Song of the day: Thank You - Dido

"And I want to thank you
For giving me the best day of my life"

This morning I got up, had four cups of coffee, and immediately began making dinner. My husband had gone to Wal-Mart and for his morning walk. On the menu: Pot roast with red potatoes, carrots and peas and apple pie for dessert. I had promised Mom that I would bring dinner over this afternoon around 3:00pm, and so time was of the essence, if I were going to do "this thing" right...and on time. So there I stood, by the stove, in my mis-matched pajamas (purple flowered top, beige pants). I am totally "wired" on caffeine at 9:00am, meat and potatoes roasting in the oven, a mop in one hand and a bucket in the other. Suddenly, the fire alarm goes off! (Ain't nothing worse than having a kitchen fire alarm go off early on Thanksgiving morning; leaving all in the neighborhood wondering who it is in the cul-de-sac who can't cook.)

Seems the drippings from the beef have hit the element in the oven, resulting in a voluminous cloud of soft gray colored smoke. "The Boy", upstairs at the time, suddenly comes bolting downstairs. "Ma!", he says, "What's going on?" I look at him through the smoke, waving back and forth while suppressing a cough, and tell him that everything is fine. He tells me that he is going to "Stop, Drop, and Roll". He's being funny and I want to smack him.

I open a few windows, and the smoke eventually clears out of the room. Before long, morning turns into afternoon, and it is time to get ready to go to Mom and Dad's. I remember that Mom and Dad do not have "The Boy's" lastest school photograph, and so I go upstairs, get a pair of scissors and cut out one of the large ones that are in the photo package for them. I then take a shower. The water runs, mingle with my tears, and soon I turn into a heap of huge, squeaky clean...heaving sobs. I am not ashamed to cry, and I am not ashamed to write this...I say a prayer and thank God for this year, this month, this hour, this minute, and this second...that he has allowed all of us to remain together...for at least one more time. I dress, pack up the dinner, the pie, "The Boy", and head out to my parents' home.

"Oh, just to be with you
Is like having the best day of my life"

Mom greets us at the front door, and is glad to see us. Dad, meanwhile, is upstairs, resting in bed. After showing Mom his new school picture, "The Boy" immediately grabs it back from her, then "hightails" himself quickly upstairs to see his Papa, while I remain downstairs to unpack the still warm food, and talk to Mom. I will go up a little later. Mom and I have a nice, long talk at the kitchen table. She divides a juicy, ripe pear, and gives me half...It is the best I have had in ages. It came from a Harry and David gift box she had been given. We begin to talk. During the course of conversation, we begin to awkwardly, but slowly, reveal to each other, information about strange, (but good) things that have been happening to us lately. It seems, almost everyone in the family has had nice (but weird) things happen to them within the last 30 days or so. I'll just leave it at that... Another part of her confession: She sheepishly told me that, unbeknownst to me, she had requested that Acquaintance Number One not be allowed on Dad's visitor's list when he was in the hospital. Hallelujah! Good to know that I wasn't the only one who felt this way. Now, I don't feel so bad.

Soon I have to go to the restroom. I look at the wall shelves in the bathroom and see a collection of dusty toiletries from times gone by....long discontinued Avon products, along with half filled bottles of: Jade East, Hai Karate, Xiang Xian, Jean Nate and other stuff twenty to thirty years old, neatly lined up on each shelf. Why hadn't I noticed them before? I remember a time when many of them were brand new. I also remember a time when even I felt brand new. Today, although I am somewhat happy, I feel like a second-hand version of my former self.

Mom and Dad have also very recently had a handicap accessible commode installed in this guest powder room. It sits higher than a standard toilet, and so I was quite unprepared, and got a rude awakening, when I went to sit down in the evening darkness, and found that the cold toilet seat met me half-way. It, however, is a blessing for anyone with stiff knees.

I have stiff knees.

"And I want to thank you
For giving me the best day of my life"

I finally go upstairs to see Dad. He is unshaven and laying flat on his back. He is taking blood thinners, and so the chance of him getting nicked by a razor, and subsequently hemmoraging, isn't worth his taking a cosmetic risk. Actually, he looks quite handsome with his slight salt and pepper beard. "The Boy" is talking him to death, but he doesn't mind. This is part of the package. He is glad to be home. They have always been a team and this is what they both like. I keep our conversation short, go back downstairs, talk to Mom for a while and then gather up a few disposable containers to take home. My sister calls to see if everything is all right. It is. "The Boy" and I leave shortly to come home.

I am thankful for today. I am thankful for my family. I am thankful for my friends. I am thankful for love. I am thankful for my life. I am thankful for my health. I am thankful for truth. I am thankful for those remembered. I am thankful for those forgotten.

And, I am thankful that you have taken the time to read this.

"Oh, just to be with you
Is like having the best day of my life"

Thank you! Thank you! Thank you! Ever so much!!! - Nards

Thank you to: {{Mar and Robin}}, House, Dexter, Cassy, Chrissy, TT, Valerie(smile), Shirley, Jenn, Robert V, Mike G, Kim F(Articulates), Pam GA Farmwoman, Zunnur, Tamera, Anna. And an EXTRA special thank you to: my sister, husband and "The Boy" who keeps me laughing day after day!

And to the many others who have shared their stories with me, entrusted me with them, or have given them to me for safekeeping, but for their own personal reasons, have asked me not to post them, Thank you. I wish you would reconsider, but I will honor your wishes and keep them close to my heart.

What a good day this was. I will remember: Thursday, 11/27/2008

Song of the day: Daddy's Home

"How I’ve waited for this moment
To be by your side...."

Wednesday morning...a half-day of school for "The Boy". Here, in the United States, tomorrow will be observed as an official day of Thanksgiving. He will be out of school on that day, as well. After picking him up from school, my husband, "The Boy" and I, headed straight for the hospital. Dad had been moved to a larger room the previous day. For some reason today, the air felt lighter. When we arrived, Mom, my sister and my aunt (Dad's sister) were already there. Dad has been scheduled for a "procedure" a little later on in the day, and we all wanted to be present.

"It wasn’t on a Sunday (Monday and Tuesday went by)"

In the meantime, we keep the atmosphere "light". My husband stands in a corner quietly reading a book. He is asked by my Mom and Aunt about its title. He smiles, as a show of respect, quickly tucking the book under his arm, but does not offer an answer. I already know what it is: "There's A Spiritual Solution to Every Problem", by Wayne Dyer. This is neither the time or place for any theological debate. Had he revealed the subject, he would have agreed to have accepted a challenge. My Mom has a tendency to turn into the "pitbull from Heaven", whenever these types of subjects arise. This was a smart move on his part, and so I agree with him. We continue to laugh and talk until the time arrives for Dad to go downstairs to radiology for testing. Soon, he is hoisted up onto a guerney and swiftly moved out. The six of us attempt to follow behind, but are no match for the orderly's pace. He appears to be "possessed"; and dressed in his clean, blue surgical scrubs, he has the face of a cherub, the grin of an insane person, and the speed of a race car driver. As if deliberately trying to outrun us, he soon disappears into a waiting elevator, then quickly shuts the door. We have been left behind. But, no problem. We ask around, and within moments, we are back on track and in the Radiology waiting room.

"It wasn’t on a Tuesday afternoon"

After about an hour or so, the Doctor who is also the Radiology Specialist comes out into the waiting room. We resemble a small swarm of gnats, as he ushers the six of us into a small conference room. He is from another country and speaks with a delightful accent. More importantly, he has a genuine, caring manner. He tells us that the procedure was successful, but that a follow-up by Dad's physician is critical, and should be done as soon as possible.

"But I made a promise that you treasure"

He also tells us that Dad can go home this afternoon. He really cares. There is emotion in his voice when he gives us the news. This is news that we are happy to hear as each one of us shakes his hand, then thank him as we leave the room. Tonight, my aunt leaves to go home. It was nice having her here, but she has a long journey ahead of her and needs to prepare for it. I go to work this afternoon, and so the three of us, (my husband, "The Boy", and myself) leave the hospital almost immediately. Mom, my sister and my aunt will take care of getting Dad ready to go home.

"And I made it back home to you"

I go to work, at the usual time; plug in, tune out, do my time, then pack up my things, (including my "Book-On-Tape" CD's) and then get ready to go home. There are 10 CD's included in the box set of my "Book-On-Tape" CD's. Earlier in the evening, my fellow co-worker "M" noticed just how much I had been enjoying the book, and asked if she could begin listening, starting with the first CD. I was happy to oblige. She became "hooked" (I am on number 9). At the end of the evening, as she handed me back the CD's she had finished, we hugged and wished each other a good holiday. As I leave, on my way out, I lightly brush the shoulder of the tall blonde gentleman sitting on the end seat, two rows behind me. Although we both have been here almost two months, I have yet to know his name. We also smile and wish each other a happy holiday. These are the two people with whom I have the most direct interaction, and the people to whom I offer a personalized, deluxe hello and goodbye almost every evening...everyone else gets the generic version. In any case, I get to go home and sleep in my own bed. And guess what? Tonight, so does my Dad.

"Daddy’s home ....."

Tonight, our hearts are overflowing with gratitude...

"I’m not a thousand miles away..."

Song of the day - Chiquitita - ABBA

"Chiquitita, you and I cry
But the sun is still in the sky and shining above you - ABBA"

Although this is Monday, I do have a past weekend post, but am still trying to decide what to do with it. Whether to post it...or not. I'll probably just wait and bury it in amongst the others at a later date....

But anyway....

After taking "The Boy" to school, I swing by a fast food place and select three sausage biscuits from the posted Dollar menu, as well as a cup of coffee for my Aunt and Mother, who are at the hospital visiting Dad. When I arrive, I give them the food, go kiss Dad, and notice that his eyes are "weepy". Not in the "crying" sense, but watery. We ask the nurse about it, and she puts together a warm compress; composed of several clean, white, folded washcloths. I keep the compresses freshened and warm; and then reapply them to his closed eyes every five minutes or so. Dad likes this. He says that he feels better. He certainly looks better. Mom and my Aunt sit for a while, then take their leave to walk about the hospital for a while. I stay with Dad, discontinue the compresses, and talk with him a while. Shortly thereafter, a doctor comes in; a Pulmonary Specialist. I take notes in a red notebook. We talk about treatment, etc; and the fact that Dad may be a candidate for an outpatient option. The doctor says that he wants to keep us all "on the same page" (I absolutely loathe and abhor that expression).

Although we are about as "adult" as "adult" can be, my sister and I are often referred to as being "the girls," by friends and family alike; as we are close and often viewed as being inseparable. However, during Dad’s hospital stay, my sister and I have compared notes; and have interestingly discovered that we are now being referred to, by hospital staff as being "The Daughters." We are becoming "Legends of the Week." This new title of "The Daughters," is noted with affection by some of the staff, but with infamy by others; as my sister and I are not afraid to politely ask questions, or probe into finding out exactly what a specific medical term means. People do not intimidate us. Words do not intimidate us. Words are our friends. Although my sister and I are fairly articulate, we have no problem asking, if we do not understand something. And, while this is not our intention, it can prove to be annoying to some in the medical profession, and so, we always make the extra effort to be respectful, and comport ourselves with the proper decorum... ‘sides, “God don’t like ugly!” (Please pardon the vernacular, if you will)

"Let me hear you sing once more like you did before...Sing a new song, Chiquitita"

Mom and my aunt soon return, to find me still talking to the doctor, while making notes in my red book. Mom asks him additional questions, while I get on the phone to call my sister to give her an update. In the meantime, two family acquaintances come in to visit. For my own personal reasons, I am not particularly fond of Acquaintance Number One. Acquaintance Number Two, to me is just a benevolent, smiling, tag-along sidekick. However, I will say this about Acquaintance Number One: She is well known for her generosity, visiting the infirmed, and willingness to lend a hand when needed. This, I do admire about her.

I remain on the phone talking to my sister, while acknowledging both of them with a smile and a wave. I could have easily ended the conversation with my sister, but chose to continue on with it. My sister telepathically gets my "vibe." She knows me, knows what I am doing, and is "playing along." What had been at first, a genuine conversation, has now morphed into more or less a "prop". Truthfully? I do not wish to speak to either of them. They quietly speak to Mom and my aunt, in hushed tones for a few minutes, and then dramatically tiptoe out of the room very shortly thereafter. I smile and mouth a silent "goodbye" as they make their departure. Good...Now I can hang up the phone.

"Try once more like you did before...Sing a new song, Chiquitita..."

Dad will be seen later by a Hospitalist. Although a doctor, a Hospitalist's function is mostly general. This is a holiday week, and I suspect that his main job now, would be to "hold down the fort" while other doctors have a chance to take some well deserved time off, to be with their own families and loved ones. This is reasonable. This is to be understood.

I go to the hospital cafeteria, grab a few chicken wingdings and sit down at a table to eat. Although, the cafeteria is undergoing a major remodel, it remains a cheerful, bustling cafeteria filled with lonely and scared people, intermingled with hospital personnel. I see a story in each face. Most people are uneasy eating alone. You can identify them within moments...they are the ones who usually sit against a wall, look down at their plates, and hurriedly try to "get it over with." Not me. I am in my element, and need no book or magazine as a prop. I am near the middle of the floor, facing the crowd. I eat, while looking around me at the same time. This is not to be confused with arrogance. But people, let's make no mistake about it....I want to be alone. I chuckle to myself, when I realize that my invisible force field is working. The cafeteria is almost full, yet people avoid coming to my table, which, by the way, can easily seat four comfortably. They come within a few feet of the table, with trays in hand, and then stop suddenly in their tracks...as if jolted by a shock of electricity….”Bzzz!” Normally, people are drawn to me. I am usually the attractor and not the repellent. But, not today. For today, this is the way I wish for it to be. (Law of Attraction...in reverse?) Thank you people...for staying away. "Zap!"

After I finish eating, I go back to Dad's hospital room to kiss everyone goodbye, then stop by the library to get a "Book-on-tape"(CD) to take to work with me tonight; before picking up "The Boy" from school. When I get home, I find that my husband has purchased for me: three shirts and a new pair of jeans. Everything he bought is in the same non-descript shade of navy blue. As "The Boy" does his homework nearby, I model the outfits. Everything fits perfectly. My husband likes what he sees. This is all that matters.

Later, I take a five minute nap, then go to work. After I arrive, I immediately pop in my electronic book, and get lost in the words as they swirl about me, directly channeled into both ears via earphones. I adore books. I love words, I like the narrator, and I am particularly fond of the author I have chosen. For tonight, I have found a way to cope.

As the evening progresses, there is a departmental meeting. There is talk about changes...potluck dinner...turkeys….ham….diversity… questions? … blah, blah, blah. Informational, but nothing of any particular import. This chatter is prolonging the evening. Work still needs to be done; but more importantly, my "Book-On-Tape" has been stopped at a most critical "car chase" scene. I estimate that this Kumbayafest has set us back, by at least forty five minutes. I am correct. I get off work after midnight; 12:01am, to be precise. How do I know? The system clock says so, that‘s how. I call my husband and ask him to be on the lookout for me. I arrive home safely, and sit in the car for a few minutes counting my blessings. Tonight, I will be able to sleep well.

"Try once more like you did before...Sing a new song, Chiquitita..."

Song of the day: Drive - The Cars

"Who's gonna tell you things,
Aren't so great"...The Cars

It is 10:45am, and I am typing this entry on my laptop while in my Dad's hospital room. I have discreetly removed myself from being next to Dad's bedside, and have relocated to a chair on the other side of the room. Mom is giving him a sponge bath behind the pink, pulled around screen surrounding his bed. She is amazed that I can do this unplugged, and without electricity. Technology still astounds her, but secretly, I think she is annoyed at the way I am able to continue on with doing something else, while still keeping a quiet vigil. I look at the floor beneath the curtain, and watch her feet, as she scurries about from one side of the bed to the other. All of this movement is unneccessary, but it makes her feel useful. She and Dad are saying things to each other...fussing and carrying on. Their banter is making me laugh. At another time, and in another place, this would have gotten on my nerves. However, in this setting, while I am on the other side of the curtain, it is music to my ears. It feels "normal". I keep typing...

"Who's gonna drive you home, tonight?"

Before stopping by the hospital this morning, I took "The Boy" to school, then made a quick trip to Wal-Mart to pick up a few snacks. My sister dropped by the hospital this morning on the way to work, with a newspaper in hand, to give to me. She is a thoughtful person. I walked her back out to the car, where she hands me a HOB sandwich (Heartattack On a Bun - Sausage and egg croissant). I think about all of my past blog entries, and wonder why I haven't written very much about her. It is unlike me, seems strange and makes no sense. She and I are as close as sisters can possibly be. I'm guessing that it is just my subconcious way of keeping at least just one of my absolutely precious relationships...to myself. The post will come....but in its own due time.

"Who's gonna pick you up,when You fall?"

The doctor came in earlier to check Dad. He is going to be transferred to another facility via ambulance for further testing this afternoon. Mom and I will be leaving soon and will meet the ambulance at the other facility. As the ambulance personnel readies Dad for his short trip, Mom and I gather the rest of Dad's belongings in hospital issued plastic bags. The nurses tell us that they are going to miss Dad; as he is such a great guy. He is...He really, really is.

"Who's gonna hang it up, When you call?"

12:00 Dad is transferred. I hope the medical personnel are as nice to him here as they were at the other hospital. Mom gets lunch, and is in the cafeteria as tests are taken. My sister and sister-in-law (brother's wife) arrive. I meet them at the entrance, and then return to the cafeteria and see Mom sitting down with a family friend (The one I wrote about earlier, who had a baby recently at age 45). I hug everyone and then hurriedly leave. I have to go and pick up "The Boy" from school soon. I leave in time to go and get him. I casually tell him that his grandfather has been moved to another hospital. He asks me if Papa is going to die. Now, this is the part where I have to decide whether to embellish the truth or give it to him straight. I choose embellishment. He comments that Papa is old; and that sometimes old people die, don't they?. I counter with: "Well, not all the time", all the while praying that he asks me no more questions. He doesn't. I am given a reprieve; and so I deftly change the subject and we go home.

Scenes of this type have been played out generation after generation; family after family. No matter what one may wish; it always ends with the inevitable. Why should our family be any different? I am thankful for all of my blessings, but on the other hand, I find myself getting angry at the Universe's boss....You-Know-Who, during my quiet moments. Although, it may not be the right thing to do, this is just my being honest. And if He is omniscient, then He already knows how I feel anyway. No need to try to pull the wool over His eyes. Since I'm "on a roll", I'll also add my own personal observance: Lately, this whole series of events seems to have been "orchestrated"...The bad ones, as well as the good ones; as if for someone's or something's amusement. There have been things that have happened lately that definitely can't be attributed to co-incidence. (As in an amusing, but specific, "Slim-Jim" incident, that my sister and I still can't believe happened.)

"Who's gonna pay attention, to your dreams?"

I begin to feel like a rag doll in the Universe's toybox...played with for a while, and thrown back in whenever funtime is over; sitting in a place of honor at a Teddy Bear tea party one day...only to be tossed under the bed the next. What will be on the menu the next time? The Paradise to Purgatory "special"? or.... How's about having a little Hell with your Hope? I really don't know how else to describe it...

...and for the first time since hearing it, I really wish that I didn't know all of the words to "that" Gilbert O'Sullivan song. (you know the one)

As I make a conscious effort to rise above my feelings of stark contradictions, I try to keep in mind what my husband reminds me of....over and over....time and time again...It is the quote:

"If you knew who walked beside you, on this path that you have chosen, you would never know fear or doubt again. ...".

"Who's gonna drive you home, tonight?"

Song of the day: Windmills of Your Mind part 2- Michel Legrand and Marilyn and Alan Bergman

"Round, like a circle in a spiral
Like a wheel within a wheel" - Michel Legrand and Marilyn and Alan Bergman

Saturday and Sunday November 15, 16...

The past weekend was a blur. Spent most of the time coordinating family visits with my sister for seeing Dad in the hospital. Mom and my sister had a funeral to attend to on Saturday. Two friends of Mom and Dad had funerals on the same day; Mom had to decide which one to go to, and when she did, my husband volunteered to monitor things at the hospital from 8:30am until late evening, while they paid their condolences. "The Boy" and I joined him at the hospital later. We have shielded this child from the realities and ugliness of all this. He has gone in to see Dad in five minute increments; then he is ushered out of the room as quickly as possible. He suspects "something", but it is obvious that he is not quite sure as to what it all means. There will be plenty of time for explanations...later. As "The Boy" watches "The Wizard of Oz" in the hospital waiting room on Saturday, visitors come and go. Only two are allowed in Dad's room at one time, (He is in ICU) and so this takes quite a bit of juggling....."The Boy" watches repeats of "The Wizard of Oz" again, at home on Sunday when we come back home from the hospital. The show started at 8:00pm and we walked in the door at 7:58pm...we had two minutes to spare. As the show progresses, he starts to ask questions. He is the only one I know of who cares about what happened to the Witch after the house dropped on her. He is beginning to think metaphorically.

"Never ending or beginning,
On an ever spinning wheel"

Monday, November 17
Dad had been in ICU until this afternoon, when they moved him to his permanent room. When it rains, it pours. "The Boy's" school called to report that he is complaining about an earache. Our new health insurance doesn't kick in until December 1st. Let's just hope that it's nothing serious. I sit in Dad's hospital room and write down information about Dad's care to hand off to my sister and Mom when they arrive. Later, I picked up "The Boy" from school and got home around 3:00pm. I still had to go to work. Got off 'round midnight..

"Like a snowball down a mountain
Or a carnival balloon"

Tuesday, November 18
Morning radio...people calling in to report snowflake sightings. Three have been seen in the southern part of the city. From what I hear, It's "gettin' ready to", or "fixin' to" snow here in this part of town. 'gettin' ready to' and 'fixin' to" are two typical southern American sayings. They either indicate procrastination, or are uttered prior to voicing an outright lie. I saw no snow. Went to work and at the end of the night, discovered that I had misplaced my car keys. I casually mentioned this to one of my fellow co-workers, "M", who said that it had been previously announced earlier, that someone's car keys had been found. I did not hear the announcement, as I had been "plugged in" to my music and tuned out to all outside messages. I need to change my modus operandi. Everyone seemed amazed as to how "cool" I was. In a previous life, I would have been in a state of panic. Tonight I was not. My Dad is in serious condition, and in the hospital! My Mom is worried! There are people starving all over the world! And you think I have the right to get upset over some lost car keys???!!! Let's just put this into perspective! Come to find out, the keys had been sent to the security desk, and this is where I retrieved them. "M" had offered to take me home to get another set of keys, had they not been found. This touched me more than she could ever had known.

"Like a carousel that's turning
Running rings around the moon"

Wednesday, November 19
Got "The Boy" ready for school and headed straight for the hospital to see my Dad afterwards. While there is bustling activity in the corridor, Dad's room is dark and he is sleeping. I do not wake him, but quietly take a chair situated in a corner by the window and stare out at a view of the roof. Within minutes, my sister joins me. She has in her hands two styrofoam cups of coffee; one for me and one for her. Mom arrives shortly thereafter. Nurses come in and out....eventually a doctor arrives. We get the information we need. My sister needs to go to work, and so we go downstairs to the cafeteria and put together a breakfast for Mom to eat while she keeps watch. I kiss my sister as she leaves, and then go back upstairs and hand to Mom her breakfast of grits, eggs, bacon and orange juice. After chatting with her for a few minutes, I leave.

After running a few errands, I am home. It is about 11:45am. My sister calls to tell me that the prognosis for Dad does not look good. She tells me that Dad was up front with the doctor and asked the awful question that almost no one wants to have the answer to..."How much longer do I have to live?" He got no answer. Actually, there is no answer. He has exceeded all expectations, and the way he has responded to treatment so far, has been unprecedented. Not sure how I feel right now.

"Like a clock whose hands are sweeping
Past the minutes on it's face"

The time is now 12:50pm, my sister has left work and is on her way to the hospital. While driving, she asks me to look up Adenocarcinoma. She continues to drive as I go online and give her as much information as I am able: the definition, the symptoms and the prognosis. None of it is nice. She reminds me that this is not a time for us to cry, and that Mom and Dad are the only ones who have earned the right to do so now. It is our job to be strong and not contribute to a pool of tears. I "get it"; and so before I allow myself to even entertain thoughts of doing so, I pull myself together. I will leave to pick up "The Boy" from school in less than an hour.

"And the world is like an apple
Whirling silently in space"

After picking "The Boy" up from school, I stop by the gas station and then come home, supervise homework, fix dinner and get ready for work. My husband arrives within the hour and we have a short discussion about how each of the other's day has been going. I go to work, plug in and hope for the best. There is a small miracle...The work runs out at 9:30pm and I can go home. I need this. I leave the building as fast as I can. As the car warms up, I call my husband first to tell him, and then my sister to coordinate my visit with Dad at the hospital tomorrow. She is too tired. We will talk about it tomorrow. The car is still warming up. After I disengage the phone, I treat myself to a small, private emotional meltdown...It is intense, lasts about 15 seconds, and then it is over...almost as quickly as when it began; just my sanity safety mechanism at work. On the way home, I did something very juvenile...Before turning on the radio, I say into the air, to no one in particular, "Please let there be an inspiring song". Within moments, Sarah Mclaughlin begins singing "In The Arms of the Angels". This is the song I need to hear. I am soon home and in my purple flowered flannel pajamas. I kiss my husband and he tells me that I smell good. Tomorrow is going to be another long day. But for tonight, I leave myself in the capable "Arms of the Angels"... Goodnight.

"Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind..."

Song of the day: Windmills of Your Mind Part 1- Michel Legrand and Marilyn and Alan Bergman

"Like a tunnel that you follow
To a tunnel of it's own...Michel Legrand and Marilyn and Alan Bergman "

Dad was admitted to the hospital, and will be in ICU (Intensive Care Unit) at least until Monday. The family chose not to tell me until my husband mentioned it to me yesterday. I went to the hospital, met my sister, had coffee with her, and visited with Dad. We had a long and cheery visit. He looks great and is in good spirits. I tell him what a good Dad he is, and what a good Grandfather he is. He smiles, and gets a far away look in his eyes. He is a quiet man of secrets, and did not have a good childhood. Many things have not been revealed to us. Despite this, he has more than made up for it, with us, his children...and with his grandchildren. There is no other like him. In further talking with him, he tells me that the city government is about to tear down the place where my grandfather and grandmother used to live (His father and stepmother...who were wonderful people). This sends chills through me. On our way home from the beach last week, we happened to pass that way for the first time in many years, and were able to show "The Boy" (from afar) where his great grandparents used to live.

"Down a hollow to a cavern
Where the sun has never shone"

Mom arrived at the hospital a few hours later. She came with a tote bag full of miscellaneous stuff...magazines, newspapers, things that Dad had asked for, and something resembling a sausage biscuit. (Don't ask). She gets a little confused these days and mentioned to me that, before leaving home, she had heated up a kettle for tea, and could not remember if she had turned off the stove before she left. I told her that I would go back and check. And so, I kissed them both goodbye and left. I picked up something to eat along the way and stayed at their house until it was time to pick "The Boy" up from school. She had not left the kettle on.

"Like a door that keeps revolving
In a half forgotten dream"

Picked up the boy from school, then went to the Dollar store. We chose a bag of chips for him and a bag of candy for me. The store clerk looks straight into my eyes, hands me my receipt and a contest entry blank, then says to me, "You must fill this out, this is for real." "I'm serious. I've not said this to anyone else." "The Boy" stands and looks at him intently while he is speaking. I then take a glance at the name on his employee badge (Carl). I come home and immediately fill out the entry blank online.

We come home and I ask "The Boy" to bring the emptied trash can back up the hill. It is then, that I am faced with a major attitude, as he tries to turn into "The Incredible Hulk". (No details provided from hereon out.) Let's just say that I was in no mood for foolishness, and that I handled the situation in my own unique and special way. Before long, the trash can was up the hill and behind the gate.... in record time, without my even having to lay so much as a hand upon it. You may call me: "Wonder Woman"...

"The Incredible Hulk" was no match.

After doing a little bit of this and that around the house, I find myself behind schedule. My husband calls, and I announce to him that I do not have any dinner ready for him. Spending time at the hospital set my schedule off a bit. He is OK with this. However, I fix "The Boy" a plate of leftover spaghetti. My husband can take care of himself from this point onward.

"Or the ripples from a pebble
Someone tosses in a stream."

Soon it was time to go to work. The night passed quickly, and soon it was time to come home. There was a dense, thick fog covering the city. I called my husband and he warned me all about it. Where I live, is notoriously known for deep fog, miscellaneous wandering woodland creatures and darting deer. I said a prayer, and managed to get home without any of these things causing any problem.

Before going to sleep, my husband tells me that he has made arrangements with my sister and my Mom to go to see Dad, at the hospital, tomorrow morning at 8:30am

The weekend has officially begun.

"Like the circles that you find
In the windmills of your mind..."

Song of the day: What I Did for Love - Marvin Hamlisch and Edward Kleban

"Kiss today goodbye,
The sweetness and the sorrow.
Wish me luck, the same to you"- Marvin Hamlisch and Edward Kleban

This morning finds us with things running a bit slow. My husband gets ready for work; then runs out of the front door. He is almost at his car, but suddenly turns around, as if on a dime, and runs back towards the house. Seems he has forgotten something. He has. He forgot to kiss us goodbye. He kisses us, tells us that he loves us, and continues on along his way.

After this, "The Boy" and I continue running behind at every other possible morning checkpoint. Eventually, out of the house, we end up getting stuck in traffic, behind a truck stopped at the light in the middle of a major intersection. The logo on the truck? SWIFT... Trust me, it was not, and so we had to wait for another turn of the light before we got through. In the meantime, the morning radio host announces that gasoline is $1.75 a gallon at one of the local Chevron stations. It's about time. The weather is rainy and my eyes are teary...as I sit at the traffic light, waiting for it to turn green; and watching the windshield wipers intermittently go back and forth. I think about my Dad, and his ongoing, courageous fight with a relentless disease (I refuse to assign honor to it, or write the name of it here). This wait also allows enough time for me to look around and notice that just about all of the brilliant fall colors have disappeared; fading into a kind of monochromatic "brown". Viewed through my tears and the rain, the Autumn landscape resembles a Monet painting...pastels and cool blues, being replaced with deep earthtones. I dig around in my purse, then realize that I have nothing with which to wipe my face, and so I take my shirtsleeve and dab at my eyes and nose. The traffic light changes to green, and I continue to make my way along the slick, wet, and brown leaf carpeted streets. Note to self: throw the shirt into the wash when I get home; the snot and tear stains will wash away quickly. However, the way I feel now, at this moment... will not. I pray for Daddy.

"Look my eyes are dry.
The gift was ours to borrow"

Arriving on campus, I park the car, then pop open the trunk. I pull "The Boy's" backpack out and carry it with me, across the street. I then unceremoniously deposit it on the sidewalk. "The Boy" remains a few steps behind me. We are late. As I walk, I can hear the backpack teetering back and forth, as if it were deciding whether to fall down or not. Without looking back, I continue on with my brisk pace, and tell him that I am not his valet. He needs to carry it the rest of the way in...himself. He then proceeds to define "valet", and tells me that valets are people who help other people. I do not respond to this; his own custom brand of stealth slavery. The conversation ends here; as I lead this misguided soul down the sidewalk, and into the hands of the Public School System for the next six hours (or so). Afterwards, the remainder of my morning goes along smoothly, and without incident.

"It's as if we always knew,
And I won't forget what I did for love"

We finally got our health insurance cards. They arrived in the mail this afternoon. This is what we had been waiting for. My husband smiled when he saw them. I don't know about him, but personally, I needed proof in my hands that leaving my family and going out to work in the evenings is worth it. Receiving these cards, gives me some validation, as well as, a bit of "peace of mind" for us both. We are no fools, and so we carefully chose "top of the line" coverage. We would rather skimp on non-essentials. This way, we can go to any doctor we choose, anywhere we choose, and not have to go through any hassles. This is worth it; even if my net paycheck amount ends up being a "big fat zero" at the end of the month. This is why I go to work at 5:30pm and work at a part-time job that I am embarrassingly overqualified for....for mere pittance in pay, but with full-time benefits. Now, the job begins to appear to be a bit more valuable to me, in my mind; my reasons for doing it, becoming crystal clear. Two major ones: Number 1: We now have more than adequate health insurance, and Number 2: I am able to be with my child when he comes home from school in the afternoon. Many do not have these privileges. This calls for a humble display of gratitude. Thank you. I have been brought back to my senses.

"We did what we had to do. Won't forget, can't regret, what I did for love".

Before long, it was time for me to go to work. Tonight they had some kind of departmental dinner for the employees, that ran from 4:00pm to 6:00pm. And now, please do not take what I am about to say, as my feeling any kind of disdain:

I arrive at 5:15pm (my usual time). I had something to eat before going to work, and so do not dine with the group. This is not being anti-social, but just my way of making sure that I do not forget where I am, why I am here, and not get lulled into undue feelings of familiarity and complacency. Although this may seem like harmless fun for some; I am fifty, focused, frivolity free, and on a mission with a dream. There is nothing festive about being at work from 5:30pm, until....The work will still be waiting after the good time has been had. And so, as usual, I force myself to smile broadly at everyone, offer a polite, but generous greeting.... then plug in and tune out. The smells of food intermingled with those of machinery do not complement each other; and so I begin to feel a bit nauseous. From this point on, everything becomes a blur; but I continue on, non-stop with my work. The evening ends around 10:15pm. After I get to my car, it occurs to me that I forgot to log out of "the system". I walk back to the office to do so, go back to my car, call my husband, and drive off into the night, and into the misty rain. This week is almost over. Four days down. One more to go...

"What I did for love..."

Song of the day: La Belle Dame Sans Regrets - Sting

"Je pense, tu sais...Erreurs, jamais" - Sting

I got the memo. The emailed message faithfully arriving every year about this time, usually a few weeks later than this. Initiated by a former workmate, it is sent out to other former workmates who are either: still there; were once in our original core IT (Information Technology) group; or to those who have either retired, left the company, or have been laid off. (I was there for 26 years) It is an invitation for us to gather together once again, at a mutually agreed upon place, on a mutually agreed upon date and time; for lunch, fellowship, and remembering "old times". I smile. Immediately I already know what I will do. Back to this later...

(I can see...this is about to be a long one....)

This morning, in the car, on the way to school, "The Boy" and I listened intently to the morning radio host as he related a news item that featured a guy who was attempting to glamorize and bring respectability to the toilet market. Yes, you heard me right. Toilets. The Japanese, especially, appear to be taking the lead in this relief effort. Interesting news, indeed. However, more interesting than this is the fact that "The Boy" casually says to me, "Hey Mom, I know a lot about toilets, let me name some for you". I humor him, and invite him to tell me all that he knows about them. He then proceeds to "rattle off" the names of every brand of toilet conceivable. I look back at him via my rear view mirror in amazement. So this is why he is having such a difficult time with his lessons! His head is too full of...well, you know.

I drop him off at school, come back and do what I normally do during the day. Mom calls. She is taking Dad to the doctor later on today. He is a trooper, and putting up a valiant fight, but the cancer is putting up an even more agressive one. I hate cancer. I do not want to write about this anymore today...really.

I sneak in a nap a little later on, so that I can be refreshed and ready for work in the evening. As I am dozing off, I have the television on (bad idea). Tyler Perry's movie: "Madea's Family Reunion" is on. I find myself laughing out loud, when I am supposed to be sleeping. This is serious. No more TV. I turn it off. Hallelujer! (No, this is not a mis-type)

"Je cherche en vain les mots
Pour m'expliquer ta vie"

It is now close to 2:00pm. I pick up "The Boy" from school. We do homework, and I try to get the downstairs looking nice and welcoming, before his Dad gets home. The garbage is beginning to smell "stinky" and needs to be taken out immediately The smell is coming from the raw chicken package that I forgot to throw out yesterday. Peeeyew! I also fix something for them both to eat. "The Boy" tells me that he needs to hurry up and finish his homework before Dad comes home from work, and starts "acting all crazy." On the inside, this almost makes me 'pass out' with laughter. However, on the outside, I manage to maintain my "Mom-ness" and refrain from showing so much as even a suggestion of a smile. This is difficult to do. This child is funny. I tell him, that if he wished to "Live Long and Prosper", finishing his homework before his father comes home, would be a very wise thing for him to do. This is his problem; not mine. In the meantime, it begins to rain. The sun is shining brightly in the western direction. This means that there is a rainbow somewhere. For some crazy reason I run to look out of the window in the direction of where one would usually be. I see none, but I know that one is out there somewhere. That's enough for me right now.

Later on, my husband comes home. He asks me about a few shirts that he had bought. I give him my immediate impression. "The dark ones will need to go back", I say. As he continues to try to make a case for keeping the dark ones, I look at him; and without blinking, remain firm. I stick by what my original impression was. The lighter ones are more professional. He stares at them a while longer, then reluctantly agrees. By now, he should know that he shouldn't ask an opinion of me, if he doesn't want to hear the truth. He knows that I am right, and so exchanges them for lighter shirts of the same style. There were none left at the store the other day. Today, he was able to find more. This is what I am learning to do... stick unwaveringly by my first instinct or impression. This time, it was a shirt; next time?...who knows... Every day, I am becoming more and more of a "Steel Magnolia". Those who know me well, will understand the huge significance of the term, as it applies to me.

And now, back to the email...

"Je pense, tu sais
Erreurs, jamais"

I will have to decline the invitation. It's not that I don't like the people. In fact, as I glance again at the cc'd list of invitees, I realize that I am quite fond of most of them. Some might even call this a possible networking opportunity. In this particular instance, I do not. On an individual basis, I wouldn't mind having a lunch here or there. But this grouping represents many of the things that I have failed to leave behind me over the last three years. This is an absolute test from the Universe. Oh Snap! Now The Universe is trying to play Gameshow Host with me! "Do you really want to go back there?", it asks me. The answer would be a resounding, "No!" I choose: "Door Number Three, thank you...and that's my Final Answer!" I have come too far. Gimme my prize. This journey has been long and arduous, and has cost me more than anyone could ever imagine; but I will gladly pay the toll on any highway leading me to the ultimate destination of emotional freedom.

"J'ecoute, tu parles
Je ne comprends pas bien"

To use a gross analogy...If I attended the luncheon, it would be similar to "picking a scab", just as an injury has almost gotten to its healing point. If you leave the scab, it will drop off on its own. If you pick at it; the rawness is renewed, and the healing process starts all over again. I am almost healed. I hope those of you who read this, and who will be attending will understand. My best wishes go out to you.

Yes, I got the memo. It comes every year about this time. The invitation for us to gather together once again, at a mutually agreed upon place, on a mutually agreed upon date and time; for lunch, fellowship, and remembering "old times". I smile whenever I think of you. This year, I have decided not to offer any flimsy excuses; and so now, you know why I must send my regrets(?). Thank you for inviting me. Although I leave it all behind me, please know this: The memories of your faces are always in front of me. I miss you too.

I am not burning a bridge; just learning to fly....

"La... Dame sans regrets"



Geoffrey, did I do this right? I'm not presumptuous enough to use "Belle", so it's "..." instead - ;-) - Nards

Song of the day: Satin Doll - Duke Ellington, Billy Strayhorn and Johnny Mercer

"Over her shoulder, she digs me.
Out cattin' that satin doll" - Duke Ellington, Billy Strayhorn and Johnny Mercer

Not much to write about today. I was able to spend a lazy day around the house, but had to pick up "The Boy" at 11:00am today. He had a half-day off from school. It was rainy and nasty outside, so we decided to stay home.

Tonight, in celebration of my night off, I "chucked" my usual nightwear of T-Shirt and shorts and donned a red long sleeved, long pants, satin pajama set to sleep in. (Pictured in the crumpled up heap on the right)

"She's nobody's fool so I'm playing it cool as can be"

"The Boy" and his Dad say that I look "beautiful", but this "getup" is too hot for me. The fabric doesn't breathe, and does not match my lifestyle. And, although their comments were enough to make my spirits soar, I won't be wearing them again any time soon. Sorry guys, it's back to T-shirts and shorts for me.

"Telephone numbers well you know,
Doin' my rhumbas with uno
And that 'in my Satin Doll". (Not!)


Goodnight, to all you "cool cats" out there!

Song of the day: Help Me Make It Throught the Night - Kris Kristofferson

"Yesterday is dead and gone and tomorrow's out of sight
And it's sad to be alone. Help me make it through the night" - Kris Kristofferson

Tonight, it was all I could do to keep my eyes open at work. It just so happens that the evening's work was of low quality; and required closer scrutiny. It just kept coming and coming; finally ending at around 11:55pm. I actually signed off at 11:59pm. If you plan to tell me that there is no such thing as Hell, please save it for someone else; as I have been totally re-convinced that it does indeed exist.

During the night, I plugged in my earphones and had an oldies CD queued up. This is the song that kept me up and going until it was time to leave : "I'm Doing Fine" - by New York City So many memories associated with this one... I set it on "repeat" for at least six times. To keep myself from nodding off, I move....noiselessly pantomiming, in tiny motions barely noticeable to those around me; lip-synching to the music, while remaining seated...watching the computer screen, and keying in numbers; as they seem to endlessly flash before me. As I look around me, everyone seems to be plugged in and tuned out. We have each found our own little "Pocket of Paradise."

"I don't care what's right or wrong,I won't try to understand.
Let the devil take tomorrow for tonight I need a friend."

Now here, boys and girls, is the advantage of being "over 50"...the total lack of self-consciousness. I did whatever I could to make it through the night. For six and one half hours, the only words I spoke were: "Good Evening" when I arrived, and "Good Night" when I left. A grand total of four audible words passed by my lips. However...the words passing through my brain as I worked do not count; and, truth be told, you do not want to know what they were. Actually, it is like this most evenings, with the total words spoken by me, in the office, while working, adding up to perhaps a grand total of about 100 for the entire week. This suits me fine. When I'm plugged in to my music, I get to make my own atmosphere. It is a Utopia of my own creation.

I call my husband, and tell him to look out for me. I come home, tiptoe upstairs and then go into "The Boy's" bedroom and plant a kiss on his forehead. His eyes fly open for a second or two; and close almost immediately. He has just about reached the state of deep sleep, and is unable to respond to me. And so, I quietly leave him, then go across the hallway, to my room; put down my things, and dress for bed. As I climb in, my husband (with his back turned towards me in the dark) tells me that my perfume smells nice, but is overpowering. (I am wearing a Vera Wang fragrance. He bought it for me). I am almost tempted to shower, but change my mind. It is late, almost 1:00am, and I am tired. It's not like I stink, you know. And so, I make the Executive decision to go directly to bed. He no longer complains. I am home. Now that he knows that I am safe, he no longer has to be a sentinel, and so he falls back to sleep again within moments.

"Yesterday is dead and gone and tomorrow's out of sight
And it's sad to be alone. Help me make it through the night".

"The Boy" has a half-day off from school tomorrow, and I have a whole day off. (Due to Veteran's Day holiday) Tomorrow will be another challenge.

"I don't wanna be alone. Help me make it through the night".

"Bloggers Unite" Refugees 11/10/2008 Song of the day: "United We Stand" - Brotherhood of Man

"For united we stand, divided we fall" - Brotherhood of Man

Refugee. Here in the USA, the word usually evokes thoughts of some far away land; of people who speak a different language and who are of a different culture; of people who have been forced to leave their homes (or in some cases homelands) as a result of some type of political unrest or other tribal disagreement. The word refugee is commonly used, and thought of as being an exotic term; referring to something horrible that happens, which causes people living in the ambiguous land of "Over There" to flee in haste, then wander nomadically around in the land of "Somewhere Else"

Here, in the USA, many of us still believe that this kind of thing happens only to "other people", who live in "other places". We have only to turn off our big screen televisions, or fold our newspapers and tuck them away to make these people and "other places" disappear out of our minds, and then ultimately...out of our hearts.

Enter: Hurricane Katrina; a natural disaster. Katrina changed all of our beliefs. She was no lady. Without any political agenda, credentials or any governmental "red tape", she arrived quickly and uninvited; efficiently bashing down doors, sweeping away homes, and forcing out hundreds of families; causing many to unwillingly take on the status of becoming refugees in their own homeland. Refugees in our homeland...The United States of America.

Eventually Katrina left. However, we find that now; long after the deadly waters have receded, and as the stories no longer make headlines, many are still displaced and have not found their homes again. They still exist and are scattered quietly among us. Here, in this land of "Somewhere Else", there are still refugees among us...

"And if our backs should ever be against the wall
We'll be together, together, you and I..."

Refugees United

Let us not forget...

Song of the day: Autumn Leaves - Johnny Mercer

"The falling leaves drift by my window, the falling leaves
Of red and gold...." Johnny Mercer



After a beautiful drive in sunny weather on yesterday, my sister, my husband, my son, and myself had the privilege of starting off a beautiful Sunday morning, with a sweeping view of the Atlantic Ocean directly in front of us . Waking up to the the sound of crashing waves and the scent of salt water can not be beat! I tell my son that if he were to take a map of the United States, and then trace his finger along the East Coast, at some point, it would land somewhere close to where he is standing at this very moment. This elementary lesson seems to have interested him somewhat; as the usability of an actual map became "real" to him.

We were able to spend lots of quality time together, as my sister and I had a chance to sit back and cackle. As "The Boy" watched our mouths and hung on to every word, we began speaking in code; then made the switch to mixing up French with English(Franglais). We used to speak straight French with each other in front of my mother, but as the years progressed, we have forgotten a lot; and so in the interest of speed, and of keeping the gossip flow going, we supplement any forgotten French words with an English equivalent. Truly a massacre of both the English and French languages!

Eventually my husband and son got sick of us, and decided to walk out and take the time to enjoy the ocean at close range. Soon there was breakfast, then snacks. Then, before we knew it, it was time to go back home.

Before leaving it all behind, to face the many upcoming winter weeks ahead, we packed up all our stuff, then we all took one long last walk along the boardwalk. I smiled when I observed a youngster, with a decorated Flat Stanley in his hands, having his picture taken in front of a huge sculpture of King Neptune; all the while, his mother reminding him as to how important it is for his "project". I tell "The Boy" what a Flat Stanley is, and remind him that he has a similar project to be done, that is due in the Spring. The message seemed to have fallen upon deaf ears. We'll worry about it later.

"And soon I'll hear old winter's song"

We then came back, checked out of the hotel, packed the car, and left before it became too late in the evening. We have gone to the beach many, many times before; but for some reason my sister wanted to test her sense of adventure and investigate an alternate route; using an HOV (High Occupancy Vehicle) lane. This did not work out, and so we ended up in an unfamiliar area. Strange thing is: As we meandered our way out of this area, we ended up passing the place where my paternal grandfather and grandmother used to live. As I sit as a passenger, next to my sister (who is driving), my husband and son sit in the back seat, oblivious as to the significance of this to my sister and to myself. We are all in the same car, at the same time; but we are not on the same "page". Heck! In fact, we are not even in the same "book"

"But I miss you most of all my darling"

As we drive into the direction of a quickly setting sun, my husband and "The Boy", sit in the back seat, alternately looking out of the window and/or snoring. My sister and I recall that she and I hadn't seen the place in many, many years. This calls to mind many fond memories of times past. Of fabulous dinners, ending with lemon meringue pies; of laughter...and of love. Both of these beloved grandparents are gone now. Our time together went by all too quickly. "The Boy" would have loved them; and they, him. I regret not having spent more time with them. However, the first names of both my husband's paternal grandfather and my paternal grandfather, are safely bookended between "The Boy's" first and last names; and so he has two middle names; names of true meaning. I am so glad that we gave them to him. They are names that he can be proud of. Each time he signs his name, they are remembered. In this small way, we made sure that they will not be forgotten.

That being said: Eventually, we got home.

We love the ocean, and so we find that, every year, and all too soon, we reluctantly arrive at the end of the summer season. Although we will miss the surf and warm summer sun, we almost feel as if we have made enough good memories to last a lifetime. And yet, they are never enough. There never will be. We have only just begun, and are far from being finished....

"When autumn leaves start to fall...."

To be continued...next summer!

Song of the day: Working for the Weekend - Loverboy

"Everyone's watching, to see what you will do
Everyone's looking at you, oh" - Loverboy

Another I-don't-feel-like- posting post:

*Took "The Boy" to school

*Came back and cleaned up the downstairs; mopped kitchen floor, vacuumed...

"Everybody's goin' off the deep end
Everybody needs a second chance, oh"

*Picked "The Boy" up from school at 2:00pm. Almost lost my cool, as someone opens their car door, right in front of me, just as I am parking mine.

*Came back home, fried fish (tilapia) for "The Boy" and gave him a meal of fish, salad and milk. Saved a few pieces of fish for my husband to eat when he gets home.

"Everyone's looking to see if it was you
Everyone wants you to come through"

*Went to work. Gas tank low. Amber light goes on, then off, then on again. This is one of the biggest risks I take. Living dangerously, and "on the edge"...Woo Hoo!

*Got through the night's work. (Thanks to Jimmy Buffett) "Fins to the right...fins to the left..." The "system" randomly selects me to receive the evening's final batch of work. What an honor! It had to have been due to my exquisite charm and magnetic personality (Bummer!). Everyone leaves, but soon I am finally done. All over and finished at 10:55pm (Thank Goodness!)

"Everyone's hoping it'll all work out
Everyone's waiting they're holding out"

*Stopped by gas station on the way home. Didn't have much cash on me. Pumped in $10.00 worth (@$1.95 cents a gallon), and because I am also an uncaged carnivore, hiss, grrrr.... I also grab a 99 cent "Slim Jim" to gnaw on for the drive home.

*Home. Snack. Bed. - End of Friday. Goodnight....

And now it is Saturday morning. I have already washed one load of clothes. Packing to go away for the weekend. See ya on the flip side!

"You wanna be in the show
Come on baby lets go..."

Happy Saturday Everyone!

Song of the day: Over the Rainbow/What a Wonderful World- Iz Kamakawiwo'ole

"Somewhere over the rainbow bluebirds fly
And the dream that you dare to,why, oh why can't I? i iiii -"Iz" Kamakawiwo'ole"

Yesterday was a bit "icky" for me. Started out fine, but went downhill on roller skates, with each passing hour. However, no more comment (or detail) about it will be provided on this post. I had a low grade headache for the last few days and so I opened the windows for a while yesterday afternoon, to let in fresh air. We had turned the heat on (gas) for the first time since the season has changed from Summer to Autumn. Maybe this is part of the problem. My husband had casually mentioned to me that he also had a slight headache. In any case, we both woke up this morning, minus headaches.

"Someday I'll wish upon a star
Wake up where the clouds are far behind me ee ee eeh
Where trouble melts like lemon drops
High above the chimney tops thats where you'll find me oh"

For the first time since I have been working in the evenings, I got through the night without feeling sleepy. I got off from work at a reasonable hour (10:06pm) and had a pleasant drive home. There was the usual road set up: Clear weather, "Have Hope" sign, Orion, and a half-moon in the sky. The tune on the radio? "Hold on, I'm Coming" by Sam and Dave. I start to laugh as I drive.

"Well I see skies of blue and I see clouds of white
And the brightness of day"

When I arrive home, I pull up into my driveway, and get out of the car. As I shut the door, I am compelled to look up into the night sky again. It looks weird. Half the sky is crystal clear. A deep darkness, with twinkling stars. However, just below Orion, about as far as the eye can see, there is thick continuous cloud cover. It reminds me of a blanket, but looks very strange. The weather, being mild, enables me to comfortably stand and stare a while longer. I have never, ever seen the sky look like this. It is beautiful in an unusual kind of way; yet I am feeling utterly and completely alone. I don't like the feeling. I think to myself: This too shall pass.

"I like the dark and I think to myself
What a wonderful world..."

I go inside the house, follow my normal night time routine and then go to bed. This morning was not as pleasant as most mornings, but we managed to get through it. After my husband leaves for work, I take "The Boy" to school. As we walk to the campus, horns honk in enthusiastic greeting to us. There are big smiles on small faces; and wide grins on big faces. Although, this morning, I do not feel "up", I can not help but smile as I do a "walk 'n wave." I begin to wonder how many of these masks of joy I see, are disguising hearts of pain and hurt. I say to myself in the vernacular in which I am familiar: "What up wid dat?" or where is this feeling coming from?

I redirect my thought pattern and allow myself to again become mesmerized by the vivid Autumn colors. They seem to quietly say, "Look at me, you fool! Here we are trying to put on our best show, and you have the nerve to be moping"! "Girl, don't make us go brown on you!" I decide that I want to enjoy them for as long as I can. Thank you.

My sister soon calls to tell me that she has made arrangements for us to go to the beach this weekend. We will be leaving sometime tomorrow afternoon; coming back on Sunday night. Times are strange for our family this year; immediate, as well as extended family. Mom and Dad have gone out of town to visit a few of Mom's sick siblings. She comes from a family of eleven children who are/were close in age. Half of them have died. This means also that a lot of things relative to becoming older, are happening to many of them at the same time; with funeral homes and hospitals becoming the popular sites for the most recent unpleasant family reunions. A selfish thought soon crosses my mind: What will happen when my turn comes around? I shake this thought. It gets me nowhere, and puts my mind in a place where I would rather not be. The phone rings. My husband calls me from work. Seems he left a piece of paper with information he needs, on our bedroom vanity. The mood is now broken.... and my Friday is back on track. How about yours?

"Oh, Somewhere over the rainbow way up high
And the dream that you dare to, why, oh why can't I? I hiii ?"

Happy Friday everyone!





Note: Playing around with "STUMBLE" and stumbled my own post in error...sorry

Song of the day: Right Here, Right Now - Jesus Jones (reprise)

"Bob Dylan didn't have this to sing about you
you know it feels good to be alive" - Jesus Jones (reprise)

Last evening was a normal and regular working night for me, yet there was a palpable feeling of there being "something" in the air. We were soon to find, that as the clock was moving forward; in perfect syncopation with our lives at the moment, so was the world. Because of technical difficulties, we experienced a lull in the work, and so sat quietly (most of us) until they were resolved. This was a time when many appeared to be in deep thought and meditation. A wheelchair bound gentleman sitting directly behind me, and to my right, was logged on to the CNN website and took the bold (and risky) step of providing an ongoing commentary of what was happening, or rather, what had happened on the election scene. In my present working environment, discussions about, as well as, promotion of a particular candidate, or any political/religious bias for that matter, is really not allowed. To be perfectly honest, I really like it this way. This is one rule that I have absolutely no problem following. However, on this night, there was no need for words. The beaming faces around us said it all. For all intents and purposes, it was over...and soon so was the workday.

"I was alive and I waited, waited
I was alive and I waited for this"

I walk to my car, and as I pass through the parking lot, I see a bumper sticker with the names of both defeated candidates, prominently plastered in the rear window of a parked vehicle. I think: "Blow Dryer, razor blade, or WD-40" Either of these, or any combination of the three, should help to remove it. I live in a part of the country where these types of stickers are myriad. If I am correct, sales of any of these three items should be brisk; at least throughout the rest of the week. Truth is: I'd like to see all bumper stickers removed; regardless of candidate or political affiliation. "There are really no winners or losers," I say to myself. "Each of us are attempting to get through this life." The trick is, living it in such a way, so as to make the best personal contribution possible, while not causing deliberate harm to our fellowman and/or squandering resources. We each are obligated. I believe that it will be up to a Higher Power to tally it all up in the end, and "hand us each our individual bills." In the end, the playing field is evened; and, in the end, we each will occupy the same amount of real estate. (Give or take a few feet; depending on type of burial plot or urn selected) I can only hope that I pay my debt to society, end up on the "plus" side and come out "spiritually rich".

I call my husband to tell him that I am on my way home. Something happens to me as I drive past the "Have Hope" sign on the street. I burst into tears. Yes...., now I understand. My feelings? Deep and intense. My reasons? Personal. Very personal. I have become possessed by my own unfiltered, unstructured and unedited thoughts; and this, my friends, is not political commentary.

"Right here, right now
there is no other place I want to be"

It is close to midnight when I get home. My husband is in bed and the television is blaring. On most nights, when this happens, I would just simply walk over and turn the television off. But tonight is different. Election coverage is being broadcast, and has breached the jealously guarded serenity of my usually quiet sanctuary. Just for tonight, we will allow this rare, but invited, intrusion. My husband is somewhere between the states of either being asleep or awake. He acknowledges my presence, but I do not have his full attention. I drop my purse off my shoulder and on to the floor, take off my jacket, toss it on to the ottoman, kiss him on the forehead and then tiptoe across the hall and into "The Boy's" room. I go in and kiss my child. He is not asleep. As I pull the covers back from over his head, I see his eyes; tightly and unnaturally squeezed shut; his white teeth glistening in the semi-darkness. He is grinning and soon begins to laugh. He hasn't fooled me. I tell him about the historic "news". He makes a comment, then turns over and, very shortly thereafter, goes to sleep...for real, this time. He appears to have been waiting for "something." I hope that the "something" was me. I go back to my room and get ready for bed. I look out of my bedroom window, and into the darkness. I already know what I am thinking; and so I can't help but wonder what other people are thinking and saying behind closed doors, while in the privacy and comfort of their own homes.

"I saw the decade in, when it seemed
the world could change at the blink of an eye"

This morning, our family makes a little history of its own. My husband was not able to go to work on Monday or Tuesday, through no fault of his own. There apparently was some kind of mix-up on the part of the employer. And so, today is his "official" first day. I hope that it is pleasant. Here's to new beginnings!

"And if anything
then there's your sign... of the times"

The day is cloudy and dreary, yet the colors of the Autumn leaves around me are spectacular. It is still morning, and as I sit here, sipping my morning coffee, I am:

"Right here, right now
watching the world wake up from history"

It is a new day. Good morning everyone.



Note: I have not posted Monday and Tuesday's stuff. Still in draft.

Song of the day: The Family of Man - Three Dog Night

"We're building a home for the family of man" - Three Dog Night

Monday morning, my husband calls me from the road. He is out shopping, and is looking for business casual workclothes. We are trying to repackage ourselves...beginning with him. When he returns, he goes to his closet, pulls out his old briefcase and re-examines it. He models it for me; walking back and forth in front of me across the bedroom, then tells me he believes that it is suitable for his new job. I tactfully tell him that it is not. As I sit cross legged, watching him from our bed, I offer him my bag, while saying to him that it will give him a more youthful appearance... more youthful than carrying his standard briefcase. He paces back and forth across the room, past my silent lips, but under my watchful eye...then agrees. I then dump my stuff out of my bag and relinguish ownership of it to him. I can easily find another bag for myself. This is a psychological investment; a family marketing strategy. In this youth oriented society, while not aiming for status or one-upmanship, we are pointing ourselves in the direction of survival.

We have a meeting with "The Boy's" teacher today at 2:30pm. I have taken on a new brand of calm. My husband looks at me and says that I look 200% better these days...while also telling me that he sees my "star rising". I remind myself that stars do not move. Anything that he sees within me has been there all along. It is just that I am allowing myself to shine. I have, without reservation, given myself permission to shine. This is not showing a lack of humility, but an acknowledgement of the blessings and gifts that I have already been given. I've been "working them" and am receiving increasingly stunning results. As one newly empowered and no longer as easily oppressed or suppressed, I will need to find my balance; lest I become egotistical and arrogant. I am testing "the waters". I am flavoring my "tofu".

"Prayer books and meetings define the plan,
deciding the fate of the family of man"

Today is a half-day of school for "The Boy". And so, he had to go back to school with us for the conference with his teacher and her assistant. I go armed with a few of the unacceptable grades he had been bringing home lately. The conference begins a little later than scheduled. We peek through the window and notice that his teacher is still speaking to another parent. And so we wait. Our turn finally arrives. During the conference, we find that "The Boy" is doing well. However, he still loses focus a lot; as his interim grades show. She said that she had given him a writing assignment and that he looked at it for over two hours. His excuse? He couldn't think. The teacher enthusiastically says that she believes he will become a great writer, and that she will be among one of the first ones to buy his childrens' book when he publishes one. But for now, I say, we will need to be able to meet the educational standards, as dictated by our State. Latitude for creativity must come later. "The Boy" is in the room with us and is spontaneously writing on the whiteboard while keeping "one ear open" for any mention of his name.

The teacher, her assistant, my husband and myself are sitting at a kiddie sized conference table. I am animated, while my husband sits, quietly and unsmiling in the child-sized seat next to me; his knees nearly up to his chest. As she and I chatter away, he is thinking. I know this man well. Soon he begins to speak: He says that he understands the demands associated with teaching a classroom full of students, but that he does not want his child to "fall through the cracks". There were other things said, but in the end, he reasonably asks for things that we can do to help. I agree with him. We call "The Boy" over from his doodling, and together come up with some kind of workable game plan. This will take time. The meeting ends much later than expected. I get home, catch my breath for a few minutes, and then it's out of the door and on the way to work for me. So far, the evening is on track, and goes as planned.

Later on at work, around 10:30 pm or so, we were told that, based on workload, it was going to be a long night. As soon as the official word came down from "on high", I put on my jacket, excused myself for a few moments, then walked out into the brisk Autumn air alone, and into the half-empty parking lot to call my husband. I look down at my cellphone and see the word "roaming" on its display. Great! Just great! This will incur more charges if I make a call while it is in this state. I walk further away from the building; and as the building begins to appear smaller and smaller in the distance; the message disappears. Beneath the light of a parking lot lamppost, I make my call. "Don't wait up for me," I tell him, and then estimate my time of returning home to being around 2:00am. With these words, I hope that I have set his mind free, and that he can go to sleep. He starts his new assignment tomorrow and will need his rest. I go back to work and struggle to remain awake. I wiggle and squirm to maintain alertness until the work is finally completed.

"And it's so hard whatever are we coming to,
Yes it's so hard with so little time,
And so much to do"

It is now 12:45am. True it is late, but I'll take 1:00am over 2:00am any time. As I drive home, I have my radio on. I tell you this: Even if my life depended on it, I couldn't tell you what songs were playing, as I struggled to navigate in the dark; trying to make my way home. I can only tell you that I remember hearing Boz Scaggs singing, but have no recollection of the actual song title. When I get home, I walk in, activate the home alarm system, peel off my jeans, change into a nightshirt, kiss the sleeping boy, kiss my husband, say a few words to him and then tumble into bed...In that order. "The Boy" had a half-day off today and will be with me all day tomorrow. Tomorrow is election day. As I go to bed, my last thought about tomorrow is this: Stuff's about to happen.

"And time running out for the family of man"




Note: Playing around with "STUMBLE" and stumbled my own post in error - sorry. Not sure which posting it "hit"

Song of the day: Can You Feel The Love Tonight? - Elton John

"There's a time for everyone if they only learn,
That the twisting kaleidoscope moves us all in turn - Elton John"

Sunday, I stay home from services. Usually, when I do, it is because of my needing solitude and quiet; or just plain tiredness. This time, (according to my standards) I felt a bit more guilt-free. In addition to the aforementioned things, I needed to have time, (without distractions) to get the house ready for our planned family dinner, scheduled for 5:00pm this evening. (All the while hoping everyone remembers that the time has changed from DST (Daylight Savings Time) to EST (Eastern Standard Time)). When the guys left, I cleaned up and got everything ready.

"And can you feel the love tonight?
It is where we are"

Later, when my husband and "The Boy" came back home, my husband looked around and pronounced the house as having the appearance of being almost surgically sterile. He said that it even smelled this way. (Yes, I did clean up that well). I told him that room had to made for the other stuff that Mom and my sister would bring, and that no one likes a dirty kitchen. Turns out, I did the right thing. He also tells me that he was told to give a message to me. Someone at the service, told him to tell me that she loves me very much. He said she said it to him three times. This brings a tear to my eye and for a short time, I have a difficult time swallowing. I camoflauge my feelings by looking down and re-wiping my already clean kitchen counter. She is about my age, married, with no children; and is one in a family of many sisters known for their stunning beauty, sharp wit, and luxurious long hair. A few years ago, she suffered a stroke. As a result, she had to learn to speak all over again. Words do not come easily to her, but these are words she strongly intended for me to hear. They are words she had to think about before saying them. And so, they are priceless. I take these words and hold them close to my heart. Thank you "C", I love you too.

"It's enough for this wide-eyed wanderer
That we got this far"

Before long, it is 5:00pm. My sister arrives first, bearing lots of food and a decorative basket of goodies for "The Boy". It seems she had promised him something on Friday. (She and he have their own "thing" going on.) He takes the basket from her arms and then asks her why didn't she bring it to him on Friday. Now, that's gratitude for ya! The ungrateful little...little...little...."Boy!"

Mom and Dad arrive shortly thereafter; followed by my sister-in-law. My brother arrives about twenty minutes later. With the family now completely assembled, we have lots of fun, eating and talking while listening to music. We talk about my brother's new house. He and his wife are excited, and should be moving in sometime around mid-December.

Later, "The Boy" gathers us all together and hosts some kind of game show that he invented. He stands in front of the fireplace in the family room as he asks us questions. Holding some kind of device with a red light on it, he is happy; and quick to buzz any wrong answers. Soon the tables are turned, and we start asking him questions...about geography, about math, about science....Seven of us against one. He has totally lost control of his audience. Feeling sorry for him, I decide to distance myself away from the mob. This is what Moms do. They rescue their children from distress. And so I get up, put on my imaginary Superwoman cape and stand behind him, while draping both my arms around his neck and try to help out. This game has no future, and it is now determined that "Game Show Host" is not a suitable career path for him. We worm our way out of the situation, as I diplomatically put an end to the game by prematurely applauding and thanking everyone for their participation. Warm apple pie, topped with ice cream, is offered as today's parting gift.

"And can you feel the love tonight?
How it's laid to rest"

It is getting late. My sister helps me to clean up the kitchen, while together we pack up the remaining food in containers and distribute it among our family members. After goodbye hugs and kisses, everyone leaves. We retain the warm glow and hope evenings like this one will be followed by many more. Memories of times like this are what we cling to. This evening? This evening was a "keeper."

"It's enough to make kings and vagabonds
Believe the very best..."

Song of the day: Sugar Sugar - The Archies

"Sugar, ah honey honey" - The Archies

Yesterday, my husband went to pick up our son from school. There are a number of 'characters' and 'odd personalities' who usually arrive about the same time. These odd personalities are just part of the quirky "school thing" for me and don't affect me one way or the other. However, my husband had just recently renewed shared responsibility for picking up "The Boy" in the afternoon over the last few weeks since he has been home, and so these 'characters' are somewhat new to him. One of whom I speak, is a tall, dark gentleman, who, for some reason does not like to speak to my husband. This standoff had been going on for some time now. Somehow, the unspoken tension between them had grown from mere avoidance to unpleasant stares and glares. My husband has a natural "presence", and although he is friendly, his demeanor is serious. He does not walk around with a perpetual grin on his face, and this has a way of making some feel either a bit uneasy or intimidated.

"Sugar, pour a little sugar on it honey,
Pour a little sugar on it baby"

On Friday, he decided to put an end to this foolishness. He told me that he simply walked up to this gentleman, extended his right hand and said, "Hello, my name is Xxxxx, what's yours?" He said the guy just stammered, while telling him his name and became especially bewildered. With just these few words, this man had become totally disarmed, and my husband got to walk away with a squeaky clean conscience. The timing could not have been more perfect. My husband starts his new work assignment next week, and will not be there to pick "The Boy" up from school in the afternoons. I, for one, am proud of him. The last thoughts that they have of each other now, will be good ones. One small step, and the hostility gauge has been reset back to zero.

"I'm gonna make your life so sweet, yeah yeah yeah"

And now on to Saturday morning....

Tofu. Yep...tofu.

That's what I said in answer to the question my husband asked me this morning. He had said to me that he felt strange. After being out of work for over thirty days and having time to think, he has found himself within the state of being neither happy or sad. "Why is this?", he asks me. (He's going to read this, so I am going to be extra careful here) The answer comes easily to me. "It's tofu", I say. He looks at me strangely, as I begin to explain: I refer him to the literal definition of Tofu. "Tofu has very little flavor or smell on its own, so it can be used either in savory or sweet dishes, and is often seasoned or marinated to suit the dish".

"Pour a little sugar on it oh yeah
Pour a little sugar on it honey,
Pour a little sugar on it baby"

I tell him that he is now at a stage in life where he can be whatever he wants to be. His destiny is at the "tofu" stage. Mine is too. It is a feeling unfamiliar to him; as he says he hasn't felt this way in over fifteen years. I welcome him into the "Land of Bland" and tell him to pick a flavor. I was "sweet" last go 'round. Didn't work for me, so I'm pretty much done with it, and so the "Overly- Agreeable-To-Everything" "Bobblehead" me has left the building. It's savory and sage for me, this time. Not quite as sweet. Still warm..., yet wiser. Hopefully, much wiser. Together, we will try to recraft these lives of ours into lives that are more fulfilling and meaningful. This time...for our dreams.

"I'm gonna make your life so sweet, yeah yeah yeah"

And so I say, the answer is: Tofu. What flavor is yours?

"Pour a little sugar on it honey,
Pour a little sugar on it baby"...