Rolling With It…

 

This is the exact concert my father was watching before it happened.   I was thirteen years old, and I can tell you what I wore to church the next day, down to the jewelry.  A red -appled  print with chunky red, wooden jewelry.  This was a great time in my life, before the pain and drama, before anorexia, before I went through alcoholism and depression.  We were in the hotel of a small town, situated between King of Prussia and Lake George, New York.  I loved Lake George!   The owners of the Canoe Island Lodge (where my family continues to vacation to this day, albeit rarely) were friends with my parents, and we their children.  We ate out on the lake, waterside service-just the  life of the rich and famous, oh man the memories!

So, anyways back to the story.  After writing my previous blog this morning, I didn’t want to end things that way with my readers, 🙂 I much prefer to be enthusiastic and uplifting than bitter and whiny.  It’s a look that doesn’t suit, well, any of us.  So, for me, all it takes, when I have run the gamut of emotions from horror to grief in, say,  a five minute timeframe?  I absolutely require some comic relief.  Jesus is often in on the joke, but today was amazing.

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As I climbed the stairs to groom Jesse, I remembered that I have a friend who has terminal cancer.  The soccer team in Thailand, oh my great Lord, that…I craved simpler, easier days gone by-and more than anything?  A laugh out loud moment.

I don’t turn the television on during the day.  I know that sounds vigilant, but the fact is-I’m not a one chip and end it kind of a girl-if I began the habit of even watching the a.m. news?  I would soon be on the path of daytime television, something I abhor.  I tape my Y&R, so there is no reason on planet earth to turn that monster on.  But today?  I had to hear another voice, another humanoid on this planet, and preferably?  A comedian.  I flicked on the tele and what do you know?  My all-time favorite episode of Friends: when Ross’ ex wife delivers their baby-making me scream fits of giggles, and turn my mood from dour to, at the very least, having a sense of humor about the dourness.

Oh, man.  I really diverted.  So this morning’s blog, featuring Miss Tina Turner, reminded me of the evening we were in that hotel.  My sister and mother asleep in one bed, me on the couch, and daddy-who was sitting on a chair and had not retired for the evening.  Because he was watching this concert, and because I love this music, I was awake as well.  How could you sleep through this?  Slowly, from the corner of my eye, I see my poor brother-his cot is folding up on both sides.

“Umm.  Dad?,” he says.

At this point my dad is three sheets to the wind, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t hear Craig the first time.  By the time my father noticed, my brother’s body was literally in the shape of a U.  The very same U the by now, completely closed cot, was making.

Dad looked to me, but I was of no help.  For all he knew, I was dead, as I was laying on the floor, laughing so hard I was sure to need oxygen momentarily.  My brother’s voice as shrill as they come, yelling for my father, who eventually stood up-removed himself from the sight of Ike and Tina, and saved the day by unfolding said cot, and my brother, thusly.

The.  End.

Renew Your Mind, the Rest Will Follow

I could not, for the life of me, get out of my own way today. You know that feeling-when you know, before it happens, that whatever you do/say/touch will be a mother loving nightmare of epic proportions. Yep. I should have known at the gas station, where I sat for ten minutes (no lie) trying to put my seatbelt on. A simple task performed day in and day out, and not once, but twice this happened today. I try not to get hysterical when something isn’t going smoothly-I always think that God may be holding me up for a reason, and that puts things in perspective.

At Walmart, I wore my brand new Batman hat, complete with ears that go up and down and it glows in the dark, the batman signal. It has long pom poms on each side. Incredibly warm. I set out today to make at least one person smile-and I was blessed by the reactions of most people this morning. I would say, ‘watch this’ to a complete stranger, and inevitably? If not a guffaw, a giggle and smile. I want to two of the cashiers that have been there forever. My whole heart goes out to them, they look so fatigued, so defeated. I felt pure joy when the saddest one laughed. In twenty some years, I have not seen her lips turned upward.

At the park, Jesse burst out of his orange hunting coat-whilst jumping in to the creek. This after chasing a heron so majestic it caught my breath. I begged him to go back into the creek and retrieve his coat. He swam right toward the thing, then balked at the idea-he hates this bloody coat. We were just beginning our trek, and as I waded in the Hammer Creek, ice cold water sloshing around in my shit stompers, I cried out to the heavens, “WHY, GOD, WHY???” Instantaneously over myself, I hiked the entire trail with freezing, wet feet. I remembered how hysterical my mother became at even the thought of my feet being wet, screaming – “You’ll get a kidney infection if you walk around in wet feeeeet!!!” That’s when I got teary, and remained emotional for the duration.

I stood at the window and took in the orange and blues, purples and pink of the evening sky. My husband had mentioned our Dylan, the golden retriever who lost his battle with Leukemia in 2015. I tried to hide my tears. Dwain came to comfort. I again began my nostalgic grieving-then, as I praised Him for the perfect Fall evening-a television reporter said these words:

“And after the ending, there is a new beginning.”

Cuffed on a Dirt Road

 

Okay, I have a million different things on my mind, it’s my 26th wedding anniversary, and I forgot my husband’s card.  I have eleventy hundred boxes of cards-as a matter of fact?  I collect them.  I.  heart. cards.  Big time.  I guess I could use one of those, but hey-it’s not the same.  Somehow, spending twenty bucks on a card makes it mean more, and Hallmark?  You have enough of my money, thank you.

I cried nonstop for a week straight.  I literally couldn’t get out of bed.  It was Godawful.

I wanted to find a way, if underwhelming, to put those years into a blog.  But there aren’t enough hours in the day-I have so many memories, which will turn into stories, perhaps, one day.  So, here’s the Reader’s Digest version, ’cause it’s our day and my man is kicking me in my kidneys.

I was engaged to a decent man.  Or so I thought.  We brought out the worst in one another.  He became abusive on our honeymoon.  He knew I was in love with another man, and despite my pleas, we were married on June 9, 1990.  Allowing myself to be coerced, I made the worst mistake of my life.  I had cervical cancer at the time.  The stress was overwhelming.  I sent Dwain a card from my honeymoon.  

The marriage lasted one week.

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The biggest challenge and love of my life.

 

I moved in with Dwain not long after.

It was wild, all consuming, raw and passionate love.  We couldn’t keep our hands off one another, it was a sickness-a curse.  When he left the room, I ached.  When he came back?  I swooned.  We are still as passionate and crazy in love.

God protected us from murdering one another over the years.  Alcoholism.  Drug Addiction.  Anorexia.  A shit ton of mental health issues, denied grief and a violent temper-all on my part.  We never laid a hand on one another.  We have never cheated on one another.  Although, I deliberately tried to run him over when I caught him driving his secretary back from lunch one Spring afternoon, years ago.

We were poor.  Dirt poor.  His first wife took everything but his soul.  I was a violent, malicious drunk-and the tears flow every time I think of how I must have wounded him.  There was emotional abuse on both sides.   Cops.  Court orders.  And, finally?  Jesus.

He is the song I sing.  He will always have me, heart and soul.

What a beautiful gift He has given me!

 

 

Rolling With It…

 

This is the exact concert my father was watching before it happened.   I was thirteen years old, and I can tell you what I wore to church the next day, down to the jewelry.  A red -appled  print with chunky red, wooden jewelry.  This was a great time in my life, before the pain and drama, before anorexia, before I went through alcoholism and depression.  We were in the hotel of a small town, situated between King of Prussia and Lake George, New York.  I loved Lake George!   The owners of the Canoe Island Lodge (where my family continues to vacation to this day, albeit rarely) were friends with my parents, and we their children.  We ate out on the lake, waterside service-just the  life of the rich and famous, oh man the memories!

So, anyways back to the story.  After writing my previous blog this morning, I didn’t want to end things that way with my readers, 🙂 I much prefer to be enthusiastic and uplifting than bitter and whiny.  It’s a look that doesn’t suit, well, any of us.  So, for me, all it takes, when I have run the gamut of emotions from horror to grief in, say,  a five minute timeframe?  I absolutely require some comic relief.  Jesus is often in on the joke, but today was amazing.

1267807_4628772416773_914926645_o

As I climbed the stairs to groom Jesse, I remembered that I have a friend who has terminal cancer.  The soccer team in Thailand, oh my great Lord, that…I craved simpler, easier days gone by-and more than anything?  A laugh out loud moment.

I don’t turn the television on during the day.  I know that sounds vigilant, but the fact is-I’m not a one chip and end it kind of a girl-if I began the habit of even watching the a.m. news?  I would soon be on the path of daytime television, something I abhor.  I tape my Y&R, so there is no reason on planet earth to turn that monster on.  But today?  I had to hear another voice, another humanoid on this planet, and preferably?  A comedian.  I flicked on the tele and what do you know?  My all-time favorite episode of Friends: when Ross’ ex wife delivers their baby-making me scream fits of giggles, and turn my mood from dour to, at the very least, having a sense of humor about the dourness.

Oh, man.  I really diverted.  So this morning’s blog, featuring Miss Tina Turner, reminded me of the evening we were in that hotel.  My sister and mother asleep in one bed, me on the couch, and daddy-who was sitting on a chair and had not retired for the evening.  Because he was watching this concert, and because I love this music, I was awake as well.  How could you sleep through this?  Slowly, from the corner of my eye, I see my poor brother-his cot is folding up on both sides.

“Umm.  Dad?,” he says.

At this point my dad is three sheets to the wind, and I’m pretty sure he didn’t hear Craig the first time.  By the time my father noticed, my brother’s body was literally in the shape of a U.  The very same U the by now, completely closed cot, was making.

Dad looked to me, but I was of no help.  For all he knew, I was dead, as I was laying on the floor, laughing so hard I was sure to need oxygen momentarily.  My brother’s voice as shrill as they come, yelling for my father, who eventually stood up-removed himself from the sight of Ike and Tina, and saved the day by unfolding said cot, and my brother, thusly.

The.  End.

Sir Jesse Has His First Time Out

12514086_10204121176029108_2114739482260523343_oI suppose it was only a matter of time, you know, before he rebelled.  He wasn’t an Alpha, and-especially since his brother’s death three years ago, he has always been good, and I mean-perfect.  Yada, yada, yada-everyone’s dog is perfect, I know-I admit it, I am biased, but his loyalty and mild manner were taken for granted, as if he was one dimensional, and honey let me tell you, he is multi-dimensional.  He is locally famous, as my husband takes him to breakfast with the big wigs, his friends, or anyone who will join him at 6:00 a.m.  Arrrgghh.  I haven’t seen 5:30 a.m. in eons, let alone 6:00, but everybody has his or her preferences.  🙂

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The only time our beloved canine and poop head extraordinaire gets feisty, as a matter of fact, is when there is snow upon the ground, at least a few inches.  Mother nature blessed us with a foot of “onion” snow, and I watched, ecstatically, from our kitchen, then living room.  I have always loved snow, everything about snow was and is appealing to me.  Is there anything more lovely than a soft, lazy falling of flakes so intricate, so  inspiring in that not a one is like another?

So, even though it was 20 degrees with the wind chill; despite the fact that I am still having some lymph node discomfort; and in spite of the fact that I was only one person and had never attempted this before-in the history of me-I got out in that gorgeous white precipitation and I was a goner.  The big problem when I was a kid was that I didn’t have the patience to make a snow ball, let alone a snowman.  I was always going at warp speed, even as a child.

So, I broke the work down in four twenty minute segments.  What started out as wild entertainment, began to hurt my lower back in places I didn’t know I owned.  The ball of snow took on a momentum of its own, and I ended up deciding to make a boy and a girl-as I had two heavy bottoms, and I couldn’t lift either.

The fourth time out, I brought accessories.  I was only finished with the male statue, and I had a lovely scarf, carrots for the nose, old buttons for the eyes, and I painstakingly tooth picked my husband’s hunting cap to the top.  He wasn’t perfect, but I loved him and I could hardly wait to surprise my husband.

About an hour ago, I let Jesse out.  He was pretty insistent, and I thought he had to relieve his bladder.  I am in the laundry room and have my eye right on him.  I open the door to let him in.  No Jesse.  I call his name out loud, twice……No Jesse.  As I walk through the house it hits me.  NO!!!!!!!!!  I run for the window and look at poor Jude (I named him, of course) laying in a pile of smashed snow and stepped on trinkets.  What.  The.  Bloody.  Hell.

And here’s the thing-it was my fault.  I spent too much time, wouldn’t let him near it while I worked, even oohed and ahed over him-excluding the dog who does everything with his mother.  And, to be honest, after I told him to go think about what he had done, I stepped into the mud room and grabbed a towel-to muffle the sounds of my laughter~

roses 2018 (46)