Gosh, I just realized how much my blog has taken a turn for the dark and depressing.
Remember the nonsense posts of Breaking Records, Dancing Queen, The Creamer and Wine Diet and Pretty Boy Crushes to name a few?
They were the posts of the good old days when I was only battling my bi-polar condition and medication. I wasn’t level enough to have handled my mom’s dying at that time. I certainly couldn’t have faced up to my abusive marriage and actually planning to leave instead of just fantasizing about it.
There must have been such a pile up of things that could only happened while I am well enough to deal with them. It must be God’s way of giving me only what I can handle.
Not to worry, I’ll get my old posts back as soon as my life stops “playing catch up”.
When I talk to my dad it feels like he is trying to protect me from the truth. I know he knows what it may be, but says it’s not smart to speculate, so he doesn’t tell me. He must understand how impossible it is for the human brain not to speculate when only given bits and pieces of information, not enough to form a complete picture. I know he is speculating, against his will, but he is speculating.
We were supposed to know last Tuesday and then on Thursday. All I have to rely on are quick cryptic text messages from my dad as the information trickles in from the medical professionals. In the meantime we are all looking up symptoms on WebMD and the Mayo Clinic website. Speculating.
Friday she ended up in the hospital, but was released and is now convalescing on my dad’s couch.
Monday. That is the day the labs come back.
Scared? Sad? My head is spinning, maybe I am just stunned. My mother used to be as strong as a horse physically. I never thought of her as old. My dad said he used to refer to her as an ant, carrying more than her body weight. Now she is so small and thin. Her hair is snow white and her skin is almost see through.
Our relationship has always been quite on and off. I had an old post that said how much it hurt when she stopped sending me birthday cards, but lately she has been trying so, of course, I welcomed her back with open arms.
I’m afraid she may have waited too long to come back and now she’ll be gone again.
I’ve allowed to myself to read too many disturbing things on the news today.
It’s one of those times where your co-worker is on her computer and exclaims “Oh my God!”.
You immediately start to read over her shoulder of something that happened to some poor child. The headline is bad enough, but you find yourself reading into the article. This time your protection mechanism fails and you read too far. You finally realize this when your eyes fill up or a chill goes down your spine.
You have read too much.
You turn away and think about it into the next day.
I can’t wait for Thursday; I’m finally going to have some down time. Much deserved I have to say. I’ve been waiting for this week to begin for months now.
My sister, Ellen, is visiting for a few days. She has promised to make cinnamon rolls on Friday morning. We’re going to binge on “Almost Royal” and “Orphan Black “episodes all day.
Yes, it’s finally here! I’ll be able to stay in bed until I’m ready to get up. Ellen said she would tidy the house, cook for me, help me dress and maybe even wash my hair.
Is it weird to be this excited for shoulder surgery?
I am always a great preacher of following one’s intuition and gut feelings. This time though I failed, miserably!
Allison wanted to spend the night with a friend I disapproved of. Nothing major had happened with this friend, just a general feeling of unease. Allison had recently been disappointed by her best friend and was feeling lonely. John and I discussed it and decided she could go.
Around 8:30 that night Allison called and said she wanted to come home because she had fallen off a bike and was hurt. I was not prepared for the extent of the road rash she had all down her back, seat and thigh. At the emergency room she cried when they washed the wounds. She has not being able to lie on her back since last Friday. She has been in terrible pain.
The point of this story is I feel culpable. I held out not letting her go over there for the first 6 weeks of summer. My soft heart (and brain) took over. This is a good example of never giving in when you know deep in your soul something is just not quite right.
Repentance. Penitence. Contrition.
Let me give you a little back story. I had been to the warehouse store and purchased some chicken, pork chops and other assorted bulk meats. The best way to handle this project is to open the packets and wrap the meat in individual portions and put it in the freezer.
To do that you must use cling wrap, really nothing else does the job. Today after multiple mishaps and abrasions I realized with a few verbal expletives that I hate cling wrap! Should I have the read the warning on the box?
CAUTION: SHARP CUTTING EDGE (no shit!) Sorry, I wasn’t able to keep the few verbal expletives out of this post. It is so dangerous they had to spell the caution out in three languages!
The box says “CLINGS TIGHT WITHOUT A FIGHT” (cute, but totally untrue). I’m reading the box now which is so hard to do when your eyes are rolling in the back of your head with contempt.
Easy to Handle it says, Push Tabs to Hold in Place (with your third hand) it says and Tear wrap up and across.
It should say scrape your knuckles on the serrated edge to grasp the roll because it wasn’t held in place by the “tabs”. Use your fading vision to find the edge of the wrap and pull over the aforementioned serrated edge. Tear wrap up and across serrating your thumb while trying to pull the wrap from the razor sharp edge.
Trying to get it to lie flat to put the meat on is another paragraph that I’m sure you don’t feel like reading. (How did this get so long anyway?)
Cling wrap should not be confused with Glad’s close to the second coming of Christ – Press’n Seal . Press’n Seal is a miracle in itself for using as a replacement for lost tupperware lids.
A few months back I had written “A Little Taste of Crazy” where the campus monitor and I were searching the grassy knoll behind the school for Allison’s phone.
If I wasn’t then I am now officially a “helicopter parent”.
This time Allison lost her violin. We went down to the orchestra room to look for it. We checked among all of the other violins. Allison saw it, but I said it wasn’t the hers because it didn’t have the correct tags.
The violin was rented and would cost me $340 to replace, so I was highly motivated to find it. I started out asking people as they passed by my desk and in the hallways. That then escalated to sending out a school wide email. This went on for two days.
Finally I called the rental place and asked for the serial numbers thinking another student may have taken the wrong violin. I went down to the cupboard again in the orchestra room. This is the part you’re going to love…it was there all the time!!! I felt terrible and apologized profusely to Allison.
I had to slink around the school avoiding the inevitable question, “Have you found Allison’s violin yet?” I would try to wiggle out of the question as best as I could with anemic answers such as, “Yes, thanks.” and if they asked where, I would tell most of the truth saying, “in the music room’s cupboard.”
Then I realized what I had been doing. The “absence” of detail on my part was letting them assume it was Allison’s fault!
I’m going to hell.
P.S. In good conscience I did start to elaborate as much as necessary saying something like, “It was there all along, I didn’t see it. I don’t want to talk about it”.
P.S.S. Still going to hell.