2008, Please Exit Quietly By The Rear Doors

For me, 2008 is a year best forgotten.

It began with a plethora of medical testing to see why I couldn't get rid of The Neverending Cough. The cough that caused me to stop singing at church, stop enjoying life, and start wondering if it would ever end. The answer was eventually found and I got better - after three long months of tests and more months of healing.

I thought the trials for the year were finally over. I was wrong.

I started singing again. I sang one Sunday, and cried from the normalcy of it all. The ability to worship God in my own true pathway was back! We found out Eldest Daughter was pregnant with her third child. Another gift!

And then the other shoe dropped.

The second Sunday I was supposed to sing I couldn't. Mom had suffered a heart attack and stroke. The next six months were consumed with her care, the ups and downs, the hopes that were eventually dashed, our decision to bring her home, her death and the aftermath.

ED lost the baby.

There have been issues with my remaining parent and his wife. Suffice it to say our relationship is strained.

When I think about this during the vacation, I will try to come up with a reason for it all. What was God trying to teach me during 2008? To lean on Him more? I have. To trust Him in all things? I had no choice but to do that very thing. To forgive? Again and again and again. To try to make amends? Been there, done that, been slapped in the face for it.

Right now it's a mystery. But I can truthfully say I hope and pray there is never a year this bad again in my lifetime.

Good riddance, 2008. Don't let the doorknob hit you on the way out.

I'm Vacating!

Next week is full.

It starts with tomorrow. Tomorrow we celebrate Christmas with Eldest Son and his wife, Eldest daughter and her brood at Eldest Son's home. The same home that was attacked by a vicious squirrel yesterday.

Seems as though the squirrel had gotten in through the garage when ES was taking out the trash. He wreaked havoc with anything on shelves in the room he was confined to, leaving scratches on the furniture, walls, etc. Thankfully (or not, depending on how you think), Alex the Psycho Cat was upstairs and in no danger. The Critter Catcher was called. He made an emergency visit, dispatched of the squirrel, and all is back to semi-normal.

Now, where was I?

Ah, yes.

Friday will see me at the lung doctor, then to my Most Excellent Hairdresser. The weekend should be fairly tame, then Monday is Furniture Shopping and dinner with Cindabel. Adult beverages will be consumed. Tuesday Sis and I have breakfast scheduled before we head off to do more financial/legal stuff, and I'm playing the rest of the week by ear. So far.

In there somewhere will be Appliance Shopping, possibly a cardiac chemical stress test, some disbursing of items at Mom's house, maybe some wallpapering, cleaning, carpet cleaning, and saving the world as we know it from untold darkness and evil.

Don't thank me. It's my job.

So today I will work a full day, when other companies see fit to give their employees half a day off, (snarf) and then I will be on vacation. Eleven blessed days.

I can't wait to see what else I can squeeze in.

A Night On The Town

In my many years on this earth I have learned one thing; food does not fix anything.

But it sure helps you feel better about not being fixed.

And so tonight HeyJules and I went out for a night of debauchery at a local bar and grill. We stuffed ourselves on quesadillas, fried mozzarella sticks and stuffed mushrooms. We enjoyed adult beverages. We discussed her need to control her finances in the coming year, my need to strangle my remaining parental unit, and solved the problems of the world as we know it.

It was Appetizer Heaven. On a stick.

Thanks, Jules. We all need a night like tonight now and then.

Even me.

Attack Of The Electronic Gizmos

I have been in computer hell today.

I came into work, booted up, and immediately couldn't do anything. No connections to the email program. No connection to the internet. No connection to the outside world as we know it.

The twitching started.

The computer guru came downstairs and said something about having to call a distant land to find out what was wrong. Or it might be a bad switch. He wasn't sure.

The twitching spread and increased in vigor.

The distant land was having telephone trouble. All of their land lines were inoperable for some reason, so the guru couldn't reach them. When asked what I was supposed to do all day, how I was supposed to "work" without a computer, the guru's answer was, "I'd go home if I were you. No one else in the building is having this problem."

The bottle of Xanax came out. Shortly before the baseball bat.

I asked for a loaner laptop and was granted one. Thankfully, it works. However, the type is not as big as the type on my desktop, so I find myself squinting as I report these happenings to you. My only hope is that I can, indeed, survive the day without this little gem breaking down as well.

Because today?

It's not easy being me.

From The Ridiculous To The Mundane

Today was a day of rest.

I was supposed to meet Sis over at Mom's house this morning to begin the arduous task of cleaning out closets, nooks and crannies. We planned to take it slow and easy. Work from 9 a.m. to noon, then call it a day.

But I couldn't do it.

I called Sis about 8 a.m. and told her we'd have to wait a while longer. She understood.

I'm off on vacation from January 1 through January 11, so I figure we can tackle some of it during that time. We aren't planning to put the house on the market until Spring, so we have plenty of leeway. There's no rush.

Instead, I stayed in my jammies all day long. I subscribed to Consumer Reports online and spent a good deal of time looking up appliances. At the moment we are living on borrowed time with all of our kitchen appliances, so I thought it best to be prepared. The refrigerator is 20 years old, the dishwasher older than that, and the oven is so old it has one of those clocks on it where the numbers actually turn from one digit to the next (think 70's digital alarm clock), only they don't turn anymore and the timer is broken as well. As a matter of fact, the only thing that DOES work is the oven part.

Which goes to show that even though you're old and some parts don't work well anymore, you can still be "hot" when you need to be.

Feel free to use that one. No charge.

You're welcome.

So, after All The Research, I managed to toddle upstairs to take a short nap. THREE HOURS LATER (ahem), after a shower and honest-to-goodness clothing being applied, Hubster and I took The Girl out to dinner. Her boyfriend joined us, and we had a merry old time. The Boy opted to stay home and have chicken nuggets.

Due to my restful afternoon, I am now wide awake at the ungodly hour of 1:29 ayem in the morning. I have a feeling I will suffer for this later today. However, there's another nap waiting on the horizon, calling my name.

For now, it's off to bed. Sweet dreams, Interpeeps!

Young Love

Internets, The Boy is in LURVE.

Tonight he has the girl of his dreams over here to meet the parental units, eat pizza and watch a movie.

AND HE CLEANED HIS ROOM AND HELPED CLEAN THE REST OF THE HOUSE. WITHOUT COMPLAINING.

He is obviously stricken.

He hasn't seen the floor of his room in two years, but because SHE was coming over he found it was imperative that he clean it. He even MADE HIS BED.

I do believe my heart stopped with that last sentence.

I rest my case.

Christmas From The Down Side

We survived.

It was not the Christmas we know and love, but a make-do version. And make do we did.

I decided only a few days ago to actually cook Christmas dinner. Before that we were toying with going out for Chinese. But I kept thinking how Mom would react to that if she knew, and I had to do the turkey trot with all the trimmings.

I stayed up until 3 a.m. Christmas Eve cooking and wrapping gifts, then fell into bed for a few hours sleep before Son, DIL and Cutie arrived. We opened gifts, then Son and DIL helped with dinner preparations and we sat down to eat.

It was just all wrong. It wasn't supposed to be here.

After dinner we headed to Sis' house to open more gifts and have dessert. Sis made the chocolate pie Mom always made, and even set aside a bowl of the filling for me the way Mom always did.

But again, it wasn't right. It wasn't Mom's pie. It wasn't Mom's house.

After we left Sis' house the kids and Hubster went to feed Eldest's cat since he and his wife are out of town. I went another direction.

I went to Mom's.

I needed to be there. I needed to feel like she was a part of Christmas, even if she wasn't here. I needed the familiarity of home, the presence of her things around me, even if I couldn't have her here in the flesh.

After an hour or so of talking and yelling and crying and praying and walking from room to room, I left. Nothing had changed. It was still Christmas, and Mom was still dead. The aching in my chest just won't go away.

The rest of the evening I varied between being short-tempered and a zombie. I was short with the kids, with Cutie and her parents, even with Hubster. I will apologize to each of them in turn. They should not have to suffer through my angst regarding this holiday. It's unfair to take my pain out on them.

I'm told holidays get better after the first one passes. I hope we're able to find our way through this, because this holiday was more of a test of endurance than anything else.

I want the joy back.

Taking A Moment

I'm here in the office alone. Everyone has left for the day after our Christmas reception, and I'm taking a moment to gather myself.

The greatest part of the shopping is done. There are still a few gifts that can wait to be purchased until next week, since we won't have Christmas with part of the family until New Year's Day. All I need now is some stocking stuffers to finish out the kids' Christmas and I'll be good there.

The kids put up the tree yesterday with the help of Boyfriend and Pseudo-Daughter. The Girl said it's comforting in an odd way, kind of like we have a part of Mom there with us. I figured if they could put up the tree, I could cook the dinner.

So last night, armed to the teeth, I fought my way across the grocery store and purchased almost all I needed to make Christmas dinner. Turkey and all the trimmings. I'm still missing sweet potatoes and midget sweet pickles, but another trip to a different store should remedy that in short order. The cooking will begin as soon as I get home.

Thank you, God, that I've done this before and know how. Otherwise I'd be up that famous creek without a paddle, it would be frozen solid, and I wouldn't even have any skates.

I just wish this place in the middle of my chest would quit aching. That comes from dreading the day tomorrow, I know. But life goes on, and so must we.

Because getting used to Christmas this way will take much more than a moment.

Webster's Has No Words

"You are defined by your actions."

It hit me hard, that one.

If I am defined by my actions, what does that mean? It means I don't like that definition very much. I don't like the "me" I see in the mirror, through the eyes of others, or in the way I keep house. It's that simple.

So I decided this weekend that things needed to change. I know, I've decided that eleventy bazillion times over my lifetime and failed at it eleventy bazillion times, but there's always that slim hope that somehow, something will stick.

I started with the housekeeping part - the bedroom in particular. I went through it with a fine-toothed comb, cleaning where mere mortals have feared to tread before. I sacked up clothes to be given away, items to be sold in the sale at Mom's, and trash. I dusted, vaccuumed, polished and waxed. I de-spotted the carpet. I unloaded the floor, dresser and chest. I took down the curtains to be washed. I reorganized, putting away or giving away all the clothing that was on the ironing board and various other places throughout the room. Hubster helped with his side of the room, and by the time I went to bed it looked like a normal bedroom again instead of something hit by a blast from the Spanish Armada.

And behold, it was good.

My actions tonight will define me as a last-minute Christmas shopper. While we have the grandchildren taken care of, we only have one gift for three of the older children. That will have to be remedied in a hurry. Sis is taken care of, but her husband and two sons are not as of yet. MIL still needs a gift. And there are the odd great-nieces and great-nephews yet to buy for.

Not that they're odd, it's just that they're here and there...

And this past weekend I started to be redefined as a friend again. Something I haven't been able to be to HeyJules for the past six months or so. We had coffee on Saturday, our first since May..or was it April? It was so good to catch up and talk with her. I've missed her so.

On the other hand, I've been defined as stubborn and tempermental with my dear friend Linds. I popped off at her last week in a fit of anger at myself. LINDS, of all people! My deepest apologies, Linds. I'm not ever going to get used to this grief thing, I fear. I want so much to be completely over the weeping part of it! I can handle everything but the constant crying. It's abysmal.

Yes, that would be the definition of stubborn. And prideful, I think. Kitti? What's your take?

And so, here we are on a cloudy Monday. Tomorrow is Tuesday, then there's Christmas Eve and Christmas. Without Mom.

So we'll redefine that as well.

A Meltdown of Major Proportion

It was not a good evening.

First, there was the freezing rain. We all drove over to MIL's house to have dinner, even though it was coming down and freezing as we ate. Predictably, we made a short night of it and left early.

On the way home, The Boy and I made a stop at Mom's house to pick up a couple of things. I didn't want to go in, so I told him where he could find what we needed. Unfortunately, the light bulbs had burned out in the living room and he didn't know where the replacements were. Neither did I, so I had to slip and slide my way into the house to look for them.

I saw her in every doorway. I imagined the tree where it would be if she were still alive - how it would be decorated and all the presents that would be beneath it. I saw her squatting in front of it, handing the gifts out, just as she did only last year. Her tennis shoes are still on the stairs, her clothes in the closet.

Tonight Eldest Son suggested we have our family Christmas on New Year's Day since he and his wife and Eldest Daughter and her family will both be out of town on Christmas Day. I wanted to protest. They know that's the day we go to Mom's for ham and black-eyed peas to celebrate the new year...but Mom isn't there anymore.

Mom isn't there anymore.

And try as I might to be happy about the fact that she is with Jesus and isn't suffering and is probably rollerskating and is with her parents and sisters again, I can't help but cry.

I miss her. I miss her so very much.

Yes, There Was Sleep

Twelve blessed hours of it.

I am never taking another Vicodin as long as I live. All they do is make me go into that quasi-sleep that isn't really sleep, that pain relief that doesn't really take away the pain, but makes you not care that it's there.

It is evil incarnate.

And because I took the Vicodin I was afraid to take the Ambien I usually take at bedtime along with it. Much better to chug sangria in desperation, don't you think?

AAAAARRRRGGGHHHH.

So here I am, refreshed. I have accomplished more today than I have all week. No, the Christmas shopping isn't done. But hey, I still have a week. Gimme a break!

In other news, I have now made appointments with three different orthopedic doctors. The first didn't go to a hospital covered by my insurance. The second was listed by my insurance, as was his hospital, but it turns out both the hospital and he dropped my insurance.

IN 1999.

The third seems to be neither too hot, too cold, too hard, too soft, but juuuuuusssssssst right. He both takes my insurance and goes to the hospital my insurance covers. My knee and I will meet him on 16 January.

Until then, I need to find a soul food caterer who will feed 90 people lunch for $425. Any ideas?

The Rest Of The Story Is That There Wasn't

It was a night from hot, blazing places where Evil lives.

Hubster and I ate dinner with the fam, then decided to go to Wal-Mere to get me some wiper blades for the car. One of mine fell off on the way home. Don't ask me how, it just did.

While we were there we did some Christmas shopping. By the time we got home at around 9 p.m., my knee, leg, foot, hip, and everything else on my left side hurt so much I couldn't sleep.

Until 5:30 a.m.

I took Vicodin. I used heating pads. I even cajoled Hubster into rubbing my foot for a total of 1.3 minutes. I tossed. I turned. I listened to soothing music...over and over and over again. I got up and ate cookies. I took more Vicodin. I stretched. I walked. I played on the computer. I chugged sangria straight from the bottle. I went back to bed.

Nothing helped.

Suffice it to say I have been little more than a zombie today. Also suffice it to say I will be going to bed as soon as I get home.

Tra la, tra la.

Doc got a call from my bleary voice this morning, and he in turn called in a different anti-inflammatory med to see if it helps. I'm picking it up on the way home.

There will be no shopping tonight. There will be no cleaning. There will be no computing. There WILL be sleeping, and lots of it.

And perhaps I'll be human again tomorrow.

One can only hope.

The Best Laid Plans

So.

The official diagnosis after a visit to my friendly MD and an x-ray is degenerative osteoarthritis of the knee. I am taking a four-day run of steroids, the doctor's placebo for everything that ails me, and pain pills. I'm also applying those nifty little heat patches that last twelve hours to the affected knee, and I have to go see an orthopedist for a consult.

My joy knows no bounds.

And the name of the doctor? Dr. Orth. No joke. Dr. Orth the Orthopedist. What a hoot.

In other news, absolutely nothing else was accomplished last night other than prescription-filling and purchasing of rodent bait, steel wool, and various and sundry other items. And even the steel wool wasn't. It was the store brand of SOS pads, because nowhere in the whole of K-Mart was there a single box of steel wool and I wasn't stopping anywhere else.

In the end it didn't really matter anyway. As soon as I got home I ate a bowl of soup with the family, took pain meds and went to bed in my soup-stained t-shirt that is, thankfully, still a couple of sizes too big for me. Not much is these days.

Oh, the party never ends. I just never attend it.

We are in desperate need of a load of wood to burn in the fireplace. We're down to the dregs of the last load we purchased several years ago, and we're also almost done burning the last of the trees we had to have cut down after the tornado hit. To say we've been conservative is an understatement. However, it's come to the point where unless we get more to burn, there aren't going to be any more hotdog or marshmallow roasts this winter. No fannies will be warmed at the hearth. No flames will crackle merrily as I don't bake Christmas cookies and we don't decorate the tree.

Something must be done.

The snow for today has stopped, leaving us with the promise of warmer temperatures tomorrow just before the freezing rain comes in on Thursday. It's COLD here. I don't want to get out of my jammies, much less go Christmas shopping. At least I have a shepherd's pie waiting for dinner tonight in the fridge, and the promise of at least one fire in the fireplace while I don my t-shirt and sweatpants, prop up my knee, and avoid pain, housework, baking, and decorating. There may even be a little sangria in the fridge to celebrate my chosen immobility.

There's no telling what wonders the evening may hold. I could even get energetic and clean up more rodent droppings.

Then again...

There Were Flurries

...of activity as well as snow yesterday.

When one has gone six months without cleaning the house, one finds it hard to begin. Anywhere. It's a daunting task, to say the least.

Not that I have ever been a stellar housekeeper, mind you, but things in my neck of the woods border on unsafely unclean. As in ugh. And yuck.

So I began yesterday by cleaning out the kitchen cabinets and putting down new shelf paper, reorganizing as I went. MIL was there to supervise, so we chatted and I shuddered and cleaned and cut and organized and shuddered and cleaned and cut and organized some more.

To let you know how bad it was, I only got about half of the kitchen done. It seems one of our rodent friends has visited in the past six months and left calling cards. Dishes had to be rewashed, shelves sanitized, shudders shuddered. I stuffed a couple of SOS pads into a hole I found, but I'm buying a whole box of steel wool to pack it with tonight. And some rodent-type eat-this-and-die-far-away stuff.

And the cleaning will continue.

I also made a roast beef dinner and a pot of soup, then used the remains of the roast beef dinner to make a shepherd's pie. We have dinner taken care of for the week, more or less.

Martha Stewart, eat your heart out.

In other news, I seem to have developed Linds-itis. My left knee is almost useless as a joint, but does wonders as a throbbing ball of pain. I'm off to the doctor today to see what wonder drug he has for that. It's been this way for the past two weeks, gradually getting worse and worse. Silly me, I kept thinking it would get better with time. Don't I know I'm an aged being?

It's all Linds' fault.

I tried to get everyone to help me put the tree up last night as well. I told them we didn't have to decorate it, but it would be nice to put it up, if only to say we had. They all looked at me and rolled their eyes. Looks like we've started a new tradition... presents in front of the fireplace instead of under the tree.

When I told them we were indeed pathetic because this was the second year in a row we wouldn't have had a tree, they tried to argue with me. Thank goodness I had documented our lack of spirit last year as well, proving them wrong. They were amazed. Amazed they didn't remember, amazed we didn't have a tree, and amazed it meant so little.

Sigh.

Oh, that there were little children in this house again!

Then THEY could do all the decorating work.

Bah Humbug

I purchased my first Christmas gift yesterday for this season.

The tree isn't up, there's no holiday cheer, but by golly I've broken the barrier and gotten that far!

Speaking of trees, since we haven't gone to cut one down this year as has been The Tradition Forever Amen, we brought the one from Mom's over here to put up. You know, the pre-lighted, fake tree. The one that has no smell of the forest. The one that says "Merry Fake Christmas! And Oh! Your Mother's Dead!" all over it.

Yep, we're All About The Holiday Cheer here.

So today will mark Day One of the attempt to shovel out the house from six months of utter neglect. Not just the usual neglect, but utter, ugly, dust-covered, can't-see-the-computer-screen-for-all-the-junk-on-the-desk, carpet-stained, scary bathroom, clothes and trash on the floor, don't even talk about the laundry, crunchy linoleum black hole of a house it's become. It's so bad I am ashamed to even pay someone to come in and attempt to right it.

The best case scenario would involve a lighted match and some gasoline. Do cobwebs burn?

So this is how I will be spending my time before Christmas. Making sure there is actually a house underneath all the junk, organizing, cooking, cleaning, and buying and wrapping gifts.

Ho stinkin' ho ho ho.

I'M BACK!!!!!!!!

Turn, Turn, Turn

The thank-you notes have been written, the sympathy cards have slowed to a trickle, and I have gone back to work. Hugs still come a few a day from co-workers who haven't seen me since I've been back, and I managed to get through the workday without crying for the first time. I'm slowly, very slowly, getting back into the swing of things. Back into real life.

But the fact remains that Mom is dead.

I honestly thought I might get through the entire day today without crying. I was feeling pretty cocky, pretty sure of myself. Then The Girl came in the door from work and told me one of her co-workers had offered her some lotion tonight.

It was the same scent Mom used to buy at this time of year. Every year.

It didn't matter that I hated the scent. It was just a trigger that set things off. And lo, the prideful me fell in a weeping mess yet again.

I'm getting really tired of this. I'm ready for this part to be over. I'd like to be on to the Loving Memories and Fond Laughter now, please.

Sis said someone told her that when his mom died he cried once a day for six weeks, once a week for six months, and once a month for six years. I'd like to be at least in the middle part of that equation, please. NOW.

But...

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die, a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal, a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to mourn and a time to dance..."
(Ecclesiastes 3:1-4)

So I'll weep and mourn a little more.

And pardon me if I share it here.

Been A Long Time Coming

And it may be a while still.

I'm trying to get back here, really I am. I have all sorts of stories about skunks and carbon monoxide and houses that won't stay clean and mountains of laundry...you know, the usual mediocre stuff you're used to reading here.

But I'm just not ready quite yet.

Things are still a little raw and painful here, and I'm thinking I need a little more time before I can find the funny again and not feel guilty about it.

Hope you understand, and that you'll come back again soon.