I'll do this month by month because otherwise I might miss something, and I do like outlining and making lists.
January: My mind was on preparing for my surgery scheduled for February 23rd. I think I was eating more to fatten up for the surgery, as I estimated I'd lose about 10 pounds.
February: I attend Module and celebrate my Kiss My Ass Good-Bye party with friends and classmates. I come home and on that following Monday receive a call that changed everything: my surgeon was deathly ill and my operation was cancelled until further notice.
March: Life goes on. Spring arrives and the tulips we planted started to come up. Joy and happiness reigns.
April: Too much spring rain and wind causes the magnolia tree to lose most of its flowers. Many other trees are also effected. I find out that my surgeon will eventually do my operation and I patiently await for his return to work. The first Bona Fide Shrone Award is given to Ro. Shronedom begins!
May: One morning while going down into the basement to do a load of laundry I hear a peculiar sound. Is it birds? Mice? No, it is the sound of kittens! I alert Pooky to my discovery. Three little furballs are found in need of serious nourishment, love, and swooning. Before my very eyes, Pooky springs into action and begins to nursemaid the little babies. Within a couple of hours I've given one of them a name: Lucky Dragon. He is only 4.6 ounces and cannot stand up on his own. We recognized this one as being Mr. Doo 2, and this still holds true. His nickname is Sub-doo and The Magee. The third is overly cute and adorable. I call him Nermal, but Pooky christens him Teddy. His official name is now Theodore Montague, The Earl of Sandwich and Would-Be Sea Otter.
On the 25th anniversary of the eruption of Mt. St. Helens (May 18th), I go in for the surgery. I awake from the operation and can immediately sense that something is wrong. I try to convey this to my surgeon, but he dismisses my feelings, saying that it is normal for the bowel to stop working due to the trauma. By the tenth day after the operation it is apparent that something is wrong because I am vomitting fecal matter (well, what could be thought of being feces, since it was all liquid). I'm sent home with a tube to allow my gut to be drained. Thus begins my lost summer of sporadic memories.
June: I have only 8 entries for this month. They sum up quite well what things were like.
July: Lady Linoleum sends me a crocheted ostomy bag filled with eyeballs which I come to call The Orbs of Wisdom.
My health stabilizes and actually improves. I endure a painful cyst on my arm, yet receive a bill of clean health from my surgeon. My gut starts to work on its own. Life begins to feel more normal.
I read the latest Harry Potter book rapidly. The kittens continue to grow and become more adorable each day.
August: I hear from my dad after 15 years. We make arrangements to meet. Everything goes well. I find out he makes excellent homemade pizza.
On the 19th I'm hospitalized unexpectedly. My gut seized up within a matter of days. I lose track of time. Two weeks are lost with only spotty memories here and there. The surgeon informs me he is operating, no questions asked. This is a pivotal moment in my life. Because of this little snafu, my school is delayed and my health plunges to an all-time low. I require TPN, a blood transfusion, and have a collapsed lung as the result of a misplaced central line. Making it all the more fun, the epidural doesn't work so after surgery I feel the full intensity of the pain.
September: I come home from the hospital with everything working as it should. I begin to pick up the pieces of all that has happened.
On my birthday we go to the Puyallup Fair and I take second place for my two doilies. This only fuels me to do better next year so that I may finally capture the elusive first place.
October: I meet with my sister and her husband after an eight year hiatus. We pick up right were we left off. I get a tattoo. I attend Module 7 with the Winter track and almost give up, but after coming home to sleep in my own bed, I make it. My mom goes into the hospital with severe blood clots. She finds out she was literally an inch from death. Smee loses one of his nine lives by taking a tumble in the dryer.
November: The Shrone Nomination form is created and make available to all who would be considered for Shronedom. I pay an obscene amount of money to acquire a copy of the best board game ever made: Talisman. We host Thanksgiving and invite my dad and stepmom to enjoy turkey and three layer carrot cake.
December: The entirety of Shronedom and all of the marvelous gals who have been recognized as being Shrones is something that I come to truly understand as a magical blessing. To date 26 or so fellow Shrones have been named, and I'm sure next year more will join our esteemed group of gals who are destined to go our cruising for penis when we are old and withered (while wearing turbans, too!).
Though the summer was fraught with a travail of my health, I was blessed with the reunion of my family. All of the pain and slow torture seems to be part of something—something I don't know how to name or express, but necessary. I often feel that I connect with my future self and I know that things will turn out "right" in the end.
More than ever I love and respect Pooky. He has been steadfast and true through what has been a very trying year. Financially we faced many challenges, but we held true and wouldn't let the obstacles get to us. Physically and emotionally we went through a walk on flaming coals, and we came out without a burn on our feet.
One memory in particular sticks with me about something Pooky did during the depths of my hospitalizations. It was a nice summery day, and my being discharged was delayed because I wasn't up to par. He asked if he could take me outside to get some fresh air, perhaps across the street into the park. He thought if I saw how nice it was outside, I might want to go home.
At first I wasn't very keen on the idea, because moving and even sitting, was a strain. I hardly thought I'd care to see the outside world. I was like a wet cat: pissed off at the world and how I was. Yet, I went and tried to make the best of it.
I felt sad that I couldn't enjoy the day as much as I would have liked. My body hurt and I could feel that my chi was out of alignment. Still, I sat in the wheelchair and took in as much of the summery splendor as I could. I did feel a bit better.
It's strange how I remember this...I think of it now as Pooky giving me a special gift, one made of love and understanding.
As I look ahead to 2006, the whole year before me...I've learned that life goes in directions I could never imagine, and I smile to think of where the year ahead will go. The choices I've made now have already set things in motion. Where the next bend in the road lies ahead will soon reveal itself. Walking through life with Pooky at my side and our five wonder beasties makes me sigh with contentment. Life doesn't get any better than this...
This year was a bountiful year of gifts received! I never quite know what to expect, thus I am always pleasantly surprised! Santa was very good to me this year. I would like to think it was due to my being very good despite my summer of intestinal hell. In no particular order are the wonderful gifts!
Now We're Cookin'!
We used the money my dad gave us to buy (hopefully) the last set of pots and pans we'll ever purchase. We put up the rest of the money to get this spendy set, but according to all of the reviews Pooky read, this All Clad set is the best. We christened our set last night by making a garden vegetable chicken soup. I noticed right away that these pots cook differently. I didn't need to go beyond 5 on the heat dial, and they simmered very well.
I'm Not Bad!
My sister got us the book written by the creator of the www.mycathatesyou.com website. After looking through all of the photos, I'm thinking I have some potential entries of pictures I have of Smee, Mr. Doo, and Mr. B. For some reason, Smee takes a very "bad cat" picture at times.
Heaven Scent
From Pooky's younger sister we received three Old Virgina candles. These candles are fantastic! They are so strongly scented that I can burn them downstairs and the aroma drifts up and I can smell them in the computer room. Of course I shouldn't leave a burning candle unattended! Anyhow, I was so impressed that I bought a few more of these candles. I think they will last for an entire year. I think going the candle route is more cost-effective than incense.
But Wait, There's More!
From my mom we received a set of knives. The ones we had were all serated and couldn't be sharpened. These are nice and came with a sharpening stick. Now I can chop, dice, slice, and cut my fingers off! I'm very pleased to have knives that work. She also got us a new food chopper. I couldn't find where Pooky put it. It's a nice 3 cup size and will make life much easier to chop onions, nuts, etc. The old one I had I could tell the blade was getting dull. I've had it for five years and it has been a little work-horse. It shall now be retired.
Measuring Up
One day I went for the mail and found a box waiting for us. I had no idea what was inside. I opened it and I found myself with my mouth hanging open. My dad had sent us a complete set of stainless steel measuring cups (with odd sizes) and measuring spoons! Plus a garlic press. This set was very spendy! What was ironic about all of this was that just days before I was admiring some measuring sets at Bed, Bath, and Beyond and was longing for the day when I could afford to buy a set of cups and spoons that had the odd sizes!
My Secret Santa Was Very Good to Me!
This year my Secret Santa was very good to me! I mean really good! The rules of the Santa-ness are that you spend $15 on your recipient and buy them something from their Amazon.com Wishlist. Well, my Santa (aka Kelly), got me Family Guy Volume 3 and Bride and Prejudice!
Bosom Friend
From dear Ro I received this adorable little jewelry box with a mirror. She sent it to me because it reminded her of Anne of Green Gables. I have to agree, it is something that Anne or Diana may have had in their bedroom. What is curious is that Smee loves to lay near this. I think he likes to check himself out in the mirror!
Enough Yarn for a Year
All of this yarn will (hopefully) be made into various things in 2006. I have grand plans and designs! I have ambition and motivation to crochet. I just hope that I don't suffer a two month dry spell like I did starting in September!
Tunes
I couldn't find the CD—I'm sure it is somewhere in the chaos of everything (Pooky has been rearranging stuff)—so I apologize for not having a picture of it, but my long-time friend from grade school, April, sent me the soundtrack to Bride and Prejudice.The New Symbol of Christmas
While shopping at Archie McPhee, I was charmed by the new jumbo devil duckies! I had to have one with the additional Santa hat. This festive bird is nice and large and undeniably adorable! Smee was doing his best to curl up his ears to look like evil horns. Perhaps he should be known as The Prince of Darkness?
I went to the doctor on Tuesday to find out what I had suspected: I have an ear infection in my right ear. I get to use drops and take Cipro. He took a culture to find out the specific germ that has taken up residence. I also had to give up three vials of blood. All were to determine if I have Epstein Barr virus, how my B-12 levels are, check my sed rate, metabolic panel, and CBC w/platelets.
There are moments where I think there are elves in my head who are drilling holes, but it isn't as intense as it was prior to going to the doctor. I'm sure I'll snap out of this soon.
The above was written yesterday. Today I feel almost human! I suppose the infection is the culprit for my low energy levels. I do feel more frisky, and I shall endeavor to accomplish some important tasks today.
I need to post about all of the booty I got from Santa. It's pretty cool stuff, so I need to bring out the camera and do a little showing off and singing the praises of the gift-givers.
Stay tuned for gratuitous materialism!
With all of the commercialism spawned from the movie, along with the sappy modernization of the way the children conversed with each other (people did use language differently in the 1940s), I would imagine that our dear C.S. would have nothing kind to say about the adaptation of his most popular story. It's a shame, really.
Now, I know that when a book it turned into a movie that there is some poetic license taken, and there has to be embellishments and filler because there is a lot of non-cinematic elements in the story. What perturbed me the most was the kids spoke like today's kids of 2005, not 1945. I almost expected the kids to say to each other, "Let's get jiggy with it!" or Aslan saying, "Hey peeps, that White Witch is a real biatch!"
The music for the soundtrack—I was expecting beautiful orchestrations, but they tried to use pop songs written especially for the movie, and it wasn't working for me. I mean, I do like some of the songs they have on the soundtrack and I did iTunes it, because there were a couple I liked, but the songs didn't make an association for me with Narnia.
What they did do well and I will sing the praises of, are the special effects. That alone helped this movie not be a total hodge-podge of weirdness.
Yeah, I will have to confess, I'll go see the rest of the series. Hell, I may even own the DVD when it comes out. It's just...I was hoping for something more magical and special, like how the Lord of the Rings books were adapted as well as the Harry Potter series.
It all started with preparing the prime rib roast and seasoning it.
Then it went into the rotisserie where Jesus blessed the meat.
The roast cooked swiftly. Soon it was time to eat. The meat was laid out on a special snowman platter.
One of the accompaniments to the roast was a twice baked potato. They were so yummy! The meat was divine, too!
When we started to eat there was absolute silence for about 10 minutes. After eating a dessert of creme brulee, free range fruitcake, and assorted other yummies, we posed for the family photo-op.
I asked my sister about my older brother's gift giving habits, and I came to realize that my brother and I got our signals crossed about gift exchanging. I believe what set me off are some issues from my FOO, and that the long-held rivalry between us was triggered on my end.
My mother fawned and swooned over my brother. Let's say that she had a reversed Oedipal complex toward him. She lavished him, doted on him, "sacrificed" for him, and so on. I think what pissed me off is I went overboard—sort of like my mother—because she instilled in me this sense of "I must give" and within my brother she instilled a sense of "I will take". To summarize, my brother was not taught to be generous, self-sacrificing, attentive to others, considerate, kind, etc.
I also wanted to impress my brother. I wanted to compete with his wealth. (By the way, I estimate his income to be between 500K or more per year.) I didn't want to look like I am just scraping by. I also felt that because he does have that kind of money that he could easily spend $100 and not miss it, whereas I will be paying off that $100 over the next year (or possibly my lifetime).
I think Ro's comment has some truth in it for me, that I put myself into making the gifts (or at least buying them) whereas they pointed and clicked. But, I also fear that it is like Wendy suggested, that his wife bought the gift and felt that this was adequate. I have issues with his wife—there was some tension created early on because of my mother—and just because tension happens.
When the moment is right, I'll call my brother and discuss this with him. My plan is to negotiate an amount we'll spend on each other for the holidays. That probably should have been done sooner, but in the moment stuff like that doesn't come up. It only comes to the surface when a pinch happens.
Pooky has been a jewel with getting the house in order while I struggle to reserve my energy for tomorrow's big cooking day. I hate feeling this way: unable to do normal, minial tasks, because they add up and then wipe me out. I have been experimenting with how much I can safely accomplish in a day without overwhelming myself, but yet doing something to increase my strength and stamina.
I'll try to remember to take lots of photos, especially of the roast. Screw the presents, the roast is actually the star of tomorrow. I do hope it will turn out the way I want it to!
Blessings all around to everyone!
Last night Pooky rubbed me down with some Cherry Almond body butter from Sensaria, and I spoke out loud what was on my mind. I am frustrated that my body is still healing and so going back to school and doing an internship just doesn't seem like I could accomplish it. If I push myself I am dead with exhaustion.
I feel that from this vantage point that there are more cons than pros to waiting until September to return to school. I don't think trying to get a part-time job would work as most employers aren't going to like hearing: I need sudden bathroom breaks and I may have to leave abruptly to go home (due to bag troubles). If I was already established with a long work history, this might not be a problem, but since I've never been healthy enough to do a 40 hr/week job, I'm sure it is rather plain that I'm not the model employee who never gets sick, never pees or eats, etc.
During the 9 months I could get caught up on my reading. I should be able to procure an internship in June when all of the positions open up again. Right now is a bad time to try to get one. I don't want to do an internship for 18 months. A year is plenty of time.
Yet, from now until September feel like a small eternity. Pooky says I could spend time editing and polishing his story. Maybe getting it published???
Even though there are more cons than pros to delaying school, I think that this is going to be my choice. I had hoped I'd be more recovered by now. I am upset that I'm not; I am trying to accept that this is where I am at, and that where I want to get is just going to take longer than I thought.
Maybe as the optimists say, that when I get there I'll know there was a reason for everything turning out the way that it has and how the future unfurls remains to be seen. I do trust in the Universe. I do believe in that schmaltzy thought that God gives us only as much as we can handle. {Though it would be nice if The Divine thought I could handle having a lot of money, LOL! Instead I get five cats ;-)!}
Pooky said not to worry about the finances. Somehow we'll make it. It will be tight, but we'll manage. I just hope more people want to get married during the off season months.
I see my doctor on Tuesday and I'll discuss it with him. He's a real easy going type of doctor. He's known me since I was 10 years old.
Now I just need to tell the school once they come back from holiday. I'm going to hate writing the letter, but I think it needs to be done. Dash it all! [insert mad emoticon here]
Well, the presents are wrapped. I thought we owned a tree skirt. Either we don't or we do; it can't be found. I am not going to buy one now. I still think Pooky got one while he worked at Lowe's after the holidays on clearance. It was a monster tree skirt. How could it be missing?
I resisted the urge to glue Mr. Doo to the couch with my glue gun, which I brought out to make bows using ribbon I got at discount. He kept annoying the heck out of me.
Not a good day for me. I tripped and fell while getting up out of my chair.
I may sound a bit ungrateful by saying this, but I need to get it off my chest. I sent out my box of gifts to my brother and his family. (I totally forget to get a picture of the finished Wool of the Andes sweater. It was all wrapped up in the box when I realized I had forgotten to photograph it!) I bought a few things for his kids, and then I got him a $30 gift card to Home Depot. I figure I spent about $100.
I get a box today from Amazon.com and he has sent me two DVDs, the Harry Potter movies we don't have. I think our collection is completed. I am making a BIG assumption, I realize in thinking this, but I fear this is all he is going to send us. I feel extremely shafted by this, because I spent a lot of time making my SIL's sweater, finding gifts for his kids, and then getting his gift card, wrapping it up nicely, and so on. It wasn't cheap to mail the box by Priority Mail, either.
For some kooky reason I'm obsessed with the value difference between what I have sent him and what he has given us. My brother co-owns a corporation and by no means is financially struggling. Thus, I find it very insulting and inequitable in the manifestation of his gift giving. I think that he should be more generous. I am totally projecting my beliefs and practices onto him: that what I do, he should do. It's a variation of the Golden Rule. I have treated him how I would like to be treated. Because this hasn't come back to me, I'm pissed off.
I have the perfect idea what to do next holiday season: I will make a donation to a very liberal organization in his name. (He's a bona fide conservative.) Does anyone have any suggestions which liberal charity/organization I should donate to?
It is not a good day and we haven't even started on the housework yet. I get a bad feeling I'm going to get stuck with it tomorrow and still have some pre-Christmas baking I was going to do so I don't have it all to do on Sunday.
My body feels like it has been beaten with sticks. I need strong pain medicine. But I can't see my doctor until the 27th. Would someone just shoot me now, stuff me and mount me on a wall somewhere?
I am NOT a pleasant person right now. I will rip your freakin' head off at the slightest provocation. Hell, I may just do it without being prodded!
The situation is: my abdominal and back muscles are so freakin' weak that I can't sit or stand for any length of time without searing pain. You all know how pleasant searing pain is. I won't describe it to you.
I feel lethargic and ready to sleep the sleep of the damned. I believe I also have an abscess. It can't be a Bartholin's abscess because it is not in the right place. This cyst or abscess is in my groin region, about midway outside of my left labia majora. So sitting incorrectly results in a pinch of pain.
Pooky still is under this impression that I'm a 100% normal functioning person. I screamed at him a few times lately that I am not like him. I don't have the stamina, the means to do even small stuffs. Wrapping the gifts for my brother's family exhausted me.
- I want to scream like a lunatic, but I don't have the energy for it.
- I want to enact my plan for Total World Domination, but that is too much like work.
- I am hungry and I don't care because: (a) the pain has killed my appetite; (b) making food is a lot like work.
- I believe I have psychologically snapped, yet still feel reasonably sane; this will pass.
- I could be suffering from PMS. If not that, it is just adding to the problem(s) at hand.
- I have no idea how Pooky manages to endure my wrath. Perhaps he has well-insulated nerves?
- What I really need is a trained blood hound. (That's a quote from Eeyore.)
- I am a Stinging Nettle. Inside of me you'll find plenty of venom and poisonous substances. Don't mess with me, I'm the Shrone.
Here comes the sun (du dn du du)
Here comes the sun
And I say
It's alright
Little darling
It's been a long cold lonely winter
Little darling
It seems like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun
Here comes the sun
And I say
It's alright
Little darling
The smiles returning to the faces
Little darling
It seems like years since it's been here
Here comes the sun (du dn du du)
Here comes the sun
And I say
It's alright
Sun, sun, sun, here it comes (four times)
Little darling
I see the ice is slowly melting
Little darling
It seems like years since it's been clear
Here comes the sun (du dn du du)
Here comes the sun
It's alright
Here comes the sun (du du du du)
Here comes the sun
It's alright
It's alright
Dear Shrones and Friends of Shrones and seekers of Orb Wisdom:
I apologize for not updating my website as promised. I haven't forgotten about making the Hall of Shrones page, nor adding the new Orbs of Wisdom that Lady Linoleum so expertly crafted for me.
My excuse is that this time of year is crazy, and then I decided to paint the kitchen...and then it has been very cold. Once the holidays pass I hope to become more computer-productive.
This message is brought to you as a public service announcement courtesy of the Unknowable Shrone.
I'm pleased to announce that Amanda's application for Shronedom has been reviewed and approved! I had a sneaking suspicious that Amanda was a Shrone when she crocheted a booby pillow, and her comment that she envied my ability to shop at the Archie McPhee store let me know she needed to submit her self-nomination form ASAP!
Here are the reasons Amanda is a Bona Fide Shrone:
Amanda
1. You've crocheted a booby pillow. Only a Shrone would do that!
2. You live in the South (which I envy!)
3. You think some days you can change the world: this is the seed of a Shrone's latent desire for Total World Domination ala Baby Stewie.
4. You really dig thunderstorms. (Shrones find them "electrifying")
5. Something about you says when you get old and withered, you just might go out crusing for penis!
6. You are unknowable.
7. You love when the mail arrives.
8. You believe stuffed animals and dolls are alive. They are because The Velveteen Rabbit made it so.
9. You're one groovy chick and I think you are super cool!
10. You haven't killed your inner child and you freely allow it out to play.
Please give Amanda a hearty Shrone welcome and round of applause!
I had my interview today down in Longview about a possible internship, and the head honcho was very nice and clued me in about the particulars about my program's requirements. He was very willing to "problem solve", perhaps since their clinic is solution-based therapy, he was more prone to find a way to solve stuff, but anyhow...He said that there are a few obstacles to my interning at the facility. Primarily, one of the clinical supervisors recently had to leave her post due to health reasons, which means there is only one supervisor, and she may have a heavy work-load and wouldn't be able to take me on. He did recommend I contact some other agencies in the community.
It was amazing that he took the time with me, letting me know a lot of stuff that I wasn't entirely aware of. If I could intern there (chances don't seem very likely) I'd have to do an 18 month internship, which would mean I'd graduate in June 2007, but hey, at least I would have my internship!
Then...my sister stopped by to deliver some stuff, and then we went to the local tea shop and she introduced me to Cream Earl Grey tea. I'm not that crazy about Earl Grey because the bergamont can be potent, but this stuff was silky. I will have to buy some! Over two pots of tea we discussed "the family" and it was a very good experience.
We shared a lot of our take on the family system, and our roles in the family, etc. It was a conversation that I would have been able to carry on for hours, but there are other obligations and I'm sure we'll journey along that pathway again.
What we noticed was very peculiar in that my mom, unknowingly, served as a catalyst to reunite me to my "other half" of the family. My mom has played this role at various times in my life. It is like she is guided by some unseen force, because she'll do things totally off the wall, but the cascade that she sets in motion has profound results and outcomes. I don't know if I am expressing this well, because I'm just wrapping my mind around it. It's like she is the key domino in an elaborate set-up and what she sets in motion (which appears to be unintention) has this amazing effect.
I'm reminded of what Edgar Cayce describes as souls planning out their incarnation before entering into the life they select, and I get this weird sensation that at some point, before we were ourselves now, we had gotten together and agreed that we'd do these things, only we aren't aware of this agreement until it happens, and then I think we knew this all along.
Despite the quarks of my mother, within her is an amazing soul that has proven in many ways she is a soulmate that has allowed me to "meet my self" over and over and over. In my head I can strip away her "issues" and see her for who she is as a spiritual being, and I can do the same with my sister, and my dad. It's a beautiful image to hold of them.
As I get to re-know my dad, I can feel this energy between us that he is a kindred spirit, very much like a friendship I might read about in the Anne of Green Gables books. It is a feeling that doesn't need to be spoken because it is a Knowing.
I shared with my sister a pivotal experience I had two springs ago in which I made a journey out to the town where my father grew up and the house he was raised in. He was raised in the coastal communities of Aberdeen and Hoquiam (the very same area that Kurt Cobain resided). The house he grew up in is just a sparrow's flight away from the cemetery his parents and grandparents are buried.
The house is owned by a family, so I couldn't slip inside to spark early childhood memories, but the yard was very much the same, and I gazed with fondness at the hillside that I remember rolling down, over and over, one summer day, my older brother and I having the time of our lives. I remember there being a toy kaleidoscope in this sitting room and playing with it for hours, and how there was a Dutch door that I found so captivating because you could leave the bottom open and have the top closed. These memories are from when I was three or four.
Not wanting to seem like I was a stalker, I quickly took my pictures of the house and then went to the cemetery to see my Grandma Carlson's grave. She had her 100th birthday this past July. I wanted to remember her and put flowers on her grave, but I was in the hospital. It's the thought that counts.
When I visited her grave I asked her to help me connect with and understand my dad. He was a mystery to me. The veil of mystery is lifting, and what I'm finding warms my heart. The experience was altering for me in that I was finally able to break through the shroud of illusion my mother had created about my dad: my eyes were open and ready to see. At that moment I could feel the gears of the workings of the Universe turning setting things in motion. Wherever she is, I think Grandma helped all of this come about, along with the unpredictable and seemingly random actions of my mother.
Pooky's name wasn't in the drawing hat so he got stuck with one of the many consolation prizes of a $5 Starbucks card. Since neither of us drink their swill, I suggested he sell $1 raffle tickets to his coworkers to raffle it off. I'm sure we'd make $20. But then....
Drum roll, please....
I took the prize for both side dish and dessert!
(Ha! But, I think it is because we made everyone around us vote!)
So, we now have two CrApplebee's gift cards for $25 each. One of Pooky's coworkers said we could take her to lunch and I said forget that, come over to our house for a real gourmet dinner! She looked at me so strangely. Could someone's cooking be better than CrApplebee's?
As my sister and I have observed: If you were stranded in the middle of nowhere and your choices were Lenny's and CrApplebee's you'd pick CrApplebee's, but you'd wish for something else. At least you can rest assured with CrApplebee's you won't get food poisoning.
Tonight is the big store party at HD. I'm entered into two different culinary categories: best dessert and best side dish. The prize is a $20 gift card to the new Applebee's that opened across from the HD, but since neither of us are Applebee's fans, Pooky thinks he can sell them to coworkers if I win. And I hope I'm a contender even though this is a small town ruled more by who you know than what you know.
The first of three carrot cake rounds is baking. My oven is too small to fit more than one pan—technically I can fit two of the pans, but then they don't cook properly.
My side dish will be a seven layer dip. It fills up a 1½quart casserole dish. So there should be enough to feed many people. It's a really good recipe and easy to make.
There's also going to be other prizes awarded, and the goal is to send everyone home with some kind of gift, even if it is just a $5 gift card for the store.
I'm looking forward to meeting Pooky's coworkers, etc. I've met a couple of them, and so far everyone seems pleasant.
We awoke to it being 15°, and we watched the local news to see when this cold spell will end. It has gone on far too long for my bloodstream. I have perpetually cold hands and feet, and in my head I keep hearing the "I'm Mister Freeze Mister" lyrics.
These are the sleeves to my SIL's sweater using Knitpick's Wool of the Andes in Hollyberry. I may have to add two more rows to make the sleeve a little longer, but will see if I have enough yarn.
I completed the back last night (all 25" of it) and started on the front. I should have this puppy done by Tuesday so I can mail out the box to my brother's family. Which means my sister's sweater won't be done—in fact, I had the horrible, awful realization I didn't buy enough yarn for hers. While she needed the next size up for the chest measurement, I measured her arm and will have to go the next size up for that, but the pattern for the next sized up chest doesn't have for the larger arm, which means I know already I am screwed because I calculated only for the smaller sleeve size. (Grinding teeth)
Well, I'll present to my sister what is completed by Christmas with the proviso when I get the additional yarn and complete the sweater she'll receive it all nice and shiny and new. I'm sure she'll be understanding about it. After all, she crochets and knits too!
I asked my dad if he knew where a 9 foot tree could easily be found. Last year's adventure we went out on a drizzly day and procured this tree after traipsing over most of eastern Lewis County (which is not pleasant) and I shelled out $40 for the tree because it is Noble fir and those are more expensive.
My dad, being a former employee of Weyerhaeuser (the tree growing company), knows good trees. In fact, during my childhood he always "procured" us a nice tree, usually Noble fir, and so I got hooked on them. Anyhow, he said he knows of a few tree farms near his abode, and he'd go check them out.
He said he found a nice tree, shaped and all, for $20! I said cut one that he thought was nice. He's very fussy about these sorts of things, and I knew he'd find the best of the crop. Now, while I'm not very fond of shaped trees, I can live with it. All I care about is it being 9 feet tall. Why? Well, our ceilings are that height and a 6 foot tree would like too Charlie Brown.
My dad even delivered it for us since we are sans truck, and upon bringing it into the house, the aroma of said Treezilla began to inundate everything! It smells citrus-y to me, not true evergreen scent like gin flavored with juniper berries. What was peculiar was the smell was so strong I could taste it! Seriously, I'd get a taste in my mouth—very sweet and sticky&—if I opened my mouth to let the molecules in. Weird!
Treezilla isn't decorated just yet, we're saving that for Solstice, and also to allow the cats to get used to the tree. So far no one has climbed up the tree. They have only stared at it, nibbled the lower branches, and Theodore Montague has gotten into the water for the tree, but that is what Theodore Montague does. Mr. Doo seems less angry about the tree. He has observed it but now has a "who cares" attitude about it.
Of course once the garland tinsel, lights, and ornaments adorn the Treezilla, there will be issues. I'm thinking we'll not decorate the lower branches just to make sure any inticements are out of reach. Mr. B's tail (being very long and bushy) has a tendency to find delicate things (like ornaments) and I'm sure he may obliviously knock off a ball or two like he did last year.
Meme swiped from Heather:
Appetizer
What is a word that your family uses that would not be considered common?
My family does have a lot of weird words. My favorite is snockered. It means being drunk, of course. I have heard it sometimes, but it isn't very common.
Soup
What theme of calendar do you have on your wall this year?
We have a calendar from Movie Gallery. It has coupons and the months have pictures from various movies.
Salad
Name 3 people you speak with on a daily basis.
Pooky, my cats, myself
Main Course
If you could put a new tattoo on someone you know - who would it be, what would the tattoo be of, and where would you put it on them?
I'd put a matching tattoo on Pooky. The one I have commemorates our wedding date. It's located just above my tailbone. I think he should have the same.
Dessert
What is the last beverage you drank out of a glass bottle?
Lipton's Unsweetened Iced Tea
| Your Christmas is Most Like: National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation |
 And no matter what, something hilarious usually happens. |
First, thank you Wendy for asking why Haloscan comments weren't appearing. It is me; I set them to approval and forgot that I had. My spam attacks are outrageous and just wanted a way to control the filth. I apologize to all of you who have been commenting. Everything is good now.
Second, we're off for a day of errands and a trip to the Archie McPhee store! (Yes, the benefits of living near Seattle means Ballard is just a sparrow's flight away, and within Ballard there are kooky Scandinavians, a troll under a bridge, and of course, Archie McPhee!) Plus you pass through Freemont which is the Center of the Universe.
Why go to McPhee? Why, stocking stuffers, gifts galore, and wrapping paper! I need to buy steak, pirate, and assorted other gift wrap. Some very special people need their gifts hidden under a sheath of steaks!
OK, and we're also going to a really great Thai place, which I call Siamese, which isn't complimentary at all, I know, but I love the word Siamese. It rolls off the tongue in a glistening kind of way, and I think of blue-eyed Siamese cats, and my insides start to purr warmly. And since we're on the topic of former country names, I prefer Persia to Iran. One last country name I like: Sri Lanka. Isn't that great? Doesn't it provoke a feeling inside, one of mystery and intrigue, like I must go there because that just sounds incredibly awesome?
I have digressed down an auditory road, and any moment Pooky will remind me that I wasn't to get sucked into the Internet, that I was to get my shower so we can go. Thus, my dearest of friends, I shall wave good-bye.
But one last thing! I got a call back from another agency, and she was so nice! Alas, she said she was certain all of their position were filled, but she would double-check with the actual coordinator to be sure. She said if there was a vacancy I'd be called, otherwise not. They already have a LIOS student, one of the gals from my Fall class who I had made the acquaintance of.
Hopefully, more calls will await me when I get home! (Along with the yarn I'm expecting from Knitpicks!)
I participate in two national online surveys, so this means about once a week I go take a survey asking me about crap, and after a year of doing this I earn maybe $20-30 from one site, and maybe a new DVD set from the other valued at about $30.
One of the last surveys I took asked me if I would NOT do business with a business that used "Happy Holidays" instead of "Merry Christmas".
Has this change in the language gotten to be that much of a heated issue?
I see the change as progress, that we're finally acknowledging that there are non-Christians living in this country, which is part of the language change, BUT! I have always said Happy Holidays simply because there are multiple holidays even if you celebrate Christmas. Remember New Year's Eve and New Year's Day? If we lived in those countries affiliated with Great Britain it would be applicable too since they also have Boxing Day (which I still am a bit clueless about, and it may or may not have anyting to do with actual boxes and definitely has nothing to do with prize fighting).
The protestations from the majority are to be expected and fall in line with organizational development, because this is what the centrist/majority group does. They piss and moan if they think that they are being asked to change, and that their position is being threatened or weakened. I spent $40,000 to learn that. (I shoud have just borrowed a book from the library.)Groups in the centrist position need to be the ones to go to the margins instead of the margins going to the middle.
Why? Why should the center go to the edge? Well, quite seriously their existance depends upon it! In order for a group to remain healthy and alive, it needs to adapt, change, be resilent, and flexible, and that means from time to time be willing to acknowledge the marinal position as existing and having a right to exist.
We all know what used to happen to the margin: witch burnings, executions, excommunications, war, discrimination, Holocaust, etc. I think it is a great sign of hope if the center can manage to not shoot itself in the foot and get over the language of "Happy Holidays" and realize that it will be what helps them grow (and live up to their Christian potential).
What's so bad about not automatically assuming the person you wish to wish Happy Holidays to isn't Christian?
On the flip side of this coin, I have to admit that there have been some over-reactions from those who have gotten upset about "Merry Christmas" being wished to them. I say to that: lighten up! What's wrong with just saying back, "I thank you for your kind sentiment, but I am not Christian (or I don't celebrate Christmas), so in the future, could you remember to wish me a Happy Yule/Chanukah/Ramadan instead?" Throw it back to the person, and if they can't handle Yule/Chanukah/Ramdan then let it be their problem, not yours!
Today I realized that the folks at my local mental health center just aren't that interested in having me intern with them. I know in class we spoke about having to be persistent and make multiple calls and leave endless voice mails, but really. If they are interested, wouldn't they call back after the first message?
So today I called around to places in Cowlitz and Thurston counties, hoping that someone will take my bait and call me back. It seems that the standard method of operation at these facilities is to re-direct your call at least 3 times, but when you finally get the person who knows something, you get their voice mail. I think it is planned that way.
Well, I'll make calls again on Friday and follow up. That's all that I can do if no one calls back. Yeah, I know. I'll be making a second call to all of their voice mails, but maybe just someone will get back to me before Friday? Wishful thinking never hurt anyone.
I'm starting to really re-think the whole counseling field anyhow. I mean after spending what will total $130,000 in student loans, the best that an agency in Thurston county is willing to pay a counselor/therapist is $20/hr. A truck driver makes more money and most likely has no student loans to pay back, unless they are someone like me who realized long before I did that nowadays education doesn't count in the end; it's all bottom-line and profits, and you go where the money is because otherwise you scrape by.
No one cares what your financial situation is because everyone you know is scraping like you or is worse off. Unless you happen to be in one of those professions that actually pays, like accounting/banking, medicine, law, etc.
I question if it is even worth Pooky going for his master's because him getting his bachelor's hasn't helped him get promoted at Home Depot, nor has it helped him get hired. The only reason HD took him is because he worked there before. I don't even want to know how much student loan debt he has.
Maybe in the end we'll decide to play the game of life and say "fuck it" to our diplomas and become team truck drivers. That way we'll be able to pay our bills, plus have money left over to enjoy. And no, I'm not meaning to sound sarcastic, I'm dead serious!
Post Script
Ha! I told you so, and did you believe me? If they are interested, they will call. It's not quite 6 o'clock and I've gotten back two phone calls. I'm scheduled to interview with someone on Monday, and the other gal seemed that an internship could be arranged, I just needed to speak to the actual coordinator.Naturally, since we're going out tomorrow all day, the remaining calls will be returned, but I won't bitch one bit. (In fact, I think leaving the house actually causes them to call, along with the postal carrier to deliver that package I've been expecting.)
The *catch* with the interview on Monday is, he warned me I'd have to pay for the background check. I hope it isn't too costly. It should be only between $50-100, but I could be wrong. I'll find out more when I go talk with him.
I realized that if I had a better mopping system, say one of those Swiffer Wet-Jets, that I may actually be able to clean my floors more often. With my easily fatigued body I was sold on the convenience of this product. Squirt and toss. I forgot the push and pull part. So today as I tried out my new Swiffer, I soon realized that while it is far better than my moldy old sponge mop (I see the day in which people will no longer know what a real mop is since Swifferdom will reign supreme) I anticipate the day that these darn things become self-propelled like vacuum cleaners. Yes, I am pathetically lazy, but the sqaure-footage of my Swifferable floor space is in the thousands! (I kid you not!)
One thing I have found is that the Swiffer will find all of that very fine, didn't get swept up by the broom dirt and lint, so I guess I will still need to vacuum the floors to avoid having to sweep up that little bit of stuff. Or just not worry about it and Swiffer it up against the walls where I hope no one will look.
While I do like the benefits of the Swiffer, I notice that my tile floors looked streaky and dull with it. I'd better check out any Swiffering secrets that may help me achieve immaculately clean floors!
I'd like to revist if I may my entry about how I surmise I might have a twinge of PTSD. What makes me feel that I may is that one of the key symptoms is a persistent feeling of helplessness. Bingo! I'd call it more of a residual feeling, as the memories I have from this past summer are nothing but feeling helpless. Rationale: If you can't get up to get yourself a drink or go to the bathroom, that's helplessness. Not being able to get dressed, etc. You get the picture.
While I am able to do these tasks now, I have this "fear" that everything will go south and I'll wind up back on the futon wishing that I was anywhere, anywhen but in that moment. I think that is where a lot of my anxiety resides is in the "what-if-I-relapse-and-I'm-helpless-again" thoughts that I try to beat away with a stick, yet they come around anyhow. Yeah, I know, don't dwell on what isn't, and live in the NOW, but I feel so hesitant to pick up the reigns of life when I feel such uncertainty. As demonstrated by the immense unstanding and caring attitude of my faculty (NOT!!), I fear that if I relapse they will just ask me not to continue with the program. There was one administrator who got very angry at me because I had cost the university money due to my cancelling two modules (as if I had control). In retrospect I should have said, "I'm sure the university can write that off on their taxes, or have some other form of absorbing the loss. I really don't sympathize with you considering my husband took off three weeks of work without pay and that set us back considerably."
Noricum reminded me of something I read in my introductory packet from the ostomates' society newsletter, that technically I am an amputee. They call it "intestinal amputee" to be precise. Only I won't have phantom limb pains. I have experienced a phantom anal pain recently in which I swear I could actually use that orifice of exit, but it passed in less than 30 seconds. It was weird while it lasted.
I decided to resume the gabapentin (Neurontin) as it can act as a mood leveler. It would be nice to have a more even keel in my head. It may also help with some of my lingering nerve pain. If only I could receive a little talk therapy to boot, but that is not as easy to acquire since funding and availability of mental health care is scarce where I live. I'm not sure what good talking about it would do as blogging is just as good, and all a therapist/counselor will do is reassure me that others go through similar feelings in similar situations, and I just need to gain confidence and let time pass.
What I really want is a freakin' magic wand that will restore my energy to 100%, allowing me to get back into the full swing of life. No pill or psychological therapy delivers that. I will have to do it the old-fashioned way, and earn it.
It would seem that in about fifteen years I'll be getting Mr. Doo taxidermed, since the idea of having him permanently positioned in one of his lurking or looming modes has been warmly received! When I had spoken my idea aloud to Pooky, he thought I was nuts, and asked me to change the subject, as I guess he doesn't share in the morbid hilarity of having Mr. Doo immortalized and frightening the bejesus of unsuspecting guests.
Noricum's idea of placing him on a bookcase is "excellent" as Mr. C. Montgomery Burns would say. I can see a nice antique bookcase with Mr. Doo poised on top. I wonder if there would be anyway a purring mechanism could be installed in him so if someone touches him (thinking he is alive) that he'd gently purr at them? I'm sure anything can be arranged if you have the money for it.
Mr. Doo is one of those quietly purring cats. You have to lay your ear on his body to make sure he is purring. He's always been stingy with his purr. Though he does meow quite a bit at tuna time and sometimes just because. He meows when he is slaying the other cats. It's weird how he "talks" to them. I'm sure a feline translator would have a heyday if such a thing existed.
When we went to Portland on Wednesday I successfully (is that spelled right? seems like too many repeating letters) completed my shopping gift needs for family. Stuff for friends is still undecided, as I tend to buy things for friends if I stumble upon something that I think they would like. Mainly I look for Shrone welcoming gifts, so if you haven't been named a Shrone yet, chances are, I didn't or won't be sending you a gift this year. (I'm not sending out cards this year, either, so no luck there.)
With my shopping done there is one thing left to do: crochet. And I do mean crochet. I have the two sleeves made for the next Diamond Lace Tunic for sister-in-law (my older brother's wife), and I'm waiting for the next order of yarn to come in from Knitpicks so when it comes I can feverishly crochet my sister her sweater. Folks, I went and did something unheard of. I bought the Andean Silk yarn for my sis's sweater, and paid a price I shutter to think of, but well, if I stop and think how many holiday gifts I didn't buy for her over the past eight or so years, it only comes out to about $7.75 per year. Not bad. (Of course if the yarn is a dream I'll have to make myself one! LOL!)
As I tried to keep warm today—we didn't make it above 35°—I wrapped myself up in the electric blanket and had the space heater on high set to 85° along with the furnace pegged at 70°, I progressed to six inches on the back of the said sweater for SIL. I also managed to paint today, and take a shower, plus the usual feline maintenances, but I didn't get around to other pending housework projects, which because they are boring, will not be discussed (well, I'm embarrassed, actually, to talk about what I haven't cleaned).
I have taken to routine sneezing, and this is an annoyance for me as I have never been a sneezer my entire life, and generally only sneeze prior to coming down with a cold. Yet, the sneezing has been going on for more than a week without the development of a rhinovirus. If I am suddenly allergic to something, I'd like to know what the culprit is. Everytime I sneeze the cats get jumpy.
Speaking of the cats, I had this thought about Mr. Doo, and it struck me as a thought a person might have if they suffered from schizophrenia, and if you know someone who has this condition, I'm not trying to make fun of their thinking processes, but rather fear that I may be slipping a bit myself. What I was thinking was that Mr. Doo is a secret agent, some kind of listening and tracking device. Why do I think this off-the-wall thought about him? Well, there are times that he looks at me in a very sentient way, and it creeps me out. He is the master of looming and lurking about.
In fact, I have considered having him taxidermed when he passes, having him made up in one of his looming poses and then sticking him somewhere so when guests come over they will look up and see him staring them down. Just thinking about this makes me chuckle and reveals my inner moribid humor. (Hey, I often root for the villain, so leave me alone!)
I'm going out tomorrow to a party my sister is throwing for natural care products. I think I have to buy something just because. She said something about serving brie, so whatever may come tomorrow I know it will contain cheese.
Yesterday morning Pooky comes in to the bedroom and gently wakes me up. (He knows NOT to use any kind of force, scare tactic, etc. to rouse my sleeping body.) He slipped in beside me and said that he thought I could use a day out of the house, maybe go shopping in Portland (where it is sales-tax free) and get a burger at Fuddrucker's.
Me, wondering if I could physically endure a day of shopping, hesitated to agree. My mind thought of the shortness of breath, sting of strained abdominal muscles, and heaviness of my bag, fearing the worst would greet me if I stepped out of the house.
Pooky said he read my blog entry and wanted to help me in some way. He knows that a cheeseburger is good medicine, and I said I'd think about going. I needed to wash some clothes so I could wear something warm, and anticipated I could be ready to leave around noon.
He suggested finding some LYS's to check out down there as he was wanting to find some sock yarn, and I needed to get some Bernat boucle, and well, there was the gift list to knock off, so our day was planned.
We decided to get my mom's gift taken care of at Bed, Bath & Beyond (I was looking for the Beyond section of the store— it must be like a passage to Narnia or something!) first, and then Fuddrucker's was across the street. Just a mile up the road from Fudd's was the first LYS. But before I tell you about the LYS, let me comment on my cheeseburger (if you don't eat meat, please scroll down):
I got my usual third-pound burger with cheddar cheese, cooked medium rare (which means it drips juice), and then I loaded it with onion and lettuce. No sauce is ever needed on a truly good burger, just a little salt to bring out the natural flavor. I was in a state of bliss, savoring each bite. I ate my burger slowly, deliberately, to fully saturate myself with its healing powers. Along with my burger I enjoyed a Moxie soda and tried another one called Cheerwine. Both sodas are excellent! About thirty minutes later we were stuffed and ready to yarn shop.
The LYS was in a house and was cramped, but there was plenty to touch and see. I feel in love with some 100% wool and decided to buy a pattern to make felted Mary Jane slippers. Pooky found some yarn sock that has the colors of the German flag. The slippers will be a plum color.
Then we headed to the downtown of Portland (which is like entering into a traveler's vortex. You must have a map and directions to the locations you wish to visit or else you'll get lost and sucked into an endless loop of trying to get out of the city) and stopped quickly at REI so I could redeem my yearly dividend, then our next stop was the second LYS called Lint.
Lint was an upscale shop with a lot of trendy, pricey yarns. Pooky found some rainbow sock yarn, and I found this hank of 100% silk in a purple and black that felt like a dream! I was going to buy two hanks of it to make a halter top until I found out it was $42 a hank! I settled instead for a soft and purple bamboo yarn that was $14 a ball for 250 yards, so I'll have plenty to make the top. Spending $28 for a halter top does seem steep, but it is that time of year where such indulgences are "justified" with it being the holidays.
We got the bright idea to use our map to cross town to finish up our shopping by avoiding the highways. It was going great until we reach this one intersection where cars were trying to merge onto the highway and it took us an hour to travel about 10 miles. We got to see a lot of Portland as a result.
Now I knew if we left the house that my order from Knitpicks would arrive. That's how things work. You leave the house and all sorts of packages arrive and phone messages are left. Anyhow, the yarn I got for my SIL's sweater is what came in, and golllll-eee! it sure is wonderful stuff for 100% wool! I've never worked with pure wool before and I'm enjoying how the yarn is working with the pattern.
However....the kittens love the wool! I have to hermetically seal the yarn in order to keep them from gnabbing it away and doing their business with it! I have noticed that the yarn has an scent to it that I interpret to be "animal" and I think this might be what entices and allures them to steal the yarn.
I'm thinking I'll get myself enough of the wool to make myself the same sweater because it was only $29 in yarn and that is cheap to make a pure wool sweater. I just need to figure out what color...
Anyhow, enough about my day out in the world. I did come home feeling refreshed, but today felt the residual energy expenditure, so I have crept around and haven't accomplished much.
But I can rejoice! My holiday gift shopping is DONE!
Disclaimer:If you try to read this post linearly, it won't make sense. If you try to read it literally, you'll miss the symbology and meta-meaning. Hell, I'm not even sure why I am posting this; it feels therapeutic to do so.
If you are a weirdo like me and like to study the nature of Reality, then you might have come across the latest scientific idea of string theory. Part of this theory is that reality is made up of multiple dimensions and that some suggest that the tiniest particles of matter may co-mingle between these dimensions. I recall that a generalized idea of there being an infinite number of realities co-existing is also bandied about, because before all of that really tiny subatomic particle matter interacts, there are an infinite number of probabilities how it may all coalesce, and some feel that all of the potential outcomes do occur, only we experience one of the myriad outcomes.
I don't know how long ago it was...Maybe it was yesterday, maybe it was fifteen years ago, or perhaps not even in this lifetime. All I know is that I thought via my dreams I could somehow sneak over and peak into one of these alternate time-lines. (If my confession of this is freaking you out, you can click on to the next blog. Come back tomorrow when I will have posted a mundane entry.) Now, not wanting to get into the debate of if you believe in something then you make it happen, and if you don't then it isn't real, let's just tidy up what can be a very murky area as to what is real versus not-real according to our brains. Simply put, whatever our brains think is real, is real. The way our brains fire nerve impulses is no different between a memory and actual experience, which is why children often mistake their dreams as having actually taken place. It is only through socialization that we learn to distinguish all of the thoughts rattling around in our grey matter.
Suffice it to say, my personal belief is that our consciousness is able to bridge the gaps between the myriad dimensions. It is interesting to note that just what consciousness is has yet to be pinpointed. Scientist and mystic alike find themselves using common language and not being able to put into precise language what it means to be sentient and have awareness or consciousness. Oh, sure, some biochemicals have been identified, but as the layers are peeled ever so deeper into finding the core of it, well, it becomes difficult.
Thus, in one of my more profound spiritual dream-states I found myself in a most unique setting. I recall travelling through a very narrow passage-way, kind of like being born, and I know that I passed through a hole of some kind, but mind you I don't have the proper language to describe this crossing over. All I know is that I was myself, but in an entirely differently version of reality as I knew it.
In this particular version my younger brother still existed, but what was different was that my mother had died shortly after his birth, and my father had remarried, but he was different in temperament, but not in spirit, and he was truly the center of holding the family together through the loss of his wife and my mother.
Upon learning that my mother had died (and I don't know how she did die) I was totally distraught by this news, because mind you, this all felt very REAL to me. I actually believed this is where I had lived all of my life, and the usual fuzzy surreal qualities hallmarking a dream were not present. Everything was solid and vivid as if I were awake.
I began to cry incessantly, deeply, as if my soul were being pulled inside out, and my father and younger brother consoled me the best that they could, but they knew how profound the loss of my mother had been to me, and that I hadn't been able to cope with it very well.
What was curious about this alternate version was that my younger brother's coloring was opposite. He was fair and blonde in that existence; in this he is very dark and almost olive skinned. My father looked mostly the same, and I recall seeing a picture of my mother and she looked almost the same, maybe a little difference to her appearance, but not much.
Naturally, I awoke and eventually I sorted out which reality was the one I actually lived in. I admit, I had to make sure that my mom was still alive and all of that, because it wasn't an ordinary dream.
This memory has come to my mind today because yesterday I thought about the me that never had the kinked intestine after surgery, the me that went to the final module of the year and stayed with my classmates, even getting an internship and would be well underway into the second year of study. The me who might have lost ten pounds but quickly snapped back and functioning back to capacity.
Can I trade places with that version of me?
I don't want to sound self-pitiful, because truth be told, I know I went into having the surgery rather boldly, almost carelessly with an attitude of "bring it on" and raging curiosity to see how things would turn out, for I had no fear of what would unfold—I knew the hell I could step into just as much as the Eden, and I took a running leap into that abyss of probability—some see this as bravery, whereas I perceive it as utter foolishness. (I'm thinking of the standard Tarot deck where The Fool is depicted about to step off a cliff; The Strength card depicts a young woman and a lion.)
I'm saddened by the fact that inside of me a piece of something is missing—literally and figuratively—and this piece that I grieve the loss of has something to do with my certainty and assuredness of purpose in being in the LIOS program. It is not so much I doubt my ability to help others, for I know that I have and I can and I will, but that the piece that I lost has affected the timing of it all. Everyday my question has been, "Am I ready to go back to school?" and I keep my eyes peeled (which can be very drying on the eyes) looking for the answer. I thought perhaps I might have a twinge of anxiety about returning, so I went to the general anxiety disorder website and reviewed some of their self-tests. I was surprised to see that I have a lot of the symptoms associated with post-traumatic stress disorder. I thought that was reserved for true victims of horrible experiences like natural disasters and violence.
What stood out the most is that I have lost interest in many of the things I once found great joy and comfort, which is why I am doubting/questioning my return to school, why crocheting is a bore, even blogging feels displaced. I thought it was the various medications making me perceive reality as being askew, but now I am rethinking my thinking.
Today as I painted, the words of Dorothy Gale popped into my head: if I ever go looking for my heart's desire again, I won't look any further than my own back yard. Because if it isn't there, I never really lost it to begin with! Is that right? Somehow her Kansas wisdom makes sense to me without my fully understanding it just now.
The consequences of delaying school until next September mean financial hardship, for the private loan I'd get would assuage some of the economic blows we took when Pooky took three weeks off of work to be with me. I loathe the idea that I'd have to use up precious loan forebearance time...and having to delay my graduation until 2007.
If you've made it to this point in my post I hope you have gotten something out of my dithering thoughts. I am muddled and sorrowful, yet certain and hopeful, and feel captive by the constraints of time. To quoth Doris Day, "Que sera, sera / Whatever will be, will be / The future's not ours to see / Que sera, sera / What will be, will be."
This will be one of those "this is how my life is going, and I'm sharing it because well, you're my readers and I feel the need to share something with you" kind of post.
Over the weekend I enjoyed watching the Rankin & Bass marathon of holiday specials on the ABCFamily Channel. You know these folks—the creators of The Heat & Freeze Misers, Winter the Warlock (call me Winter, please), and assorted others. It got me to thinking that nowadays the talent just doesn't seem to be there for new lovable characters to warm our hearts and become part of our popular culture. OK, perhaps it is, but it isn't getting out where it needs to be!
I found it amazing to think that the Charlie Brown Christmas is 40 years old! Soon it will be that for a half century this sweet, adorable little cartoon has entertained us, making most of us fall in love with pathetic little Christmas trees!
Then I took in The Muppet Christmas Carol on CBC on Sunday evening. It freaks me out to watch Canadian television. Did you know that KFC delivers in British Columbia? And there is a store called Canadian Tire that seems to sell everything but tires!
After draining my energy earlier in the week with a two day painting frenzy, I took two days to renew my energy, and have learned not to paint for endless hours without taking a break or eating. I've also learned that to over-eat late at night means my bag will spring a leak. All of this is not good, and so my education continues...
We actually had a dusting of snow earlier in the week! Yes, a rarity, but not uncommon. I took picture of the kittens walking in their first snow. Smee thought it was a new form of litter as he took to pawing at it. Stash did the same, and yet Theodore Montague wanted nothing to do with it!
Today I played chaffeur to my mom. She left her keys at the shop and needed to run errands. I was going to run them, too, so it worked out well for us both. I got lunch and a full tank of gas and she got to accomplish her tasks. In re-reading that last sentence it may sound like the lunch I ate gave me gas, but I'm sure you know what I mean!
I'm off to do "whatever" before I must pick up Pooky from work. The joys of being a one-car family is that these arrangements must be made. Hopefully all will come through and I'll be able to get an internship, collect my student loan money, and the rest will fall into place from there.
Here's the sweater
And here's the cats!
The sweater is the Diamond Lace Tunic from Lion Brand and I actually used their sportweight wool-ease yarn in Wood Print. This one is going to my stepmom.
Then, as I was being handy with the camera, the beasties seemed to be in a photographic mood. Mr. Doo was looming on the staircase, I believe he was making the complex calculations on how to bring about our demise with one swift rush down the stairs. Smee was on the scanner dreaming of tuna and endless tummy rubs! Currently, Theodore Montague reposes on the scanner. I think they are taking their turns at digitizing themselves!