Making Headway

It's late. I'm tired.
Half of the ceiling in the trainroom is done.
That's 37 tiles. I'm sure that doesn't seem like a lot. LOL It's still 37 tiles! Up the ladder, down the ladder. I'm sure by the time I'm getting done I'll have figured out how to put those things in the first try. 37 tiles and that just hasn't happened yet. *sigh*

Not to mention I had to repair some duct work...which would explain why the basement is now suddenly warmer. (this is a good thing!)
And I tore out one of the light fixtures without electrocuting myself! (yep, I'm proud! LOL--and glad to be alive! ROFL!) Darn near fell off the ladder though--that sucker was a whole lot heavier than I bargained for.

I got laundry done.
I even fixed 'real food' for dinner tonight. I'm told one cannot sustain life by ONLY consuming popcorn.
Dunno about that--and I'm guessing I won't know since I had baked chicken for dinner tonight.

And don't tell, but I've decided I won't be shaving my legs. *snicker* Yep. No razor for me!
Okay--truth is I didn't shave my legs last night.
Wowie!! A whole day without shaving. I might go for two if I can put up with the itchy scratchy feeling.

Sooooo--half the ceiling done, paperwork done, laundry done, critter feeding done (and boy was THAT a fun experience!)--I'm making progress!

Now--if I could JUST remember to make the bed in the morning.
*chuckling*
Haven't made the darn thing since the Brit took off outta here!
It's the guest room. I just----close the door.

The Gerbil

"One day, my son brought a gerbil home to live with us. We put it in a cage. Some time later, the gerbil escaped. For the next six months, the animal ran frightened and wild through the house. So did we - chasing it.

"There it is. Get it!" we'd scream, each time someone spotted the gerbil. I, or my son, would throw down whatever we were working on, race across the house, and lunge at the animal hoping to catch it.

I worried about it, even when we didn't see it. "This isn't right," I'd think. "I can't have a gerbil running loose in the house. We've got to catch it. We've got to do something."

A small animal, the size of a mouse had the entire household in a tizzy.

One day, while sitting in the living room, I watched the animal scurry across the hallway. In frenzy, I started to lunge at it, as I usually did, then I stopped myself.

No, I said, I'm all done. If that animal wants to live in the nooks and crannies of this house, I'm going to let it. I'm done worrying about it. I'm done chasing it. It's an irregular circumstance, but that's just the way it's going to have to be.

I let the gerbil run past without reacting. I felt slightly uncomfortable with my new reaction - not reacting - but I stuck to it anyway.

I got more comfortable with my new reaction - not reacting. Before long, I became downright peaceful with the situation. I had stopped fighting the gerbil. One afternoon, only weeks after I started practicing my new attitude, the gerbil ran by me, as it had so many times, and I barely glanced at it. The animal stopped in its tracks, turned around, and looked at me. I started to lunge at it. It started to run away. I relaxed.

"Fine," I said. "Do what you want." And I meant it.

One hour later, the gerbil came and stood by me, and waited. I gently picked it up and placed it in its cage, where it has lived happily ever since.
The moral of the story?
Don't lunge at the gerbil. He's already frightened, and chasing him just scares him more and makes us crazy."

Mr. Stuffy Bear

Mr. Stuffy Bear is awful good company.

This is the 'little' bear that my sister sent to me when my step-mother was dying and she couldn't be here..........My sister has this strange understanding of what 'little' means.

My father and I lived solo for a good number of years--about 11, if I do the math correctly. I played wife, daughter, housekeeper, cook-- I was the 'responsible child'. Leastwise for all appearances I was looking pretty responsible. LOOKS were everything--the entire family was into 'how it looked' and not into what was true.

My father came home one day and let me know he'd met and asked a gal to marry him--but that the two of them would wait until I was done with high school if I preferred. I HAD to be gracious and say it was his life. (where this gal had come from, I hadn't a clue--that's how good we were at keeping secrets in our family.) They got married and I proceeded to do what any good 'I've been running this household for YEARS and you want me to be the CHILD now?!' teenager would do.
I revolted and tried to trash the marriage. And I DID try. Most of it was typical teenage crap. Some of it was downright malicious.

The woman loved my father.
I'd never seen anyone love my father but me. Even the rest of the siblings tucked tail and ran when my mother died.
But here was a woman who wouldn't go away, who loved him enough to set limits not only with me, but with the rest of the clan who'd guilted him for all he was worth for years without me ever knowing.

My father died before their fifth anniversary together.
He was her second husband. She'd married when she was young and lost her first husband prior to their fifth anniversary when he had a heart attack in the bed next to her. She remained single over twenty years--only to marry and have a repeat of the first loss. My father died in the backyard's garden. He'd gone to pick some radishes for the dinner she was cooking him. She vowed she's never marry again after my father died.............she kept that vow.

Somewhere along the way I discovered she wasn't the evil person I'd deemed her to be.
She walked me through some really tough moments.
She was there for the marriage, for the domestic abuse, for the birthings of her grandchildren, for the separation, for the bottoming outs and the slow ascents upward towards the light, for the hospitalizations and the surgeries and the beginnings of the chemo-therapy........

I stayed in her life because I chose to be honest about our beginnings.
I made the decision to love her because she'd been my father's wife and my only 'parent'.
She cared enough to say what she thought and I couldn't bully her away. I was alone and scared enough to want something different.
Shortly before her death I'd asked her to consider adopting me.
She was the only mother I'd ever known.
I was the only child she'd ever had.
She declined, stating that I'd had a mother. She wouldn't dishonour that. But she made it clear that I had her heart and I wouldn't be able to dishonour that. She was right.

When she had the series of strokes that finally claimed her it was just me who showed up--and I showed up every day. To this day-I can do that drive to University Hospitals blindfolded.
We took a turn in the course of events and suddenly it was me being there for her for surgeries and doctors and hospitals and more surgeries. We laughed, we cried, we were gut wrenchingly honest.

Mr. Stuffy Bear came in a small box.
My sister had smooshed him in AS tightly as she could. He literally sprung from the box when I cut the tape.
He slept with me during some lonely, tough moments.
Losing a parent is a horribly hard thing.....Losing your last parent--forever life changing in a weird sort of way.
I'd had practice in losing parents. But I was totally blindsided when I lost that last parent. I didn't have a clue how final that made a vast array of things.

Mr. Stuffy Bear was my portable hug at a time when I needed all the hugs I could get and there was no hug 'availability' in my life. He was there when she was taken by G-d...he's remained my portable hug-ee/hugger.
He's hugged me through cancer and leukemia, through surgeries and brain tumors, through deaths of loved ones around me, through the darkness and emptiness known only by people who've journeyed some of the places I've journeyed.

Mr. Stuffy Bear sits on our bed.

And the Brit lets him.

Minus One Brit

Okay--so I didn't get to bed until 2a.m. yesterday--and then I was up at five, outta the house by eight, put fifteen hours in at work, watched it snow eight inches and blow 35-40mph, fielded calls from three staff who couldn't drive the 20 miles cuz they were snowed in courtesy of the 2 foot drifts, working with 24 kiddos ages 13-17 with six other 'adults'. And it's now midnight.
Eeessshhh!

So I had a tough time getting to sleep.
I felt like some idiot checking the locks twice before crawling into bed last eveing.....And I slept IN the guest room no less...........*rolling eyes* WITH Mr. Stuffy Bear.

I've become pathetic.

And since WHEN has being alone in this house at night been an issue?!!!?!

Two in the morning and I'm laying there, cursing myself for suddenly becoming a lock checker.....not to mention a poor excuse for an 'independent and self sufficient individual'.
And, G-d help me, but I'm laying there with my brain warping into really weird places-- including wondering if I've reached that 'if one of us goes, the other will be close behind' status!!
*shaking head*
I need to be super tired tonight so the brain won't even bother to think.

Like THAT'LL happen!!! LOL

OMG--I've become pathetic.........

Let the DIY Insanities BEGIN!!!

Whatever happened to 'service' that you used to get from those lumberyards/doityourself places?

Okay, okay-----so I've started a project.
Actually, I stopped on the way back from the airport and picked up ceiling tiles for the basement cuz I've been threatening to do that for some time. It was going to be a 'small' project. Apparently I 'forgot' that the train-room we're redoing in the basement is the length of the house?

But really--didn't they use to load your supplies into the truck for you? I seem to remember them doing stuff like that once upon a time.....
Yeah, well--they didn't. They probably thought it was kind to load the five bundles of tiles onto a cart. Maybe it was.....I was waiting for some fella to come load them into the Jeep. Seems I coulda been waiting all afternoon forgoodnesssakes! Sheeeshhhh!

Darn bundles are awkward to move--and heavy.

The good news is that I got them into the Jeep, out of the Jeep, and into the basement. I tore out ten old ones, whipped out the utility knife, cut some to size and replaced 'em with new ones already!

But I gotta tell ya.....that is one BIG room.
Small wonder I joked that we oughta turn it into a bowling alley.
It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure out that five bundles isn't going to be enough.
Which means............yep--I'll be loading them into the Jeep, out of the Jeep, and down to the basement at least one more time.

Ya know--I really DO remember them loading stuff for you at those kinda places.
I must not have looked helpless enough or somethin'........

And I changed my mind on the lighting down there -- so I'm gonna haffta try my hand at ripping out the fixtures that are there and see if I can get some spotlights put in without electrocuting myself. (that would be a good plan--he'd be REAL worked up if electrocution happened in his absence! LOLOL)

And while I was ripping out some of the tiles I noticed that I have to find a couple new ceiling vents, too.
AND fix the duct work so they're sitting flush with the ceiling.

Did I mention that it's a freaking HUGE room?

Ya know.........I just might haffta talk him into extending the visit if I keep this up! LOLOL

The Journal Quote

"Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love............


And think not you can direct the course of love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.
Love has no other desire but to fulfil itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires:
To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night.
To know the pain of too much tenderness.
To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.
To wake at dawn with a winged heart and give thanks for another day of loving;
To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart and a song of praise upon your lips. "
Kahlil Gibran

I love the Brit.
I love that we've been graced with every opportunity to love as we've always wanted TO love.
I love the man so much--it's just weirder than weird.....

Morning Meditations--A New Day.....

"I will love you no matter what.

I will love you if you are stupid, if you slip and fall on your face, if you do the wrong thing, if you make mistakes, if you behave like a human being-I will love you no matter."

When you fall out of bed, angry still, and surrender nonetheless, even if you don't FEEL like it......if you pray, even in while you're still gut wrenchingly angry--you hear something you might not even want to hear......

"My child is angry. That's okay."

I think I would have much rather heard "then f**k you if you demand understanding to love".
I would have felt validated to stay gut wrenchingly angry and I wouldn't be a tearful, emotional mess.

Sleep With Angels...........

I'm pretty sure G-d knows I'm angry right now....

Wiseperson in my life is a busy man. He's got a world of people and things he's responsible to and responsible for. There's the three kiddos--all of which were put through college. The job that he's worked at for 25 years....and the wife that taught grade school kiddos at a Catholic school. He's just good people. His kiddos are great kiddos. His wife had just finished round two on treatment for leukemia--Michelle was home and trying to gather the pieces of her life back together and gratefully in remission.....looking for a bit of normalcy after months and months of treatment and chaos.

I rang wiseperson on Thursday--wanting to play catch-up cuz I hadn't talked with him all week and I needed to let him know that I wasn't feeling the best and probably wouldn't be seeing him at the Friday night meeting. He told me it was good I'd rang--I'd just caught him cuz he was heading out the door. They'd admitted Michelle to the hospital with pnemonia the day prior. He was heading out the door to spend time at the hospital with her. We didn't have a whole lot of time to chat.

I told him I'd ring him on Monday.

Today's Monday--and true to my word, I rang him.

I caught him at home late this afternoon and I knew something was changed in him.

G-d took Michelle late Sunday evening.


I'm gut wrenchingly ANGRY.

I don't get it.
I don't profess that I'm so special that I OUGHT to get it.
I don't know that I want to get it.

At this moment I'm all about G-d being FAIR and JUST and LOVING...... HE'S NOT--leastwise not that I can see at this moment.
Maybe I don't wanna see.
Maybe there's nothing TO see.




Sleep with Angels, Michelle.
Amen............

An Unloving Moment.......

When my neighbour passed away his daughter decided to remain in the house. She's resided there for almost a year now.
Yesterday 'the word' got to me that she and her family intend to move back to Virginia in the next month. It's where her once upon a time estranged spouse is from (he moved in with her following Leroy's death). It's where the three kiddos are from. At last count, I believe there are five kiddos living in the house with them--none of them can complete a sentence if the 'f**k' word is exempt. They have five dogs. Four of them massively HUGE things, one's an anklebiter.

I think I'm a bad neighbour, cuz I'm celebrating the upcoming move.

Diagonally across the street is a new family who moved in late last fall. We've me twice. It's a young couple with their three kiddos. And the dad's brother apparently resides there with them. They appear nice enough--the kiddos wave to me if they're outside playing.

The Brit has stood outside more than once keeping an eye on the massive dogs who are separated from the rest of the world by a flimsy gate and a (PLEASE let it be strong) chain that is meant to keep them in the small back yard. He's worried one will get over the fence and attack the kiddos who are outside playing. The kiddos seem oblivious to the incessant barking of the dogs.
I had tried to convince the Brit that standing there with his arms crossed will NOT stop an angry dog from attacking children. I rang our local police to let them know the concerns.

I now see that there's a 'Beware of the dogs' sign outside of the house.
I don't think that'll deterr them from mauling a small child if they get past that gate... *sigh*

When one can rip loose from the owner and chase a full grown man into his Jeep...that's not good.
When the owner comes to retrieve the dog, screams at it and kicks it and offers no apology to the 'almost victim'--that's not good either.

I've refused to let their actions deterr me from living life on this corner of the block.
I've confronted the language a vast number of times. I've talked with the mom about the late hours of visitors/children in the home who rev their cars up and down the street. I've talked with the local police about commotions and dogs and squealing tires, fights where windows get broken and screaming kids exit, yelling obscenities at all hours.

Forgive me if I sound 'unloving'......
The move will be welcomed.

Itoldyaso!!!! Itoldyaso!!!!

Okay.
This is NOT where I say "I toldyaso!"
I'd get 'one of THOSE looks' if I did.

Wanna see a Brit scramble?
Point out that he's got JUST about five days until he's getting on that plane.

Keep in mind I tried (multiple times) to encourage organization...to the point of volunteering to take care of some of this stuff myself!

It's now Saturday and he's taking off for England on Wednesday.

The list? Too long to mention!
Camera charging, packing, car rental, gifts for the kiddos and mum, English money...and the list goes on.....*shrugs*

And I'm dealing in some stupid viral infection and feel crappy.

And this morning he's sneezing and looking at me sideways--TRYING not to mention that I've now probably passed it on as a gift to him.
:-D
What can I say--I'm the giving type of gal.

He's now on the way to run some errands, undoubtedly muttering.

I'm thinkin' he'll have NO problem feeling crowded on the plane?

Besides, he'll be too busy scrambling to get all this 'stuff' taken care of at the last minute to curse me....right?
:-D

SICK sick versus sick

How come I can never surrender to BEING sick until some official makes it official?
I can't just feel crappy and pronounce myself sick?
Nope.
I have to do denial, walk around diminishing how I feel, comparing it to "I've been sick before and THIS ain't SICK" and keep trudging.

Can't allow myself to stay in bed, won't take time off work (unless, of course, it's the non-functional left sided headache where the only option is a dark room and lots of painkillers--and that's not 'sick', that's "I have a headache."), won't surrender to the 'not feeling good' moment and I just forge on --cuz "if I just get moving, I'll feel better--this is NOT sick!".
*sigh*
Carry the box of kleenex, suck on those vitamin C drops and hack the left lung out--but "I'm not really SICK sick--it's just a stupid cold."

The secretary asked if I was going home.

I assured her I was. She even made sure the documentation she needed signed GOT signed pronto......even printed up signature pages for the documents she had left to type and got my signature on them.
She kept looking at me funny as I talked on the phone, twirled the prescription bottles and dealt with judges and social workers and probation officers.
You're not really sick until you actually TAKE the medication the physician prescribed?
What is WRONG with me!
*shaking head*

I GOTTA quit using extreme measuring sticks to measure the degree of 'sickness' and diagnosing myself as 'fit for work' even after a physician has seen me and told me to go home and rest.
Not every 'sick' ought be measured by those 'huggin the toilet, slamming your head into the wall' moments that qualified you as REALLY being SICK sick.

I Went to the Doctor and the Doctor Said---

Okay--I haven't actually GONE yet. Got an appointment, though.

When you go through a box of kleenex cuz it's all in your head (literally) and the next morning you're pleased as punch to be able to breathe through your nose--but can't stop coughing and there's this invisible elephant sitting on your chest..... *sigh* You'd LIKE to think you blew all that crud out....

Fine.

I'll GO to the doctor.
But I don't haffta like it.
*grumbling*

* cough cough * * sniffle sniffle *

*sniffle*
*cough cough*
*sigh*
Ya know--colds are bad, bad, BAD things for me to get.
And the girl has strep--which I didn't KNOW when I was around her......which is REALLY bad for me to be around. Strep and staph infections--two 'no-nos' to be around.
Kiddos at work get 'em and I'm banned to the office space until they're treated adequately. (I have protective staff members--bless their pea pickin' hearts.)
*sniffle*
*cough cough COUGH*

*sigh*
Yep, sneeze and 'hack'.
Ya know, that's one thing to DO that--and a whole 'nother thing to put 'hack' into print.....LOL

Oy......stupid colds SUCK.
And why IS it they never stay stupid colds?!

*sniffle*
*cough cough cough*
Oy.
Great.....this is NOT what I had planned.
*cough cough cough*

Worthy of Remembering

If I do not want what you want, please try not to tell me that my want is wrong.

Or if I believe other than you, at least pause before you correct my view.

Or if my emotion is less than yours, or more, given the same circumstances, try not to ask me to feel more strongly or weakly.

Or yet if I act, or fail to act, in the manner of your design for action, let me be. I do not, for the moment at least, ask you to understand me. That will come only when you are willing to give up changing me into a copy of you.

I may be your spouse, your parent, your offspring, your friend, or your colleague.
If you will allow me any of my own wants, or emotions, or beliefs, or actions, then you open yourself, so that some day these ways of mine might not seem so wrong, and might finally appear to you as right -- for me.

To put up with me is the first step to understanding me.
Not that you embrace my ways as right for you, but that you are no longer irritated or disappointed with me for my seeming waywardness.

And in understanding me you might come to prize my differences from you, and, far from seeking to change me, preserve and even nurture those differences.

Wow......

Somewhere between Cape Town and Boston there was this little boat on the water.
Way cool.....

They're just too awesome NOT to post.
Small wonder the girl's wanting to get back on a boat and do some sailing......
WOW...............
Think I could go with her? LOL

Done!

Well----
Make that 'sorta' done.

Slight problem.... If you decide you sortakinda like one particular train--you're going to end up with a whole ROOM of that kinda train that you sortakinda liked.

LOL Darn good thing I sortakindaREALLY like New York Central, eh?
Now, for the white lettering ("NYCS") above the pages from Saturday Evening Post.
AND mounting the brass oil can--AND the shelf for the lantern.....AND the shelf for the whole TRAIN (including two passenger cars)......A N D the framed map.



This is in addition TO the poster of the 20th Century Trains, the New York Central System sign, the 1935 stock certificate, the china placesetting AND the poster of Grand Central Station.


.........huh........

Darn good thing it IS a sortakindaREALLY like this one!Can't say the walls are bare in the study? LOLOL

List Three

1. jobs you've had:
Bartender (c'mon--what good little alcoholic WOULDN'T find themselves behind a bar, serving and consuming the profits!)
International Importing (okay....drug trafficing.... LOL GEEZE---law enforcement folks get soooooooo technical about stuff like that! I will note that the profits from sales paid for my legal fees AND for my first private 'treatment' for chemical dependency.)
Psycho-therapist of the private practice type (makes sense after the first two listed...LOLOL)

2. of your favorite foods
cauliflower (don't laugh)
alfredo sauce (on anything)
fresh, homemade bread

3. good memories
Prince Albert Hall
Boston Harbour
Dr. Neo-Nazi's face when he tried to explain the unexplainable.

4. things that annoy you
The computer freezing up in the middle of a task
The squirrels (See-More and See-Less) eating the woodpeckers (Sally, Harry and Woody's) food when they have their OWN food, dangit! (and yes, I put a sign out for them--so that blows THAT excuse!)
Multiple grey days in a row....c'mon SUN!!!!

*shrugs*
The darn girl needs to stop sending me silliness in emails.

*sighing*

k......my fingers hurt from quilting....
It sounded like a good way to keep busy.

When ya quilt, ya don't do a whole lotta thinking.
Leastwise I don't. I zone out and it's just me and the needle......though apparently I'm not THAT focused on the needle, elsewise I wouldn't have a sore finger! Oy........

We're down to eleven days until the Brit goes across the pond to see the mum and the kiddos.
Ten days until Valentine's Day.

Have I even given thought to Valentine's Day?
NO!
Will I?
*thinking*
Lemme get back to ya on that one.
*sigh*

I HAVE given thought to The Brit going away for eighteen days.
I'll be busy enough--that's for certain.There'll be LOADS of things to do.Work will undoubtedly remain a tad nutso.I was thinkin' I could get a few odds and ends done around the house, too.

Mostly I've been thinkin' the front part of the trip and how in the world to get 'okay' with being separated when we said we weren't going to do that cuz we had five YEARS of being separated.I'm soooooooooo not going to like going to that airport.

*sigh*
Bebravebebravebebrave......*sigh*

This Loss Of Words Brought To You By Your Friendly Neighbourhood Addict

It's not often I'm at a loss for words.

But I don't know what to say.

When you've worked for over a year to reunite your family, when you've finally started to see that light at the end of the tunnel, when you've finally gotten that glimpse of having back that kiddo you were afraid you'd lost forever--when you finally let yourself latch on to that shred of hope that you were so afraid to have......

And when that same kiddo makes arrangements to end up on the other side of 'trashed out of their gourd'--and I mean well thought through, 'coulda changed your mind within the week you had it planned and didn't' kinda plans....and you're waiting by the phone to make certain your child is 'okay' cuz they're in the ER because they've been stupid enough to mix all sorts of crap to get that moment of 'fun'...when you're holding your breath and reliving all your terrors....hoping and praying they'll be 'okay'.....

When the terror subsides and you're left with nothing but that familiar, shaming emptiness where 'hope' used to be......and you're back to square one, back to the distrust, back to living the terror--back to that hopelessness and despair---
What is it someone is suppose to say?
I don't have a clue.
I don't know what to say at this point.

It's not often that I find myself at a loss for words.

Three out of ten addicts muster a year of staying clean...one out of those same ten might keep clean for five years.
There's a statistic I'm JUST not proud to share.

Whooooooooooooshhhhh fffttttttttttttttttttttpppppppphhhhh....

I have a great job, dealing with great kiddos and their families. But when they all decide to have a crisis at the same time, it gets a bit---messy. And sometimes that feels mighty out of control to the adults who are trying to help them.

Tonight was one of those times. Kiddos in crisis. And kiddos reacting to kiddos in crisis--which creates MORE crisis.
Enough for one of the supervisors to ring me and say "You remember that offer to come in if things started feeling too 'big'....can I take you up on that?"

What is it that makes all the 'air' go out when one person walks into a room?
Dunno....but I'm clear it happens when some people walk into a crisis........the crisis kinda contains itself and all the air goes whooooooshing out.

Okay, so I ended up with the supervisor asking me, at the end of the evening when I'd tucked all 24 in bed, "How come you can just walk in and stuff suddenly 'stops' and everything just sort of 'evens out'?"

*shrugs*

I told her I've always been one to let air out of balloons--even the really COOL ones people send me for celebrations--I LIKE watching them zip around the room making that fffffffffttttttttttttttttttttppppppptttttttttt noise until they fall to the floor!
Perhaps it's all the practice? LOL