Bits and Bites

Holy Shit. It's been a year? Take that two ways. (a year since I blogged, and a year not to be believed)

What does "holy shit" mean, anyway. Has it been blessed? Does it have holes?

Sunday morning freedom ramblings. Edition I.

I love my friends. I love my family. I even love my co-workers. I love my children and I love everythng right now. This year, starting on the very first day of January has been getting higher and higher on the peculiar scale. or holy shit scale, if you would.

Starting on the morning, early, January 1st, on an errand to do something nice for my husband, I backed into the neighbors new and decorative mailbox. $87 dollars to repair. AND this after a few days earlier we had chuckled at Melanie's near miss. Is there a lesson in that?

Yes. The neighbors need to put their mailbox somewhere else. Another town would be nice.

So, 2010 which started out as a country song is turning into a ballad. I feel great. I live in a hovel with a 19 year old addict. But for the first time in years I am spending time with him, getting to know him, and letting him get to know me. And it was good. We are enjoying each other, look forward to conversations with each other, and liking each other. We laugh together and play. My hovel is home. I'm happy.

Work has been pleasant. I've neglected to remember to be anxious about things, and go with the flow. I take my boots off when I'm in the office and wear my slippers. I play broom ball up and down the office - points for getting it into doorways. I don't tuck in my shirt. I help everyone who needs it, and make an effort to inquire as to their health/feeings that day. I connect. I even cleaned my truck. And the whispering is that I'm to get a new SUV Ford Explorer. Which means I've arrived, if that ever comes through. And hints at the idea that they woudn't get me a new vehicle if they were going to let me go. I'm in.

A co-worker and I are working on starting a business. Anything he and I venture into will undoubtably be a success, so prepare yourself world. We are going to build an empire. The flattering thing about that is how fussy he is about people, and he wouldn't be partners with just anyone. I'm excited.

I've started a cross stitch project, because I have time now, and I want to honor my drive to create. It's something I can do after a hard day's work, so peaceful. I really do work, although the above tends to steer the reader in the opposite direction. I'm GOOD at my job. The only complaint I would state right now is that I'm not learning enough. I don't listen to audio books so much anymore. Fact is, I think I have all the good ones anyway.

I had an interesting mix up at the pharmacy re-filling my meds. That was a first. Lots of firsts lately. It's been so weirdly wonderful, living a twisted plot of some dime store novel. I began to wonder if I had a mood disorder - like bi-polar? and if I wasn't in a manic stage. So I've been observing myself in situations. I think not. I think I am me again. Caring, funny, loose, whimsical, spontaneous and serendipitous.

The downer that saddens me right now is my brother's health. It is deteriorating and heartbreaking to see. I love my brother. We grew up together and were each other's bestest friends. We share a more similar history than with the other brothers, who are younger. We are only 13 months apart. He suffers daily, yet if you didn't know he has a horrific disease which will end his life painfully, and with exceptional devotion cares for his 16 year old severely disabed daughter. And yet his laughter comes freely, a gift to those who know him. His is not wallowing in self pity, living in a hole of misery. I love him so much. I admire, and respect him. A MAN who, without the benefit of a loving father to help him grow, and a mother who humiliated and beat him, married a good woman and is a GREAT father to his two girls, and overall a pretty good husband. Although his wife, my wonderful sister in law sees to that. I am crying right now thinking of his life, the little boy who cried to me that 'all I want is a father'. The young man who had the courage to follow his muse and hitchhiked the country, escaping from the moonies. Are they still around? Ended up spending a night in jail after his first serious girlfriend beat HIM up. (Barbarica) They had to take someone away, and I guess it's not going to be the blond. AND it was his birthday. He went through the angst of knowing that his second child would have problems, indicated by the obstetrician during the pregnancy. When she was born, nobody could say how her development would progress, how much damage was done by the stroke in utero. And it turned out to be a constant challange, her health and growth structure and cognizant difficulties keeping them a preferred customer of Yale. Then he broke his neck, and by the grace of a God I'm not sure how to define, he did not end up in a wheelchair. And even the doctors don't know how he got away with that. While he wasn't working they suffered financially. And now he has been battling with one of the diseases that no one can even comprehend the awful slow progression it will make while killing him. I don't pity him. He would hate it if I did. But the sadness at times fills me. Makes me angry. It's like Santa Clause getting cancer. WTF. All he wants is not the finer things, but to be able to enjoy his family, his work, to be productive and have a litte fun. Those things are slowly and painfully being taken away from him, and that makes me sad.

And now the flea market is open. Should I wake Sean up and take him to breakfast around the corner and then peruse the dusty old treasures? Sounds like something I would enjoy. Although I really don't want anything. I don't even want breakfast. I could go do my laundry. Bring a book and relax. In fact, I can do anything I want to. And that rocks.

signing off,
the elfscooter is back.