"I feel good, I feel great, I feel wonderful... I feel good, I feel great, I feel wonderful... I feel good, I feel great, I feel wonderful..." - Bob Wiley

t minus 10 weeks

a few months ago I had a very mild mini meltdown regarding "just wanting my house in order" which was a mostly direct result of building frustration from no longer being able to do every single thing on my own....like carrying heavy furniture upstairs by myself

Rob seemed to try to understand, but I just didn't feel that he quite got my level of desperation and panic and total utter frazzlement of my momentary self perceived "uselessness" and need for reliance on others for help

until last week. Friday night to be exact.

We just returned from a relaxing evening hour or so by the pool and I was brainstorming dinner options

(which is me wandering quietly between the kitchen and living room (and bedroom) forgetting and remembering to think about dinner options because it's 7:28 and I hate eating late and did we switch the laundry? I don't want to cook but we really don't need to go out anywhere but I do need more dish detergent and there's a smudge on the stainless steel refrigerator door and I wonder what's in the freezer (for the 1347890245862346892456897th time) and we still need to level this thing because the door never closes right and oh hi kitty want me to brush you? look Rob, look what Merlin is doing isn't he so cute!? and anyway I don't want crappy food but I don't want to cook and ohmygod jeopardy has already started....)

I noticed the blank stare and disregarded it but when I noticed it again I asked if something was wrong. he took a few minutes to respond and THEN....then I saw it. the crazy eye. Rob gets the crazy eye when he's overwhelmed and needs to tap into dimension X. having witnessed this many times over the course of our relationship, I now believe he actually has the ability to see into another realm--he no longer perceives what is going on around him but is looking intently, and wide-eyed, into the zone.

I finally wrangled him back to earth and was like "hey, what's with the eye?"

His response: "I've just been thinking. I mean, we have like, two months left to get everything together and....I mean, it's a lot"

AAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

and our wedding song comes back to me

at last

this morning I woke up with "Dashing Through the Snow" in my head

wasn't all that unusual. i mean, it is june.

it was a little odd (but only a little) that the words my sweet Christmas melody was accompanying were from Lewis Carrolls "Jabberwocky"

it stuck until we went to breakfast...parked the car, were seated inside "...and the mome raths outgrabe...la la la la la" -- the background music in the cafe was some pleasant semi up tempo new age music until-- just as we were getting ready to depart-- on came one of the most idiotic and massively popular songs ever written....

"Last Friday Night"

noooooooo

now home. must. find. something. to. override.

met my neighbor as I was walking in and she was leaving for church. she's probably the best neighbor we've ever had. Betty. she's 80. professor of religions studies. wife of a late Episcopalian priest. mother of two. grandmother of who knows how many. fiercely democratic. drinker of wine. eater of cheese and generally one of the most hilarious people I know. we hang out with her more than we do people our age.

she asked me how Henry was doing and I asked her if she was on her way to church (those kind-of stupid yet truly good natured space-filler observation-questions) and she said yes, even though she'd much rather just lounge around. then she added "I'll have a star in my crown someday you know. well. At least, if there is a God....hehe. But I guess then I might have lost that star just now"

Henry is now big enough to really pack some punch/kicks, and still has just enough room to occasionally put on quite a show. fascinating. and pretty darn distracting. I've now made it to the third trimester 'home stretch'-- and like magic, everything. is. more. difficult. getting off the couch, getting out of bed (and sleep is often quite painful). God forbid I somehow end up sitting on the floor (but it's easier than leaning over or crouching). my ankles are long gone. I can only wear my wedding band. and I feel pretty much warm-to-blazing hot all the time (doesn't help it's four million degrees outside).

but what's even MORE bizarre is that in just 10 weeks he'll be fully developed and ready to make his appearance. TEN WEEKS!!!!! dear Jesus. the realization that in a few months I'll no longer be growing a child in a blissfully self-contained autopilot system. he'll be out. here. totally helpless and at the mercy of two brand new parents who have NO CLUE what to do with a newborn. whew. I think the scariest thing for me so far is bath time. I mean....HOW do you even do that without totally screwing something up? and I have dreams about royally failing at breastfeeding, probably because it's my only solid plan so far. hah. also Rob and I have both developed an odd sense of suspicion...perhaps fear even, that despite the ultrasound technicians determination, he may turn out to be a she. now that we've both said (out loud) things like "oh thank God we're having a boy first' and "I'm so glad we're having a boy first" -- not to mention the astounding amount of blue that has taken over our home and bedroom.

and while I'm on the baby subject. I've been wanting to just get it out there even though it won't change a thing and I really don't care THAT much about it because I know people say stupid crap.

but my WORD people say the most asinine, snobbish, asshole things to first time parents. I've heard it happens with parents having their 2nd child too so apparently it never ends. there's always someone out there who knows more and feels the need to FOREWARN.

I thought pre-wedding commentary was ridiculous, but some of the things I've been told kindof make me want to kick someone in the shin.

top two on the charts

1. "get ready because YOUR WHOLE WORLD IS ABOUT TO CHANGE"

no way!? we thought we were just picking up a new hobby.

and being pregnant for 7 months hasn't changed much for me at all. it's been a breeeeeze. we're planning to go on a mediterranean cruise when this is over.

my uncle is the only person who has ever demonstrated this sentiment without sounding patronizing. he said "man, I remember when we had Suzanne Marie, it completely shut us down...for like, THREE MONTHS"

(now I can totally appreciate that! I know it's true, and it's funny. Thanks Uncle Rick)

2.  some version of: "enjoy every second because they grow up so fast" 

this one really gets me. I might need to bump it to #1 because it's that unnecessary and annoying to someone who's (gasp) about to become a parent. it's prudish and suggests we WON'T love love love our child. yes children grow very quickly. I'm not saying I won't miss the baby days, but c'mon....we observe it ALL THE TIME. and, well, i haven't told many people, but.....it even happened to ME and PEOPLE I KNOW!!!! dear lord just yesterday I was sitting on the front porch, in a suspicious smelling diaper, happily munching on whatever flower was growing out of one of mom's planters

and BAM!!!! I'm THIRTY TWO!!! AND PREGNANT!!!!!

but seriously. it is truly astounding. i look at our baby clothes and think, holy crap in just _____ months he'll be big enough to wear this! aww, boo! so I mean, I get it. Just because I haven't experienced it first hand doesn't mean I'm an idiot. And I'm not done ranting yet.

I haven't posted a whole lot on Facepoo about our adventures in gestation. but one day, out of pure glee. true love. momentary, totally ignorant, wholesome parent-to-be excitement, I posted a comment about picking out the color of paint for a piece of furniture we acquired.

PAINT, people. c'mon. I'm dancing around the house humming twinkle twinkle little star over a...a... paint chip!

25 people give an appropriate thumbs up and later several people add encouraging commentary.

but there is ALWAYS a debbie downer lurking for a chance to rain on a parade. so this was the first comment:

ummmm......I'm sorry, did you seriously just find a way to frowny face my happy post?

naturally, because I'm a babyzilla or an overreactive heartless bitch or something, I deleted it.

My facebook and blog pages may join the ranks in fuelling capitalism, marketing, social brainwashing and illegal government spying unlike any other online forum can, but by golly, I'll censor what I want to.

and that kind of influence tends to start trends that I don't like. so I removed it. "friend" be damned. because sure as I left it up, her words would infect others. and people would start thinking about how sad they were. their children were growing up and OMG I LOST ALL THOSE MOMENTS....

see...that's no way to be

but to prove I'm not completely crazy, our landlord gave us a baby gift and this card and I thought it was effing hilarious

















see. THAT'S funny.

point made. rant over :)

tootles, little blog

Sunday

I'm sitting on our deck, reading and listening to a thunderstorm move in from where I suspect is out over the sound. The retail shops on the island may be bustling but surprisingly the condos where we live have been peaceful and quiet. My kind of three day stay-at-home weekend. The breeze, thunder and dark sky have put on enough of a show so the few people at the pool finally decided to abandon ship. I'm staying put and gambling that we probably won't get any rain out of it.

a few weeks ago I found myself without a 'new' book in the house--which was fine because there are always a handful worth re-reading. That day I took The Ocean at the End of the Lane to the beach with me--reading that book again while sitting on the edge of the ocean was pretty wonderful.

a few days later I downloaded a James Lee Burke (my not-really-that-guilty pleasure reading) and dug in. once I was within 50 pages of its ending, I purchased five more books. three used Stephen King paper backs from Amazon (dare I read SK while prego? we'll give it a shot and see what happens) and two for my Nook, including another Burke and Gaiman's first sequel to InterWorld because it's about time I get on with reading some of his series books.

I think about it but don't come here often. There seems to be a lot going on, even when it's just coming home from work and falling exhausted on the couch. But basically I'm really happy and feeling peaceful inside, even when everything else seems to be falling into shit....even when I might not act peaceful (usually not unprovoked), it's always there.

We believe his name will be Henry Louis.

Before I knew I was pregnant I was thinking I haven't accomplished everything I thought I should have collected under wing by now. I was feeling professionally stagnated and geographically stuck in a place where I can't find better work or professional growth and there aren't any schools nearby that I could go to for a graduate degree. And I guess in that place, those things are still true.

But everything--everything--started making sense as time passed this year. I still have months to go. Things could still go wrong. I still worry. A lot sometimes. Yet somehow I've arrived at the 6 month marker. Most days I still can't believe it's happening. Even with a growing belly from a very very active boy inside, it still often feels a little unreal, like I can't believe I GOT this. I can't believe nothing went wrong. I mean, really what I feel is that I don't deserve this gift of life. I love being pregnant. I will (and do) love being a mother. I will love having a big family one day. I'm part of a truly great marriage. With all it's highs and lows, crazies and wonderfuls, happys and sads and general lack of money, this life is good -- I'll take it.

So excuse me little faithful blog, if I don't come around much. My life is being written out faster than I can talk about it on here. I don't want to miss anything. And hey, that's a good place to be. 

I'm still betting the rain won't come. It seems to have flown south, thundering all the way and wrapping around the south east end of the island (where all the tourists are. na na). But my back is killing me from this chair. I've neglected my book for at least an hour, and it's probably about time to go inside and make it look like I haven't been doing only what I want to do all day :) even if I'm really the only one who will notice or care.

Tootles

Happy Birthday Dad :)

Can anyone definitively say the last 20 years have been worse or better without you around? Of course not. I will easily say our lives ARE better because you were a part of them--and you are missed, always. But there's never been any doubt that you've looked after us, regardless of where you have been and are now. 

So here's some happy on what would be your Earthly 74th. 

We know you're with us, thank you.

perfectly happy

the secret life story of early 2014. exposed.

"it's a big ball of unbelievable excitement and sheer terror"

that's what I somewhat jokingly (but completely seriously) confessed to someone yesterday who I've never met and had only yesterday talked to

"you just summed up motherhood perfectly"

is what she said in return

and for whatever reason that's probably the most comforting thing I've been told thus far.  for the last 8 weeks I have somehow carried on my daily activities while simultaneously existing in an all consuming state of disbelief, fear, thankfulness, wonder, bewilderment, terror, doubt, curiosity and near-bursting happiness cloaked in equally suffocating caution.

It is everything and nothing like I thought it would be. It's its own thing. Which shouldn't be surprising, but is. Probably because of the obvious fact that it's never happened to me before.

The duration of January was spent in complete submission to a protective instinct that was so ferocious it amazed even me. I was distinctly aware of every single thing that could jeopardize something I had absolutely no clue how to effectively protect. It is winter, it is flu season, people coughing and sneezing everywhere. I drove with my car's vents off so less exhaust would come in, bad smells made me immediately cover my face, not giving a damn who might see me. I saw(see), and cursed (curse), every. single. cigarette. When Rob casually used his dinner knife to cut a piece of butter it infuriated me. How could he not know bacteria were everywhere? What do you mean that food is "probably okay" after sitting out over night?"....how could he be so selfish and cluelss...how could he not FEEL the frantic I was feeling?

haha (pretty damn easy)

And then there was the subtle pain. Every cramp. Every twinge. Every little feeling would send me to the bathroom. Turns out there's a lot of that early on. No one told me about it but I'll never forget it so that hopefully one day I can reassure someone, even if it's myself.  Little pains were something I was afraid of and relied on on a daily basis. When they subsided I wanted them back. When they arrived, I prayed they would go away as quietly as they came.

Everything you read about early pregnancy is a congratulation with a warning. "miscarriage," "25%" and "not uncommon" are repeated in the same sentences over and over on every site. Just when I'd start to feel a little less apprehensive, just when I'd think "hmm, that's a cute maternity bathing suit" something would come along that would shatter any confidence I'd had the audacity of having. Viscious cycle.

While we could have had it sooner, our first doppler is next week. Google what to expect from that and somewhere on whatever page you read you'll find a thread of sad mothers who excitedly arrived at their first doppler or ultrasound only to be met with quiet nurses and the news that it was gone. Some women went a month or more thinking they were still pregnant only to find the fetus had "died" at 4 or 6 weeks. I mean, the shit that can happen is TERRIBLE!!! That day Rob came home from work to find me sitting in the dark crying on the couch with the laptop glaring evil in my face.....once you read it it's hard to stop. The horror stories go on an on.

And notice I said "while we could have had it sooner"....some doctors just aren't in a rush to get things going when they find out it's your first pregnancy. The only rationality that consistently makes sense is that damned 25% factor is f'ing real and no one is in a rush to get excited. Our midwife is wonderful, calm, intelligent....I'm 100% confident we made a great choice, and when I said we were in no major hurries it seemed and felt like the right answer, if there is one. I asked her about the dreaded 25% and she nodded and said yes but you can't focus on that. And that was it. I think if we were an anxious couple she would have obliged us whatever we wanted, but I said we'd go on her suggestions, so I'll be verging on the second trimester marker (hopefully) when we finally hear a heartbeat.  It doesn't alarm me, but time can be a blessing and a curse. I don't know that I would, or knowing me, could, do anything different, it's just that way.
 
But the fears and dreads are things you cannot say to anyone. I made the mistake of sharing what I read with my aunt and she reacted as if I'd uttered a witch's curse. I immediately understood and felt awkward at the complex irony of reality. These are fears that are based on reality but you have to tuck them deep inside and can never say them out loud. They are things that scare people who want to be happy. So, you get to be the lonely keeper. Not that I'm completely alone.  I sometimes feel bad that Rob is the one to bear the burden of having me as a pregnant wife and all the highs and lows and bizarre emergences. Many days I have been an alien even to myself. And he is eternally patient and reassuring, or at least is putting on an act of his own (but then aren't we all).

But...when people ask me how I feel (most common question ever) I can only say I feel great. I do. I've never felt bad, just major changes going on. But I feel better now than I did 3 weeks ago.  And hell if I know if that's normal or not. I feel less boggy and have more energy. I can sometimes stay awake past 9:30 pm. The fact that we ever got a positive test is still unbelievable. The fact that I'm 31 about to be 32 and this is really happening. That our baby (hypothetically since we still haven't "seen" anything) is supposed to be "the size of a large plum," has fingers, toes, a nervous system, and is about to start forming organs....I mean...wow! This has got to be one of the most amazing things to live through and have absolutely nothing to show for it (yet). The idea that if all goes well we'll have to dig a hole in the beach sand for me to get sun on the backs of my legs, that makes me laugh. That timing lent itself perfectly to telling my mom on her favorite holiday of the year -- priceless. Having just about the most excited and thrilled family ever known to mankind is a wonderful and humbling and happy thing. Finally having little dreams of who this person might be is fascinating.....that it's always a little girl makes me want to go have an ultrasound tomorrow to see what's really going on. Did we really ever think we wanted a boy first? because it doesn't make a bit of a difference now. It's a really really hard thing to describe. 

It's a big damn ball of excitement and terror.

So those responding words coming from a woman I didn't know, who didn't know me--a mother of a 10 year old with learning problems and 6 year old with a powerful personality....they felt like a big, clean band-aid with a giant goop of pain relieving neosporin on it. And the fear wound healed just a little bit and reminded me that none of us have a lick of control and life is going to continue so we'd better just do our best to hang on. 

There's my first official prego blog. Boom. And a lot shorter than it could have been!

Words by the Glass: The 2014 VS Swim Catalog: A Mom's Buying Guide

my new favorite blog to peruse....not a mom yet (wait...yes I actually AM. almost :) but you don't have to be a mom, or even a woman, to appreciate this post. Thank you, kind lady. 

Words by the Glass: The 2014 VS Swim Catalog: A Mom's Buying Guide: Get ready all you moms out there. The Victoria’s Secret 2014 Swim Catalog has arrived.

snarky: adjective - informal 1. (of a person, words, or a mood) sharply critical; cutting; snide.

I love this word. I have exercised it on several "customer service" victims lately, and it makes me laugh. Does that make me more evil? 

Funny, I don't feel evil. 

(mwahahahahaha)

Oh, and....

Happy Valentine's Day :)

first post of the new year? (ouch)...but, kinda funny

I've been blogging in the closet lately, not publishing anything. it's actually better than journaling...mainly because I lose motivation when I have to handwrite a lot of words. But this was sent to me from pa wayne. I suppose I am also in this category as I can relate to many/most. For anyone who wonders, "oh God, did I leave the (dryer, stove, iron, oven) on....did I lock the (front, back, garage, car) door?"

In reality we should just give ourselves more credit. And perhaps slow down a bit and process our moments more than the big picture. But it helps to know we're not alone, esp through humor. Because being a human is damn funny most of the time. 

23 ADULT TRUTHS

1. Sometimes I'll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.

2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you're wrong.

3. I totally take back all those times I didn't want to nap when I was younger.

4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.

5. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?

6. Was learning cursive really necessary? 

(I kinda like cursive)

 7. Map Quest or Google Maps really need to start their directions on #5, because I'm pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.

8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.

9. I can't remember the last time I wasn't at least kind-of tired.

10. Bad decisions make good stories.

11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment when you know that you just aren't going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.

12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blu-ray? I don't want to have to restart my collection...again.

13. I'm always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to.

14. I keep some people's phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.

15. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.

16. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Light than Kay.

17. I wish Google Maps had an "Avoid Ghetto" routing option.

18. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.

19. How many times is it appropriate to say "What?" before you just nod and smile because you still didn't hear or understand a word they said?

20. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters!

21. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.

22. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey - but I'd bet everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time.

23. The first testicular guard, the "Cup," was used in Hockey in 1874 and the first helmet was used in 1974. That means it only took 100 years for men to realize that their brain is also important.

 -

a message for Mom and Wayne

Old Brother Vincent came to me in a dream last night

through dark fog I heard a rustle

felt a brush against my leg

heard his unmistakable voice

he said he was returning

from beyond the Jellicle Moon

and, tilting his head to show,

noted that only because of his latest name

[and the entwined love of those who gifted him it]

he had decided to keep his withered ear

we walked for a while and he told

stories of mousing, roaming and near-escaping

(not to mention the art of executing

the perfect cat nap)

he had begun a journey into the great beyond

it was cold and he felt it was time

life #7 must be completed

so across the road and down a gravel path he’d wandered

and just stopping to lick his paw when

out of curiosity

(and thus it seemed like destiny)

we all know how the saying goes, he chuckled

he felt inclined to inspect a miraculous pool that had appeared

behind the big red house

he said he’d been surprised

the transition was so easy

and even more peculiar

to find humans in Cat Heaven

for surely that’s where he had arrived

he sent word to his great old aunt

Lord knows it was her time!

and was only mildly appalled that his dark cousin came along

but that’s how I knew it was Heaven,

and the humans must be angels, he said

he sat on his haunches and purred

then turning a smiling amber eye up to mine

that Mowe was always a pestering little shank,

and they named him Sparkles anyway

he began to drift a bit

and I felt myself awaking

so I asked him where he would go now that he’d seen

beyond the moon

and he began to pad away into the mists of dawn

as morning crept into my mind

I’m going back to that Cat Heaven, of course!

then I heard a distant fluttering

and the gray mist swirled where his tail had been

I have a few lives left

and I always wanted to fly

so I asked for wings this time…



rLb 09/29/2013

the mysterious outgoing tide

I seem to blog more on Sundays than any other day. or. er. when I do blog, it's more likely to be on a Sunday than any other day of the week. But I write constantly in my head. It's what I do. I think. think. think. think. think. ponder. ponder. ponder. usually there is some laughter and crying intermingled. just for the full effect.

oh well

I'm trying to decide whether to go to the beach or commit to spending a beautiful day indoors reading....can't imagine I'll do the latter. I have a new book, but it's only on my nook, which is unreadable at the beach, even with our giant umbrella -- compliments of my husband who purchased it to replace my trusty $12 CVS umbrella which had lasted almost three years until he accidentally shredded it on a beach trip earlier in the year. The first time I took the new umbrella to the beach I couldn't set it up on my own. Talk about feeling like a wimp. I sent a frustrated text to Rob who left work and came out to open it for me, then went back to work. In my defense the damn thing is huge and it was very windy that day. I did take it another time and successfully opened it, but it's BIG...I felt like I needed at least one toddler, a bouncy baby and to be waddling around myself with another cherub on the way to justify taking that umbrella to the beach.....my husband, a giant cooler, toys and one set of grandparents would also be able to fit comfortably within its shade. It would appear I'm limited on the necessary # of humans required to justify it's use...and it will probably take me actually having children to coerce any of the others into going along...by then we'll live in the mountains. sigh. always something.

well, maybe I'll stop at CVS en route to the beach....

I did feel obligated to put something up here so the ole girl doesn't feel neglected, and below is really the only thing I had in mind to post...so I just rambled much more than I intended...damn road to hell

once in a....

talk about an incredible full [and blue] moon. a sixsome of us journeyed out last night for a full moon paddle but had no idea it would be so absolutely wonderful. standing on sea island beach looking out at the ocean and moon, every one of us agreed it didn't feel like we were on earth anymore. Rob looked at me and said "we live here" -- what a beautiful night. as we headed 'home' toward east beach i felt like i was in a dream i had a year or so ago--and if I'd seen a mermaid I would have been ecstatic (but would not have been surprised) it was THAT awe inspiring. makes me want to go to the beach tonight just to see if it was really real....and get another fix. yes. we live here. photos below. enjoy :)

manual labor = good

dear journal:

as you know the last two-three weeks have been qualifiers for an episode on twilight zone. I suspect there is more to come, but my brother announced the scheduling of an emergency probate hearing on the 22nd, and things have been looking hopeful for at least successfully contesting the aformentioned fraud and getting what monies are left heading in their more well-intended directions. 

the past week dragged by at work, but nothing loomed over me like the weekend. I've had the sensation of somehow existing for the last 2 weeks in a perpetual out-of-body experience. I'm aware of what's going on, but have very little to account for it as one evening stretches into another morning.  I knew I needed to do something to sort-of ground myself but I had no idea what that might be -- relaxing at home with a book? eh.  Ok, same book but on the beach?...nah.  Long bike ride around the island?....my ideas were just not cutting it. Then my friend Arnold asked if I could help out at the horse barn this weekend while he went to a funeral. Bingo. Then he texted that the funeral was moved to next weekend. Hmmh, so I asked him if he'd just like to have the morning off. Bingo #2. I met him Friday evening at the stables and walked through what needed to be done, and yesterday from 830am until 1pm I mucked 13 horse stalls and communed with the equines. I came home,  chugged enough water to float the ark, make sandwiches and drove over to Rob's work to share late lunch with him, came back home, read a random article about 9/11 (and allowed myself a respectful cry session), then drank more water. I considered how good a beer might taste but didn't really want one and knew I'd probably go right to sleep if I did - I was deliriously tired. But at 5:09 I decided to go back to help Arnold close up the stables.  Rob met us out there and we went to Coastal Kitchen for oysters and shrimp and a few beers. Back home I dropped my purse at the foot of the bed and pulled on a pair of pj bottoms that were on the floor. I do not remember my head touching the pillow.

For whatever insane reason, I hauled my sore self out of bed this morning and went out to help with Sunday duties. Apparently something inside me determined it was necessary.  Yesterday was overcast and breezy but today was sunny and hot. I took a jug of water and I'm pretty sure I sweat it out as soon as I drank it. We finished up in the stalls around 1pm and saddled Eagle, Arnold's lanky young Appaloosa, for a jaunt around the farm. Then, almost begrudgingly, we called it a day. The tendinitis in my right wrist has been flaming since last night, I have a relatively painless blister on my right thumb knuckle despite leather gloves and anytime I move I can feel every muscle in my back, shoulders, arms and hands. I haven't smelled as awful, sweat as much or had so much grime on me in years. I could not have paid for better therapy.

Also worthy of noting. Prior to and in the meantime of fraud-snafu, there have been good things going on in life that do not deserve to be overshadowed by The Dark Side [of Polish con-artist murderers].

werps...stuff like that still sneaks out from time to time....

a little history: last year I took a deep breath and bought a car. An 06 G35. Wanda. It was a lovely car to look at and to drive (tribute photo below)

Sadly, 28 days later it was done-in by Tropical Storm Debbie and the street where one of her related flash-floods developed while I was on it. There is a distinct reason why they're called 'flash floods'...one second it's raining. Two minutes later the light hasn't changed yet and suddenly you're in 2 feet of moving water that has risen up around you before you could realize what was happening. Hopefully the first and last natural disaster style trauma I ever have to experience. I made two payments and Geico covered the funeral expenses (eventually). I console myself with the knowledge that something was probably wrong with it and while the insurance claim did slightly irritate my future premiums, it's probably not as bad as whatever repairs might have been needed. RIP Wanda.

I returned to driving old reliable Black Betty. What a car. 365k and counting. And I was never wowed by another car in a way that made me feel okay about saddling myself with car payments for the next several years. Then one day (July 30th) I saw a little Honda out in front of a local dealership where I know the GM. I took it home that night as a tester. And I bought it the next day (July 31st -- always buy new cars at the end of the month).

Welcome to the family Vanna!

Yay!

AND last but certainly not least, a few weeks ago Rob, who [tomorrow] starts his next to last semester of "so you waited 10 years to go to grad school" post-bachelors & pre- grad-school course work, was offered a part time position at a nearby outpatient therapy clinic where he's been logging observation hours over the summer. That was great news. His hours there work perfectly with his class schedule and a few of the PTs there graduated from Armstrong which is one of two schools Rob will be applying to (next month!). I'm sure I have been too distracted to adequately acknowledge how happy I am for him because I know he is happy. But my happiness only compliments my confidence that he will succeed and should never be confused with surprise, because people love my husband wherever he goes, and if they don't they're unworthy idiots. He's one of the most dedicated, smart, hard-working and genuinely good people I've ever known.  I can't wait for him to become a Physical Therapist.

Neither can my back and right shoulder ;)

annnd tomorrow is Monday. sigh. but it's not here yet.

Worth The Risk: stuff humans should not do to each other

I traveled to SC this past weekend to spend some time with my brother and my mother who had been there since Tuesday afternoon. I've struggled with the reasons I needed to be there not because I doubted the underlying cause, but because there is nothing I can say or do to make either of them feel any better. And that sucks.

Charles was man my mother dated after my father died. He was not good to me. But he was good to my mom and he was close to my brother. Those are the main reasons why I forgave him for just how not good he was to me. 3-5 years ago he was diagnosed with an aortic aneurysm and asked my brother to be executor of his will and estate after he died. Left untreated that diagnosis isn't necessarily a death sentence but it is pretty much a ticking time bomb and you never know when the great hand of the universe might push the red button. A lot of people die from other things before it goes, but his father had died from the same thing, so I suppose there was a sense of fate there. Despite his frailties as a person, he willed all of his assets to SmileTrain, Furman University, Woodruff Library, Adventist Church, BBN radio and Pacific Garden Mission. He asked my brother to make sure his wishes were carried out.

I worried about my brother then. He feels a lot. I used to think that I felt too much because I was a thinker (I. Think. All. The. Time.). But he does more than me. And our coping strategies are simultaneously the same and somehow polar opposite. Bottom line is I knew it would be hard for him to navigate the waters of probate and grieve for Charles effectively. But that was then.

Tuesday morning my brother called me and said he'd randomly found out that Charles had died. No one called or told him even though he's listed every as the emergency contact. He found out by going to the house to check in because he hadn't been able to get him on the phone and hadn't heard from Charles in about a week -- and that was unusual. Stefan and Charles were pretty close. Eventually he found out Charles had died 3-4 days before. He found out a woman that no one knows had signed the death certificate as a member of his family, except Charles had no family. He found out that this woman had the body immediately cremated. She says she threw the ashes around a pond down in the woods at Charles' house. She forged a quit-claim deed of his house and property into her name. She'd also written a Will assigning herself as the executor and forged his estate to herself as well. His signature looks uncannily like that of the notary public who also signed both documents. The notary public turned out to be the woman's daughter. The woman says she was his house cleaner. She's a registered nurse in the state of South Carolina and has two other expired licenses between NJ and Penn.

Her husband runs a home inspector business out of Greenville and boasts "encyclopedic knowledge of the housing industry" as well as offering risk management in brokering. In all "fairness" they claim to be separated, but it's difficult to ignore the potential level of teamwork here. Team Con. Yesterday they installed a gate across Charles' driveway and mounted two big flags on it. One is the American Flag, the other is the famously absurd "Don't Tread On Me" -- I struggle with the symbolism there. This is America.

Everyone who gave any level of shit (bad or good) about Charles (including his lawyer) is baffled, appalled, infuriated, perplexed...etc. We're all upset. My brother and mother especially. Anyone who never knew him couldn't possibly care any less about what has happened. This includes Laurens county police, Lauren's county coroner (may he rot in hell), the county judge, SLED (who have thus far referred us back to Lauren's county police... "Thanks!")...the list goes on....I will say my brother seemed optimistic about the response from the county solicitor. There's hope yet.

Had this happened in Georgia any of us have contacts out the wazoo. An estate lawyer who is a friend of mine has offered what she can. Mainly I wanted to know time frames so that I could try to help Mom and Stefan get their heads around what has happened and what to expect (as in, nothing overnight). An estate in probate can take up to a year when nothing goes wrong. Liken this to that, but add identity theft and (gasp) most likely murder. This could take years. There are at least 2 other instances where she's done the same to others. She's a woman who identifies older individuals who have substantial assets, seem to be socially isolated with little or no family or close friends. She cases them for months. She is meticulous and bold and I'm not afraid to say she is absolutely, without a doubt a dangerous person (only she will ever know how Charles really died). She's a sociopath and she has continued to get away with these things because she's never been challenged by anyone.

Until now. And unfortunately she wronged someone who, despite appearances, did have a family in his life who cared. All of us cared differently, but our feelings are all the same now--we are all pissed--and I believe we will not stop until she's exposed. 

funny co-worker quote of my Monday thus far

"Ok. I. Well, gosh, I really hate to say it but I think I'm gonna have to go to Five Guys. Again, I know. I don't know whats wrong with me. I've got to have some of their fries. I've just got to. I think about them all the time. I dream about them. Alright, I'm just going. You want anything?"

Freddie (aka "Handsome Fred" aka "Gilligan")

unexpected exhumations

I started this posting a month or so ago. I think. I logged in today to post something and just noticed it hadn't been finished. Since part of my latest self-help torture has been finishing things you start, I felt inclined to address it. I decided it was continue-worthy.
_____

It was October of 2007 when I purchased a house in Newnan, GA. This is what it looked like last time I was there.

In 2007 it had been renovated, but not so much that it wasn't still a 'fixer upper' (still is) ....unfortunately at that time, even though I was in a good position to buy a house,  I was essentially single, working long hours on the other side of Atlanta and had a dumb boyfriend who gave me please-don't-break-up-with-me puppy that needed all of my free time and more that I always felt guilty for not being able to supply.
That house I still have--for some unknown reason that I'm sure will be revealed to me at some point in this life...or the next....or the next....who knows (it's that much of an enigma to me).


Anyway, it was probably the summer of 2008 that I had begun digging up a little plot in the front yard to serve as an 'accent' herb garden (my terminology there).  One afternoon as I was hand-tilling the dark brown Georgia clay my little claw shovel caught something. I pulled it up and knocked off clods of mud to reveal an old horseshoe. It has graced each doorway I've lived in since.

5 years and several moves later I was [again] tired of our living quarters. My husband moved here from WV in 2011 and we lived together ["in sin"...I love saying that] in a renovated ship-builders house, then moved again in 2012 to an apartment [2 bathrooms!]. So in February when I announced my decision, he just stared at me, blank-faced -- I think I heard a little noise come from the back of his throat...sounded like a cross between a whimper and a stifled growl.

I'd said, "What? Look, the beauty of renting is that after a year, if you don't like it, you can move...."

p.s. If I really decide to convince you of something, chances are you're going to want it as much as I do by the end of my spiel. I'm just saying.

Well, we searched high and low, even contacting agencies. But it was Craigslist where I discovered the jewel of a condo that even my husband couldn't deny was perfect for us. It wasn't just coincidence that landed us this place--it was 100% bonafide MINT 2 B. In all sincerity I'm totally comfortable saying he and I are both creatures of our environment. We jokingly called our old apartment "the cave"-- but it was no joke the place was psychologically suffocating both of us. I didn't want to be there a day longer. Just like I didn't want to be in the previous house with only one bathroom and a lot of rodent and moisture problems.

There must have been a hundred responses to the lease listing. It was a wee bit smaller than what we'd been in (errr.....about 500sq feet smaller), but the shockingly low price they were advertising made me feel sure we had some advantage over the other applicants. I had a hunch that, save for a random bachelor, we were probably in the older category of interested folks, which meant a few things. 1. we are generally more financially stable than young'uns. 2. had more time to build good, solid credit, have low[er] debt and a sparkling rental history (with all the stress that being a "landlady" brings me,  I'll be damned if I'm not a fabulous tenant). And let's not forget, we're a sweet young married couple--and for whatever insane reason, that makes most older adult people feel better about you when you're up for judgement....

(and yes of course I hid my heathen tattoo, lest they think I was secretly a Harley-riding lesbian, dominatrix, or budweiser drinking redneck)

My latest response to ppl acknowledging my tattoo (apparently still a social obligation), "eh...it actually wasn't alcohol, it was being a 20 year old art student who was into classic rock." I never thought I'd write it off, but I have. I've even gone the way of fading creams and one lazer removal treatment before giving in and deciding that if I ever really want it gone I'll just save enough money to have it lanced by a plastic surgeon.

it's not really a bad tattoo. I don't hate it. I just don't need it anymore.

...but for the record I prefer bicycles; women are their own worst enemy, why the hell would I date one?[except for Naomi Watts...I'd totally date her--and people, c'mon, don't read too far into that statement, I love women and detest what we do to each other for what? who? men. that's it. yeesh ]; moving on...I think the need to equate pleasure (esp the nice, warm intimate kind) with pain is a sign of maladaptive or unaddressed and possibly dangerous emotional issues--see "Fifty Shades"; I enjoy micro-brewed IPA; I appreciate the good and fun side of southern hospitality, not the ignorance 

"oh where are my manners! now, what can I get you to drink? water? lemonade? vodka tonic?"

that was fun

but I've digressed

It also helped that Rob and I knew about a dozen people that the owners either were best friends with, had worked with (pleasantly thank goodness), or lived on the same street as. Glory of a tiny island community. It was too good and it was true.

But for weeks we heard nothing and were trying very hard to accept that the condo had probably been leased to someone else--but nothing we saw was better. We were pining, even reduced to low measures like secretly hoping whoever the imaginary person they'd chosen would have some terrible, disturbing, un-ignorable disqualifying revelation. I'm not kidding, it was bad--we were like a couple of heart-sick teenagers.

Then one day my cell rang, and it was the owner asking if we were still interested--the renovations were almost done and they'd narrowed the list of possible tenants to...well, us. We were quietly ecstatic. We went out for another look that evening and we signed the lease a few weeks later when the condo was finished.

In the meantime I ALMOST sold my house in Newnan. The woman's financing fell through 4 days before we were to close. Damn. Blast. So I put it up for rental again and I became very picky about tenants and very open about my position on the house. I don't make any money on the place, I just want to pay the bills and have someone live there who isn't going to trash it. A couple moved in who were expecting their first baby (actually born a few days ago....they texted me pics. how sweet). They're a nice couple about our age. I doubt they'll buy it but if they don't at the end of their lease it'll be about time for Rob to start grad school and it's between Armstrong in Savannah and Georgia State in Atlanta. If the latter we'll just move back in and start working on it. It'd be ideal really, closer to my parents if we decided to have children of our own. But we'll see what happens. It'll work out. Always does. 

We've been in the island condo since the end of April and already it makes me sad to think of ever having to leave (I know we will some day). A few weeks ago I decided to dig up a little space beside the front porch steps to plant herbs. At first I thought it was another root and I even hacked at it once, but it came up easily. No telling how long it's been there. I brought it inside and scrubbed it clean. It was a tiny plastic figurine of St. Joseph. Here he is.

St. Joseph, the husband of Mary and earthly Father of Jesus Christ, is honored as the patron saint of married couples, families, carpenters and workingmen. March 19, his feast day, is especially celebrated by people of Italian and Polish descent.

Over the years, the tradition arose of St. Joseph having a special power in real estate transactions. European nuns buried a medal with his likeness on property they hoped to aquire for convents. Gradually the medals were replaced with statues and the focus changed from buying to selling.

The statue is buried upside down in the front yard with the feet pointing to heaven. It may face towards the home (or towards the street if you want your neighbor's home to sell!) The location of the statue can vary: by the "For Sale" sign, in a flower pot (popular for condo owners), etc.. As long as you can find it once the home has sold. 

After the home has sold, the statue should be removed from the ground and given a place of honor in your new home.
Description found here:  http://www.catholicsupply.com/christmas/stjoe.html 

(You can also buy your very own St Joseph Home Selling Kit at the above link!!!! exciting :)

I know what I'll be doing next time I'm in Newnan...

let's go over this again...

the bird and I want to know exactly who gave you permission to be gone all weekend...

I came home from work yesterday and after several short drives back and forth on the island I finally reached a point where all the errands I could get done were done and all I could think to do was buy a 6 pack of beer and find a place to enjoy a few of them. (The post office had closed at 12 so I could not mail the two packages I intended to but I assumed the world would continue turning despite my small disappointment)

Disappointment which was neutralized when I arrived home and found new books in the mail box. I had been fretting for WEEKS about the arrival of this package, stalking the "order status" page and obsessively tracking the shipment, especially when I realized that I had placed the order when we were in our old condo and we had since moved. Yesterday morning I asked Rob to go to the island PO with the shipping information in an effort to increase the chances of them holding it there or delivering it to our forwarding address -- Rob later called and said the man had written a few things down and gave him comforting assurance (intended for me I'm sure) that the person assigned to our route was "a good lady who usually catches those things."

Why I didn't give Rob the two packages I wanted to mail to my mother and brother is beyond me. I guess I saw my day panning out differently and certainly didn't think about shorter hours on Saturday. But I occasionally cling to tasks that I want to be done because I know that if it isn't done, no one has to experience Rachel's disappointment except me.

My best friend for the last two years, Kristina (and her family), lives about 5 miles from us. We're mid-island and they're north-island. If we were south-island it would add a whopping two miles to the distance but the point is I never get tired of appreciating that we live so close to each other and are such good friends. I don't try to but have always had one best friend at a time, and it seems to take me a long time and odd circumstances. I suppose that gives it character. hehe. Kristina and I were an extremely unlikely pair to become friends and I still remember how quirky it felt I was when I realized we genuinely enjoyed each-others company. I thought we couldn't stand each other. We even exchanged heated debates at work about patient care--looking back I think both of us were right. Both of us passionate about the people we cared for. Then sometime weeks later when there was a lull in our combat, I texted her from a dermatologists office asking if she would mind being my emergency contact because it made sense for a good nurse to be an emergency contact in an place where I was about to go through a painful laser treatment--she laughed (in text) and said she'd be honored and asked me if my vaccinations were up to date and what my advance directives were.

Anyway, this entry is getting longer than what my mind imagined. But that's the nutshell of how we became friends.

I went to her house after my errands yesterday and any time I go there I'm usually happily sucked into to their household chaos of neighborhood kids running in and out, Kristina yelling about the back door being open, spontaneous board games and their slightly stinky but sweet little dog, Charlie. And we usually end up trying to figure out what to order out for food so that Dan doesn't get cranky and Rob has a reason to come hang out with us when he gets off work. Last night was no different. Kristina and I ran through hours of entertaining each other with elaborate stories of the PTSD we have from our last employer, she recreated hilarious stories about working in hospice, I described the latest odd pet-walker sighting on our street (a very old woman wearing ONLY a hot pink raincoat) and presented at least one re-enactment of a laughable event that was mortifying at the time it was actually experienced. Basically our only goal is to make each other laugh, even if sometimes we end up crying.

On the way to her house I saw a kitten that had been hit and killed. It was right in the middle, right on the yellow line and it was very young--a soft gray, orange and white little tabby. It was pouring rain and I imagined the driver either never saw it at all or tried in vain to avoid it, although the latter honestly should have resulted in moving it from the road--I do try to give us humans the benefit of the doubt in such situations. I didn't tell Kristina about the kitten until we were about to leave and I asked if we could borrow a shovel. Rob said he had one in his truck and we would get it up if it was still there on our way home.  Rain was still peppering down and I don't like driving after dark or in the rain if I can help it, so I was following Rob as we headed home in separate cars. He drove slowly all the way to the end of the street so we wouldn't miss seeing the kitten. When we approached the place where I'd seen it earlier, there was no kitten--but the mother cat was there. I knew it was her. She was grey and orange, sitting in the oncoming lane in the rain. As we passed she shuffled to the side of the road and sat back down on the shoulder. I cried the rest of the way home--for the kitten, and for a mother's undeniable, stunning grief from the loss.

I started reading Gaiman's novel this morning (I have no intention of reading it in one sitting--that seems gluttonous) --and I already read the forward online so I leafed through it to chapter one. The boy receives a kitten on his 7th birthday....a special little creature who later is the unfortunate victim of an auto driver (who is not kind). Thinking it out loud on a screen here I always feel like I have to explain that I realize it's a fictional story -- but to me they may all be real and they often make more sense anyway. Chapter one freshened my sadness from last night, but in it's odd little way was also comforting--a hand from the universe reaching in to gesture these things we share.

The sun was out for 30 minutes or so. Long enough to hear children squealing by the pool across the hedge behind our lovely condo. It sounded like wind but I realized it was rain as the rushing sound started moving across this part of the island toward the marsh. The people at the pool scurried to put their things away and get inside and its pouring rain again. I originally wanted the sun to stay out so I could go to the beach, and the cats aren't thrilled if I leave the patio door open when it's raining -- but it does make for an excellent background on this Sunday morning.

Chapter two