Happy Labor Day

Did Mary Get Married?

One of the coping techniques I've developed when I can't sleep or have night terrors is to re-enact (?I'm not sure that's the word) one of my favorite movies in my head.  My go-to is Pride and Prejudice.  I'll name all the characters and who they end up with and how they got there.  If it's really bad, I'll create a sequel.

I'm puzzled about Mary's fate and that's often where I fall asleep.

Now I've seen the movie a million times.  (the Keira Knightley version)  I've probably noticed too much and interjected my own thoughts into this way too much.

(And this is a deep dive so go watch the movie first if you don't know it.)

When Mr. Collin's is interested in Jane and Lizzy but not Mary, you get a glimpse of her disappointment.  Like Charlotte, she would have been an adequate match for Mr. What Excellent Boiled Potatoes.  She professes what need for men but is disappointed at the ball.  This leads me to believe she struggles with romance or even just people in general.

Once Lydia, then Lizzy, and then Jane leaves, only Mary and Kitty remain.  Now there's not a doubt that Kitty marries.  But does Mary?

This is how I picture the sequel and all the possibilities:

Jane marries and has a crowd of children.  They are insanely happy and the sister goes away because so many children and happiness.

Lizzy marries and I think one child is enough for her.  A quiet, little studious and serious child.

Lydia returns to her parents house with a baby because the horrible Mr. Wickman bails out on her.  I like to think that he's sent to the Colonies or somewhere as punishment and he just doesn't tell her.

And Kitty will fall for a cousin of Mr. Bingley, thus sealing those two families together forever and sending  Lady Katherine to her grave.

Oh, and I like to imagine Lady Katherine's daughter going ON A TEAR once her mother dies.  Traveling, shopping, men!!!

(I TOLD you, I've thought about this A LOT.)

So, where does this leave Mary?  I know the internet kind of answers this question but it leaves me unsatisfied.  And it's much more fun to think about all the options.

Does she stay home and care for her parents and Lydia?  Let's face it: Lydia is never going to grow up and probably can't be bothered with a baby.

Does she marry someone like Mr. Collins?  There is that joke: "I wonder if Mr. Collins has a cousin?"

Does she live with Lizzy and Mr Darcy and become besties with sister Georgianna?  Thus finding a marriage through her?

Or does she live with Jane and Mr. Bingley because of all the children?  does she fall in love with one of the servants while being a defacto nanny for them?

Now I leave this to you: Did Mary get married?  What are your thoughts?

And, have you ever obsessed about something from a book or a movie like this?

Quote of the Day

On the Headstone Maybe

Kevin and I always, I mean always, end our calls with “Love you bye”.  His has morphed into one syllable that sounds similar to lullaby.  He can say it in front of people and they’re not quite sure if they heard something mushy or whatever.  Don’t worry, we’re not one of those “No, YOU hang up first” couples.  We are a couple that has seen some shit so we know to say it while we can.

He has a dangerous job so there are jobs he does that he either doesn’t tell me about or tells me about after they are done.  It’s how I don’t eat my hair while he’s at work. 

Sometimes he will call during the day and seemingly have, like, nothing to share.  I find myself being visibly but silently impatient during these conversations.  We’ve all been there; gesturing “What?! Why?” with your hands.  Usually it’s with a parent though.

I assume that sometimes he just needs a break.  His job is a stressful one and he doesn’t always enjoy People.  And people exist at his job and he’s in charge of them.  His lifelong B.f.f. once said “you realize yelling at your staff isn’t cardio, right?”  Not that he yells AT them, he’s just loud in a loud environment.  But when he does lose it, oh it’s a thing of beauty.  It’s a pull up a seat, have some popcorn and soda because shit just got real y’all. 

Anyway, off topic.  It took me YEARS to figure out it’s because he’s nervous or something went sideways and he’s touching base.  YEARS.   Now I try to not want to kill him when he does it.

Anyway, once in a while, he will slip and tell me he’s doing something dangerous ahead of time.  I always say “Be careful. Love you bye.”   He always says “Whatever love you bye.”  It makes me laugh every time. 

Yesterday, it occurred to me that if something ever happens, I am totally going to use that somehow in the memorial. 

Musical Whiplash

I would say one of the greatest things ever invented, for me personally, is a combination of Amazon Prime Music and the Shazam app.  (this is not an endorsement, just an expression of my undying love.

I've added so much music onto my playlists because I've heard a song during a commercial or television show.  The amount of songs that I've gotten from watching Grey's Anatomy is embarrassing.

I am alone in my office for two weeks this month and it's been glorious.  I can be as loud or as messy as I want and no one cares.  Usually I will listen to music or podcasts using my earbuds.  But right now, I can have my system cranked to eleven.  *contented sigh*

So I put my Amazon music on scramble.  My music ranges from Dean Martin "That's Amore" to Eminem.  So, it can be Mood Swing Radio when I do this.  Sometimes I will have to dive for the skip button because it's not work appropriate music, no matter what. 

Also, I share this list with Kevin so some of his music is included.  Grand Funk, Waylon Jennings, Bryan Adams, Kim Mitchell.  Thanks for killing my vibe, Kev.

Now the thing about continually adding songs on my playlists is then I don't get to listen to everything.  Sure, I try to build individualized lists but that doesn't always capture everything.

Oh, what are my playlists?  Of course I have playlists!  They're kind of basic:

30 Second Dance Party
80's
Broadway
Christmas
Classical
Comedy (Eddie Izzard, Christopher Titus)
Country
Hamilton
Hip Hop
LOUD
MIX
Quiet

And just for entertainment sake, here is a small synopsis of this morning's music selection:

We Used to Be Friends - The Dandy Warhols

Truck Got Stuck - Corb Lund

Killburn High Road - Flogging Molly

In My Life -  Les Miserables Soundtrack

Keep on Trying - Poco

California Dreaming - Tupac

Seasons of Love -  Rent Soundtrack

Ring of Fire -  Johnny Cash

Take Me to the River -  Talking Heads

Rumor has it - Adele

Smile  - Uncle Kracker

You Got Another Thing Coming -  Judas Priest

Wicked Game  - Johnnyswim

You Can’t Control It  - Jack Johnson

Storybook Love  - Mark Knopfler

Alive & Kicking  - Simple Minds

Fairytale of New York  - The Pogues

Palace  - Sam Smith

Life in a Northern Town - Little Big Town

The More You Give  - Michael Buble

Somewhere On A Beach -  Dierks Bentley

Why God Made a River - High Valley

Stay  - Rhianna

Don’t Wanna Know - Maroon 5

Next to Me  -  Emile Sande

Shatter Me - Lindsey Stirling featuring Lizzy Hale

Goodbye’s All We Got Left  - Steve Earle

Run, Run Away - Slade 

You see?  It's like Musical Whiplash.  Funny that I specifically mentioned Eminem and Dean Martin, but neither has played this morning.  Evidence that even with best organization, there are still songs that I don't hear.  

And sometimes, the logarithm will decide that all we want to hear is Jack Johnson, Dean Brody, or Blake Shelton.  Or, maybe more likely, I'll have accidentally clicked "add album" when adding songs.

So, maybe this will help you add to your list.  Or inspire you to create one.  In the meanwhile, an example of a song I snagged from a Grey's Anatomy episode:

Perspective from the Silver Side

In May Kevin and I celebrated our Silver Anniversary  We lived in sin for three years so come October, we'll have been together for a total of 28 years.  This feels like a foregone conclusion to us but we both realize that this is a thing, an accomplishment that many don't achieve.

My mom asked if it felt like the time went really quick or if it felt like 25 years have truly passed.  I had to think about it a little.  It seems like a mixture of both.  In some ways, it feels like a minute.

When I look at the obvious timelines: Kevin's parents retirement, passing of family members and friends, the fact that "the kids" have kids, it really seems overwhelming.

Here's advice and/or perspectives that I would give, the first being is advice doesn't work for everyone because everyone's situation is different.

One crazy person at a time.  If someone is spinning out or having trauma or whatever, the other has to remain sane.  Someone has to be the grown-up.

Nothing is forever. I'm not talking about jobs, houses, and things but yes, those also.  I'm saying  parents, siblings, children.  They will eventually be gone and it's just going to be just the two of you. Everyone else will sort themselves out. In the end: It's going to be just the two of you. 

You are going to become different people throughout your relationship.  The trick is to remember the core of who you are and who you married.  Just because someone has changed doesn't mean everything is over and you can never find your way together again.  This one has a disclaimer however: As Long As The Changes Are Healthy Ones.

Choose your battles.  Decide how important it is that they don't do it the way you would. While annoying, the dishwasher and laundry basket issues aren't important in the big scheme of things, just annoying. Lives are not going to be lost as a result.

You Chose Them.  Remember that they probably had that quality/quirk/whatever that makes you squint when you chose them so now here you are.  Remember that you do things that probably make them annoyed as well.  If you thought it would change as time progressed, well, the joke is on you.

Use your manners.  You still have to say please, thank you, excuse me, bless you, love you.

And finally, this is spoken as a wizened middle-aged lady:  Your life probably isn't going to look like anything you ever pictured and that's okay.

This Was Not Walkies

Our anniversary was last month.  It's the busiest month in the year for us, with Kevin's birthday, the triplet's birthday, Mother's Day, Memorial Day, usually a race weekend, and our anniversary. 

I did not choose the month of May to be married, Kevin did.  I would have chosen December, which I realize wouldn't be any easier.  The fact that it's now June and I'm just clicking "Publish" tells you all you need to know about the month of May.

This year, the day fell on a Tuesday, which is difficult to work around.  Kevin is working 6/11's (six days a week, 11+ hours a day...fun being boss, right?) so I don't see much of him right now.  So I took an extra long lunch and drove down to his work to have lunch with him.

My one request for our "celebration" is just to be gone for a day. (*hint* no family)  The time for us to be gone for a weekend has kind of left us for a little while and we're going to be racing in a few weekends anyway.  (Number of anniversaries spent at the racetrack?  Probably around ten)

Kevin wanted to take Lucy for a walk.  She's kind of a menace in the car due to poor training (us) and the fact that she has hound in her and has to patrol all.the.things.all.the.time.because.dragons.  Because of this,we don't take her anywhere other than to get coffee and biscuits, five minutes from our house.  That and she has acres to roam at home so going for walkies isn't a priority.

So we got up early (for me) and took off.  Kevin chose the destination and I will quote him again that he wanted to take Lucy "for a walk and to play on the beach."

We totally went hiking.  Not "for a walk" but hiking.

I hadn't been to this park before but he had.  He SWORE he had taken me there before but nope, that was his first wife. (no need for offense, they've been divorced almost thirty years)  It made for some humor, for sure.  

I'm not a fan of surprises, I don't like being unprepared.  If I had known that it was going to be a hike, I would have made accommodations and it would have been better.  Oh, it still would have been a hike and not the promised WALK.  On flat ground, I can walk forever.  I can't run, those days are way gone, but I can walk for miles.  Hiking, well, not as easy.

Because we shouldn't be in charge of our own lives, we started out based on Kevin's memory from thirty years ago.  Thus the hike versus walk.  He said at one point "I don't remember it being this...much..."  Then he did the math and realized that he was probably 25 years old when he last did this "walk".  We laughed and questioned our mortality.

At one point, Kevin asked someone about the terrain of the "walk" ahead of us.  They assured us it was fine. NARRATOR:  "It was not fine."

Access to the last part had a small rock face that took about four-five steps to go up.  I stood there for five minutes before deciding that it was just not a good idea.  Even if I made it up, I would have to be able to go back down upon our return.

I hate to not be able to do something so I am still pouting about it.  We are totally going back.  There was another section that starts out really steep that I didn't even consider so I had to work at not feeling like a failure.  The younger, pre-bionic me wouldn't have thought about it for a second. 

Later, because again: we should not be in charge of our lives, we noticed someone had this thing you might have heard of that's called a MAP.  I felt a little stupid that it didn't occur to us to get a map. We had our phones in our possession for the love of sweet little 8 lb baby jesus.

See that little island in the center/left?  See the light lines of the trail that runs along HWY 20 on the map?  We did most of that.  If we had completed the full circle, it would have been four miles, as it is it looks like we did a little over three miles.

Here's the view:

We had a good time over all.  Lucy was beside herself with all the smells and all the things.  She was exhausted by the time we were done, which rarely happens.

I wasn't as tired or sore as I assumed I would be, which I will take as win.  Kevin did admit to being a little sore so I took some pleasure in that as well.  Now I'm on a mission to not only do those kind of things more but to go back and try again.

And I will be a little more inquisitive when Kevin says "Go for a walk."

This Memorial Day...

It's Like She's Trying to Win a Contest

I have an Office Space level coworker who is unfortunately located right next to me.  Fortunately, she isn't here every day because otherwise this would be unbearable.  However, the small pockets of time that she is is LONG.

Here's a little timeline:

• Came in muttering
• Took out breakfast from plastic bags and banging of spoon for what felt like ten minutes
• More muttering
• Wadding up paper while throwing it away
• Oh good, the phone.  This probably is inferred but she is also a loud talker.
• This person is an ice and gum chewer and a lick/scrape every possible bit of yogurt from a cup kind of person. 

Usually I have music playing but I didn’t start it today because I am leaving soon. This both amplifies and yet quiets her.  However, she will usually sing along to the music even though I have it on barely audible to anyone but me.  (I’ve tested, and asked, to make sure)

• Oh, the yogurt scraping has begun. 
• Moved onto apple slices in a plastic bag
• Sad, tiny little angel baby came in with a teacher and she never even acknowledged them.  They were directly behind her.  Who ignores sad tiny humans!?!?
• Muttering again…
• Oh, I almost missed mentioning the haptic sound of her phone when she apparently sends novella sized texts

This isn’t happening now but will most assuredly happen:

She prescreens webinars for staff.  With.The.Speakers.On so all of us can hear it.  It’s usually birth-to-five based so imagine jenky-happy music and kids giggling.  Not disconcerting at all.

Why doesn’t she wear headphones, you ask?  Sometimes she does but then…because there’s always a But Then…she has a tendency to dialogue with the webinar or sing along or and I’m sooo not kidding: clap her hands.  It’s like the headphones forces the other parts of her body to be louder.

And the fact. FACT, I say, that every food she eats is wrapped in plastic and crinkly wrapping that apparently takes escape room level timing and skills to unwrap. (imagine opening candy in a quiet theatre)  Oh, and the fast food soda cups...sigh. She is not only an ice chewer but a slurper as well; accompanied by the ever soothing sound of the straw scraping against plastic.

In case you worry that I might be melodramatic, I must also mention the day that she was listening to music through her headphones and shall I say so were we.  It was so loud.  BUT THEN and I swear to gawd this is true: she began to sing The Backup Vocals.  The "Ooh" and the "Aahhs" and Whoaaasss" parts. 

Which then brings us to the slinky.  Yes, there is a slinky. Of course there is a slinky.

It was suggested to her to use a slinky (and we hate that person) when she feels herself stressed and/or overwhelmed.  One day, when she was unfortunately here all day, the slinky was employed throughout the day.

Oh, and most of the time during all this: I have earbuds in.  I can still hear her over the earbuds.

The slinky makes us all mental and this is where I realized I forgot to tell you that human is a mentor/instructor for the staff.  One would think self-awareness would be a required qualification, but what do I know.  I’m a data geek.

Anyway. The got.dammed slinky.

She begins to shhhlink….shhhlink…shhhlink.

This is not enough for our protagonist. 

She then stands and paces/circles in her cublicle.  12 foot square space at the most.

Shhhlink…. Shhhlink… shhhlink… shhhlink

Now add humming.  Shhhlink hmmmmm  shhhlink hmmmmmm

AND THEN

She begins to pace the entire office.  There are ten cubicles in this room.  Paces the entire office.

Shhhlink hmmmmm  shhhlink hmmmmmm Shhhlink Shhhlink Shhhlink

Then there is a decision made that it must be shared with the entire building. Out she goes, and down the hallway where you can still hear Shhhlink Shhhlink Shhhlink Shhhlink

This generated a very special sticky note:

Now I recognize that I have my own issues, I'm an alphabet soup of issues. I am far from perfect.  I realize this all could be overly noticeable by me just because of said issues.  

Until the slinky story.   The slinky story squashes any contrary argument.

It's like she's trying to win a contest.

For the Not the Moms

Having been raised by wolves, as I've regularly described my childhood, other women stepped up to make sure that I was parented when my parents couldn't or didn't know any better.

As a very young kid, it was my mom's best friend.  As I was a trauma birth, she was the one who cared for me the first month plus of my life.  In fact, she made sure I was taken care of the first part of my young life. She sees me as the daughter she never had. 

My paternal grandma helped too while she was alive.  She died when I was five, but I still remember her babysitting and making sure that I was spoiled and had what I needed.

During grade school, my mom became a volunteer firefighter with a group of stay-at-home moms.  Those women also stepped up and made sure I was okay over the years. 

Mostly I remember my high school best friend's moms.  At sixteen/seventeen, I was working, going to school, paying bills, and driving.  I was an adult mostly but I still felt their watchful eyes on me. They made sure I got home, school, or to work on time, had what I needed, fed me, answered my questions.  Parented me when I needed it. 

So, today I'm giving a shout out to those moms who take care of kids who aren't theirs.  Not the foster moms or the step moms.  The moms who just take in the friends of your kids without a thought.  You might not think they notice but they do.  You  may think it's nothing or a little thing but it's not.

I appreciate every meal, every hug, every correction, every thing they did to step up and fill the gaps. 

You're Not Invited

Tomorrow is Mother's Day, admittedly one of my least favorite holidays. 

I'm not close with my mom and Kevin's mom is super way not the same mom that I met almost thirty years ago.  This whole palliative care thing has changed the relationship to a caregiver instead of parental one. 

My mom did the best that she could but woo boy, the mistakes that were made were huge ones.  The older I get and experience with kids and grandkids, the more I see it.  Aging in this instance is not helpful.  "What the eff were you thinking?" is what mostly occurs to me.

I'm not motherless, but it kinda feels like it.

I'm usually okay with the not having kids thing.  However, I've noticed that it has bothered me more as I've aged.  We are not going to have kids and grandchildren to care for us when we are old.  It's going to be just Kev and I.  Sure there are a dozen nephews and nieces but we know that that is not at all the same.

In the weirder moments, I wonder about past relationships, all of which now have children, and wonder what that life would have been like. I've miscarried three times in my life.  Twice was a blessing because carrying Satan's babies was not something that should ever happen.  I shudder to think that I would have a 28 and 29 year old right now and would be forever tethered to him. 

But then I comment "Our luck we would have gotten sacked with a kid LIKE THAT." while watching Young Sheldon and I realize that perhaps it's for the best.

Then there are the folks who try to make it better. Bless their hearts. (shaking my head)  "You have a fur baby!  Look at all the kids you helped raise during your career.  You're a godmother."  These are all things that I've heard.

These are all things that make me want to punch you in the throat.  These are the things that makes Kevin verbally dive in front of to deflect whenever he can.  I understand that people are trying to be kind but just don't.  It's not the same and no perspective is going to make it the same.

Days like this are like not being invited to a classmates birthday party when you're in elementary school.  You don't know why, you're feeling left out, and you can't understand the experiences that everyone who attended had.  Their stories aren't relevant to you.  It's an inside joke, you had to be there kind of thing.
 My advice is to say nothing. Treat it like another day. Know that people like me are gutting days like this out.

So, tomorrow I get to sleep in and Kevin will bring me coffee.  We'll spend some time next door but that's not different than any other day.  We'll visit my mom while my siblings are there and hope it won't be awkward (it so will be, but we hope)   Kevin will offer to take me to dinner or buy me stuff or both.  He will markedly not comment if I choose to watch Grey's Anatomy all.damn.day. 

And he will probably post something horribly awkward, funny and inappropriate on social media. My favorite was"Happy You're Not A Mom Day!" one year.  Leave it to us to make it uncomfortable.

Post Apocalyptic Hometown

It's been about a year since I started this new job. I know, right? A year that I envisioned would never end and that I would be miserable the whole time.  A year that I swore would be temporary.

Well, I just signed a letter of intent for the next school year so the second year of my contract is officially enacted.  It feels odd that it's been a year already and it feels odd to sign a contract to commit to another year. It makes me a little panicky but it's mostly good.

As you see, I still have hesitancy about this whole thing and I guess it boils down to the returning home thing.  I've mentioned before that I totally understand why writers have their protagonists return home so often in their storylines.  It's a thing.  A real thing.

I left town over 25 years ago and didn't really look back.  Sure, I drove through town or whatever but I really didn't spend any real time there. I left for two reasons: 1) my personal safety and b) new and more opportunities elsewhere. Well, three reasons: life.

During that time away, it seems I metaphorically sealed up this town and kicked it back to the dark, dusty corner of my memory to be forgotten.  Now I'm here every day during the work week and it's real. No avoiding it although I have been in absolute denial. Until recently.

The epiphany happened for me while Kevin was watching The Walking Dead:  I'm working in my Post Apocalyptic Hometown.  Everything looks similar but it's not the same.  People have changed,some people are gone or dead.  Everything is different yet in some ways the same.  I can kind of see what has happened during my absence but other stuff remains a mystery. Post apocalyptic.

I've had to acknowledge some zombies along the way and that hasn't been super fun.  Fighting zombies rarely is, from what I've gathered.

Yet for all the differences 25-ish years have made, there are still moments and memories attached everywhere. Every.Doggoned.Where.   I believe I'm mostly past the jarring "Oh that horrible thing happened there" and tend to focus more on the positive happy memories that do exist here.

I've kind of methodically visited different spaces, like testing the soreness of a bruise. The place where we all hung out before everything fell apart, the park where I used to sit and have lunch, houses of old friends who haven't lived there in years. These little field trips have allowed the happier moments to rise up and snuff out the ugly ones, mostly.

It's happy/sad now. There's comfort in some of these memories yet I need to not be sucked into a melancholy nostalgia either, searching for how it used to be and trying to recreate it. I have to adapt to this new place.

Yet, the invisibility still continues. I haven't told my friends who are still here that I'm back working in town yet. (Yes, I suck. I own this)  I haven't visited my family, but those have other reasons attached. I'm still a little vigilant about my whereabouts and probably always will be because a permanent restraining order still exists.

In the meanwhile, I will keep moving forward and pushing my boundaries outward until this Post Apocalyptic place becomes a new normal.  I continue to slay the zombies and rebuild.

This Will Make a Good Story at the Memorial

Any time  that I mention that my homelife is exactly like the television show Everyone Loves Raymond I get one of two responses.  Usually it's an "awww, that must be so nice" or an uncomfortable chuckle.

I will say that on the whole, it is fine.  I've written about it before so I won't rehash too much.  It's like being part of the Witness Protection Program because your every move is noticed.  Late for work? Washing your car? Got a bill in the mail? Just bought something at the store?  Yep, they know. 

Last weekend was the first nice weekend the Pacific Northwest has had in, no word of a lie, eight months.  In the seventies, puffy happy clouds, if any, in the blue sky.  Perfect day.

On Sunday I just wanted to work in my garden in peace.  I wanted to pull weeds, rake, and assess what plants wintered over and which needed replacing.  Also, I had some flower seeds to plant.  What I'm saying is that I had plans.

Kevin was already working in his shop because he is active the moment his eyes open, bless his heart.  (I mean that in the most Southern way possible)  I went to our back door, which looks at the garden and you can see the corner of the shop.  I looked and sure enough, there is Kevin's dad and his brother. 

I literally muttered "Eff me."then closed the door and went back into the house.

Now, Kevin's dad has been working really hard in our yard this past week.  He's redoing the lawn and he's loving it because our house and yard is kept really nicely and we leave him alone.  Years ago, Kevin and I made the agreement that even if he does something we don't like, we are to SHUT IT and not mention it. The reasons for this are two-fold: firstly, he's 80 and loves to help.  Secondly, Kevin's brother is awful to him and criticizes everything his dad does yet doesn't lift a finger to help. So, he loves to work over here.  And Lucy is his favorite but I'm off topic. 

I gave it a few minutes and peeked out our bathroom window, which looks upon the entire shop.  See? Witness Protection.  Everyone was gone so I made a break for it, gathered my tools from the shed, and got to work.  At one point, I had to go back to the shed, next to the shop.  Kevin was returning from his parents house and sighed heavily, as he's prone to do these days.  I leaned against him for a moment and said "I just wanted five minutes peace.  That's all."   I looked at him and realized that I was Singing to the Choir. 

I decided to just quietly hang out around Kevin to support him and frankly, it keeps his brother away. (long story)  My work can wait. Kevin needs a buffer.  All of a sudden I can hear music from next door.  A good 200 feet and one house and one enclosed car trailer away.  "Apparently we're listening to REO Speedway this morning, Kev." 

He went into his shop and all of a sudden Luke Bryan is on blast.  Passive Aggressive Response, for the win.

Eventually, I got to work in the garden. I am the brother repellent so my work was done there.  Kevin's dad worked on the other side of the house from me.  I'm guessing Kev might have told him that I needed space, knowing I had ready access to gardening tools.

All in all it was a nice day, eventually we all got to do our thing in harmony.

Now, you're thinking "What's wrong with that? It sounds kind of nice." 

This is where I tell you that Kevin's dad doesn't always have good boundaries.  He has broken into the house WHILE WE ARE IN IT to get the keys to our truck. (we share it with him...another long story)

On Sunday morning, it turns out that while Kevin had returned to bed with me, IF YOU GET WHAT I MEAN, Kevin's dad had walked through our yard, past our bedroom windows to work in the yard.  Multiple Times.  Just kill me. 

I console myself with the thoughts of "Someday you're going to miss this" and "This will make a good story at the memorial"

Gmorning Gnight - Poetry Month

It's Not About Holding His Hand

Many people watched in delight as He Who Shan’t Be Named was caught on video trying to get his wife to hold his hand at a state dinner.  Initially, I too found delight in the rejection and embarrassment.

Then someone on the twitter mentioned to rewatch the clip, but only watch her expression.  I wish I didn’t.  It was no longer entertaining to me.  It became heart-breaking and to sound like a Millennial, I found myself a little triggered. I now view her a survivor of domestic violence who is still unsafe. 

Now, this is where I say that yes, she has made choices that has put her into the situation she is now.  But there is no way that she could have guessed how she would end up in the global spotlight.  We also don’t know what prompted her to make those choices. And really, none of us are faultless in making choices that have landed us in unhappy situations.

The desperation and insistence that she hold his hand for appearances and not affection is something I’ve experienced.  It creates an emotion unto itself: frustration, humiliation, dread, and sadness all intermix.  It’s not about affection, it’s about ownership, control, and appearances. 

But what sent me over the edge was his nod when she finally acquiesced.  That nod gave me chills.  I’ve seen that nod. That nod meant “Good girl for obeying.”  It meant “There will be consequences.”  It meant “See? I still have control.”  It makes me nauseous, still, thinking about it.

So I have to give grace to someone whom I’d really rather not.  Sadly, I found that we are part of a kinship of being in an unbearable situation with little control or even hope of a different outcome.  

To make it so much more worse, he is the face of America right now.  That makes it difficult to get up in the morning, for sure.  Here's what I suggest:

Hold the hands of those you love. Make a donation to a shelter. Volunteer. Smile at strangers.  We're all in this together.  Find some grace.  That's how I get up in the morning.

Oh, and eff.that.guy.  I almost forgot that part.

And Then - Poetry Month

You can find nearly anything on Pinterest.  Finding poetry was something I didn't expect.  I admit that I haven't researched the poet, which is unlike me.  I research everything.  But I guess I want to have a reaction to the poetry instead of to the poet or who they are.

The poems are predominately sad in nature, I think.  But I love the imagery. If you're inclined to sad, it can be good or it can be triggering.  

I Found Bad Wolf

I am unsure if it's a regional thing or not but placing painted rocks around the community for folks to find has become a thing.  I've a few facebook friends who participate so that's about the extent of my knowledge.  I believe you're supposed to pay it forward if you find a rock, but it's okay if you don't.

I often see the painted rocks on social media and marvel at them. It's one of those things that one admires and thinks would be fun but then immediately forgets about. 

Anyway...

Because things have been stressful and unfun family-wise, Kevin and I have been doing random things just to break the stress.  Last Saturday was a trip to his work to see what's doing there.  (He's got new equipment, lots of projects, etc. It's more fun than it sounds and well, we weren't at home.)

Afterward we went to breakfast in town.  It's a very small town and one of those places that you go through on the way to somewhere else.   Not somewhere where it would occur to me to even look for such a thing.

We stopped at a cafe that had recently moved into an old Burger King.  We were wondering how it was going to look, going from a tiny cafe in a converted house to a fast food restaurant.  A fast food restaurant that was closed because it was so unsanitary, they lost their franchise.  YIKES.

As we were walking to go inside, something caught my eye.  I backed up and exclaimed "OH! That is SO COOL!" 

Someone had placed a rock to find on the ledge of the building. 

AND it was a DOCTOR WHO rock!  Thank you, universe.

I picked it up and turned it over to make sure that it was one of those and was excited to see it was. Kevin was skeptical though, "What is that? Wait, you're TAKING it?"

He was totally confused...why are you taking a rock? what is Bad Wolf (he's not a Whovian, obvs.)  Why would someone do that? Are you sure?  I explained to him but he remained skeptical.

I posted it on my facebook and thanked the group.  Now it sits on the end table where I can see it often and be happy.

Thank you random, kind stranger for taking the time not only to create art but to share it with the world too.  It made my day and continues to give me happy.

Allonsy!

Not So Broken

I can't remember the quote anymore but it's something along the lines of bragging about a good deed lessens the good.  I normally wouldn't share a particular good deed that I've done but this one still sits with me and it's been months. 

There is a homeless gentleman who has a caravan made of a bike and attached trailer.  He also has about five cats.  They ride in the trailer and they are always with him.   I've heard that he's been offered housing but he has to reduce the amount of kitties he has.  He can't bear to do it so he remains on the streets.

The cats are very well loved.  I've heard that he won't accept help or donations for himself but he will for his cats.  You can tell because they are clean, groomed, and well-fed. 

One morning I stopped to get a coffee and he was in the parking lot.  I always feel a twinge of guilt getting something and not getting something for him. 

As we know, Lucy is the most spoiled dog in all the land.  We've tried many combinations of beds for her throughout the house and shop.  One we bought ended up being too small.  I put it in my truck with the intention of dropping it off at the humane society.   As intended donations often do, the dog bed was well-traveled, spending about a week in the backseat.

For some reason, it popped into my head that perhaps he would take it for the kitties.  I parked near him and got out of the car.  I'd been told that he is harmless, so I didn't feel hesitant and I've learned skills in approaching said folks over time.

I knelt down and said "Excuse me, sir?" It took two more times before he answered.  I'm assuming he was worried that I was going to tell him to move or pray at him or whatever he must experience from the general public. 

I explained "I have a little dog bed that I was going to give to the pound but I thought maybe your kitties would like it instead.  He quietly responded, "What happened to your puppy?" 

My heart just broke, here is a human who has nothing and his first response is asking about the well-being of a dog.  I laughed and explained that she was just a very spoiled dog and was just fine, cozy at home. 

I asked him again if he wanted the bed and he said yes.  I explained that I would be right back and got it out of the truck.  I approached him again and held it out.  The cats were out of their carrier and huddled around him.  He took the bed and smiled a big smile.  "Oh, it's nice..."

He set it down and the cats immediately made themselves at home on it.  I commented that they seemed very happy and loved. 
"Maybe they'll share it with you a little"   He kind of laughed and continued pet the cats.  I wished him well and retreated to the truck.  I heard a quiet, small, "God bless you" as I turned away.

Again, I was touched by his caring.  He's clearly broken and yet his first thoughts were of a puppy's well-being.  Maybe he's not so broken after all.

The Guest House - Poetry Month

I can't remember who was being interviewed by Howard Stern but they mentioned this poem.  It struck me in such a way that I looked it up online as soon as I could.  Yes, a strange venue in which to learn poetry, for sure.

THE GUEST HOUSE

This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,
some momentary awareness comes
as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all!
Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,
who violently sweep your house
empty of its furniture,
still, treat each guest honorably.
He may be clearing you out
for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice.
meet them at the door laughing and invite them in.

Be grateful for whatever comes.
because each has been sent
as a guide from beyond.

– Jelaluddin Rumi,
Translation from The Essential Rumi by Coleman Barks

The Day is Done - Poetry Month

April is national poetry month and every April I have the best intentions to share some of my favorites.  Here it is the sixth of the month and I'm just now thinking about it. I know it's not everyone's thing but I think that putting any sort of beauty out into the world is important right now.

This is the first poem that I ever really connected with. It was in high school and I so wish that I still had that textbook.

The Day is Done 
BY HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW

The day is done, and the darkness
      Falls from the wings of Night,
As a feather is wafted downward
      From an eagle in his flight.

I see the lights of the village
      Gleam through the rain and the mist,
And a feeling of sadness comes o'er me
      That my soul cannot resist:

A feeling of sadness and longing,
      That is not akin to pain,
And resembles sorrow only
      As the mist resembles the rain.

Come, read to me some poem,
      Some simple and heartfelt lay,
That shall soothe this restless feeling,
      And banish the thoughts of day.

Not from the grand old masters,
      Not from the bards sublime,
Whose distant footsteps echo
      Through the corridors of Time.

For, like strains of martial music,
      Their mighty thoughts suggest
Life's endless toil and endeavor;
      And to-night I long for rest.

Read from some humbler poet,
      Whose songs gushed from his heart,
As showers from the clouds of summer,
      Or tears from the eyelids start;

Who, through long days of labor,
      And nights devoid of ease,
Still heard in his soul the music
      Of wonderful melodies.

Such songs have power to quiet
      The restless pulse of care,
And come like the benediction
      That follows after prayer.

Then read from the treasured volume
      The poem of thy choice,
And lend to the rhyme of the poet
      The beauty of thy voice.

And the night shall be filled with music,
      And the cares, that infest the day,
Shall fold their tents, like the Arabs,
      And as silently steal away.