I'm off work today and have just gotten dressed. I have to take my vacuum to the repair shop. I have to install a new front porch light. I have to get a timer for the automatic light on the garage. It is running day and night! I need to get busy pulling stuff and tossing it.
A lot to do and I won't waste time here talking about it. I'm wasting a lot of time these days. In the last week I've only just begun to feel like I can think through a process and figure it out. Action is still lagging but maybe I can work on that today?
Hope you all have a good start to your week. I am hurting everywhere more than anywhere else! My grandmother used to say that.
Thanks to all my wonderful friends for welcoming my Aunt to Multiply. She's enjoying herself, I think, and gradually learning to navigate the program. I know she has much to share because she's has a wonderful rich life to share. She won't think that but it is true. I told her there are many stories she need to be writing down for her grandchildren to have as keepsakes. I am a firm believer in the oral history of families being documented. So much is lost when our grandparents, parents and spouses die.
I have a great sadness because I know next to nothing about my husbands family. They never came around or contacted us. He used to tell us things about growing up but I never got him to write those things down! Now I can't share his memories with his children and Sarah. And so many things we shared that I don't remember but he would never in a million years forget are lost.
So, write your memories down for you children. Believe me, it will be special to them eventually. Maybe not right now, but when the winter evenings are long and cold and you have been gone many years, the warmth from them will be welcomed.
Monday, July 6, 2009
Saturday, July 4, 2009
After the Ball... Fireworks
It was a nice but chilly night. Who would think you'd need a blanket in July? We didn't carry one and of course, it had to be about 65 degrees out there! I carried a sweater and a heavy shawl. Sweater on my body, shawl on my legs.
I give you only a brief glimpse here of what the 4th of July is like in mid-America.
Goths saunter down the levee in their regalia. Only Mike turns his head. It is a pretty lacy shawl she is wearing but the red dress. . . bit over the top.
Four Indians... the ones from India . . . are taking turns posing with the river at their back and taking photos of each other with their phones. One has his thumb pointed over his shoulder like a hitchhiker. I suppose so those who see his photo will know there is a river back there. He sees me looking and stops. I am laughing and talking on my cell phone describing the incident to my listener but he can't know that. I suppose that is how we look when we play tourist.
I tell my listener that all these foreigners ought to be the biggest flag wavers out here. She agrees. And she adds, they need to learn to speak English instead of asking for library books in their language! We end the conversation to rejoin our own celebrations.
A couple walks by with two children. A pretty little girl danced ahead of them and I glance back at the second little girl with blond hair longer than Sarah's. Becca says, "It's a boy." I asked how she knew. She said, "She called him Sebastian." I looked at the father. His ponytail should have told me. He's dressed in a pair of jeans, a blue shirt with some kind of logo on the back. I suspect a biker logo.
Several orientals walk past looking around at the natives as if they expect some of us to ask for directions to their restaurant. They always look scared to me. Is it something we said?
Several groups of black American youth trip by talking on their cell phones all at the same time because they live near the river and taking photos of it is unnecessary.Do black youth do Goth?
Oddly, and I don't have a clue why, similar groups of white youths appear to be talking to each other. Is there something I am missing? Rarely are there mixed groups, despite this being America.
Lots of families of all colors walk past, strollers ahead of them, or children dancing around them or walking into people because they are looking at the boats on the river. A tradition handed down as our is for 20 years or just starting out.
There do not seem to be as many black families but this area is said to have a low minority population. There appears to be groups of black males or black females. I presume they are your average American but they could easily be of some other cultural background. They don't actually talk. They do swagger.
Children and teenagers of various colors cautiously walk down the grassy slope of the levee to stand on the rocks or sit on them. One teenage girl slides the last two feet on her butt.
Mike talks to the guy nearby who works at the local criminal utility company, Vectren, for several minutes. They guys wife is working on the boat tonight. It will be a late night, I hear. Mike finally sits to give me a scoop but I do not care if the home office is located here. I want them to vacate as soon as a replacement can be found!
Sarah has a wonderful time looking around and saying, "Mawmaw, I got to tell you something." She proceeds to tell me whatever pops into her head. Actually she tells me about the flora and fauna she is seeing around her. Not sure what it all means but it seems to be the above phrase she is trying out rather than the conversation.
The sky darkens and everyone finds their seat and the show begins. Once it ends, everyone packs up their gear and begins an orderly walk back to the cars that are parked all over the area, some half a mile away. There is lots of laughing, talking, and general shuffling as thousands of feet head in all directions.
One woman is slapping her kids and yelling, "This is never gonna happen again." Mike is furious at the display and wants to do something. I told him there were enough of them to stomp a mud hole in him and to mind his own business.
Another woman stops in the middle of the walk and is saying in her cell phone, "You see that light? That's where I'll be. You don't see me, well, I'll talk to you sometime tomorrow." The crowd simply flows calmly around her.
Three girls stand off on the side of the path, in a triangular tableau looking at each other. One is on her cell phone. I notice one has a strapless long dress on. Muumuu? It's dark and I can't really tell.
At the traffic light the crowd waits while a policeman yells starts toward a guy driving a truck stopped at the intersection. "Come on! HEY, PAY ATTENTION! COME ON!" The guys comes to himself and waves, "Sorry officer." I think he was watching the lights waiting for them to change rather seeing the four policeman standing in the middle of the four lane directing traffic. Never mind the hundreds of people swarming across the road ways and along the sidewalks and cars at a standstill waiting on one man to move. No one says anything or move from the curb until the officer says, "You guys can cross now."
Finally, in minutes we are in the car and on the way home, by way of milkshakes at Sonic. So, there you have it. A vignette of the sights along the river walk tonight.
I give you only a brief glimpse here of what the 4th of July is like in mid-America.
Goths saunter down the levee in their regalia. Only Mike turns his head. It is a pretty lacy shawl she is wearing but the red dress. . . bit over the top.
Four Indians... the ones from India . . . are taking turns posing with the river at their back and taking photos of each other with their phones. One has his thumb pointed over his shoulder like a hitchhiker. I suppose so those who see his photo will know there is a river back there. He sees me looking and stops. I am laughing and talking on my cell phone describing the incident to my listener but he can't know that. I suppose that is how we look when we play tourist.
I tell my listener that all these foreigners ought to be the biggest flag wavers out here. She agrees. And she adds, they need to learn to speak English instead of asking for library books in their language! We end the conversation to rejoin our own celebrations.
A couple walks by with two children. A pretty little girl danced ahead of them and I glance back at the second little girl with blond hair longer than Sarah's. Becca says, "It's a boy." I asked how she knew. She said, "She called him Sebastian." I looked at the father. His ponytail should have told me. He's dressed in a pair of jeans, a blue shirt with some kind of logo on the back. I suspect a biker logo.
Several orientals walk past looking around at the natives as if they expect some of us to ask for directions to their restaurant. They always look scared to me. Is it something we said?
Several groups of black American youth trip by talking on their cell phones all at the same time because they live near the river and taking photos of it is unnecessary.Do black youth do Goth?
Oddly, and I don't have a clue why, similar groups of white youths appear to be talking to each other. Is there something I am missing? Rarely are there mixed groups, despite this being America.
Lots of families of all colors walk past, strollers ahead of them, or children dancing around them or walking into people because they are looking at the boats on the river. A tradition handed down as our is for 20 years or just starting out.
There do not seem to be as many black families but this area is said to have a low minority population. There appears to be groups of black males or black females. I presume they are your average American but they could easily be of some other cultural background. They don't actually talk. They do swagger.
Children and teenagers of various colors cautiously walk down the grassy slope of the levee to stand on the rocks or sit on them. One teenage girl slides the last two feet on her butt.
Mike talks to the guy nearby who works at the local criminal utility company, Vectren, for several minutes. They guys wife is working on the boat tonight. It will be a late night, I hear. Mike finally sits to give me a scoop but I do not care if the home office is located here. I want them to vacate as soon as a replacement can be found!
Sarah has a wonderful time looking around and saying, "Mawmaw, I got to tell you something." She proceeds to tell me whatever pops into her head. Actually she tells me about the flora and fauna she is seeing around her. Not sure what it all means but it seems to be the above phrase she is trying out rather than the conversation.
The sky darkens and everyone finds their seat and the show begins. Once it ends, everyone packs up their gear and begins an orderly walk back to the cars that are parked all over the area, some half a mile away. There is lots of laughing, talking, and general shuffling as thousands of feet head in all directions.
One woman is slapping her kids and yelling, "This is never gonna happen again." Mike is furious at the display and wants to do something. I told him there were enough of them to stomp a mud hole in him and to mind his own business.
Another woman stops in the middle of the walk and is saying in her cell phone, "You see that light? That's where I'll be. You don't see me, well, I'll talk to you sometime tomorrow." The crowd simply flows calmly around her.
Three girls stand off on the side of the path, in a triangular tableau looking at each other. One is on her cell phone. I notice one has a strapless long dress on. Muumuu? It's dark and I can't really tell.
At the traffic light the crowd waits while a policeman yells starts toward a guy driving a truck stopped at the intersection. "Come on! HEY, PAY ATTENTION! COME ON!" The guys comes to himself and waves, "Sorry officer." I think he was watching the lights waiting for them to change rather seeing the four policeman standing in the middle of the four lane directing traffic. Never mind the hundreds of people swarming across the road ways and along the sidewalks and cars at a standstill waiting on one man to move. No one says anything or move from the curb until the officer says, "You guys can cross now."
Finally, in minutes we are in the car and on the way home, by way of milkshakes at Sonic. So, there you have it. A vignette of the sights along the river walk tonight.
Happy Birthday, America!
A gloomy birthday it is. The sky has been overcast since I awoke at 8:00 a.m. and rain has fallen periodically here in southern Indiana. The plan was grilling out and fireworks on the riverfront at 9 p.m. We will probably still do that but not sure how it will work in the rain.
Back is PAINFUL today. Woke up stiff and my head doesn't like looking to the left. I couldn't find a pillow to replace the one I left in Georgia but I bought one I thought might work. It apparently doesn't. So, back to sleeping without a pillow. I've spent a small fortune on pillows in the last year. I'm done.
I sat in my t-shirt and panties until nearly 11:00 a.m. reading and cleaning out my favorites. I have hundreds of bookmarks and some are for sites long gone. I'm going through to see which ones still work and if I'm still interested in the content. I use foxmarks and this is relatively easy with their Organizer. Just opens them in a page and I click, visit the site and update as needed. When I am done, I will synchronize and my book marks on any other computer I use with foxmarks will be updated. Cool.
I dressed about an hour ago and looked outside. Raining. Hair is pulled into a pony tail. I'm considering another cup of coffee. I had something for breakfast but don't remember... oh yes, a Jimmy Dean sausage, egg and cheese biscuit from the freezer, nuked to perfection. And coffee. Yep. Delish.....
I've been working on a chapter of Mist. Got four pages in as many days. Not good. Got to get out of this slump. I'm never going to finish one. Never. What was I thinking of to have four novels over 50,000 words each and none completed? I'm stupid, stupid, stupid. And November will roll around and I'll do another 50,000 and what? Yeah.
I'm reading a book by Kathy Reichs "Devil Bones". I like her books a lot. She also produces the television show "Bones". I like that, too. I'd started reading her long before the show began. She is a forensic anthropologist. I always liked Patricia Cornwell but once I read Reichs I found her books equally good and I like her character better than Scarpetta. I'm over three-fourths of the way through it and not a minute of boredom.
My aunt's blog is underway. I've got her a background from where they went to New Zealand. She made her second post today. She even has some new contacts. I think she is quite excited about this. She likes people and will enjoy the comments and reading your blogs. And she's learning a new thing and she likes that. It is why she is so young at heart. She just never stops doing things. Sometimes risky things! She got on the back of a pillow cushioned couch to clean blinds and fell off backwards. She considered the danger of breaking her neck and promptly climbed back up and promptly fell off backwards . . . again.
We have all pointed out that when you are 70 you can't go climbing on soft items to reach great heights. We've pointed out the fun a broken hip will be for someone as active as she. We've pointed out the down side to a broken neck for her as well as for us. I hope she is reading this. You are the only mother I have left. At this point in my life, I don't need further grief. She is great fun and a the most wonderful thing God ever put in my life. I do not remember a time when she wasn't there. I dare not. Despite her multitudinous efforts to curl my hair to my pain and misfortune and her total failure, she is just a great lady.
Did I tell you all I made a Google Gadget? I did! It goes on your home page! Daily Dixiegirl. You can get a quick link to this blog, and catch up on the short version of what is going on. LOL, not sure anyone is going to be that interested. Just couldn't resist the temptation to make something new. Now, if any of you create your own, let me know and I'll put it on my homepage!
I had that second cup of coffee and it was nice. I have to go now and get my meds from the pharmacy. I also have to take them. I hope all my American neighbors have a lovely 4th. For all my other friends, you don't know what you're missing! Well, maybe you do but if there is a celebration near you, join in. No one will know or care that you aren't American. We love a party with good food, good friends, and good music. You'll fit right in if you wear red, white, and blue and sing God Bless the USA.
I'll be back later, I'm sure.
Back is PAINFUL today. Woke up stiff and my head doesn't like looking to the left. I couldn't find a pillow to replace the one I left in Georgia but I bought one I thought might work. It apparently doesn't. So, back to sleeping without a pillow. I've spent a small fortune on pillows in the last year. I'm done.
I sat in my t-shirt and panties until nearly 11:00 a.m. reading and cleaning out my favorites. I have hundreds of bookmarks and some are for sites long gone. I'm going through to see which ones still work and if I'm still interested in the content. I use foxmarks and this is relatively easy with their Organizer. Just opens them in a page and I click, visit the site and update as needed. When I am done, I will synchronize and my book marks on any other computer I use with foxmarks will be updated. Cool.
I dressed about an hour ago and looked outside. Raining. Hair is pulled into a pony tail. I'm considering another cup of coffee. I had something for breakfast but don't remember... oh yes, a Jimmy Dean sausage, egg and cheese biscuit from the freezer, nuked to perfection. And coffee. Yep. Delish.....
I've been working on a chapter of Mist. Got four pages in as many days. Not good. Got to get out of this slump. I'm never going to finish one. Never. What was I thinking of to have four novels over 50,000 words each and none completed? I'm stupid, stupid, stupid. And November will roll around and I'll do another 50,000 and what? Yeah.
I'm reading a book by Kathy Reichs "Devil Bones". I like her books a lot. She also produces the television show "Bones". I like that, too. I'd started reading her long before the show began. She is a forensic anthropologist. I always liked Patricia Cornwell but once I read Reichs I found her books equally good and I like her character better than Scarpetta. I'm over three-fourths of the way through it and not a minute of boredom.
My aunt's blog is underway. I've got her a background from where they went to New Zealand. She made her second post today. She even has some new contacts. I think she is quite excited about this. She likes people and will enjoy the comments and reading your blogs. And she's learning a new thing and she likes that. It is why she is so young at heart. She just never stops doing things. Sometimes risky things! She got on the back of a pillow cushioned couch to clean blinds and fell off backwards. She considered the danger of breaking her neck and promptly climbed back up and promptly fell off backwards . . . again.
We have all pointed out that when you are 70 you can't go climbing on soft items to reach great heights. We've pointed out the fun a broken hip will be for someone as active as she. We've pointed out the down side to a broken neck for her as well as for us. I hope she is reading this. You are the only mother I have left. At this point in my life, I don't need further grief. She is great fun and a the most wonderful thing God ever put in my life. I do not remember a time when she wasn't there. I dare not. Despite her multitudinous efforts to curl my hair to my pain and misfortune and her total failure, she is just a great lady.
Did I tell you all I made a Google Gadget? I did! It goes on your home page! Daily Dixiegirl. You can get a quick link to this blog, and catch up on the short version of what is going on. LOL, not sure anyone is going to be that interested. Just couldn't resist the temptation to make something new. Now, if any of you create your own, let me know and I'll put it on my homepage!
I had that second cup of coffee and it was nice. I have to go now and get my meds from the pharmacy. I also have to take them. I hope all my American neighbors have a lovely 4th. For all my other friends, you don't know what you're missing! Well, maybe you do but if there is a celebration near you, join in. No one will know or care that you aren't American. We love a party with good food, good friends, and good music. You'll fit right in if you wear red, white, and blue and sing God Bless the USA.
I'll be back later, I'm sure.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
One More Breath
It would be nice to feel as if I was putting words here that meant something, that moved someone to anger, tears, laughter, or lofty ideals. I used to feel that what I wrote was fairly interesting and meaningful, that sometimes, what I was writing was important. Now, I feel I am simply filling up a page so I can keep up the appearance of blogging.
I've stopped taking the St. John's Wort for a bit. I was tired of the red skin and brown blotches that are appearing on my skin and I feel all right. No dark thoughts, no plunges into chilling flashbacks, no uncontrollable weeping or outburst. Just a kind of calm resignation. It feels like glass. Does that make sense? Shiny surface, clear, no streaks and through it a lovey view but hard, impermeable, brittle, and sharp. Right.
So, my words here fill a void. They take up space and make it seem less lonely. I'd like to be philosophical but I can barely spell the word. I've no idea how to actually be it. My idea of profound philosophy is "Life is hard. Then you die." But that has taken on a whole new meaning for me.
It is hard. You do die. The living suffer. It is over with the last breath and there is no sound like that last breath. And every thing you thought was important, that you couldn't live without, that you had to have, do, or see is blown away with that last breath. Every dream, hope, and desire is carried from the room on one breath. Suddenly, breath is more valuable than gold and more powerful than the force of lightening.
Breathe.
One breath separates you from eternity and everything that surrounds you becomes dependent on that vapor that you can't see. The sound of that last breath will haunt you the rest of your life.
One more breath.
Just one more breath.
I've stopped taking the St. John's Wort for a bit. I was tired of the red skin and brown blotches that are appearing on my skin and I feel all right. No dark thoughts, no plunges into chilling flashbacks, no uncontrollable weeping or outburst. Just a kind of calm resignation. It feels like glass. Does that make sense? Shiny surface, clear, no streaks and through it a lovey view but hard, impermeable, brittle, and sharp. Right.
So, my words here fill a void. They take up space and make it seem less lonely. I'd like to be philosophical but I can barely spell the word. I've no idea how to actually be it. My idea of profound philosophy is "Life is hard. Then you die." But that has taken on a whole new meaning for me.
It is hard. You do die. The living suffer. It is over with the last breath and there is no sound like that last breath. And every thing you thought was important, that you couldn't live without, that you had to have, do, or see is blown away with that last breath. Every dream, hope, and desire is carried from the room on one breath. Suddenly, breath is more valuable than gold and more powerful than the force of lightening.
Breathe.
One breath separates you from eternity and everything that surrounds you becomes dependent on that vapor that you can't see. The sound of that last breath will haunt you the rest of your life.
One more breath.
Just one more breath.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
The End of a Long Week
I have to work tomorrow and then I am off for the holiday. I need it. It has been a long and difficult week for some reason. I've been up and down emotionally and I'm so tired I don't know what to do. I am about to turn in for the night but felt like I should just write something.
My journey through the valley of the shadow of death isn't, I suspect, over by a long stretch. Ant times, the shadows overtake me and I feel as if I've been pulled into that hole with Jerry. It is hard to escape that. I go to the cemetery now and then because I owe him that. He would not want to be alone. He loved being in the room with me. But each time I see his name etched in that stone it is as if it is etched in my soul. Each time I pull away in my car leaving him is unbearable. Don't say stay away. I can't do that. Jerry wouldn't stay away were I in that grave and he left behind. He wouldn't have left me had it been his choice.
I've spent the last several days wondering where I go next. I suspect the exhaustion has something to do with it. I can't understand why I am so very tired all the time. I've taken my meds early tonight and probably am feeling them so I'll go to bed but I'd like to have enough energy after work to do some enjoyable pursuits once in awhile.
I got the estimate on having the trees removed. You remember I ran into an old friend at Rural King and he is in the tree removal business. He came by on Monday and gave me an estimate. A very conservative estimate to remove not just the two but two more that have to come out. It is still a lot but probably half of what he could have charged. In two weeks he and his crew will come back and remove all the dead trees. There are three that are dead and one that is just in the wrong place. It was a hedge that got out of control and is now a tree!
I hope this weekend I will be able to relax. We are planning on going to the riverfront and watch the fireworks celebration. I was looking forward to it but the closer it gets the less excited I become. This was a family event for us. Sarah shared it the last two years and this year, Jerry will not be there to see her excitement.
Good night all. I can't do anymore tonight.
My journey through the valley of the shadow of death isn't, I suspect, over by a long stretch. Ant times, the shadows overtake me and I feel as if I've been pulled into that hole with Jerry. It is hard to escape that. I go to the cemetery now and then because I owe him that. He would not want to be alone. He loved being in the room with me. But each time I see his name etched in that stone it is as if it is etched in my soul. Each time I pull away in my car leaving him is unbearable. Don't say stay away. I can't do that. Jerry wouldn't stay away were I in that grave and he left behind. He wouldn't have left me had it been his choice.
I've spent the last several days wondering where I go next. I suspect the exhaustion has something to do with it. I can't understand why I am so very tired all the time. I've taken my meds early tonight and probably am feeling them so I'll go to bed but I'd like to have enough energy after work to do some enjoyable pursuits once in awhile.
I got the estimate on having the trees removed. You remember I ran into an old friend at Rural King and he is in the tree removal business. He came by on Monday and gave me an estimate. A very conservative estimate to remove not just the two but two more that have to come out. It is still a lot but probably half of what he could have charged. In two weeks he and his crew will come back and remove all the dead trees. There are three that are dead and one that is just in the wrong place. It was a hedge that got out of control and is now a tree!
I hope this weekend I will be able to relax. We are planning on going to the riverfront and watch the fireworks celebration. I was looking forward to it but the closer it gets the less excited I become. This was a family event for us. Sarah shared it the last two years and this year, Jerry will not be there to see her excitement.
Good night all. I can't do anymore tonight.
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