I Might Be A Terrible Daughter

I talked to my mom on Monday. It had been a while since I spoke to her, I probably called her a week or two ago.

Being an only child who sometimes neglects to call her mom on a regular basis, I have often considered myself not the best kid in the world. But when PT called me Monday, well, I realized just how shitty I am.

PT had, apparently, called me on Saturday and left a message, but I hadn't listened to it or even noticed that it was her that called me because I'm sometimes crappy about picking up messages.

She revealed that last week was hard for her. I said, "Have you been sick?" And PT replied, "No, Adrienne, you know mom died on February 16."

Oh, shit. I forgot about the anniversary of my grandmother's death.

Of course she had a shit week! And I wasn't there for her. Even though at the beginning of this month I reminded myself to call mom around anniversary time. But, I didn't put it on my calendar, so I was wrapped up in my own bullshit and let it completely slip my mind.

She didn't give me any grief over it, but I know she wishes I'd called her. I could hear it in her voice. And you know what? I forget every year.

PT and her mom were very close. I know how hard her illness and death were (are) on mom, but I can't remember to do this one very basic thing for her once a year.

I don't know why this is. Really. Is it just my never-ending mental crap? My general dislike for talking on the phone (thanks to my 9 1/2 years as a receptionist/admin)?

Who the hell knows. I put a reminder on my calendar so I won't forget next year. Though, it doesn't change the fact that I feel I shouldn't have to do that.

My grandmother was a cool, calm lady who bought me my first purse, gave me a love of hats, never cursed and "smoked" cigarettes by lighting them and letting them burn out in the ash tray. Every time I think about her I wonder why I don't miss her more. Then I feel bad about it. Then I push those feelings way, way down because I really don't need anything else to feel bad about.

Maybe what I really am is a terrible granddaughter.

Dammit.

How do you deal with tough family things you'd rather stay away from but know you shouldn't?

That's All For Now

I don't have any photos of Grandaddy G. So, instead, I offer this picture of my husband and his older sister when they were little ones.

Grandaddy G passed away on Thursday. HUBS, PT and I went to the funeral yesterday morning. It was a nice service, and since he was in the Army they had military rites done at the cemetery.

A bit about Grandaddy G:

- He was a gunner in WWII
- His 92nd birthday would have been in two weeks
- He was always nice to me, and from what I've heard he was always nice to everyone else, too
- He enjoyed the fact that I could always pick him out in super old photos that I'd never seen before
- He loved restoring old cars and worked on them until a couple a years ago
- He was a loyal fan to the end of the St. Louis Browns and until recently still liked to talk about the 1944 World Series
- When he got back from the war he built his own house
- He loved animals
- He loved sweets but had to stay away from them since he'd been diabetic for years
- Because he was diabetic for so long, many of his nerve endings were damaged so he ended up being in far less pain than he would have been otherwise. Talk about everything happening for a reason...

It's impossible (I would think, anyway) to go to a funeral or watch someone deal with a life threatening illness and not consider (Reconsider?) what you're doing with your own time. When I heard the news on Thursday I found myself thinking Well, that's it. The last of HUBS and my grandparents. In 20-30 years our parents will be next. And 20-30 years after that, if we're all lucky, it'll be our turn.

I'm feeling the time crunch, is what I'm saying. For some reason, another 60 years tops just doesn't seem like much right now. Of course, it'll seem like less later because it'll be less. Suppose I better get to work.

That's How It Goes

HUBS' grandfather has liver cancer. In one week he went from being basically fine to not really recognizing his family. Since he's 91 years old (his birthday is actually in a couple of weeks) and the cancer wasn't found until it was very far along, there's no treatment that wouldn't make things much worse for him. Right now his family is just trying to keep him comfortable.

On Easter, HUBS and I met his parents at the house Grandaddy G shares with HUBS' uncle. We had the annual Easter dinner there without any of the usual fanfare. It was just us five around the table eating as his Grandaddy G rested in the hospital bed that hospice workers brought for him.

When we were about to eat dessert, a priest came to give him last rites. Apparently he was just coherent enough to follow what was going on and mouth responses at the appropriate times, but I didn't notice this. I was too busy trying not to cry, especially once HUBS' mom teared up.

I know how important that is to Catholics. Part of me was afraid that whatever is keeping Grandaddy G here would have its hold loosened by the rites and he'd die soon after. I've never seen anyone or thing that was significant to me or a loved one die. Not my grandmother, uncle, cousin or even Luanne. I was slightly terrified of being around for that. And so was HUBS.

There was a moment on Saturday when his parents had called and said Grandaddy G was doing badly and we should come over then, just in case he didn't make it to Easter. HUBS didn't want to go. He didn't want to be part of a death vigil; watching his beloved grandfather (his last grandparent, by the way) slowly fade away while he and the rest of us did nothing, because there was nothing we could do.

He also didn't want to know he might die and not try to get there to see him one last time. HUBS was torn. To the point where it, this horrible situation that many of us will come to at some point, made him angry. I told him he didn't have to go. I told him not to think about what his parents, sister, cousins, uncles or anyone else might say to him if he decided not to go. What was important was that he'd be able to look back on this day, and be alright if Grandaddy G died and he decided not to be there.

As we got ready to leave Saturday, he called his parents back and found out that his grandfather was doing much better. Well enough that his mom told us not to worry about the two hour drive that night, but to wait until Sunday as was originally planned. HUBS was clearly relieved.

Yesterday, his parents and uncle moved Grandaddy G into a nursing home in their small Mid-Missouri town. The same one that has taken care of two of HUBS' other ailing grandparents once the family couldn't care for them anymore. HUBS came home from work feeling tired, ignored, frustrated, disrespected...Sadness makes everything bad feel worse.

I Just Realized We Should Have Known My Dad Was A Dick All Along

Me and my mom in the mid-1990s. I know I was in college, because OH MY GOD I LOVED THAT SHIRT WHEN I WAS IN COLLEGE!


Alright, I didn't just realize it. It's more like I realized it last Thursday. Here's what happened.

I started thinking about the one screenplay I've completed, which is mostly based on the things that actually happened when my dad walked out on PT (yes, that's my mom). I was going over some things and my mind landed on the fact that, in the screenplay, the dad character calls the mom character by a shortened version of her actual name. Which the mom happens to hate. This is directly taken from what really went on with my folks.

And then it hit me: No one who cares about someone would call that person by a name they dislike on purpose.

PT's name is Clementine. According to her, she's hated her name since birth. Because of that, no one ever calls her by it, she goes by Tina. But, the entire time I was growing up and right through their divorce, do you know what my dad called her? Clem.

I know what you're thinking, Well, that's not her full name. Here's the problem: PT HATED CLEM MUCH MORE THAN SHE HATED CLEMENTINE.

It was blatantly obvious. Every time my dad said her name, PT would cringe, grimace or roll her eyes a bit. There were even times when you could see her go from happy to disappointed when she heard his moniker for her.

What's even worse is that I can remember PT telling him, on many occasions when I was little, that she didn't want to be called Clem. But, what did he do? He kept right on calling her Clem.

What kind of person does this? Only an arrogant, selfish, uncaring DICK...That's who. How could I not have put this (as far as I'm concerned) critical bit of info together as evidence of his DICKness sooner?

Maybe it's one of those things where I was too young and too close to it. I knew PT hated what he called her and that it sucked that he did it anyway, but I had to get to 37 years old without having any contact with the man for 16 years to really piece together what his denial of her simple request meant: I DON'T THINK HE EVER CARED ABOUT HER. NOT REALLY.

And that makes me so sad for my mom, who spent 22 years in a marriage where she wasn't truly valued. I suppose the little things do matter a lot.

Dammit...now I'm crying.

Music Monday: Happy Mother's Day!

Miller and a kitten in my bass drum.

I know I have to apologize for 'radio silence' a lot on this blog, but I want you all to know that I really do appreciate your reading, viewing, commenting and following. As much as I love the internet and blogging, I frequently need tech breaks to clear my head, watch a movie or, I don't know, read or some shit.

Did all the mothers and people with mothers they like enjoy Sunday's holiday? I certainly hope you did! HUBS and I took my mom out for BBQ at our absolute favorite place, Pappy's Smokehouse. We only spent 35 bucks and got a shit-ton of food! I love that!

PT had never been to this place before, but she really liked her food. We all ended up with leftovers, which is beyond awesome. HUBS and I were tired from some ghetto-living drama the night before so we only stayed at her place about an hour after getting back from dinner. (Some dork knuckle on the street behind us decided to fire off a shot gun. Not cool dork knuckle. Not cool at all.)

I regret that I left my mom's modest gift at home. You know how you mean to grab stuff on the way out the door, but manage to forget anyway? That's what happened. I got her a book and some supplies she can use in the computer class she's been taking, I figure I can take them to her this week, though.

In other news, Luanne was supposed to have her feeding tube taken out today. But, she got sick yesterday and didn't appear to eat or drink anything. She was really lethargic yesterday and today, though she did eat this morning when I brought food to her. So, we'll see. If you believe in praying for sick cats to get better, I'd love it if you could put a good word in for our little Luanne cat.

That's all for now. Enjoy this Sade video from the early '90s that has nothing to do with motherhood! Woooo!!!

This Is, As My Grandmother Would Say About Much Worse Things, Some Better

Little Luanne, aka Cartoon Cat

I do apologize for my absence, but we've had two sick cats. Julia (who, our vet informed us, by the way, is actually male) has been battling an upper respiratory infection since we got...him three weeks ago. Last week Luanne started sneezing and by Sunday I noticed that I hadn't seen her eat anything.

Two early (I mean fucking. early) vet appointments, several botched feedings, multiple medications and one syringe-laden, two-person forced feeding later, she's eating again.

We're really hoping the antibiotics and appetite enhancing meds will kick in soon so we don't have to force feed her for long. 'Cause that shit? Is super DUPER HARD.

In other news, my uncle's father died this week. He and my mom had different dads, and I'd never met his. Now, in a three year period he's lost a brother, his mother, his son and his father (the last two within four months of each other). Fuck all, ya'll.

I really need a good, not worried about sick cats night of long, deep sleep.

God speed and good night.

There's Nothing Like...

Photo

...A visit from the in-laws to get you cleaning stuff you've been neglecting for months!

But more importantly? HAPPY BIRTHDAY HUBS!!



40 looks good on you :)

Music Monday! Teenybopper All Grown Up

I hope everyone had a good weekend! Saturday was good and sad and also a bit fun. We went to my cousin's funeral that morning, which, of course, was sad. But then we went to the repast, and as in the past this was basically a family reunion-style party with good food and lots of family I'd either never seen before or see rarely. That was fun and good.

What wasn't fun was my cry-headache. I always get brain pain after crying, but this turned into a serious threat level RED brain beater that almost made me vomit from discomfort. I needed an Advil and four full hours of sleep to tamp it down.

I was so pleased to feel like a normal person after my nap that I made HUBS go shopping for office supplies/household essentials when I woke up. We took a break in the middle for dinner at IHOP. We did a lot of talking and good eating - two more things that are always fun.

So, now that I'm getting back to Music Monday thanks to Youtube, I hope you like this song from one of my favorite still-active late '90s teen sensations, Robyn. You probably remember her '98 hit Show Me Love:



It's always good when young stars don't implode, isn't it?

And We'll Start Our New Year With Another Funeral

My cousin died on Sunday. Last I'd heard, he was doing astoundingly well, so I have no idea what happened. Say a little prayer for my uncle.

We'll talk more tomorrow.

Merry Merry, And All That

Luanne, Tux, Shakes, HUBS and citygirl wish you all a wild, wonderful, white Merry Christmas!

Tuesday Tipday: Longing For The Days Of A Sore Throat

Well, well, well...Looks like my body decided that an intermittent sore throat wasn't punishment enough. As of last night I've got a full blown cold: running nose, congestion, tired, fuzzy-headedness and all. Yay!

On the plus side this cold is nothing compared to what one of my cousins has been going through. He's been battling pneumonia since August; the doctors put him in a drug induced coma for a while and then on life support. Each time they tried to dial down the life support, though, his organs stopped working on their own.

On Friday my mom told me my uncle had decided to fully take him off life support. We were all expecting that Saturday would be his last day, but we got an actual Christmas miracle when all of his bodily functions kicked in and he woke up. That? That's some unbelievable God Magic right there. Can we all say a little prayer that he'll continue to get better? Thanks.

Now, on to the fun stuff. Do you see that video up there? Friends, it just happens to be the music video for my all-time favorite modern Christmas song, Wham's Last Christmas. I figured since a large portion of the country is in the grips of winter weather advisories and such my music offerings could stand to get in the spirit of the season.

I ,myself, am having trouble getting into that same spirit. My lack of holiday enthusiasm started before I got sick, and now that I think about it I might see what the problem is: everything is the same every year. Mom and I cook the same stuff (We did talk about that and she's bored with what we cook, too! And totally game to make something different.), and HUBS and I run around on Thanksgiving and Christmas days to PT's and his parents, who are two hours away.

I suppose I'm just a little tired of the routine, though I've got no idea what we could do differently. Remember when you were a kid and the holidays seemed so magical and mysterious and full of fun? I suppose it'll never feel like that again, but I wish I could get some of that tingly feeling back.

So, today's tip: Don't get so bogged down in feeling the holiday spirit that you can't have any fun. I think it's natural to have a "blah, it's the holidays again" feeling every now and then.

How are you 'feeling' your holiday of choice this year?

Wednesday Tipday And Music Extravaganza!

Woooooo! Is anybody else worn out from Thanksgiving? I managed to pick up a mild sore throat/hard to breathe deeply/upper chest tightness thingie that had me in bed most of the day on Saturday, Monday and today, though, I must say, I do feel better.

I tried to create a fantastic playlist for you guys Monday, but my widget service was on the fritz, and since yesterday's Tipday was short-circuited by my convalescence, I figured I'd mash everything into one Mega Wednesday Post!!



As you can see, I'm posting videos throughout so you never get bored. Speaking of boredom, do you guys eat the same thing for Thanksgiving each year? My mom and I always make the same stuff: cornbread & turkey dressing, sweet potato pies, homemade mac 'n' cheese, candied yams and some kind of veggie (glazed carrots, Mexicorn, fresh green beans...). I had an inkling about this last year, but now I know it for sure...I'm tired of it. Especially since we eat the same thing at Christmas every year, too.



The thing is, I don't know what other meal will feel like the holidays to me. Plus, making the pies and dressing is kind of a big deal, mom and I have been making these things since the early '90s together; it's a tradition. And since we've lost so much family lately, and so much has changed, I'm afraid of hurting her feelings or freaking her out by switching things up now.



I know it seems like it's just food, but it's really more. We bonded over those pre-holiday nights cooking when I was at home from college and my dad had already crapped out on us. If we don't have those, rather involved, dishes to cook what are we going to do on Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve? Will anything I suggest be doable for PT, who already had a history of hating change and difficulty making small decisions even before she lost her big brother and mom in less than a year? If you guys have any suggestions, I'd really appreciate them.



Meanwhile, since the holidays are fully upon us, I thought I'd pass along some tips from around the web that should make all your festive planning go a bit smoother. Happy Wednesday, y'all!

Got an action-packed December? Plan the shit out of it.

Need help with in-law irritations? Killing them is not the answer.



Like a little help getting into the spirit of things? Try these movie guides and music guides.

Want to eat and drink your way merry?

Are you letting holiday pressures beat you down? Stop it.

Last, but not least, don't forget to laugh:

Tuesday Tipday!

My grandmother as a little girl, standing beside her dad, in the hat. By the way, she grew up to look almost exactly like her mom, just a bit lighter.

Happy Tuesday everybody! I do apologize for missing our Music Monday, but I'm working on a playlist for tomorrow so we can have Music Midweek instead.

I hope everyone had a good weekend. Mine turned into more of an ordeal than I thought it would. I got my hair did Saturday and then stopped by my mom's place since she lives near the hair dresser's. It was supposed to be a quick trip, but I ended up staying for about four hours.

Why? Well, shortly after I arrived my mom started crying...And then revealed that she'd been crying all day long. My uncle and grandmother's birthdays were the last week in October, and mom has been having a really hard time dealing with their loss since then. I immediately felt horrible because it didn't occur to me to call her on either of those days to see how she was. Fuck, I'm a bad daughter.

But, she did say that talking to me helped her. It is unbelievably hard to watch my mom cry and listen to her talk about how lonely she's been and how she feels stuck and can't move on. She talked a lot about the fact that everybody else is moving forward and she feels like she's the only one who can't quite get over losing those two less than a year apart. I had to keep reminding her that just because her siblings seem to be fine, it doesn't mean they aren't crying themselves to sleep three times a week. Appearances and actuality are often two very different things.

So, I've got two tips for today:

1) Remember, everyone's going through something. Regardless of how happy they look (or are).


Before/After

2) If you'll notice the photo above, you will see HUBS and my current joint home improvement pride and joy: we refinished our deck. I swear I thought it would only take one weekend but ended up taking a whole freakin' week; with all the sanding, power washing, drying, waiting to make sure it didn't rain, first coating, more drying and second coating. We finished in late October and I was sore until early November. Here's a guide if you decide to tackle the job yourself. I would recommend buying a power washer, power sander and stain sprayer if at all possible, or at least renting them. Getting between slats is a tricky, tricky business without 'em.

We Will Not Talk About...

- How our air conditioner went out last Thursday and I had to ask my mom for money to get it fixed.

- How once I got to her house to pick the money up I collapsed into a tearful heap, finally told her how screwed up all our finances are and apologized for letting her down and being a loser.

- How, when I got back home and talked to the repair man, the money she gave us wouldn't be enough anyway because we'd need a brand, spankin' new air conditioner. Hello $4,000!!

- How we had to get a credit limit increase on the same card we used to buy the furnace in January to pay for the new air conditioner. Thank God they allowed it or we'd be completely fucked!

- How the cats went a little bit nutty from the 95 degree temps in the house and then being locked in the basement for several (several) hours to keep them cool.

- How, even though I called in Thursday to say I may or may not be in to work, the company I was working for fired me and the temp agency will now never work with me again (that's right, I've been fired by a temp agency).

- How I fear that I totally sabotaged that job by possibly not making myself clear when I called in the first time and then resisting the later urge to call back and tell them I definitely wasn't coming in.

- How I've been repeating the mantra I make $100,000 a year 25 times a day for the past week, hoping it will come true by way of making me work harder...Or by magic, either way is fine with me.

What we will talk about is this...



God! These things are so good! We had the full sized ones sometime last year and I wasn't impressed. But, the minis? Somehow a thousand times more tastier. Yes, I said more tastier. You should eat these.

Sundays Are For Parents

Today was Father's Day. I hope everyone who's a good dad or who has a good dad was able to enjoy the day.

I was reading through an old issue of Real Simple a couple of weeks ago that happened to be from June some years ago. They had a special where they asked readers to tell them about their favorite piece of advice from their dads. It got me thinking; I don't remember my dad giving me a single bit of advice. Really. Nothing.

I wasn't bothered by this, I just found it odd. Do I not remember just because I don't like him? Or, did he honestly not advise me on stuff when I was growing up? Strange.

And then I realized that my mom has given me lots of advice, but I don't specifically remember most of it. It was generally lots of sage-y, most-adults-know-this-stuff type of advice. Except for her advice on fighting. I actually remember the exact moment of that talking-to.

We were in the car, and I think it was after I got into my one and only fight in school when I was 12. I distinctly remember my mom telling me to "fight to kill" whenever I needed to so that others would be reluctant to mess with me. I mostly remember that because, even at the time, I thought the sentiment was a bit...excessive. But, I did appreciate knowing that mom would be ok with it if I killed someone in self-defense.

Thanks Mom. Happy Father's Day.

Ahhh...

Things are much better now. Thanks for being patient while I try not to let a feeling of impending doom overtake me.

I had some time off work last week and took my mom shopping on Wednesday. This was after her three day trip to Memphis and Brownsville, TN early last week. Her aunt and uncle (my grandmother's younger brother and sister) convinced her to go with them to visit family. She got a chance to see where my grandmother was born, since the land is still in the family. When she was asked to go the first thing she said was "But, I can't leave momma." Dammit, dammit, dammit that's sad. But she went. And I'm so glad she did.

Unfortunately, while we were shopping mom revealed that she was looking for something to wear to yet another funeral. This time for a guy she went to school with who had just come to my grandmother's funeral last month. He had a sudden, massive heart attack and that was it. You see why I'm fighting feelings of doom, over here?



On a lighter note, HUBS and I went to Chicago for a quickie trip the weekend before last. We only stayed one night. It was fun but, damn was weatherchannel.com ever wrong about the high temperature. They said 55 and it couldn't have been more than 35 degrees. We were totally not dressed for it! And, since we'd decided to go to the Shedd Aquarium and Navy Pier ($24 to park!!), which are both on the water, um...We almost froze to death. Especially because there were about 200 people in line ahead of us at Shedd. And we had to wait...OUTSIDE. IN THE RAIN. ALSO. Thank God Black-Lady-Paddington-Bear let us go in the accessible entrance. She cut our wait time of 2 hours down to 1/2 an hour.



It was a bit of an adventure, we had great pizza, watched bad cable tv, had free hotel breakfast and now...Now I'm really starved for a real vacation.



How have you been?

Never Ending

Guess what my mom and I did yesterday? We went to yet another funeral. This time it was for two of my aunts' mom (they are my mom's half sisters, so they had a different mother).

She died last Thursday. I'd never met her, but wanted to be there for my aunts and cousins, especially since these two aunts did way more to help my mom with my grandmother than the aunt and uncle who were her actual children. Those two did pretty close to nothing.

We went to Burger King afterwards. I felt bad for mom, yesterday it was three weeks to the day that my grandmother died. Going to another "mom funeral" made things really hard for her, but she felt, like me, that she had to go.

Can we please stop with the family deaths now? That makes seven in less than a year. So...Please?

Silence

Last flowers

I know I've been away for quite a while now, but a lot's been going on. My grandmother died on February 16 at 7:26 am. Maybe I'll write more about that later, maybe not. I was going to post a picture of her above and started crying, so it's possible I'm not as ok as I thought I was by now.

So, I'll be back to regular posting soon. For now, enjoy the photos here. Pictures are so much easier than words...

Oh, That's What's Doing It

It's like there's a road I know I should be on, but I can't fucking find it for the life of me.

I've been having a lot of trouble with HUBS not helping with little things around the house. Sometime between my birthday and Thanksgiving (which was a week to the day after my birthday) I had a sudden attack of annoyance anger over HUBS not loading or unloading the dishwasher.

There wasn't a ton of yelling, but I was about to go to bed when the irritation took over again. HUBS was already in bed, laying peacefully in the dark, when I strode in and started berating him. He seemed to be a bit confused and didn't say much in response other than "I'll try to do better." I know that isn't true, but that's not really the point here.

During my cooling off period on the couch moments later I had a major realization: HUBS was never much for little household chores, not even once we bought the house. And yet, since I've been unemployed, the fact that he won't do this type of stuff without prompting really fucking bothers me. We've argued about this A LOT in the past year and a half, I'd say.

Finally, I realize why. I FEEL LIKE A HOUSEWIFE. Now, I've got nothing against housewives, but it was never my goal to be one. I wanted to be an astronomer when I was nine years old. I watched my mom sleep and eat her way through her housewifery because she spent most of my childhood depressed (I didn't find this out until sometime in college, by the way). This is not the way my life at 35 was supposed to be, God dammit.

Dishes and laundry and dusting were never supposed to make up the bulk of my day. I was supposed to do things. Go places. Make friends and have business to attend to. Not spend all day going from internet surfing to folding underwear to job searching to napping to planning dinner to waiting impatiently for my husband to come home because he's all I have.

How do I get out of this, and stop yelling at HUBS, without getting a job (since that seems unlikely anytime soon at this point)? Ideas? Suggestions from the internet? Hope? Any fucking hope at all...?

Things We've Done Recently

We have had an interesting time of it lately. Here's what's been going on...



1)On the first Tuesday of this month, I noticed a opossum hanging out in our neighbor's driveway in the middle of the day. And it freaked me out, I thought that's all we need now, opossums running amok during the day. Well, by the same time the following day, that poor thing was dead. I guess it was sick and disoriented and that's why it was hanging out during daylight.

2) Almost two months to the day after this, I found another cat left in the road in front of our house. HUBS was at work, so I had to dig the grave myself. I don't think I'd ever really used a shovel before, and I was not very good at it. A lot of that had to do with it being hot and me being very sad. I named her Sheila and put her in the little dirt pile left after we got the tree in the front yard removed. Our neighbor, Fred, saw me digging and when he realized why got very upset. He puts out food and water for the strays like we do. When I said that someone must have hit her with their car her responded angrily with "Who! Who hit her!" and I appreciated his seeming desire to find the person and make them wish they had driven more carefully.

Then, two days later on Saturday, after a night of really hard, ridiculous raining, I went to put out food for the strays and found another kitten in the street. It was all very dramatic; me running through our flooded front walk, out into the rain and picking him up. He was wet and cold and already long gone. I brought him into the house and covered him in our doormat until HUBS could find a spot to bury him. I named him Stanley. RIP Sheila 9/3/09 and Stanley 9/5/09.


Boat. Not as big as you may have imagined.

3) That same day we went to Grafton, IL to see life-sized reproductions of Columbus' Pinta and Nina in dock. I was too upset about Stanley and Sheila to have a good time. Also, we went with his parents. They thought I was just tired. I realized that every time I've seen them this year has been on a day I was already in a crap-ass mood about something else. God only knows what they think is wrong with me!

4) With three cat deaths in two months we (me, HUBS and Fred) were starting to think it was time to get some of the strays adopted. Fred and I made calls to the Humane Society of MO, but they don't pick up strays. Animal control will give out humane cages to catch the animals, but a) they only give you one at a time, and that would take forever around here where we've got about 30 cats wandering our street; and b) if they don't have room for them after getting a clean bill of health, they still euthanize them. None of us wanted that, so we're leaving the cats alone. I still can't decide if that's really the right thing, though. Ideas?


Manny and the freakish eyes.

5) Life hasn't been all bad. For a brief period of time last week, we adopted a praying mantis that was hanging around our windows. HUBS named it Manny, which could be short for Manuela if it was a female. It was odd how responsive it was. More so than any other bug/insect I've seen. If you looked out the window at Manny, his head would immediately swivel to look at you. And if you moved around in the window you could actually see his eyes following you. HUBS looked up some mantis facts and found out they have 5 eyes, can see 60 feet and their heads turn 180 degrees. Freaky! After two days Manny moved on (we hope none of the kittens got him) and now we kinda miss the little freak.

6) During one of my many times at the window watching Manny, I accidentally saw him poop. Don't ask.

7) In a break from watching Everwood Season 2 or Friday Night Lights Season 3, I looked out to make sure no cats were in need anywhere. I found a baby opossum and a kitten eating the remainder of the food I'd put out that day. That damn kitten just couldn't leave well enough alone, and kept trying to play with the opossum's thick, ugly tail while it was eating. Opossum baby was coming real close to attacking the kitten because of it, so I stepped outside hoping to scare them off. Uh, you know they both just stood there and stared at me, right? For like a full two minutes, before opossum baby finally ran away. Baby animal crisis averted. See how brave I am when I can hide most of my body behind our front door?

8) Last Friday night, on our way to one of my bar reviews, we saw a opossum get run over by a car. Now, let me just say that I am no opossum fan. They are creepy, disgusting looking and I've heard they're pretty mean. But, I don't want to watch anything suffer, and Goddammit that thing suffered. It was horrible to see. I'll leave it at that.

9) With all this death-of-animals stuff going on, I asked my mom last week if she thought it was some kind of sign. She believes in that type of thing and so do I. I mean, I was starting to worry that God, The Universe, Whatever wasn't getting through to me about something so they were using dead animals to get me to notice what the fuck ever I need to notice. My mom didn't think so, and that really helped ease my mind. It might sound crazy, but there you go.

10) Speaking of my mom, we went to a job fair together last Wednesday with one of my aunts. Mom got laid off after her brother died back in April and hadn't really been looking for work much yet, but heard that the companies at this fair didn't need to see people with degrees, which was good for her. Unfortunately, she got some misinformation. But we still got our resumes to the company she was hoping to talk with. And, I got lots of goodies from the company tables at the fair. Thank you Brown Shoe Company, I've always wanted a tiny pomegranate lip balm!

11) I also spent a day last week trying to help my mom get her room organized. See, she's become quite the hoarder of paper; she's thrown very little away for the past 14years. Her bedroom is filled with bags, boxes and baskets of old bills and mail. How did this happen? Oh, that's easy; it's my bastard father's fault.

See, back in 1994 when he left her, he bought over $3,000 worth of crap for his new place on their shared credit card...And then filed for bankruptcy. So, for years and years they came after my mom for the money. For things she never bought or even saw. She has been afraid to throw anything away for fear that if she couldn't hide from them anymore she wouldn't have the proof that she never bought that crap and shouldn't have to pay for it.

That crap finally fell off her credit report in 2002, but she can't stop saving things. When I went into her room last week I realized that she even has papers under her pillow and comforter, under the bed, in the closet and in the laundry room. I didn't know how bad it was. So I decided to help her get things straight. I was there one day from 10am to almost 7pm and we cleared out three baskets filled with old bills, receipts and pay stubs dated 1995 to 1998. We have a long way to go.

12)Last Friday our house was almost eaten by a woodpecker. I heard this horrible noise that sounded like someone was trying to pick open our locks, looked out the window and saw nothing. The noise kept coming, and it was freaking out Tux, too. I looked out again and this time looked toward the top of the door and found the bird pecking away at the door frame. I beat on the door and got it to leave for a bit, but it came back to the same spot and tried to make a home. Finally the thing got tired and went someplace else. Is that crazy, or what?


Miller, on the left, with her sister Harris. Miller is currently the only stray that likes to have us pet her.

13) Again with the death. I woke up Monday afternoon (that's right, I'm unemployed and loving the freedom) and saw a dead bird on the sidewalk. One of our favorite strays, Miller, eventually came and picked it up. I hope the bird wasn't diseased, I would hate for Miller to get sick and not be able to help her.

14) Do not believe the hype about ladybugs. When I was burying Sheila, one landed on my arm and bit the shit out of me leaving a nasty little bump behind. I am not happy with you, ladybug!

15) We have a bar stool in a corner of our bedroom where I keep a favorite pair of shoes. I went to put them on Saturday and found a cricket up there with its...Aw hell, I'm gonna say it, poop. What is it with us and droppings?


I'll have a special paw gun made if I have to, Sebastian.

16) And...Just a few minutes ago, I watched one of the strays (we call her Sebastian) fight a pretty big snake...IN OUR FRONT YARD. It wasn't just in the front yard, either. It was dangerously close to the front door. Sebastian kept getting tired and walking away to lie down for a bit, and every time I hoped she'd come back with a tiny little gun and blow that snake away. I watched her for over a half hour, and then ran around putting glue boards (thank you, Orkin Man!) down near every basement window, the front door and two openings around the back door on our deck.

Can I just say, internet, I'm tired of nature, death and shit. Absolutely wiped.