it comes to making sure there's nothing I've missed to keep her safe. I'm always nervous that there might be something that I've missed, something that I've forgot to say, some instruction that I didn't give to tell her what to do if a situation should arise.

But these are things I know she needs to know. And while I do not believe in teaching fear, I do believe in preaching safe.

Blogging 101

There is absolutely no blogging while on vacation. Except for right now. Because now I'm blogging and I'm still on vacation. Although today is technically the last official day of vacation so I guess since I made it all the way through without saying a word, these few lines here aren't going to hurt a thing.

That being said, I need coffee. As in massive amounts of it. And then maybe a shower. And then after a shower maybe just maybe a trip to Barnes and Noble's because word on the street is there is a book there waiting for me to buy it.

Joy!

Sketchbook Thoughts

IF you lived here...

We wouldn't have to talk about missed opportunities.

Fork In the Road

I don't lie.

I don't lie because I can't lie. I am what they call obvious. As in obviously lying.

So I don't lie.

Not because honesty is the best policy - although it truly is 98.9% of the time. But because I learned a long time ago that me trying to lie normally wasn't (a) successful or (b) worth the time it took to serve whatever punishment was measured out to make up for the lie or (c) going to get me much further along than just telling the truth.

So I don't lie.

This doesn't mean that I don't like to occasionally stretch the truth. I've done that. What girl hasn't? But no, I never did kiss that boy like I said I did on the back of the hay wagon when I was twelve. He did however give me a piece of gum and to this day I'll always remember it as one of the best pieces of gum I've ever had. Not that this has anything at all to do with what I'm trying to say...

What I'm trying to say is that I don't come out and say things just to have something to say. I truly believe in what I say and I honestly hope my own personal actions can and do back me up. When you live as far away from perfect as I do, you don't go around throwing stones at other people's homes whether they're made of glass or not just for the sake of having something to throw.

And there have been times when my honesty - or my stubbornness - has set in motion a series of events that will sometimes by my own choosing (as well as not by my choice at all) leave me standing at the sidelines while life continues on around me. The truth however is not that I am standing still but that I am in motion towards something better suited for who I am and what I believe. Beliefs that no matter how far I run or even how far I stray never lead me blind.

Creepy and Crawly

I killed this ugly little bugger just a little while ago... I wasn't quite sure what he was and to be quite honest wasn't too thrilled about finding out but decided to google his description anyway.

It turns out he's a house centipede. And on top of that a beneficial bug. Now let's backtrack on that statement because as far as I'm concerned the only beneficial bug I'm aware of is a dead one. This little guy however is said to be a big fan of eating other household pests such as spiders and whatever other sorts of creepy crawlers you may have creeping around.

Rules however are rules. And in this house any bug who violates the you shall not enter my domain rule gets squashed or flushed down the toilet.

So long sucker...

When Going Back to Bed is Not an Option

I am trying to find the motivation to get off the couch and into the shower knowing full well that the longer I wait to move is the faster I'll have to get ready once I've started.

I'm already fifteen minutes behind schedule and beyond the yawning that I just can't keep at bay, I really could care less that I'm about to be late for work.

I need coffee.

I really wish someone would bring me some.

Things That Don't Belong On Waffles

Shrimp.

Really. It's just wrong.

Smarmaliciously Yours...

Some things are just too long. Take for instance the parent meeting I attended tonight. Pretty much everything that needed to be said could have been summed up in twenty minutes. And I really do mean twenty minutes. Not an hour. Not an hour and a half. Twenty minutes from start to finish complete with starting up my car and driving home.


Why on earth some parents have to make things both overly complicated and difficult is beyond me. Tell me what I need to fund raise, where I need to be and when and I'm pretty much a happy girl. Read me your proposal line by line by stinking line when the damn thing is three pages long and prepare yourself for more doodles than I can draw and an occasional yawn that I won't even bother to stifle.

I just don't have it in me.

And to be honest I don't think any of you do either. I think it's more of a contest to see what parent can be more involved than another. Just for the record, I happily bow out of that little rat race and award you all the honorary title of kiss ass. Granted I'll volunteer when I'm able and I'll attend as many of the shows as I can but let's get this clear right in the here and now... I have a life. And I have a job. And if there's not a paycheck coming in from your bank account to mine than chances are I'm not going to devote every ounce of my energy to help move all sorts of things along just for the glory and a little applause at the next parental meeting.

So really if I sit by myself at a table it's because I want to and not because you won't let me into your little click. Besides when all is said is done, I'm far younger than all of you and my kid is cuter...

The Sketchbook Project

KC and I signed up today for the 2011 Sketchbook Project.

And while my daughter is the visual artist of the family, I'd like to think I'll be able to dabble my way through with some well chosen words and some horribly awesome doodles.

Taking my Mom's advice, I've decided to base my project on the theme of "If you lived here..." Believe me when I tell you that I've plenty of fodder to fill my little book.

So check it out and join in.

The world is your stage.

Laundry Notes

5:42 A.M.

Presently listening to the washer spin round and round while trying to think of creative and yet plausible excuses to not go to work today. Nothing however sounds believable save for the truth and telling your boss that you simply don't feel like coming into work doesn't exactly fly too well...

And while I know I should be thankful in this present economy to have a job - and a job that pays marginally well and allows me to flirt with a vast majority of the male population on a daily basis - I can't help but wonder if there are people out there who get up most mornings to say, "I really love my job." Because I don't... Really love my job that is. I fly far closer to the loathing it but damn glad I have it category.

In other news, I have decided that four IG's in one house is about two too many... I babysat Dad's dogs Saturday while he was out and about town with his date - aka my next door neighbor - and honestly, I should have thought that one through just a tad bit more considering how well they've hit it off as I now live in fear that someday soon Dad is going to be much closer than twenty minutes away and I've no one to blame save KC and myself for putting that idea on the table in the first place...

Anyhoo needless to say four greyhounds barking and running and leaping and snuggling, though the snuggling part was cute until it caused me a few hours of lost sleep as I tossed, turned and tried to get some small space of my bed to call my own proved to remind me that small house and small dogs while normally a good mix does have its limits. I'm actually relieved to know I can check animal hoarder off of my list of things to become in my old age. Bonus!

Finder's Keeper's

Believe it or not, I found this today in a parking lot of an old stone quarry with a sign in front of it that said free. Perhaps not everyone can see the beauty of a broken sculpture but there was little doubt in my mind that this would be perfect for my garden.




Sometimes the best things in life really are free...

Baby Squirrels Evidently Look Like Baby Gargoyles

Found this little guy fast asleep in my garden earlier today... At first KC and I were a tad bit worried that his Momma had forgotten all about him but after a little while she came back to take him home... My guess is she must have been out foraging and decided to leave him in a delightful (if not exactly safe) spot.

Always With the Headaches

I am the only one on the planet that I know of who in the midst of having yet another terrible headache can say to herself, "Maybe now would be a good time to hammer a nail into this wall and hang this picture." Or as the case may be to write about thinking about thinking of doing something about a picture that has spent the past few months leaning up against the wall in my bedroom while a blasted migraine throbs at my temples when really what I should be doing is lying down with my eyes closed and a pillow squashed over my head demanding everyone - from the TV, to the dogs, to my child to be quiet!

And if I knew where my hammer was - and at the moment I am guessing that it is somewhere downstairs - I most likely would be impromptu picture hanging at 6:30 on a Saturday - I have no dates and no life - night.

Thankfully I can blame my child for having no life. She is after all the best excuse I've come up with in 15 years to stay safe at home while the rest of the world is busy doing new things and seeking some form of adventure that I'd rather not try out. One could say that I am old before my time and they are most likely right. Although from time to time - possibly blamed on a full moon or simply my true self escaping from me being me - there have been moments when not so shy but overly cautious me smells temptation on the wind and decides to follow.

Tonight however is not one of those nights.

Tonight is take Advil night, curl up on the couch, read a book lent from the library earlier today and hope that maybe for tomorrow there might be a little bit something more.

Rescue Me

In the copy room at work there is a list of names under the heading of first aid responders... I can't help but smirk every time I walk by because to be quite honest, there's not a single name on there that I'd want to be locking lips with should the situation ever call for it. In fact, the phrase just let me die is pretty much the only one that goes through my mind. So I've made my own list. A list of those I will allow to resuscitate me - CPR training or not. Unfortunately management has put the kibosh on my posting it any place where anyone can see. Evidently there are those who lack the creativity and sense of humor to find it or me amusing...

Have I mentioned yet how tired I am of having headaches?

Maybe I should see one of those white coat people... Hmmm...

Foggy Days

Snorting is a sign of intelligence. At least that is what my Grandmother always said. Then again she always snorted when she laughed so she may have made that up...

I was thinking about her today and wishing that I could talk to her like we used to talk when I would drive up to the Falls for a visit. Talking to her now is just not the same. Sometimes I listen to my Mother at the other end of the phone explaining to my Grandma how to hold the phone and which end to talk into. But it's not like she knows me. I like to think that maybe there may be just a moment when she remembers but I think I do that more for myself than for anyone else.

I was trying to explain Alzheimer's to KC earlier. It's like a thief I said. A giant eraser. It makes everything about you disappear. It wipes you clean, so clean you cannot even recognize yourself or remember all the things that make up who you are.

I can't imagine how it must make my Mom feel to see her own Mother day in and day out. There are good days and bad days she tells me. And I know if it makes me feel so damn helpless here a couple hundred miles away, she has to feel it triple fold. Sometimes the person you want most to talk to is the person right beside you already light years away...

More Rainy Day Woes

I like the rain. I can't help it. There's something about the sound of rain against the window that comforts me. Maybe it just reminds me of rainy days at camp. Precious moments of wrapping ourselves around a coffee table and playing cards, the smell of fresh coffee percolating on the stove, the sound of laughter that made light the game of war.

We listened to James Taylor on the radio player and burned wood to keep us warm when the nights turned cold on the mountain. We told stories, toasted marshmallows and traded secrets in exchange for a few more minutes of conversation before sleep found us zipped up tight in our sleeping bags praying that the camp mice might decide to stay outside.

I miss those days... I miss that life. It would be nice not to worry so much. To take each moment as it comes. To still believe that there's something better to be found in the dawn of morning's light. To believe that there's still time to take our time...

Singing the Storm

My spirit is being tested in the way a storm challenges all that grows, against the rain and the river it becomes, against the wind and the damage that blows through. Thunder is nothing save for noise. A rumble that races across a sky and bellows its atomic blast for all to hear. It demands your attention like a child in a fit, like a dog on a leash that's learned to snarl. Hear me, it says. But lightning has no need to listen and little tolerance for such school girl games. She answers him in silence, precise in her own exacting way. Truth will not be ignored. Greed will not go unpunished. But life will go on...

My Cottage Garden In the Making

My latest excuse for not writing... My yard.

More commanly referred to as Stacey's cottage garden endeavor. And I'm doing it all alone. No fancy tools save my shovel, my rake and my own two hands to pull leaves, move rocks, mulch beds, and convince the plants I've purchased to do nothing but grow, grow, grow...

Every morning I wake up to this view and to the sound of a small rushing creek bed that sits down the bank and out of site at the back of my yard. And it makes me happy. Every new plant, every new bud, every new day when I add something new or build a bed out a little bigger than it was before.

I see in my head the beautiful place this will someday be...

New Template Design Choices

Dear Blogger,

Fantastic new templates after I don't know how many years of needing someone with the know how to update them. Huzzah!

Now if you could just figure out how to make my logo just a wee bit smaller life would indeed be perfect.

Love,
Me

Tiny Little Flashes of Something That Might Pass As Brilliance Eventually

I was thinking last night as I was attempting to shut my mind off and go to bed that I don't do random. Random is not in my nature and while my life sometimes can become a little chaotic, that chaos is always controllable.

I'm far from being an everything has a place and should be in it's place kind of girl but I am structured. I rarely deviate from my norm and when I do it's usually a tell tale sign that something somewhere has gone beyond the level of what I can handle well or I'm trying my best to please someone other than myself.

Sometimes you have to hear yourself say something aloud before you understand it's significance. For me it came when I was typing a reply to a friend who asked a question regarding friendship and the disillusionment that can sometimes come with it. Along with the answers I provided her with I wrote this,

"Some people have opinions... I have beliefs. And let's face it, beliefs trump opinions any day."

I had to sit back for a second when I read again what I had wrote. Not that I was surprised mind you - I've always been blessed to rarely ever be at a loss for words at any given time or place. Still hearing myself say it really sunk it in.

When you're young you tend to believe that you have to fight to be who you are. Now that I'm thirty-five I've come to learn that the lesson is just to always be exactly who you are.

My beliefs are non-negotiable. They do not change.

Gardenscapes

When I first moved into my house last October my backyard was a mess of overgrown this, out of control that, and a whole lot of weeds. Since then I've planned, plotted, dug, buried, mulched and mowed my way to something much better than before.

This also provides me with a stellar excuse as to why this blog is boring. Perhaps you could say that up until now, I've kept my green gardening thumb from ruling the roost on what I write. But tonight I just can't help myself and after spending my entire three day weekend working my tail off, I only felt it fair to post the fruits of my labor. Of course there is still much more to do and this is only one half of a yard that is completely underway but for now it's one heck of a start...

Blasted!

Everything is annoying me. From stupid people to my stupid computer to being so tired I'm stupidly still awake when I should just put this whole day behind me and go to bed. And yet here I am... Complaining. Loudly. To no one in particular. Because I can.

And now... I have no energy to continue.

Insomnia and Arachnids

I'm not sleeping and I know this is something I'm going to regret come morning when my alarm goes off and I'm too exhausted to even think about getting out of bed. I've been staring at the wall for hours. Mostly due to a spider that's been hanging out there and refusing to come down into what I call the kill zone - more commonly known as anything I can reach without having to resort to standing on chairs or turning the house upside down to find my step stool. I wish I had a flyswatter.

Still if I want to go to sleep anytime soon something is going to have to be done about the arachnid. I wonder if he knows he's wasting the last few minutes of his life doing nothing other than taunting me from his post upon the wall. And I should feel bad that I'm about to put an end to his time here on earth and for a moment I consider simply transplanting him from one place to another. An inside to out sort of act of kindness. And then I remember that I don't like spiders and we're back to planning on how to whack him without the issue of remorse getting in the way.

Dormant Love

Maybe the truth is you don't ever fall out of love with the person you first fell in love with. Maybe the truth is as simple as saying you can't. You can't help but love because in this one instance with this one person there is absolutely no opposite feeling to alternate to. Love is the only feeling that stays. Disappointments are forgotten. Maybe conveniently.

Frustration

The main reason I've stopped writing is because people worry too much. You can't have a bad day on a blog without someone thinking, "Oh no... This could be a cry for help." And while I do admit to crying and being stressed out over the small stuff more often than not as of late, there should be absolutely no worries of me offing myself anytime soon. Mostly because (a) that's not the kind of person that I am or ever will be and (b) there isn't a man alive worth that sort of cost. So please, when I write something that maybe sets your censors to buzzing and maybe even has you grinding your teeth remember that what you're reading is not necessarily about entertaining you dear reader. Sometimes it's merely my own form of talk therapy because unfortunately in this recession that no one wants to admit we're still in, I just can't afford to do anything more than write down my thoughts and hope that by doing so I'm helping myself in my own unique way.

It really is quite simple... Writing makes me feel better. But if I've nowhere to write where I feel I can be myself without any censors than my only option is not to write at all.

I love you Mom... Stop worrying. When I really need someone to listen to what I've got to say, you're always my first phone call.

Putting the Damage On

It's easier to think of things not to say. Not to write. And I think I miss being anonymous. Conspicuously invisible. I stop writing. Instead I keep a pocket journal and jot down thoughts. Sometimes just a word or sometimes some small phrase. Sometimes something more to get it out of my head. In these small bursts of speed, the things I write are for myself and there is no thought of sharing. No censor to fall across my lips or cross a page. And it feels wrong to write where it can't be read and yet it seems I can't write anymore where the world can see.

It's hard to stay honest. With yourself. With your family. With your friends. With a world you just don't know. You worry your words might start an avalanche or make it seem that someone has got to ask you questions about yourself.

All you want is peace. To let certain things go so you can walk away feeling like you've dropped some small burden from your back. All you want is closure. The feeling that something is done and you can let it go. And then you realize that you've never learned how to shut a door. These things that affected you years ago have yet to lose their power.

You try to stop feeling. To pretend you've stopped feeling. You think sometimes you have truly stopped feeling. Slapping your own hand across your mouth to shush the words, quieting the need inside you that constantly seeks the good in people, quieting the cry inside you when they reveal themselves to be at their worst. And it doesn't matter what you say because the people who need to hear are the same people who never listen. They can't get past listening to themselves...

You write their names upon a wall and list your grievances and are not surprised to find that the longest list you write is the one you write about yourself. Because in your heart you do not forgive. Somewhere in a place that cannot be touched there is an anger that burns as hot as molten lava in your core. It is the steel that carries up your spine and steals your breath when you've been hurt. It is the fire that dries your tears and quiets your sobs, leaving you vulnerable only for a moment before it hardens you even more than you'd been before. There is no forgiveness, there is only self-preservation in its place.

Damaged is a word you've secretly used to describe yourself. This hard line across your face and you try to remember how you were as a child... Because you want to take her back and adopt her in to steal back the sunshine in her eyes. You don't know any other way to take it back. There is no magic potion you can drink and you know you've never liked the taste of beer. There is no healing touch to make you whole when every touch just seems to tear you farther apart. There is no finding a new way when every path you choose to walk takes you down the exact same road. And you write about wanting change but are so damn scared of finding it you don't know if you'll ever have the courage to start and stay the course.

All you know is just how tired you really are for having to fight for absolutely everything that you have. And how emotionally exhausted you are of not fighting for everything you've lost.

And that is why when you wake in the middle of the night with far too many thoughts in your head it's never easy to get back to sleep...

Impending Nuptials

So Dad is getting married... Again.

And I'm happy for him. I couldn't be anything other than happy for him. And we want him happy. Of course we want him happy. A miserable Dad is not a fun Dad to be around and Dad has had his share of misery for too long.

When he lost my stepmother two years ago he was devastated. He was lost. And we - his daughters - became his life raft to help him through what was the worst of times. And those times, I'm sure they were probably much harder for him than he ever let any of us know...

My father loved his wife. I have no doubt that had cancer not made the choice for him he would have been married to her forever. But life and the loss of it oftentimes doesn't give us a say in how our forevers play out.

My sisters too have had a tough time. Are still having a tough time. There is no getting over a loss of a Mother. You simply can't. I'm sure they wake up everyday and miss her more than the day before. Time doesn't heal as much as it reminds you of what you've lost and what you'll never have back again. And yet the world doesn't stop when you lose someone you love. It moves forward with you in it, and you learn how to deal with your sorrow, even if you never really learn how to stop wishing to somehow hear their voice again, or feel their arms encase you in a hug.

So Dad's news is difficult for them. Of course it is. But in their hearts I know that they want only what makes Dad happy. And so they'll step back and take a moment. They'll cry because it's what they'll need to do. But they'll be happy because they'll know Dad is too sweet a guy to not have someone to love.

Washed Ashore

Sick again. Sitting here trying to type while ignoring what seems to be a need to throw up. And I'm difficult. Refusing to schedule a visit to the doctor because I keep thinking it's going to go away. And yet, for the last two weeks it's been constant, leaving me fine for a few hours and then hitting me hard for all the rest. At first I thought that I had caught the stomach bug like everyone else in my office had but now I'm beginning to wonder if there isn't something more severe I should be worrying about.

Perhaps this is just a manifestation of my stress. And I am stressed. Clinically stressed. Stressed beyond any reasonable limit. Stressed beyond my abilities to handle it well. But I've handled stress before and I don't recall wanting to vomit every three seconds. And wanting to puke is stressing me out because there's nothing worse than feeling sick all of the time.

And I'm tired… Did I mention I'm tired? I'm so tired that I can't sleep and had it not been for Tylenol PM these past two nights, I doubt I would have slept a wink.

What to do… What to do?

Maybe I should stop stamping my feet like a child and call the doctor.

Then again it's hard for me to part with my cash… I have so little of it these days.

I need to make a decision.

But for now, I'll take to my bed, stare at my ceiling and think on it until I fall asleep.

Something Is Better Than Nothing

I can't say that I haven't been writing because I have. I simply haven't been writing here. My apologies on that and maybe even a half hearted promise that I will change my antisocial journal writing soon...

For now I am simply content to sit here drinking my tea and mulling over lesser stress causing thoughts. Not that every thought I've had around here lately hasn't been stressful but more so because I'm done being stressed out about every little thing. Life happens and there comes a time when you simply must buckle down and handle it without pitching a fit or posting a poor me post. Not that those don't at times have their place but honestly I get just as tired of reading them as I get tired of writing them.

So I'm enjoying my tea, watching a little NCIS repeat bullshit and then taking myself off to bed.

Tomorrow is another day and sooner or later I will be back.

Barren

She wraps her arms around herself when supply cannot meet the demand for comfort and holds herself in.

Buckets deep, my little red shovel and matching pail,

Bailing.

Leaving a bread crumb trail.

How I've been so easily

Lured.

Once again the scene of the crime.

The big bad wolves ask for me by name.

Take

Take

Taking their share.

Slicing and shredding.

Taking and getting.

Forgetting my name.

  

A Bout of the Swine

When you're sick, the last thing you want to hear is a co-worker of one of your exes share with you, "You must have been hanging around *name omitted to protect the guilty*. He's been sick too, they think his girlfriend has the swine flu and he's been told to stay home until he's over it."

Of course the guy telling you has absolutely no clue that you and swine flu's boyfriend ever had a thing going so he doesn't realize that the dagger he just brandished and placed in your heart didn't make you feel (a) better (b) sympathetic to swine girl's plight or (c) thankful for the reminder that jackass has moved on while you're still wondering how it is that the guy who seemed the most right for you is obviously still Mr. Wrong.

You murmur some sort of comment in reply not even knowing what you're saying and then you pause. Convenient, you think. Deer season just opened and the boy you know best who likes to hide out in tree stands and stake out Bambi is suddenly down with an illness that could keep him out of work and out of the woods for an extended period of time.

Plausible? Yes.

Possible? Absolutely.

Bloody likely? Not a chance.

Honestly though I am over him. For the most part anyway. It's just that when he calls, and yes, he still occasionally calls, it's like an instant connection to my heart when he says, "Hi," and I can't help myself but to say "Hi," right back.

I'm going to have to work on this. Moving forward is hard enough to do when you keep opening doors to the past and one cannot waste time on things that if they were going to be would have already been. So I'll chalk this one down to useless information. However if swine flu is in season, I cannot help but to say I hope she's got it.

Just Before Bed

The fact that I've managed to drive past my own driveway at least four times that I can remember counting since KC and I moved in should not be held against me. In fact, it shouldn't even be mentioned because for the most part the only real reason I missed it was because I was too distracted noticing everything else. One night it was garbage cans, the next it was a parked car, and goodness only knows what reasons I had for the third and fourth.

My new neighborhood is cozy. One by one my neighbors have come over to introduce themselves. Some to be nosey to be sure and some just to say hello and offer a welcome to the neighborhood. Unfortunately none of them have come over with cookies or a casserole dish filled with something yummy. Evidently my new neighbors are not the welcome to the neighborhood here is some food kind. Sad really since up until today, I've spent the past three weeks learning how to be Julia Child's with a microwave as the gas line to my new stove wasn't hooked up. And after three weeks of being microwave dependent, nothing could have been better than coming home tonight and making my very first hot from the stove meal in my new home.

As for naming my house, I still haven't come up with a name. Maybe once everything is put away, and the walls are painted something other than the stark white they're painted now, maybe then a name will come. Like most things, I've just got to practice patience and wait for the name to come to me. After all my grandmother had her West Wing, my mother has her Culver's Cove, and who am I to break the chain?

Fall

One by one they fall. Sailing. Gliding. Reaching for the ground as some would still reach for the sky landing softly, the still green of the grass a backdrop to their beauty. And a story I once read as a child comes to life before me...

Freddie the leaf, so scared of falling from his precarious perch in the tree that he held on long after his time to fall had come and gone, scared of letting go and what it would mean. It is a beautiful story celebrating the wonderment of life and the eventuality of death and it did so in a way that even now years and years later, I recall his story and smile as I watch each Freddie after Freddie and Freddie gracefully descend from the limbs that were their summer homes.

Settling In

Surrounded by boxes one would think that I would feel a bit more motivation than I do to unpack them. Three months however of constant stress, both waiting on the house to close and waiting on the hours at my job to return to normal have made this anything but a productive day. For the first time in weeks, I am sitting down without a thought, without a care, and without any desire at all but to enjoy doing only what I choose to do and only when I choose to do it. And at the moment, I am all about doing nothing.

I shouldn't say nothing however. I did after all drag the old carpet out to the curb, a microwave I've had since before the beginning of time and more or less scraped up any other junk I could come up with to take advantage of free take your crap to the curb today for pickup tomorrow morning. Let it not be said that I would ever allow the opportunity to unload go by without searching high and low for the ever elusive throw out now or silently keep your items in storage for another goodness knows how many months peace go by.

Sadly I did not make as much of a dent in the pile as I would have preferred, but at least the rug - the rug that I had loved and dragged up two flights of stairs and had up until Kate flooded the living room of the apartment one month before our move still been in livable conditions - is gone. No amount of steam cleaning could clear the scent of mildew once mildew had sent in and with a summer like ours filled with nothing but black clouds and rain, drying out was not an option no matter how many fans I set about the room to try to set things right.

I am however about to return to my state of nothingness. My couch misses me and as a newly made homeowner in charge of the thermostat, it's time to go wrap myself in a blanket and prepare to freeze.