Anonymous Spaghetti

Irony - ain't it a blast?

2011-10-08T13:47:00.001-04:00

Wendy's - yeah gotta love it.

But onto the irony. As the fates would have it, we found out around 10 a.m. Friday that Friday (that Friday) would be Jon's last day. His disability starts Monday. It was either that or take a demotion/pay cut on Tuesday. It was a no-brainer and his team lead was very supportive of his decision.

We made plans this weekend to just stay home and heal. Neither of us felt particularly outgoing given the circumstances. We're thinking of things Jon can do to keep him from being too bored until he settles into a lesser level of activity.

Enter the irony. His computer broke. OK, yes it's an older one. When I started having to bring work home all the time, we purchased me a new laptop with imbedded 10-key and he took my old one. It's been not wanting to charge for a while now; picky, finicky, and just plain stubborn.

So thankfully we have the Dell credit and for 20.00/month, we have a replacement one coming for Jon. He only has to limp long (all puns intended) for a week without it and using mine if he chooses.

Life. It's funny no? It's preferrable to the alternative - or so I've heard.

We're still making decisions on whether to hit his 401K and pay off the smaller bills leaving only the utilities, car payment (thankfully paid off next year) and house payment. Sadly, we shall be selling Baby - my 2002 Jeep Wrangler. She has 100K miles and honestly, Jon cannot even ride in it anymore, let alone drive it. Sad because she was the first brand new car I ever picked and paid for. Then again, she's a bit of a gas hog and his malibu - while I don't care for it - is more commuter friendly.

Sucks being an adult don't it?

I took that photo earlier this year. He's not hiding his face - he's gathering balance to get up and out of the car. If fortunes allow, when it comes time to trade in the Malibu, we shall look for a small sized SUV which is large enough for him to comfortably ride in yet small enough not to be a gas hog. They're easier for him to get into/out of.

extra garlic - tabasco optional

2011-10-05T08:53:00.001-04:00

Two random thoughts:

I prefer spicy and savory over sweet
This photo - while not spicy - speaks to me of the relationship between fluid and stationary.

Jon has a meeting today with HR to discuss going on full time medical disability. It's time. His work is suffering and his health is suffering.

Still - it's sort of an end of an era. We knew it was coming but wanted to put it off - and thus embrace the semblence of normalcy - as long as possible.

It's just no longer possible.

Harold - and the changing of the seasons - have helped keep my sanity of late. Whenever I want to crawl in my dark black hole and hide from events that have overtaken, Harold spots a tree or a bird and I can see the wonder in creation. That allows time for my type-A overplanning brain to take a break and for me to take a breath.

Amongst the other issues that are more than obvious, is the loss of sense of self that retired persons can face. Jon feels like he's let me down, so I spend an enormous amount of time building him up - his self-esteem, his sense of worth. It's tough. It's tougher for him though.

However, as I often remind him - We Are Together. THAT is what counts.

This weekend we shall wander about The Grove and celebrate being together. October 15th it will be 10 years since I moved out here. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Harold's Shopping Extravaganza

2011-06-06T06:51:00.000-04:00

Sadly it was *my* credit card. Still my muse knows how to find a bargain ... or is it me?

Either way 4 Lane Bryant shirts for $60.00 and yes 3 of the 4 were black. It's ok - Harold swears it's my power color. Frankly I think he likes the idea of black = tortured artist. Either way, it goes with EVERYTHING so that works. Then he gently reminded me that Jon loves me in camisoles and it was probably time for a sale at Ashley Stewart and wouldn't you know it was? 4 camisoles for $30.00 and wheeee lots of pretties. I was looking at the jewelry but I really have enough of it and Harold keeps reminding me that 1) I rarely wear it and 2) The Wild Granny left me a ton of diamonds.

....and according to him everthing goes with diamonds.

Nice at at least one of us has decent taste ;)

The photo says it all

2011-06-02T09:16:00.000-04:00

Perception:

One of the cautions and warnings when you start a new job is to stay away from the friendliest person you meet. They are a leech. Beware Beware Beware.

...unless that person is me I guess.

I'm not exactly someone who can just sit by and let things happen. After a point, I jump in a do it. Most recently with our revolving door next to my office (on either side in fact), I've been the resident tour guide. I'm already the go-to person for many things from location of items to information on employees (does such and such work here? you get the drift) to goverment rules and regulations. However, with the change in staff, I've become the go-to person for them to locate items, locate people, and touch base.

Is it my job? no.

Have I been a temp before? Youbetcha.

In the place I worked before this (a retail type store which is closed now), I was tossed at a desk, handed paperwork, signed on the computer, and not spoken with until the end of shift when I was told to come back the next day. Lather rinse repeat. This went on for nearly a week. Then I was a temp to hire but still it took months before I knew anybody and I had to make the overtures myself. It's a horrible feeling and one that I don't think needs passing on....

So just add The Welcome Wagon hat to my ever growing arsenal and Take That you assumption making magazine article....

....because you just.don't.know.everything now do you?

What a Weekend it Was

2011-05-31T06:01:00.001-04:00

I took Harold to the woods over Memorial Day Weekend. After plying him with (more than) a few Mich Ultras, he started to loosen up and have a good time. Then he proceeded to tell the cigar smokers that not inhaling is like spitting ... ::sigh:: too bad my muse doesn't have an off button.

We saw friends, made new friends, yelled God Shave the Queen, heard music from old friends and new friends, and generally had a roaring time. I was officially pinned Lucky M'Crack of the Clan M'Crack and watched our Laird High Chieftan nearly fall off his perch.

Good times.

I also got to hit the pool. Where Harold's passion is beer, wit, and slightly inappropriate behaviour, mine has always been water. He pouted off in the corner because we couldn't bring our beer to the pool but brightened up with an offering of Sonic later.

More photos:

Of course it wouldn't be faire if I didn't get a photo of the bartenders now would it? Especially since they're the ones that helped Harold invent "remote ordering". I stand in line, wave the mug, and when I get to the front, Harold's beer is ready. Sweeeeeeeeet.

Now I wish I could just cross-post this blog ... I'm certain there's a way but it's beyond me and Harold ain't helping -- he's whining that we're at work before 5 a.m. and there's perfectly good Sam Adams in the fridge.

....and salt and vinegar chips on the counter.

Hittin The Road

2011-05-25T09:39:00.000-04:00

This weekend we make our trek to Lake Anna Virginia to attend The Virginia Renaissance Faire. While it's a bit of a drive, we've found the positives outweigh the negatives.

Plenty of places for Jon to sit
Nice lil pub - and as of two years ago, I invented remote ordering. I'm standing in line, wave my mug, and my beer is ready when it's my turn. Sweet.
A very good friend runs the faire and we always support our friends.
Sonic in Fredericksburg
Cheap hotel (in Fredericksburg) with a pool !

So basically we go down early Saturday morning and stay until very early Monday morning coming back early to beat the traffic. This faire is one of Harold's favorites. It's in the woods but has clearings to watch the clouds. Michelob Ultra is on tap at the pub. It's a fun atmosphere but never too crowded.

As time has progressed - as has the Parkinsons - Jon and I have to make careful choices about where we go and what we do. Airline travel is no longer an option. Very long distances in a car isn't much better. However, knowing we have a hotel to go back to and just relax helps set his mind at ease. We've also learned that even if we're only somewhere for a couple of hours, the fact that we came at all counts.

Harold's been complaining that I've promised him a cruise for a few years. With my work schedule (no backup for my job), taking a full week off work isn't possible. The only cruises out of Baltimore are 7 or 9 day ones. He keeps reminding me that I've paid my dues and I deserve an entire week off. I keep reminding him that beer is NOT free.

....and he says "but the sunsets and sunrises ARE - as are the memories you need to savor NOW while everyone can still go.

all 3 of us apparently - 4 if we schlep The Divine Ms Em along. If I get tired, she can go barhopping with Harold ... but with them two I'm keeping the camera safely with me.

the photo above is from VARF from 2009 I believe. Yes it's the sign signifying the pub - as if I couldn't smell Mich Ultra a mile away :)

As promised: Photos

2011-05-23T13:41:00.000-04:00

The day was absolutely gorgeous - bright blue skies with big puffy clouds

And VERY sunny. I have the sunburn to prove it.

Of course there was beer. Harold wanted more but at $8.00 a glass I limited him to 3.

But look - we had Nachos ala Hard Times Cafe. Of course we gobbled before I got the photo taken.

Once more the lovely puffy white clouds. It was a beautiful day with loud music, beer, and a good friend. What more could you possibly ask for?

all photos were taken 05/21/11 at the DC101 Chili Cookoff at RFK in DC.

I took Harold to DC Saturday

2011-05-23T08:55:00.000-04:00

Actually Em and I took Harold to DC Saturday though I doubt Em noticed him. *I* did though. With every photo, every song, every OMG are they really wearing *that*? Harold was there.

The chili was interesting. It's funny when they advertise hot and I'm thinking I'd feed it to a toddler. In fact I raised Robert on spicy fare so he'd be thinking the same thing. Cute names though. I wish I would have wrote them down or taken more photos.

Photos which I'm still waiting to upload from my IPhone. The service here in the building is as bad as it was there - well almost. The signal down at RFK was non-existant most times. That means I missed all the Yep We're Still Here facebook messages.

Music: fun to hear music which I'm not that familiar. I've not ventured into the genre of alternative rock but the two bands that stood out for me were Papa Roach and Weezer. Weezer was just rock with interesting lyrics - very interesting at times. Papa Roach brought back memories of early KISS. A little rough, a little tough, but still oddly enjoyable.

However, Harold wants to know just when boots with short short SHORT shorts came into play? I swear he snarked in my ear all afternoon...and of course he whined because I only fed him 3 beers but at $8.00 a pop too bad my picky snarky muse that is IT. I mollified him with a shockingly good Pinot Grigio later in the day.

Then he laughed at me all the way while I struggled up the stairs and thanked the dieties that I had put on a patch that morning forgoing the cigarettes. Good thing too: I wouldn't have had the breathe to climb those stairs and hills and walking oh my.

My butt feels like it was paddled but in true Harold tradition "Not in the way you wanted". HA

Photos later - with the signal in this building probably MUCH later.

Many thanks to The Divine Ms Em for schlepping me - ok US - along.

and not laughing when we simply HAD to have the fritoh chili pie - you can take the chick out of redneckville but apparently you can't remove the redneck from the chick - not entirely anyway.

Blogs and Blogs and more Blogs

2011-05-20T06:49:00.000-04:00

That car still tickles me. My how the times have changed. This was in 2008 when there wasn't a weekend where we weren't doing *something* - usually pirate related.

Harold misses the pirate adventures. *shhh* but I really think he misses the beer the most.

I look back and realize I've not taken any photos to amount to in a couple of years. I blame the Celexa. Sadly anti-depressants often depress the muse. Poor Harold. He was chuckling at Bruno's strategic use of Pussy in the last DWTS. Music always brings him out and about.

....and Saturday he will get his fill. Em and I are going to the DC101 Chili Cookoff. Whoa? not pirate themed? nope - just fun and music and beer.

Better remember my camera.

Memorial Day Weekend, I'm taking him down for our annual voyage to The Virginia Renaissance Festival. It's more user friendly for Jon if a bit more of a drive. If I ever get my Picasa account up and running, I'll move my photos there. It seems like everytime we get comfy somewhere online, something odd happens: denial of service attacks, online photo storage being closed, or just overtaken by events.

On a side note, I've tried to start a Parkinson's blog and it's just too depressing. Harold's solution? More Beer !!!

Harold let me borrow his blog for a bit .....

2010-09-29T09:36:00.000-04:00

Just some thoughts on things on this day after my beloved's 57th birthday.

I used to have man who didn't like me.

He said he would if I did more, worked harder, if I knew what I did wrong.

He wanted more things, more displays, more of something that simply wasn't Stephanie.

He didn't like Stephanie.

He blamed me for things beyond my control.

He wanted things that were not in my control to give.

He took my smallest accomplishments and took credit for them thus negating my role.

He took my larger accomplishments and said "see what I did - you couldn't have done it without ME"

Everything was his. Nothing was mine.

Whatever I did wasn't enough, wasn't right, wasn't what he wanted.

When I would ask what he wanted, he normally told me if I didn't know he wouldn't tell me.

He would get angry and withhold affection for the smallest slight - real or imagined.

When I finally realized that in that 13 years he was saying "I don't like YOU" I left.

He still doesn't like me and still blames me for things great and small.

He still takes credit for my paltry accomplishments and claims them as his own.

He still doesn't like me. He still doesn't like himself.

I now have a man who praises my smallest efforts.

I now have a man who doesn't make fun of me and call me fat.

I now have man who is proud of me regardless of what I do.

I now have a man who talks to me not at me.

I now have a man who doesn't care how I look but rather how I feel.

I now have a man secure enough to trust and love without thought of compensation or return.

I now have a man who loves me for who I am - faults and all - and continually tells me.

He doesn't berate, withhold affection, or demand more in exchange for civility.

I now have someone who I can spend my life with.

And for that I will be eternally grateful.

thank you Harold for letting me borrow your blog. The sentiments are mine but the words - as always - are yours.

Fragments of Life

2010-09-24T14:07:00.000-04:00

Pieces of memories not recalled, portions of the past forgotten.

My mother's first husband recently contacted me to tell me his wife had passed away. Much like myself, he is without family. Much unlike me, he is without children (now) or spouse.

I have memories of him from back before kindergarten. Memories of a laughing man who was bigger than life but always fun and was always nice. Not all of my mother's men were nice. Some were mean. Some were worse. It got to where I preferred the ones who ignored me.

Husband #1 was different. When he arrived it was like Christmas and The 4th of July rolled into one. Later years I realized that some of that was because that was what mother wanted. Little did she realize through countless marriages that she ditched the one and only man willing to accept her on her terms.

He accepted me on mine as well.

While I wonder often about the term soul mates, these two were as close to it as possible for their fragmented, broken lives. They divorced before I was born, she married my father, he married a woman who was pregnant with his child. She married and divorced countless more times.

His wife just passed away. I know his thoughts even though he didn't convey them: that he wished that Mom could have held on long enough for them to have a 2nd chance.

That's the problem though: so often in life there are no second chances. Nobody's life comes with a guarantee -- or an expiration date. You live life to the fullest and if you're going to go through it wrecking relationships always in search of the right one -- and looking the wrong places -- maybe it's just best to cash it in and say "hey you're the right one. let's get this show on the road before we leave more bodies behind".

His son (coincidentally my age) passed away earlier in the year from an aneurism.

Even though Mom didn't leave me with a step father (or a father) who had any form of relationship with me, she did leave me with a surrogate something or other. Rather almost a cross between stepfather, uncle, mentor and friend. Inadvertently, she also left him with a surrogate daughter whom he knows will be there when needed.

Just a phone call away.

Not because that's what Mom would have wanted, but because I understand and because I'm basically all he has left.

and because he's truly alone - except for me.

While I love a good conspiracy theory as much as the next .....

2010-08-16T07:39:00.000-04:00

This particular book left me cold.

For those who wonder, yes I am in possession of the original LOOK magazines from that time. My ex's Grandmother had saved them and wanted me to have them. She knew I'd care for them and trust me I have. I've also read things that you might not know - things that were reported THEN but lost over time - unless you really dug.

I've heard them all I think. The most interesting theory wasn't that it was a conspiracy but rather an accident. I think it was supported by Cyril Wrecht but I'm not certain. Anyway the supposition goes that a Secret Service person standing in the back of one of the limos lost his balance and oopsed. Could be. It's plausible and the trajectories etc could be made to match. I've also heard that Johnson (sitting in the next limo) pulled out a revolver and shot him. Far fetched? yep.

Why do we love a good conspiracy theory? Is it our way of making sense of a nonsensical situation? Is it our way of making the square pegs fit round holes so we're happy, organized, and off to deal with another situation? Or is it our love of a good drama.

I have my own theories, supported by cursory research and access to interesting reading material. My foremost theory is that we'll probably never know because when the truth is shaded, albeit a little or a lot, then the truth disappears. As in when you make the evidence fit to the crime. The real crime is technically unsolved.

I was also fortunate enough to have a father on the East Coast in a restricted program when the shit hit the fan on many things in 62 and 63. He vowed we'd never truly know. I think he's probably right on that account.

For now, I will definitely NOT recommend the book above. It's mostly filled with *I* read this and *I* studied that and look how *I* can make this stuff make sense. Cutting to the spoilers - the CIA did it because Kennedy was turning into a pacifist and had been having secret talks with the USSR.

Doubtful. Plus not really well written either.

Oh Cris if only Tim were still around to help me trash this book. I thought about him when I finally skipped to the last and thought OMG I have better ideas than that (and better research) hehehe He had the info that I never did have (being born in 64) and this one? just not good - even from a conspiracy theory point of view.

Voyeur anyone?

2010-08-12T08:11:00.001-04:00

I think in some form or fashion we're all voyeurs at heart.

Having just recently hit Amazon dot com in search of reading material, I found myself ordering a book on JFK, the one above on Marilyn Monroe, and wondering if there was a good John Lennon biography out there.

These are not obscure works (like The Mullendore Murder Case which is out of print and dreadfully expensive) but rather popular books.

Why do we want to know so much - and so much more - about the famous and infamous people? Is it voyeurism - a wish to see inside their private lives in hopes of a glimpse of something tawdry? It is because they are or rather were famous and we want to see what made them tick? Maybe figure out why they were famous? explain the magic?

I don't know the whys and wherefores - I just know that I'm not the only one.

but I am probably the only one reading this who ever read The Mullendore Murder Case. 's ok - if you're not from rural Oklahoma, you probably didn't hear about it. I bet you heard about Karen Silkwood though ........

Making Choices

2010-08-02T08:24:00.000-04:00

I finally ordered our faireever passes for the Maryland Renaissance Festival. It's a special place where we used to go every one of the 19 days - rain, shine, frigid cold - didn't matter we were there.

Not so much in the last couple of years. I see the limitations and I know that it's a compromise that I have to make. Explaining that to others ... not quite so easy. Then again, I really don't owe anyone an explanation except Jon.

Our dearest friends understand. They help watch him for signs of distress and pain while I wander a bit. I wander Revel Grove less and less though as time passes. It still retains its magic. The wonder of the trees. Being away from technology. Hearing live music, sharing a cup with friends, hugs, smiles, greetings -- those are still the same.

We have sadly changed though.

The benches at O'Shucks are the best because they offer back support. However, because they're the best, it's often crowded. Sometimes he needs to sit practically all day. Others we can wander a bit but still need to leave early -- always way too soon for me, but usually far too late for him.

Compromises.

I *could* go by myself but then I'd miss him and he'd miss me. I'd rather make the choice to spend time together, even if it is in front of the television watching The History Channel.

Choices.

I remember the choices I had to make with Mom (aka The Wild Granny). At first she wandered and looped and got drunk with a friend (and got sick in the trashcan at the White Hart - that's still legendary) but later it was just part way down the path and only for a few hours. Those few hours were restorative though.

They are for Jon as well. So we go early, often leave early, only go one day of the weekend and be blissfully happy that Revel Grove exists; that friends are around; and most importantly that he can still enjoy the magic.

I live in dread of the day when it's not possible anymore.

Just please, not too soon.

the photo above is of Mimi - one of the mimes. She sits upon the gate and does bubbles. A tiny bit of the magic of Revel Grove.

Live to work/work to live

2010-07-27T06:01:00.002-04:00

Perspectives.

Often I need to come in well before sunrise because work demands it. Often, as well, I forget the benefits of coming in crack-o-dawn.

I've noticed over the years that our normal office staff tends to come in grumpy. It's not because they're here that early -- I'm often here earlier. I think it's more a cultural thing.

First off let me say this: 1) this is not a commentary on race nor is it racist 2) this is not a commentary on the legality of workers from other countries - I check them fairly thoroughly 3) race will be mentioned just as a defining term.

I come in early and usually reasonably happy. I am the minority in our mono-chromatic office staff. Yes we're all white. I am white as well so the difference being I don't come to work grumpy and out-of-sorts.

For the most part though, our field employees are Hispanic -- or Latino if you prefer. They're from Jamaica, Honduras, El Salvador, Mexico, and yes even a couple from South Africa (who prefer the term black - they're very sweet about it though).

What they have in common with each other -- and NOT in common with the office staff is not only a difference in race but rather a difference in attitude both toward work and toward life.

When I'm here crack-o-OMG-dawn, I hear laughs, smiles, friendly greetings, sometimes singing. From the rest of my office staff? nope they're not here and when they get in a cheerful Good Morning will get you a grunt if you're fortunate. No these are my field staff. They smile. They laugh. They're friendly, vivacious, happy to be here:

Happy to be alive to see another day.

I love them. They love me. They love to chat. They love to laugh. They love the sunrise. They love the pre-sunrise, whether they're just coming in or they've worked all night -- doesn't matter ....

They Are Happy.

Why can't we embrace each day with the same enthusiasm? Just damned happy to be alive for another sunrise?

the photo above is from Rehoboth 2009. Obviously I am a morning person and dawn and pre-dawn are my favorite parts of the day. They're made even better when I have a happy person to enjoy the morning with.

Sometimes you just gotta keep paddling

2010-07-26T08:44:00.000-04:00

...and sometimes you throw in the towel and float.

Harold informed me that too many changes at once, while ambitious, is driving him bonkers. Yeah I could see that.

I caved this weekend and procured my favorite crutch: nicotine.

Yes it's an ugly monkey. It's a monkey that quite frankly embarrasses me in public and isn't really socially acceptable anymore. I get that.

I also get that a psychotic break isn't acceptable either. No I wasn't that far, just distracted, unfocused, and frankly just not dealing.

We shall try again when work slows a bit this winter because (as Harold reminded me) only when we fail to try are we truly failing.

...and now on to your regularly scheduled programming. I've hid from work long enough this morning :)

the photo above came from NCRF 2005 I believe, I didn't write the date on it buggers. I love ducks and there was such a lovely pond there, that I simply could not resist.

Sitting coffee in hand/cats at my feet

2010-07-25T14:28:00.000-04:00

...and wondering why I'm not at the beach, not outside, not enjoying the sunshine.

Oh yes, that would be because I'm working from home this weekend. Oh the joy - no please stop me now.

I had an interesting conversation with our HR director a few weeks ago. Her father aka the owner/president of the company, frowns on us worker bees taking work home over the weekend. He feels that we should all have weekends off and take a full week vacation (or two as the seniority dictates) each year. Kate and I talked about how that's just not the way it works anymore.

The era of taking the family off for two weeks, no work, no phone calls, no emails, has sadly left us.

No I don't exactly *have* to work from home, kitties at my feet, coffee happily being consumed (decaf as it is). I *could* go in at 4 a.m. and put in 12 hour days for 5 days. For one who is scheduled a mere 40 hours a week, as as salary paid exactly that (and as backup HR, I know the overtime laws - I am definitely non-exempt), putting in 60 isn't always the best move. Sometimes I'd rather be with hubby though currently that involves something Jackie Chan playing on the tele only barely audible over his snores.

Still, home is more comfortable. I can sit braless in my favorite tank top and shorts. I'm also doing laundry (watch her multi-task folks) and obviously at the moment I'm taking a break because it was either this or listen to Harold try to convince me that the journal entries would be *much* more fun with a couple of glasses of chardonnay.

There's a reason why most accountants can't drink on the job, good at numbers though we may be.

So here I sit, trying to convince myself that getting my work done equals sleeping IN til 4 instead of opening the doors at 4.

So here I sit wondering just how I could work from the beach. It's probably possible, but those pesky margaritas ... probably safest to stick to coffee, snoring husband and purring kitties.

that photo is from Rehoboth from last year. Whenever we go to the beach either it's too cold, too rough, or somebody doesn't feel well. I love the ocean. However, with my eyesight, it doesn't love me without a keeper. Still, to fall asleep to the sound of the waves is a joy unparallelled.

The things that change - or don't

2010-07-24T18:03:00.001-04:00

Sometimes my days feel just like this squirrel - hanging on and trying to blend in.

As I sit waiting for my General Tsao Tofu to cool and hoping that my wine doesn't get warm in exhange, I have to think again about the whirl-bout this life of mine has taken.

I do a lot of Live Journal as part of a Parkinson's Filter. Not to hide, but rather to protect the feelings of my lovely and quite guiltridden husband who feels I got the short end of the stick in this marriage.

No - if anyone got the short end it was him when he threw caution into the winds and chose me. All I can say in my behalf is at least I'm adaptable.

I wonder if Mom's first husband will call this weekend in a desperate attempt to keep her alive while speaking with me. Much like me, he is not only without Mom but also apparently quite alone. Being a surrogate nearly-everything from Grandmother to caregiver to sister, I find myself in the role as surrogate daughter. Odd legacy that Mom (still known in many parts as The Wild Granny) has left me. Diamond earrings and a first husband who never attained closure.

I wonder if I will hear from my wayward youngest child who still has yet to accept responsibilities for his actions. When I put up the hard-line, he chose a geographical cure and moved with his father. His father, not being one to deal with angst well, gave in and now wayward child has decamped on yet another geographical cure. Little does he realize that I only wish him well and happy. Perhaps one day, he will.

I wonder if I will find an impromptu party has cropped up next door with my resident drag-queens (their choice of title) and if it's a slumber party like last years blizzard was...and if so, if I need to find more appropriate slumber gear as to not be underdressed with my lack of sequins and fringe.

I wonder most of all how I will ever find the patience to keep going though somehow it happens. Somehow the sun returns each morning and the sun leaves each evening. As such, I shall continue.

I took the photo above in summer 2007 in Washington DC. Don't pet the squirrels -- they're bold brave creatures who are not above biting if the hand they investigate holds nothing but a camera.

A-Z

2010-07-22T07:58:00.000-04:00

A-Z. Opposites.

I work with a lot of As. A LOT of As. The As are fond of reading me the latest political scandal with a healthy dose of "well you know what that means don't you"?

No really what does that mean? Well it means [insert conjecture taken] which will mean [insert bad thing that could happen].

Really? Cite Your Source.

Actually Cite Your Source has gotten me in corporate hot water before. When I was asked if I saw hearing on [insert hearings] I said yes because I had. Then I was told "well according to [insert famous/infamous radio talk show personality] that [person speaking at hearings] was acting like that because he deliberately didn't take his medicine so he'd look bad.

Really? interesting. Person in question has Parkinsons. As a spouse of someone with that debilitating illness, I'm fairly aware of the effects of the drugs - dyskinesia. (though I can't spell it obviously - I know the effects). When I brought this information to the person self-appointed to educate me, he had nothing. Obviously - because the Parkinson's Medication actually causes the effects you're attributing to not taking it.

Disinformation. I hate that. Then of course it was if [person speaking at hearings] gets his way then [insert bad thing that could happen] and [insert more bad things] and [OMG the boogey man].

Should. Could. Bad Thing. Or Else. Because.

These are words/phrases we use to control children. They're not quantifiable, which gives them their power.

Because why. Because I said so. Because that's what [insert person of prominence/importance] said.

Cite your sources. Not out of context, not from a YouTube video, not second hand.

Yet we find ourselves bound by these very things. The fear that Else (or Elsewhere in the case of The Giver) brings. And in that fear, we give up our control to another person. Who is to say that other person is brighter, smarter, more educated that we are? I think I proved above that no matter how famous/infamous you are, there's a risk that I know more. Now there's a scary thought.

Until we open the closet door and expose the boogeyman to be nothing more than clothes on hangers and shoes on the floor, until we stand and say "Because WHAT?", we're like frightened children cowering in the dark, helpless to do anything but go to the person in power for guidance.

I am not an A. Nor am I a Z. I most closely resemble an R (though I suspect Harold is more of a V), and I am so tired of having what I believe, think, decide to be handed down like so much pablum being fed to infants.

All I want is Truth Justice and the American Way

without the cape of course - we all remember what happened to Metaman and Thunderhead. Why? because Edna told us - didn't you know?

**the photo taken above is of Jake - a lovely cat we were fortunate to foster for 3 years until the end of his life. That is his 'church lady' look - or more appropriately, Jake the Skeptic. Would that we all viewed life with a little more Jake.

Y!360 Flashback - Letter to My Younger Self

2010-07-21T12:18:00.000-04:00

this post was originally written on Yahoo 360, 11/21/06

Stephanie,
I know you won't pay a lick of attention to this because let's face it, at 18 you think you know everything. What you don't realize is the world is ahead of you and if you just think it through you'll find there are so many more options than you see now.

I probably should tell you that sometime in January 83 (the date escapes me now) whatever rather haphazard birth control you're using will fail and yes the doctors have been wrong all this time. It is NOT the end of the world and so many people want to support whatever decisions you make. These people are not the ones screaming at you that you're ruining their life - these are the people who do truly love you. MARRIAGE IS A CHOICE !!!! When you're so very ill in mid summer you do not have to turn to someone who lives their life in a bottle. Other family members are there but they don't know how to approach you. You've always been so very brittle about accepting help.

What you don't realize in your fear, knowing that the father is an alcoholic who's family despises you and who you find you trust less and less, what you need to remember, is this little guy who will be appearing in your life in November will be the most important person in your life. Don't worry about keeping a family together or stopping a very dedicated alcoholic from drinking himself to death: pick yourself up - DO NOT MOVE BACK IN WITH YOUR MOTHER !! - and take your son and LEAVE.

Remember you can do anything if you only put your mind to it. You'll find that out MUCH further down the road. Pride is a wicked wicked fault of yours - pride and fear. You need to lose both.
I want you to do 3 easy things:
Quit smoking
Go back to school - major in computer science - you're good at it - and minor in music. Scholarships are your friends.
Learn to believe IN YOURSELF !!!

Oh and on a sad note: take pictures, save memories - all you can - of Debbie. You'll lose her much much too soon and you'll regret forever that you have so little tangible to remember her by. Cherish her while she's with you. Ask her counsel - she really does know you best and will tell you the truths I am trying to convey here.

signed: a much older and sadly wiser Stephanie

p.s. When you finally DO move out on your own with Robert - do NOT get married again - at least not for a very long time. Needing you or the semblence of such does not equate love. You have always been so worthy of love if you only realized that sooner your life (and others) would've been much easier. Also - go track Gary Gackstatter down - he should be roaming around Ponca City - and keep track of him. He'll be important to your music - and sanity - later.

**the photo is from Rehoboth Beach July 2009

Dusting off the cobwebs

2010-07-21T08:31:00.000-04:00

The things that have changed since the last time I wrote in here. Too many to list, many too mundane to count. Small things. Large things. Seemingly insurmountable things that are somehow scaled, then put behind in readiness for another day, another situation.

As you can see, Harold has been peeking out from where he's wont to hide when things get rough. When the going gets tough, my muse heads for quieter places. A gift of a new camera, coaxed him back for a bit and then somehow he wanted to talk again -- go figure. While I bemoaned his gift of whispering to me in the shower, I find I miss it, startling though it could be.

The year of 46 has been a time of rediscovery and reinvention. I'm finding myself slowly doing things that are best for me instead of the concern of everyone else. I've decided to become a vegetarian. We all know that I loathe anything that tends to get in a muss up the works. Even though I'm currently on maintenance medication, I loathe that as well, however necessary it may be. I'm in hopes that this path will eventually relieve me from that burden.

As for the monkeys, I've decided to abandon my re-discovered love affair with nicotine. I had quit for quite a few years but when things went south, I aimed for the most readily available crutch. That monkey is a mean, hungry monkey, but once it's off my back, I shall be happier. I've also decided to quit feeding the caffeine junky. It helps Jon. It helps me.

This is still forever and always will be Harolds Blog. He named it after all and no I still have no inkling from whence the name came. However, in a rare moment of generosity, he has allowed some of Stephanie's personal life to visit because where would he get his flamboyant nature except from the colors and pallets of my past. Pieces and patchworks of what mountain to be scaled will materialize here and there as always with a sprinkling of my muses sardonic wit - and captured memories.

I personally wanted to rename this blog To Touch The Sky. Harold quietly told me to get my own blog if I had issues.

One does not argue with one's muse.

the photo above was taken at Virginia Beach May of 2010. It was a bit of a pilgrimage for me as I'd left before age 3 and never been back. We all know how Harold loves the water, witnessed by the photos taken.

Harold's blog

2009-02-06T05:04:00.004-05:00

This always has been (and forever will be) Harold's blog. As you can probably tell, Harold decamped for quite a bit My picky muse doesn't deal well with stress and angst and the last year has rather redefined those. Plus I'm quite afraid my Celexa puts a damper on the Harold input as well.

A psychologist would probably say that's a good thing. I most definitely beg to disagree. Life without Harold is a rather bleak existence.

In the last year - yes it's been nearly a year (February 26th in fact it will be a year) it's been a constant struggle to find out exactly who I am without the constant worry about another person. Yes Jon's still around but he's pretty self-sufficient. I'm talking about the gaping void left when you find you were the unwilling co-dependent for someone with a mental illness and then that burden is suddenly gone. It's pretty scary to realize that you can work 24 hours a day or sleep 12 or go somewhere without constantly worrying what will happen -- or worse -- what crisis you will come home to. I have a better understanding of what long term prisoners must feel upon release and realizing there is a life out there but you just don't know what to do with it. Yeah - effectively been there in a small way.

Life with Celexa? eh not great but it definitely took the edge off. Due to some rather unfortunate side effects I tend to have on any mood altering medication, the physicians are a bit afraid to increase the dosage even though at time's I've begged. They're rightly concerned. It's a balancing act, and anyone who knows me well knows balance just isn't my strong suit.

Bit by bit though, I hear or see or think something a bit outside the box and think "Hi Harold". He's developed into a bit of a cynic of late but that can be easily forgiven. It's easy to forget how fragile a muse can be and if this last year (3 years in fact) have been rough on me, they must've been truly hideous for him.

Piece by piece I'm rediscovering. Piece by piece, Harold is speaking again - yes still in the shower, or most recently, in the quiet dawn when I go outside for my cigarette, in the times when I'm IPODing it and find a song I don't remember downloading -- well there he is. He's there in the rather obscure - but somehow enamouring - lyrics of Deacon Blues; he's there in Moonlight Feels Right (and he must be psychic because he always loved that song --- even before I knew where Easton Maryland was); and even sometimes he itches for the ivories. Not often - but sometimes.

Piece by piece, step by step, slow whispered message by slow whispered message.

Harold - I've missed you so.

******
This was from my birthday in Baltimore last year. It's taken out of the window @ Koopers - a rather nice pub in Fells Point. Of course Harold couldn't pass up the chance to investigate a new pub :)

Baltimore

2008-07-27T08:03:00.002-04:00

Finally the Baltimore pics are up.

Eventually I'll have a blog of more substance but for now - pictures.

So I took Harold to the water ....

2008-07-16T13:15:00.004-04:00

I know I had promised photos of Baltimore and I will eventually. However, last weekend Jon and I went to Geneva Ohio for the Great Lakes Medieval Faire (review eventually) and -- of course -- Mine (and Harold's) first view of Lake Erie.

Definitely awe inspiring.

I loved the combination of resort town feel with down home country charm.

I think we'll be back.

Meanwhile --- photos:

G'mornin Harold

2008-07-04T05:25:00.007-04:00

I have to laugh at that - having your muse wake you just to say good morning.

Then again there are worse things.

I find myself for the first time in literally ages longing for my camera. I literally itch for it. The photos I wish to take, the areas I long to photograph and chronicle, places new to discover and places to rediscover.

It's been a long time since I've felt that.

Perhaps it's the age old excitement over turning another year older. Perhaps it's just the blissful idea of no concrete plans, no demands, for the next 3 days.

Perhaps -- just perhaps -- the idea of a few pints in Fells Point wooed my picky muse.

Either way, there will be pictures this weekend :)

*****

The photo above was taken of The Inner Harbor in Baltimore from the walk by Rusty Scupper winter 2007. Oh yes, there will be Rusty Scupper in my future this weekend as well ;)

Harold insisted :)

2008-06-25T05:18:00.008-04:00

Since this year July 4th falls on a Friday and July 5th falls on a Saturday, Jon and I decided to spend that weekend in Baltimore. Yes I know it's a little bit silly (just a little) when we're so close but I remember the unending marathon of 2006 when it was so very hard to get OUT of Baltimore after fireworks. With a hotel room, this won't happen. We're also staying in a lovely lil area 1/2 between Fells Point and The Inner Harbor -- Little Italy.

Yes pictures will be taken. These are the photos from July 4 2006.

Besides, I've been to The Capitol for July 4th celebrations and frankly I think Baltimore is more user friendly and has much nicer fireworks displays. When faced with the lovely idea of a 3 day weekend and where to celebrate Independence Day AND my birthday it really was a no brainer.

Of course Harold insisted I let it be known -- in case anybody happens to wander up Baltimore way and wants to say hi.

We may do a tour, we might do another visit to Poe House (which I've not photographed before), we may just wander around Fells Point and Little Italy -- the plans are deliberately loose. We don't have to get a spot and be locked in (ala The Capitol last I was there) and hey if it rains (which less than friendly people have taunted me with) then by damned it rains.

It's not like we'll melt or anything .....

*****
The photo above is from July 4, 2006, (Inner Harbor Baltimore) where I found that allllll day plus hours getting out afterwards rather takes the joy out of the excursion ;)

Harold's Blog

2008-06-17T04:43:00.006-04:00

wait? Harold's blog?

As a matter of fact .....

*****

In all honesty, this blog (with it's rather oddish title) was at Harold's back during the hightime glory days of Y!360. Sometimes things just wanted to be put on paper -- ok well in cyberspace anyway -- that wasn't of a social blogging nature.

This was it.

Later it was where I started working through the multiple illnesses with Mom and Jon's diagnosis. Here is where I said the things that could -- and probably would -- get me blasted on the more social platforms.

In a desperate attempt to re-woo my picky muse, I'm converting this back to "Harold's blog". It won't have angst (maybe snark though - he is a snarky lil bugger), it might have poetry (or prose) and more than likely more photos. Those are still Harold's favorite mode of expression.

On That Note: have you ever just watched the hands of a gifted magician? No no no -- NOT to catch how he or she does the 'trick'. I'm talking about the grace of movement of sleight of hand. It's rather a ballet in and of itself.

Haven't noticed? Take a look sometime. Remember, magic is where you find it -- you have only to take a moment to notice.

*****

The photo above is from Virginia Renaissance Faire 2007. Sometimes it's the little things you find in the out of the way places that bring the most joy. For such a small faire it's truly one of our favourites.

A series of partially related thoughts:

2008-06-04T08:27:00.005-04:00

subtitled One Too Many Blogs

I took that picture last year of Mom's roses. She insisted we simply MUST have tea roses in front of the house. I'm not exactly a rose person. However I caved and we planted them. When she fell ill in January and into February, I made mention that I hoped she'd be able to see them bloom this year. She didn't make it that long. I'm still sorting out the mess she had made with her name (and the multiple name changes), with some property she sold on contract, and the lack of a will. She is still currently residing on her dresser in her old room because no action feels quite right: everything I consider doing with her ashes seems wrong. I guess when in doubt do nothing eh? Sometimes that is the best solution. Other times .....

We recently had to do a medication change for Jon. He and the Mirapex had MAJOR issues. Ignoring it did not make it go away either. I blogged about it on Life's Little Ironies - I won't go into it here except to say thank goodness that part is partially fixed. Now to wait on a fix for Parkinsons.

Speaking of Life's Little Ironies - Wordpress currently apprears to be my main blog. I had it hidden for a while but then decided why not eh? I still cannot quite get back on the social networking merry-go-round. I try and try and it just seems like too much work. Actually quite a bit of life seems like too much.

Which leads me to this: unless I feel markedly better in the next few weeks, I think I will visit my physician regarding anti-depressants. Actually I've had clinical depression before. This doesn't feel like it. This feels more like the PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) I had back in 1991 only I don't freak when it rains. It just feels like everyone is moving 100 mph and I'm moving about 35 and I wake up in the middle of the night with my mind racing over all the things that simply must be done. However I can't link this feeling to one event. Then again there's been quite a lot of chaos in my life in the last 6 months from Mom's stroke, illness, cancer diagnosis and death to Jon's Parkinson's diagnosis, to issues with his mother's estate ... it definitely hasn't been quiet and calm.

Which leads me back full circle to Mother's roses. We lost one of them. Sort of symbolic yes? I will replant with a red one - she would've liked that.

Photo above was taken just before the April snowstorm 2007

Staking my claim

2008-05-23T08:27:00.005-04:00

I am hereby reclaiming my life.

I cannot choose how others act but I can choose how I re-act to their actions.

I cannot always choose the circumstances, but I can choose to adapt to them.

I have the power over how I feel.

*******
I've been slacking off recently, not going to the gym and not watching what I eat, all in the guise of "well I've been depressed." Guess what? That's Bullshit. Yes some things have happened recently. Some of them have been posted here. Some have been posted elsewhere. Some just conveyed quietly to friends. Still other things I have been quietly attempting to deal with on my own.

So yes it sucks - majorly - many of the things that have happened in the last few years. However, I have my health, I have my job, and dammit I have my choices.

Henceforth, I will be responsible for myself and my choices.

I choose:

To watch what I eat, when I eat and more importantly what I eat
To excercise with some semblence of regularity because it makes ME feel good
To attempt to learn a new task or skill each day
To live without the actions of other affecting my behaviour
To live without fear or regret
To understand that Jon's disease is just that - his disease and his responsibility
To focus on the positive
To understand each new day is just that - a new day; a new beginning.

So that's that. Sometimes it just has to be said. Sometimes it has to be read.
Sometimes it just has to be.
*****
I took the photo above last year in Washington. The city squirrels are afraid of nothing. That chutzpah is something I rather admire. Perhaps I should take a page from their book eh?

Why is it 3:30 in the a.m.?

2008-05-19T03:41:00.004-04:00

...and what am I not in bed?

The answer to that is simple: snoring. Mine? no.

It's been just my fortune to not only have a spouse with Parkinson's but one who snores and snores LOUD. Loud enough that when I'm upstairs with the door shut and the television on I can still hear him. In bed? Oh please.

Sometimes I almost expect the neighbors to call.

So I'm often up and awake at ungodly hours because I cannot bring myself to forbid him his bed. I'm often up and awake because the noisy darlin just can't seem to understand how loud he is. After begging for years for a sleep study, I've finally given up and simply greet the dawn with a yawn instead of a smile.

Yes it's 3:30 a.m. and now it's coffee time -- dawn is just around the corner.

*****

the photo above is from Spoutwood Farm in Pennsylvania home of the PA Fairie Festival. The early morning mist reminds me of dawn breaking in the mountains.

...but you don't really?

2008-05-16T09:55:00.004-04:00

do you?

I often have Yahoo Messenger up and running while I'm at work. It's quite simple: we have offices in multiple states. I work at corporate. Therefore there are times when it's easiest -- and best -- to communicate with the branch offices via IM rather than email or phone.

The downside to this is the trolls that sometimes wander up on YIM.

Often I get the typical "hello gorgeous" (which is funny because my profile doesn't have a picture) or "whachooo doin" (working) or any number of ordinary pickup lines. However the braver ones try to get an entre by commenting on the music I listen to (which is reflected on messenger). Most often it's highly critical.

Most common is the argument of "but you don't really listen to that do you?" "No really?" "Nobody listens to classical music."

I do.

I find it soothing to listen to at work. Yes sometimes I have classic rock and sometimes smooth jazz but the most often is yes - classical.

Maybe that is what separates the men from the boys - or in this case, the true music lovers from those who just want background noise. You'll find that those of us who love music, those of us who love it enough to minor in it in college and take classes, listen to the masters often. We enjoy the beauty, the peace, the magic of the great works. Some of us prefer opera. Others of us prefer Baroque but not opera, rather symphonies. Some prefer chamber music, others embrace the Russian composers. I have a strong leaning toward the Sturm and Drang movement of the Classical era. In fact The Classical Era is my favorite era of music as well as some of the Late Baroque and Early Romantic Eras.

Bonus? I've found a great way to rid myself of the trolls. They tend to rapidly retreat, no doubt licking their confused wounds, when I attempt to explain to them that Ave Maria is not "Classical" music but is in fact Baroque signified by the .... and that's about the time they chime in with Thank you bye !

hehehe

SCORE !

*****

the photo taken above is one of the follies at the Pennsylvania Fairie Festival.

Sometimes it's just another day

2008-05-11T05:13:00.003-04:00

No I don't subscribe to the whole Mother's Day being a Hallmark Holiday. However, sometimes it *is* just another day.

Last year we took Mom to Rusty Scupper for Mother's Day Brunch. Mother's Day was a big thing to her. Let's be honest: any day where she got flowers and candy and taken out to eat was a big thing to her. Last year Robert lived here.

This year Mom is gone. This year Robert is in Virginia working and with the price of gasoline I can easily see him not coming to visit. This year Montana is apparently (at least according to the ex) too busy all day long to call.

This year it's just another day.

Yesterday we did our out-to-eat at The Cheesecake Factory. That way we're not fighting the crowds today. Yesterday we did our visit to The Mall in Columbia, again so we're not fighting the crowds today. Jon and I are both rather pragmatic. On present days we simply take each other to go purchase what we wish. He has taught me that part of the joy is in watching me pick and choose. Of the plunder yesterday were a great pair of canvas peep toe sling back sandals, a bright red purse, and some rather lovely pieces of silver jewelry.

Today I am working on organizing the garb and turning Mom's old room into the garb room. Today I am moving around her furniture: some to stay in the room to be used, some to be moved to other places in the house. Today I am going through her jewelry another time to find homes for some of it and through her pictures to get them sent to friends and family.

Just another day.

********

I took that photo last year on Mother's Day of Rusty Scupper.

Whatever happened to ????

2008-05-06T04:47:00.005-04:00

I have to wonder whatever happened to customer service. I see it in so many different little ways, where we - as the customer - should be grateful to be helped.

However, I'm finding in the land of donated items it's worse.

Mother had an odd request: before her death, she had requested her clothing, shoes, etc be donated to AmVets. Attempting to honor that request, I sent an email to the AmVets website with an explanation that my mother - a Korean era Army Veteran - had requested her personal items be donated with them and that she had quite a few nice items.

I received an impersonal email stating to call ###-###-####. I called. I go through the schpiel again. I am interrupted to be informed that they won't have a truck available until sometime in June.

June? oooookkaaaayy. So I think, well - maybe a Veterans Affiliated donation place would work eh? What about Purple Hearts?

They have never returned my call. Yes I left the schpiel.

What about the Vietnam Vets place in Silver Spring? Well I emailed them because the online request for pickup gives a server error. They were supposed to acknowledge if they were available for pickup this Thursday. That's their scheduled date in this area but you just never know.

I have yet to hear from them either.

Seeing as how she had over 15 bags full of shoes, bags and coats and other sundry items in EXCELLENT shape and that I would just LOVE to donate, you would think I could find someone who would come get them? Maybe someplace to tell me where I can even drop them off?

Apparently not. Apparently free items are just a bit too much effort.

Her garb is not up for donation - it is already promised at her request - to the MS Prepare For Faire Sale. I will say this; if I don't hear from the last Vets place this week, I'll catch Cyd and see if our local MS chapter is interested.

*******

the photo was taken July 4, 2007 when a storm system came though.

Baby steps

2008-04-30T04:31:00.007-04:00

I have a ton of different blog ideas roaming my brain but the urge to put them down just isn't there at the moment. I'm hoping the ideas stay until the desire to blog returns. If not then perhaps others will fill the vacuum.

I'm not certain how much of this apathy is the turmoil of the last 6 months and how much is the fact that my favorite blogging platform just isn't available at the moment. For those who know Harold, you remember he isn't fond of angst and being the picky muse he is, he decamps when I'm feeling emotionally out of sorts. For those who know Yahoo 360, well you know that it is all but dead in the water at the moment. Perhaps the new platform will renew a spark.

Baby steps: I think I have most of the paperwork surrounding Mom's estate taken care of save for a possible life insurance policy. Fortunately it was more simple in ways that I had assumed it would be. The years of contributing increasing amounts to Mother's expenses (as well as providing room and board gratis) is not without a tiny reward. Something about providing funeral home expenses being a tier 1 expense --- which translates to we pay ourselves first. Sadly there's not even enough to do that. Then again, I didn't step up for possible reward. It's just what you do.

We're also doing the slow conversion of 'her' room into the garb room. Don't get me wrong, Mom will still have her place on her dresser but I'll be moving the renfaire things from the other room to 'hers'. That will free my guest bedroom. Now to attempt to find a donation place to come get her things and hold her faire items for the MS Prepare for Faire sale. Bulk pickup is today.

Baby steps.

There is a blog in here somewhere about what it's like to be an empty nester for the first time in my life; to have a string of days where I don't have to check in on someone, where I don't have to bank sick days for another's potential illnesses. Perhaps another day.

******

the photo above is of The Wharf Rat in Fells Point (Baltimore) taken during the Pirate Invasion/Privateer Day this year. A good friend of mine held a toast to Granny here. As The Wild Granny was Keeper Of The Rum, we had a rum toast. She would've approved.

Happy Easter

2008-03-23T04:58:00.004-04:00

What a different Easter this one is.

Last year I had Robert and Mom for here for Easter. I remember trying to find things that Mom would want to eat (picky eater) and listening to her remember back when we colored dozens of eggs for the kids to hide ... Easters on the farm, Easters back in Newkirk.

This year it's just Jon and myself. This is my first holiday without Mom. Yes that sounds strange but Mom never had husbands -- or inlaws -- for very long so holidays revolved around making her feel welcome and not alone. Especially as an adult, holidays were held at my house and yes Mom was always in attendence.

Jon did suggest going out to eat but I need to see who/what I am when I'm not tayloring holiday meals around someone who doesn't like pasta, doesn't like scalopped potatoes, doesn't like ham . This year for Easter it's ham, macaroni and cheese (homemade thankyouverymuch), green beans, salad, and carrot cake and to be very strange, part of this morning will be spent at the gym.

OK so it's different - yes I realize that - but it *is* a start.

**the picutre was taken last year @ Easter and you'll notice we had a bit of a snowstorm. This year it's forecasted for flurries but I don't see that happening ......

The mist of dreams

2008-03-14T08:30:00.005-04:00

or perhaps in the midst of dreams?

In coming to grips with my mother's passing, I find at times I'm coping so much better than expected and at other times not coping at all.

Yes it's difficult to write that even now.

For the first week I felt so very fragile that Jon was basically concerned about leaving me alone for more than a few moments. It was a new feeling to me. Fragile. I'm never fragile nor have I ever been.

Thankfully that feeling has passed.

In its wake though are the strangest forms of dreams. Most revolve around me having to convince my mother she truly is dead. Her reply is always the same "Stephanie you are so full of shit your eyes should've been brown." Tacky tacky but a favorite phrase she used to use on me when I was a child. So I tell her repeatedly that no I held her hand while she slipped away and I watched her stop breathing and I even checked her carotid pulse to see if/when it stopped. At that point she always (in my dream) tells me "You just don't know what you're talking about." (said quite sarcastically - again another favorite of hers). So I argue with her and finally tell her she's in a box on her dresser in her room and I'll just take her in there to show her.

And -- in the dream -- I do. And when I see the box her reflection in the mirror is gone.

Then I wake up.

They're not quite as startling as one would think -- especially from a veteran of nightmares and night terrors. Typically one would also think that this means she's still roaming about ... I don't think so.

I think this is really *me* trying to convince myself she's gone. For one thing most of the sarcasm wasn't directed at me at the last --- she was quite frightened and I was literally her life preserver. That meant she tempered her temper with me. Also the Mom of my dreams is the visage from about 3 years ago ... right about the time she moved out here. Back when she was vibrant and full of life.

Maybe I want so very badly to remember that time that my dreamworld is reminding me it's not the case.

Maybe I'm just not quite ready to let go - even though I know I should, even though I know it's time, even though I know she is finally at peace.

the photo above was taken spring of 2006 from the Clipper City Clipper Ship cruise Jon and I took. It's of the lights in Baltimore Inner Harbor as we returned back. Mom didn't go on that cruise because she was afraid of being that long without extra oxygen and by the time the next one came around she was too ill to go anymore.

The long night's journey into day

2008-02-27T05:45:00.005-05:00

It is amazing the changes that just a few days can make in your life.

Mom passed away yesterday afternoon. She had appeared to be making a rally attempt last weekend and was able to talk (instead of being hoarse ala laryngitis) and was pretty critical of life -- in other words rather like her normal self. Monday night I noticed she was pretty weak and shakey but still a bit demanding so I wasn't that concerned. I figured she was just very tired -- she was also on some new medications.

Then late Monday night she was sent to the hospital in respiratory distress. She wasn't conscious or responding really. Due to her advance directives she wasn't supposed to be intubated but that information wasn't available to the emergency physicians -- at first anyway.

I will say as soon as they realized they asked what I wanted done. Since she wasn't conscious so I couldn't ask her, I went with what we'd discussed the week before and what her papers said ... no extraordinary means.

They removed the intubator and just put her on 15 litres of O2 (via rebreather mask) and IV (in case she needed pain meds ), and placed her in the hospice room upstairs. It's a nice quiet private room with comfy sofas and chairs and no monitors. A nice room -- except for the reason for it that is.

Jon and I were there when she began the long journey that night and we were there when it ended yesterday afternoon.

I know it's actually a blessing this has went all so very fast -- only 3 weeks really -- from the original ambulance call late on a Wednesday night 3 weeks ago to the dismissal from the hospital to the rehab hospital 1 1/2 weeks ago to her death yesterday. We only found out about the lung cancer last week. She was due to have an oncology appointment next Tuesday when we'd discuss hospice and palliative care options. We were still working on paperwork.

I know it's a blessing in my head -- realli I do. My heart just knows she's gone.

*****

***the photo above was taken in February 2006. Mom loved the snow and would take pictures and pictures of it (though this picture is mine -- she preferred the non digital method). Earlier this week I noticed a few spring flowers trying to peek through the cold ground and I realized Mom would probably never see the spring. Sadly I was right.

Sharing a memory

2008-02-24T17:31:00.004-05:00

sometimes things just happen - I prefer to think they're more than coincidence.

Yesterday evening Jon and I went to Team Wench's 2008 Privateer Feast (for breast cancer research) which is basically where a bunch of us dress up like pirates, eat food, drink whatever we brought, share stuff, hug, cry, and listen to some great music. It is all for a great cause and one that we're very happy to help support

It just so happened as I was wandering through the raffle room - seeing what I might want to purchase tickets for - that I heard this song:

Of course this will probably not mean much to most of you but for me it was a memory of Mom's portable record player and the boxes and boxes of 45s. The man singing the song (Son of Strum - John Durant Jr.) was rather baffled by my mouthing allll the words. But then again this was one I knew very well as it was one of Mom's favorites. It gave me a happy moment. Those have been so very few and far between recently.

I just wish I would've thought to phone her during the performance and had her listen -- she would've loved it.

the photo above was taken at the last song when all the acts get on stage to sing at once.

Guilt, recriminations, and the mantle of responsibility

2008-02-21T07:52:00.005-05:00

We finally have a definitive diagnosis on Mom: primary lung cancer with mets to the lymph nodes and possibly other areas/organs. We're waiting on a PET scan for that.

I find it a tad ironic that there are visits with an oncologist and discussions of chemotherapy when the woman weighs 90 +/- pounds and has no reserves. She'd never survive the treatment...even if it was an option.

Hospice is the next order of business. Well next after she is released (if she is released) from the rehab hospital.

I will quite possibly find myself caring for my mother while she breathes her last. This is not something to take lightly given the - at times - the friction in our relationship. However, she knows as well as I that I'm trained to do it -- I did this for years. It's not something that is easy.

It *is* possible though.

We don't know how long she has left. Well not officially. I look at her and wonder if 'months' is being overly optimistic. Her time left could easily be measured in weeks or even days.

I'm so very thankful for Jon. The poor man understands me well enough to know that I need to be able to plan and think to table the grief for a bit. He knows, he understands, he allows me to deal with this the best way for me.

For that I will love him always.

the picture above was taken on the Duck's Tour Washington DC 2007 on the Potomac River.

Guilt

2008-02-12T04:49:00.000-05:00

Mother has been in the hospital the last few days -- near to a week in fact. Again, bad choices made in her youth, unwise choices made as an adult, and other contributory factors are involved. The choices we may have to make aren't easy ones.

So why are Jon and I having guiltful pleasures? Simply put, it's a rare moment when I've not had someone dependent upon me. In fact, in my entire adult life, I've nearly always had someone dependent upon me for one thing or the other. First it was Robert, then Montana, and now Mother.

I try to devise menus that incorporate foods she will deign to eat though she usually won't. We adjust our eating times for the optimal time for her to eat (again even though she usually won't). We adjust our lives around Mom's schedule.

This weekend Jon and I cooked what we chose, ate late, lingered at the table talking .....

...ahhh here comes the guilt.

Yes I know it's not being perfectly horrid to enjoy a day or two free of the mantle of caring for someone who is - quite frankly - a real bear to care for. Make her mad and you'll dance to her tune for literally weeks until her tissy fit subsides. Let her get bored and she'll call either her doctor or the ambulance. She's very sad and it takes come rather creative contortions to keep her happy and in some semblence of health. Sadly this has been my responsibility since birth and this responsibility will not cease until she breathes her last. It's a heavy weight but one I'm quite used to. I've over 40 years experience ....

So - to breathe a sigh of relief as the weight is passed -- if even for a fleeting moment -- to another. Guilt? yes. The guilt comes in waves. If she doesn't come home the guilt will be far worse I fear.

For now I breathe. For today I relax ... because I've no idea what tomorrow will bring.

**the picture above is of the February snow of 2006. They're predicting snow for today and I'm already dreading the drive to the hospital tonite.

I am anonymous

2008-02-04T04:45:00.002-05:00

OK so you know no I'm not. I have this page linked multiple places. Anonymous Spaghetti was Harold's invention and frankly he's still not telling me where it came from.

No what I'm talking about now is anonymous comments. I've left my different blog platforms open to non screened comments and yes I allow anonymous ones. I usually have to delete them as they're frankly spam but I get a few I let through.

Here's the deal though: why would someone comment - why would someone go through the effort of commenting -- and then leave it as 'anonymous'? Are they frightened of their own name? Are they in the witness protection program? Could they not come up with a decent alias?

---or--- is it just because they're trolls

Oh yeah right first time ;)

**the photo above was taken at the Pennsylvania Renaissance Faire in 2006 of a wonderful sculpture at a shop.

Waiting waiting waiting

2008-02-01T07:22:00.001-05:00

Last week I joined a gym. It had been a long time coming and it was really needed. Since I've moved here I've been pretty sedentary what with no yard to mow, no cows to milk, no huge gardens [side note - my back yard is smaller than my smallest garden in Kansas] ... you get the drill. I'd been sitting on my butt ...

....which has gotten bigger and bigger. Add to that the fact that I quit smoking via the cheezits method (a box a day for a while --- I wish I was kidding but hey I've been smoke free for 6 years this March 24th) and my shape was not a good shape.

I'm also worried about the health concerns. I'm a near-to-mid-40s female. If I don't fix it now it won't ever get fixed.

So yes --- I ponied up the $$$ to join Golds. I even ponied up a few more $$$ to get a personal trainer for a few sessions. I figure in for a penny in for a pound and all that jazz...besides it had to be done so I gritted my teeth ....

....and found I actually like it. No really -- there's just something rather wonderful about doing something for yourself and no one else ! Even if other people have to wait --- they have to wait :) That hour per day is mine and whoa does it ever go FAST ! However, I came home last night to find that Jon had started supper for me and everything. That hasn't happened in forever.

Maybe this gym thing has some other extra perks eh?

Maybe sometimes being a little bit selfish isn't a bad thing after all .....

**the picture above is of Archimedes -- my oldest son's Russian Blue. I took that last summer and it's of Archimedes watching for his 'daddy' to come home. Oddly - the Ford Escape he's looking at happens to *be* Robert's car ......

The journeys that take us

2008-01-25T07:31:00.001-05:00

I'm constantly amazed at how things change and how they stay the same. Nothing is ever quite stagnant; nothing constant no matter how familiar.

We grow.

We change.

We evolve.

I'm currently quite silent in the world of social networking/social blogging. I've tried to go back to it and it's just not there for me anymore. Some of this could be due to the changes in 360 that made my fairly popular blog unreachable by myself and others, it could be the changes in my personal life that have me more focused on the here and now rather than cyberland, it could be that - as a blogger - I'm changing and evolving.

While sad, I doubt that's a bad thing all told.

So for now I climb the ride and find where it takes me .....

....and invite any of you along for the trip if you wish .....

**the photo above was taken of a very cooperative gull along the Severn River, Summer 2007

Things that make you go hmmmmm

2008-01-24T07:26:00.002-05:00

WASHINGTON (CNN) -- A passenger who went through an airport security checkpoint -- before remembering that he had a loaded gun -- is facing charges after going back to report his error, authorities said.

Gregory Scott Hinkle, 53, of Davis, West Virginia, went through a Transportation Security Administration checkpoint at Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport about 7:30 a.m. Sunday, an airport spokeswoman said.

The rest of the story is here.

Basically the TSA contacted the airport police and he has to go to court on charges. The question I posed to my Live Journal crowd (sorry those posts are friends only) was should the man be charged? It's a difficult decision.

On one hand he most certainly broke the law and unless he's been under a rock for the last 7 years then he knows that toothpaste is iffy on carryon. Firearms? That wasn't easy to do back in the day. Now when you cannot take tweezers and manicure scissors on board, it should be blatantly obvious that a gun is a definite no go.

Then again, exactly how did that gun make it past security? Jon and I had the screeners all up in arms in 2006 when I (without thinking) tossed a package of makeup remover towelettes in his carryon. As it went through XRay the next thing I know we had 3 screeners looking and "Ma'am, Sir - you need to step this way" in a 'shoot first ask questions later' tone of voice. After they discovered what it was they wouldn't let me have it back either the turkeys.

So yes the question is raised - just how did a gun make it past security at Reagan National? just a few miles from The White House?

We definitely got off lucky ---- this time anyway.

**the picture above was taken in 2006 during the cherry blossom festival in Washington DC.

Econ 101

2008-01-18T04:19:00.001-05:00

It's really quite simple. When people have the happies they spend. When the rabbits are frightened they hoard and don't spend.

You're thinking no it's not that simple but yes it is. I don't just follow the stock market; I watch how the summer vacation/travel season is and - more importantly - how the Christmas buying season is.

This year the Christmas buying season sucked. This is a very important indicator. The rabbits are frightened and staying around the den and NOT spending. Therefore retailers are feeling the pinch and cutting jobs. Therefore unemployment has risen. You see the picture yes?

For now I'm ignoring the housing issue (in regards to this post and Econ 101) because it was a *created* mess that should've been corrected sooner. I will say this - I think lowering the interest rates to bolster confidence and encourage the frightened rabbits to spend was a good thing. Problem was they dinked with it tooooo long. It should've been allowed to self correct sooner than it was.

So - if we don't go a buying the economy suffers - is that what I'm saying? Well actually yes it is. I still find the best economic indicators are for the retailers. This doesn't mean go spend spend spend. Rather *think*. Everything best in moderation. Panic is bad. Rational thought is good.

Small movements Ellie - small movements.

***

the picture above was taken from the top of The World Trade Center -- Baltimore and it was taken of the shopping area of The Inner Harbor.

The Wild Granny

2008-01-14T09:52:00.002-05:00

Yes for those of you not familiar with The Maryland Renaissance Festival, that is what we call Mom - The Wild Granny. She's actually Keeper Of The Rum on the (virtual) pirate ship The Polly Dodger.

Mostly she just has fun. She dons garb, totes her mug, parks it at The White Hart (a pub with a stage inside the festival) and waits for visitors. You'd be shocked and amazed at how many people stop by to see her when she's there. She missed last year due to her stroke in October but the year before (autumn 2006) it was a steady stream of people until she decided she was just too tired and needed to go home.

Sadly - little did we realize then - that year was to be her last year. I can't forsee her being able to attend anymore. She can barely make it outside. She's been so very weak since her stroke. In essence she basically goes nowhere anymore. That is truly sad.

Today is her 71st birthday. After last October at times I wondered if we'd make it this far. Now I wonder if we'll make it to this milestone next year.

Enough of that: for this evening we hit Outback Steakhouse for her 2 favorites: steak and Death by Chocolate Martini. She'll come home to an icecream cake that she'll be too full to eat and will probably have some for breakfast tomorrow morning.

It is difficult to watch the passing of time knowing full well that you need to make your memories now because the tomorrows become more uncertain with each passing day. I will worry about that tomorrow --- for today we celebrate !

the picture above was taken summer of 2007 at the Virginia Renaissance Faire

the winter moon

2008-01-13T05:57:00.001-05:00

There is something peaceful about the full moon through winter bare trees.

Shining brightly, illuminating the night

So close and yet so incredibly far.

A Pang of Longing

2008-01-07T11:32:00.001-05:00

The tangy smell of sea air

The sound of the waves breaking

The sound of the gulls screech

The taste of fresh seafood

The sounds of summer laughter

I miss the water

I miss the summer

~~the photo above was taken @ Solomon's Island. The main blog picture (the waves on the sand) is of the Chesapeake Bay by Calvert Cliffs

Nourising the body/nourishing the soul

2008-01-04T16:02:00.000-05:00

Home sick today.

I don't know how much is sick and how much is sick.

Either way, a little Todd Rundgren, a little Gilbert O'Sullivan, a little Stephen Bishop and all is feeling better.

I just wish I knew an easy effective way to upload my ITunes purchases to imeem ... I'd love to share my favorite playlists.

For now just take my word for it -- they're perfect for whatever ails.

The photo above is of a wonderful stone bridge in DC. It was taken during the Duck's Tour summer 2006. I'm not familiar with which bridge it is though.

Thoughts on moving forward

2008-01-03T16:07:00.000-05:00

A new year.

A new beginning.

New thoughts. New days.

Changes. More changes.

Changes upon changes.

The changes from a year. The things that haven't changed. The things that will change in the future.

A year ago I was a prolific public blogger on Y!360. Now that blog is all but closed and awaiting whatever the fates and follies that Yahoo chooses. I have tried repreatedly to safe the entries and comments but I want to save them intact not just bits and pieces. I find I much prefer to leave it as the ghost of christmas past rather than save a skeleton.

Today. I have a few of the friends on Multiply. I find that while different, it is still the best alternative to Y!360. Note I don't say substitute because in truth it isn't: in ways it's much preferred but in others it doesn't have the magic that 360 had. Perhaps that will come with time.

I will keep this blogger because sometimes I wish to blog things that are just for me. If they're read and commented upon so be it but since this is less public that is doubtful. Often it's just a place to expound on the thoughts that roam my brain free range and without fences.

Often it's a place to make sense out of the senselessness that my life can be at times.

Sometimes --- more frequently lately --- it's a place to chart the changes that time makes.

May I look back upon this in a year with a fond smile.

May this blog celebrate the spring as well as the winter.

the picture above was taken in 2006 at The Cherry Blossom Festival in Washington DC. It is looking across the Tidal Basin at the Jefferson Memorial

End of an era

2007-12-20T08:27:00.000-05:00

Actually that's a little harsh - let's call it the changes that time makes.

In a couple of weeks I will be contacting a friend of mine who operates a music store in Takoma Park. The reason for this is to enlist his help in donating my percussion stuff: the mallets, the sticks, the auxillary equipment. I have 2 large bags of different chime mallets and orchestral bell mallets, drum sticks and timpani mallets, jingle bells, woodblocks, a kabassa, latin shakers, triangles and so much more.

These are things I accumulated over the many many years of playing with the local symphony, community band, community jazz band, and college bands.

I will never come to the emotional realization that that part of my life is over while I still have these. I've known for quite some time that my hearing isn't good enough to play anymore. It was going south over 5 years ago. I've been deluding myself that I prefer to watch television upstairs when in reality that's where it is set on closed caption. I don't go to movies because in crowded noisy areas I can't hear specific sounds -- it's all a roar.

I will never play again. Not percussion. Not with a group. Not in front of people.

Wow that was hard to write.

I *do* have a lovely digital piano that has earphones. It's not the same rush as the 32 measure roll from Russian Christmas or the gong crash in Fanfare for the Common Man -- it's definitely not timpani nor crash cymbals but it *is* music.

Maybe I can conquer my love/hate relationship with it? Only time will tell I guess.

The picture is a sculpture by Alexander Calder that is in the National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden in Washington DC. I noticed as I moved here and didn't play, my muse was drawn towards art and photography. I'm just hoping that Harold likes the piano as well. I know he'll miss the cymbals.

:) coincidence?

2007-12-02T18:30:00.000-05:00

I'm not one for glaring coincidences. However you have to wonder about this one. This was one of my favorite songs ever --- yet I was from Kansas. I had no clue where Easton was.

I know now.

Coincidence? You be the judge....

the person who did this video quite correctly used images from Ocean City, Maryland. Easton is on the Eastern Shore and the areas mentioned in the song are either Eastern Shore or Baltimore.

My photo is of Kent Island Maryland on the way to The Eastern Shore taken from the Bay Bridge across the Chesapeake Bay ;)

Can you hear me now?

2007-11-26T04:31:00.000-05:00

I just posted a comment on a friend's blog about dubbing and subtitles. I matter-of-fact stated that since I tend to have the television on closed captioning much of the time, I do better with subtitles.

I never dreamed it would come to this in my mid 40s though. Wait - not even mid 40s.

As I sit here this morning, listening to the ever increasing ringing in my ears (tinnitus), I'm reminded I've gotten quite good at little tricks and things to mostly keep this from everyone but Jon. Poor Jon -- the Parkinson's and the Parkinson's drugs tend to affect his speech. Sometimes I need sharp clear annunciation (with clear facial movements) to understand. Unfortunately, now he slurs ocassionally and his facial movements sometimes are a little soft and sluggish.

Can you hear me now?

In the chaos that tends to be my life, I have to laugh at the oddity. I have an IPod that I just received but haven't set up yet. Me - who lives in music - yet it sets nearly blank.

What if it's like my hands free cell phone feature? what if either I can't hear it or it causes pain when I can get it loud enough to hear.

Wouldn't life be wonderful if music could be closed captioned instead of just little music notes and an announcement that it *is* music?

Wouldn't it be the best if the fates didn't have a wicked sense of humour?

***

The photo above was taken summer 2006 @ The Virginia Renaissance Festival. Gary Schwartz is a gifted musician/composer who specializes in period music.

The most melancholy time of the year?

2007-11-18T07:14:00.001-05:00

Yes the changes in familial situations is finally hitting me this year. Each year prior we tried to figure out how to juggle visiting and the kids (even when they're adults they're still kids) and Mom and this year we literally have no agenda - no need to juggle. It will be just Jon, Mom, and myself. For any gifts we will probably do online and mail (ever so much easier) or $$$ (Robert's rather logical request).

The holidays have always been about family from the first time I spend Thanksgiving eve with Grandma doing the prep for the next day to even last year when I planned around a neighbor and son + girlfriend. It has always been controlled chaos. This year it appears to be organized.

That is probably the most unnerving aspect - Thanksgiving will be organized.

The shopping was disorganized though ... I guess that's a plus? heh

the photo above was taken autumn 2006 at the Maryland Renaissance Festival

I had to laugh at work today

2007-11-13T04:14:00.000-05:00

again not that Manderly quote but again I'm not an author ........

With the holidays upon us, our VP of Admin sent out a memo stating what days the offices would be closed, what days the offices would be closed early, and what times of the early closings.

We're closed Thanksgiving and the day after, Christmas Day and New Years Day. We close early (at noon) on Monday Christmas Eve and Monday New Years Eve.

This poses a rather challenging aspect to my particular position as 1) I'll have to do a 2 day job in 1 day (because of time constraints --- banks are closed on Christmas and New Years) but now 2) I'll have to do a 2 day job in about a 1/2 day 3) Christmas Eve is the last payroll of 2007 (payrolls are figured by paydate so of course Dec 31 would be paid in 2008) and as such has a lot of last minute adjustments.

My CFO (my boss) was less than sympathetic until I reminded him that it affected him as well.

Misery - it do love company :)

the photo above was taken this summer (2007) of Jake - a cat that we're currently fostering for a friend. He tends to have that look quite often -- as if he's silently judging the world

Art Sunday

2007-11-11T08:35:00.003-05:00

For today's Art Sunday I thought I'd highlight 4 of Norman Rockwell's prints - The Freedom Series. All were originally story illustrations in The Saturday Evening Post in 1943. The first is Freedom from Fear which was from the March 13, 1943 Edition.

All of these can be seen at The Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge, Massachusetts

Freedom of Speech originally an illustration from The Saturday Evening Post February 20, 1943. In 2004 this series was part of an exhibition called Norman Rockwell’s Four Freedoms: Paintings That Inspired a Nation and was displayed at The Corcoran Museum in Washington DC.

This painting is titled Freedom from Want and was originally a story illustration from The Saturday Evening Post March 16, 1943.

*****

from http://www.corcoran.org/

*****

During the height of World War II, Norman Rockwell painted four of the most powerful and enduring images in American history. Like many artists and writers, he supported the war effort by creating work inspired by President Franklin D. Roosevelt’s January 1941 State of the Union address outlining his four basic human liberties: freedom of speech, freedom of worship, freedom from want, and freedom from fear. Unlike his peers, however, Rockwell did not receive a government commission to interpret Roosevelt’s words. Instead, the Saturday Evening Post paid the Vermont artist to create the paintings for reproduction in that enormously popular weekly magazine. The four commanding images achieved the instant and widespread recognition government officials could only hope for: in four weeks during the spring of 1943 they reached millions of American living rooms through the pages of the Post.

Freedom to Worship originally a story illustration from The Saturday Evening Post February 27, 1943.

*****

For today's Art Sunday I say we honor our freedoms and the persons who lost their lives so that we may have them.

*****

"Freedom is a possession of inestimable value. " ~~ Cicero

To be Anti-social

2007-11-09T04:56:00.000-05:00

Today I had such a pang of longing for the old Yahoo 360. Of course that didn't last as I tried to check my Yahoo mail and found the system was down.

*sigh*

The things they mess up.

I do miss my online community though.

Anyway I might eventually have to cave and wander back to Multiply. This entire change came at the absolutely worst time for me -- I had just closed my page down to a very few people and BAM on multiply I had dozens of requests perday --- of people I didn't know and people I did know and people who had changed their names so I knew them but didn't think I did ... too much too fast. When I needed to circle the wagons I had chaos.

Thanks - 's all the same I had chaos at home. I didn't want more.

I still don't. Not yet.

For now I think I'll embrace my anti-sociality ... until things calm down in my personal life for a while.

the picture above is of Essie - a cat we're fostering for a friend of mine. It was taken summer 2007

What happened to Autumn?

2007-11-08T03:55:00.000-05:00

We have went from near summer weather a couple of weeks ago to snow in Erie PA this week. That might have something to do with the sense of imbalence many are feeling but I blame the Christmas music that showed up the week of Halloween.

Yes the last week in October one of my radio stations started playing Christmas Carols. This week my HR director started playing Christmas music on her XM radio.

Call me a Scrooge - you're entitled - but I refuse to turn on Christmas music until the week or so before Christmas.

Now we're seeing all the buy-me buy-me buy-me commercials. The one that (currently) sits my teeth on edge though is the one where they're all going to Grandma's house and the mother just wants to go home and open her new Best Buy package so they drive up, honk at the old woman waiting patiently on the porch, then roar away laughing.

What lesson does that teach?

I prefer one of my favorite Christmas commercials from my youth. I do apologize for the quality of the video but I bet it is enough to jog your memory:

the picture above is from Christmas 2006

Adjustments

2007-11-07T04:12:00.000-05:00

Isn't it amazing what a month can bring? It's been near to a month since the diagnosis. Since then I've learned more about Parkinson's than I ever wanted and still know basically nothing.

I now know that you cannot get life insurance with a diagnosis of Parkinsons.

I now know that you cannot get long term care insurance with that diagnosis (ok I predicted that one).

I now know that protein levels are important. Protein often makes the medications wear off too soon. Therefore we juggle when proteins are consumed.

I now know that this illness (whether the illness itself or more likely the medications) *can* affect the immune system. However the neurologist seems unconcerned over the fact that there is also history of asthma.

I now know that even though many strides are being made, not all treatments work for all patients and most things only work for a short time (in the grand scheme of long term maintenance medication).

Plans - more plans, fewer plans, what to choose to do and what not to choose.

I am picking up my health insurance at work just in case because then preexisting conditions don't come into play.

I am trying to estimate what we should invest in the house figuring that we will probably have to move to single level in 5-7 years. I hope it's not sooner. I am really hoping for more like 10 years.

I am researching bus routes and mass transit - again just in case.

I am a frequent visitor to michaeljfox.org because sometimes I have to take a break from the multitude of information out there. Small doses.

I am not sleeping. I plan even in my dreams. Plans that change, alter, rearrange in hopes of finding the best possible solution.

However - I *am* coping.

Yes the *I* word is all over this blog. He has his own blog he can blog about what he wants to blog about. This one is mine.

the picture above is just a rainy photo from out my front door taken sometime in 2006

On this date

2007-11-06T07:39:00.000-05:00

On this date last year I was still numb from the call 2 days before telling me my best friend Deb (who was also my cousin) had unexpectedly died.

On this date last year I was still emotionally rocked from discovering 2 days before that my father had died in April and no one thought to inform me.

On this date last year I apologized to my son Robert because his birthday was wrecked again by deaths in the family. It happens frequently. He was still pretty upset over Dad and Debbie.

On this date last year we were informed that Jon's mother was not long for this earth. She passed six days later.

---I send a fervent prayer that this November is kinder. I doubt I could take another one like last year. October this year was nearly bad enough to send me to a shrink begging any drugs to make it all just go away.

the photo above was taken at Calvert Cliffs summer 2007

The Daily Zen

2007-11-06T06:47:00.000-05:00

from http://www.dailyzen.com/

When this mind is clear and bright
And is not covered over,
Then you are not very different
From the sages.
If you allow no wavering
From this clarity, and do not
Let it change,
And do not cling to it,
And do not neglect it:
This is learning.
Just protect it all the time

- Luo Hongxian (1504-1564)

Yet another one I like. I've started in the last few weeks to resume reading The Daily Zen. Sometimes it's something to share and other times it's not but it always seems to touch me on some level.

The absolute clarity of thought: do not neglect it and do not cling to it just protect it.

I like that.

the photo above was taken on Cape Cod winter 2006

This is a copy of my November 4, 2006 360 blog

2007-11-06T04:27:00.000-05:00

From November 4, 2006 - When your life reads like a bad dime store paperback

I wasn't going to blog about this because it would make it just too real. Then, after being in a sort of twilight sleep last night, where I tried and tried to find a way someone had made a horrid mistake, I decided that maybe I *need* to make it more real.

What do you do about a grief so deep it's nearly inarticulable?

OK that's a question isn't it? Yesterday evening my father's sister (Aunt Mary) called to tell me her daughter, my cousin and best friend, had inexplicably collasped, was taken to the hospital, and had subsequently died. I'm certain there are more facts that might or might not come my direction but does it really matter? Having never had siblings, Debbie was always my surrogate - the sister I always wished I had. We could go 6 hours, 6 days, 6 months or longer without talking and just pick right up where we left off. In all the world she knew me best. She was the character who was the subject of THIS BLOG LOL. She was only 45. More than likely she was befell by a nasty little cogential heart problem that runs in that side of my family. Normally it takes the males and normally they're closer to 60 at the time.

I, rather obviously, asked Aunt Mary if she wished for me to call my father and Johanna (stepmom) or if she would rather. She asked if I would. This is typical for our relationship btw - Dad rarely gave any of his time to family so possessiveness happens I guess LOL.

Here's where it goes from a simply "that's so sad" untimely death and takes a walk on the 'This is Stephanie's life' side.

I go out to the car to plug my phone into the charger (long story short I have always had to hide Dad's phone number from Mom because they had an UBER passive/agressive relationship all my life) so I can get Dad and Jo's phone number. I call, get an answering machine, figure they're screening calls so I start talking. Johanna gets on the phone.

How she told me I"ll never remember. All I remember is her saying he had died in April and she couldn't find my phone number to tell me.

EXCUSE ME????????

April???? Like 6 months ago and she told NONE of his family? I believe I asked if she smothered him. I know I asked if she conveniently forgot I was related to HALF OF NEWKIRK and she could've called the Post Office, the Water Department, the Police Department, The Bank for cryin out loud (cousin on Mom's side is a loan officer at the bank btw) and told them and it would've gotten back to his family. Then I told her I was going to get really ugly so I'd better hang up and I did.

I didn't even call names. Why don't I feel like more of an adult? Oh yeah because I was a snotty brat who wanted so bad to throw the phone to the ground and scream "not my daddy not my daddy". Somehow I doubt it would've helped that much .... To add insult to injury Jon found Dad's Obit (which I'd post the link to but you have to be a member to read it) and if stepmommiedearest had Mary's last name why couldn't she call directory information? Those type of questions just hurt so I dropped it ..... She doesn't understand the only thing I wanted was closure - nothing else. Oh well - her loss.

So - how does one grieve for someone with a grief so deep it IS inarticulable? The one person who could've said the right thing, who would've been able to make me laugh at the absurdity of my step mother, the one person who would've known to keep me talking and not let me crawl into the depression I so crave now is gone. Couple that with the grief of all the could have beens and should have beens and oh how I wish one more times that will never happen with Dad. I feel like someone hollowed me out and refilled me with rusty metal and broken glass.

Now THERE'S a visual.

Meanwhile in the last little bit of surrealism before I go find more coffee (thankfully NOT blogging during the news this time) somewhere I made a smartaleck remark that this year for Father's Day I was giving Dad the gift that keeps on giving: I wasn't calling to remind him he had a daughter and that I was sure he'd be pleased. Figures - he wasn't even alive to appreciate the sentiment.

Yes I know this isn't an easy blog to read. It wasn't an easy blog to write as well and dammit it does read like a poorly written dime store novel. If only it weren't true ....

*******
2007 update: I never could get Johanna to answer my calls so that bit of closure won't happen. I can still remember the sound of Deb's voice as if it were just yesterday I last spoke with her.

I still miss her - even more now.

Welcome to Baltimore - Hon

2007-11-05T03:58:00.000-05:00

Saturday afternoon Jon and I snuck off to Baltimore and took a tour of Clipper City Brewing Company. I often use the snarky term 'be still my acquisitional heart' but in reality I *am* a business and econ geek so it was great fun to see how the different beers come into creation. Plus (plug here) if you take the tour its free but if you pay $5.00 for a commemorative glass you get 6 beer sample coupons. Fun times.

I hadn't realized how much I missed Baltimore. It's not quite your typical east coast city. From the martime history of Fells Point to the local yearly Pirate Invasion to the Hon Fest - it's still very much a blue collar working town but one that celebrates it's diversity and it's rich heritage (even of the less than savory characters). Maybe that's why it feels like home. Washington often seems very otherworldly - you see suits and limos and BMWs but when you go to Baltimore you see people who get dirty gettin the job done. Baltimore is still the type place where you can get good food (and a beer - without a grimace) and a 'everything ok hon?' from your waitress as well.

******

The picture above is of a replica clipper ship taken in 2006. That particular clipper is no longer in service.

Art Sunday

2007-11-04T05:53:00.000-05:00

Mercatale Still Life (1981) by William Bailey which can be seen at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City.

*****

In looking around my home and wondering what art prints we'd like next (we currently have a small Monet and a larger Van Gogh as well as some other smaller prints), I started thinking about the Contemporary Realism artists. This is a wonderful example of something that I would own. I love the clean lines and the simplicity of the composition. It just speaks to me. It's also nice that his is an artist from my era. Sometimes we overlook the greatness from our era in favor of the masters of times gone.

I thought I'd include a little music from 1980 - this is Rise by Herb Alpert. 1980 was a fun year. I was a sophmore in high school, the music was all over the charts from rock to jazz to remnants of disco to country. Art was definitely the last thing on my mind though. I am fairly certain had I seen this piece I would have wanted it however.

Art Sunday seems odd without 360 - I know it's on multiply and I might go back there later. For now I remain the blogging agorophobic preferring to stay within my partially closed walls and embracing the known vs the unknown.

Have a beautiful Sunday !

Of kitties and jewelry and friends and things ......

2007-11-03T08:13:00.001-04:00

After being awaken by a friendly kitty pounce on the bed,

Sitting this morning listening to the furry rumble of another kitty.

After a lovely night last night chatting with a friend over wine

--followed by some jewelry, get some giggles, some hugs and kisses.

After all this I'm reminded

--I'm reminded that life is good

-----really good.

Why 4 a.m.

2007-11-02T04:28:00.000-04:00

Why would one ever choose to wake before dawn?

Why would one choose to get up while it's still dark, quiet, and even a bit chilly?

ahhhhhhhhhh that would be why.

These times in the morning are near sacred to me. The peace and quiet of a silent household - the only sounds being our furry felines. The one time that I can quietly approach the day. I don't mind company providing it's quiet - or at least purrring. This is when I recharge my batteries. The day brings hustle and bustle, the night brings nightmares from which I beg to awake. Only the predawn hours bring peace and solitude.

This is the one time just for me.

Selfish? You BETCHA !

Time is such a fleeting thing

2007-11-01T08:05:00.000-04:00

How can something so intangible rule our lives so completely?

On this date in History The Cistine Chapel was completed by Michaelangelo.

I'll never see it. True true - not a pity party but a fact of existance. There simply are not enough hours in the day, days in the week, weeks in the year, years in the lifetime to do 1/10 of what I long to do.

I'd love to:

Go to Europe

Learn to sail

Go to the Bahamas

See Salzburg

Visit Lisbon

Take Jon to Deception Pass

Learn Latin (ok maybe Learn Spanish first)

Visit Egypt
See the Grand Canyon and the Painted Desert
See The Vatican

Take Jon to Ireland, Scotland, and Northern England

See Hong Kong

Vacation in Polynesia

See the Louvre

Go to the Big Island of Hawaii

Go to Montreal

Visit Rejavik

Swim with the dolphins

1000 other things I've not remembered

Read every book I ever wanted. That in itself is a lifetime achievement - a more than a lifetime achievement.

There is just simply too much to see and too much to experience for one solitary lifetime. Some things I will do. Others simply won't happen.

Time simply moves too fast .........

To blog or not to blog

2007-11-01T04:43:00.000-04:00

or more appropriately which platform among the many to use?

I was a loyal 360 blogger for near to 2 years (from October of 05). One of my more successful endeavours (The Friday Five on 360) was either hacked or lost through Yahoo bugs. Either way it was there one day and gone the next after weeks of inability to access.

The 360 crowd were there and then there and then there and now some are back there awaiting a new Universal Profile (ala Mash?) due to come sometime next spring.

Others of the 360 crowd headed over to Multiply.

Soon the new 360 was Multiply and as such the bugs started, the problems started, the drama started.

So I posted on my Multiply blog (yes I have one) that I am getting off the merry go round. The social networking sites are fine but once you get started it can become near an obligation. The drama starts. The friending/defriending/threats to leave etc starts.

The headaches start.

Then it's oh so easy to forget *why* you blog. Some do blog for the sole purpose of others reading. Some blog to pass information to others. Some blog to make a statement and others still chronicle their lives through words and pictures.

I blog simply because Harold likes to talk sometimes. Simple. For any people who might not know, Harold is my muse. Sometimes he's creative. Often he's funny. Even more often he's wickedly sarcastic and a bit intolerant (wait - that last one is me). Mostly he's the little voice that begs to write knowing full well that I'm better with numbers than words.

Why do I blog?

Because I can't not blog.

In honor of a love affair

2007-10-31T08:40:00.000-04:00

Most reasonably sane people can say they've fallen in love with a writers words and the images they paint. Fewer reasonably sane people can say they've fallen in love with a writer whose words and images evoke the less than pleasant. Fewer still have the near obessive love of Poe that some of us have.

The first place I wanted to see when I got to the East Coast was Poe's grave. The second place was Poe house.

While I loved the way the words by Dickens sounded it was the images of Poe that I've always loved best.

In honor of one of my best loves:

The Raven
--by Edgar Allan Poe - first published 1845

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'

But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'

But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'

And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore!

The photo above was taken across the street from The Wharf Rat last spring. In was in this area (Fells Point) that Poe (supposedly) spent his last few coherent hours.

The Maryland Renaissance Festival wrapup

2007-10-31T04:50:00.000-04:00

Yes I know I should have done this two weeks ago but things happen dontcha know.

People ask why I go every weekend (that I'm able) every year. The simplest way to explain that is each year is different. My first year we only went twice and we were still almost touristas. The 2nd year and 3rd year was spent nearly exclusively with family. Year 4 brought time with new friends and year 5 brought the wenches guild and becoming aquainted with those lovely ladies. That opened up an entire arena of new friends - friends I leaned on this year who knew something was very very wrong but either wouldn't press or respected my privacy and didn't ask.

This year brought a renewal of friendships to the lovely lads of Cercamon (less Jean Simone Blanchet who opted out of the group to raise a family) and the forging of friendships with (and a greater appreciation of) other groups as well as the discovery of new friends; we saw new acts and old acts and mourned a favored vendor who had passed after season last year.

This year also brought a lot of personal and family issues so we missed many days. We not only missed many days we were missed on many days. That reminded me of the strength of the friendships that I'd maybe not taken for granted but I hadn't fully appreciated.

Each year I remain in awe of the magic of a place that is nothing more than dirt paths and buildings. Each year I am taken away by this lovely group fantasy we participate in.

May next year be equally beautiful.

For now - PICTURES !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

My muse has good taste

2007-10-30T07:29:00.000-04:00

Yes Harold, for as picky as he is, shares my love of music and often my taste in music.

I can always tell when Harold's listening because I seem to hear even the most familiar in a new way or an old, near forgotten memory is dredged up.

Currently I'm doing a 70's overload (no disco thankyouverymuch) and am taken back to the days of Friday night football games and Friday night dances and just for a moment I remember the feel and freedom again of just being 'in' the music ... it's intoxicating. Remembering how your body felt moving to Frankenstein or Feels Like The First Time or The Stroke or alternately swaying in someone's arms to Stairway to Heaven or Wonderful Tonite. You didn't need any outside substances because the music itself was so very intoxicating. Sometimes the adrenaline rush would near carry til the next day.

Isn't it sad as we're older and can appreciate it more, the opportunities are less?

The Daily Zen for October 30, 2007

2007-10-30T04:34:00.000-04:00

Kuei-shan asked Yun-yen,

“What is the seat of enlightenment?”

Yun-yen said,

“Freedom from artificiality.”

---- Kuei-shan (771-854)

http://www.dailyzen.com/

Another one that I especially like - freedom from artificiality. It doesn't say to abandon the artificial but rather to 'free' yourself from it.

Lately I've found I'm surrounding myself more and more with the 'real life' community as opposed to the 'virtual community'. It's not that I don't love my online friends, but an online (((hug))) just can't compare to the real thing. We as human beings need the touch of others. I've also found I've quite narrowed my group of online friends to the ones I know very well - those I know (or hope I know) to be more real - less artificial.

I've abandoned the artificial IRL friends as well.

The Daily Zen for October 29, 2007

2007-10-29T07:54:00.000-04:00

Recognize as the basis the mind

That does not pursue things.

In the midst of your daily activities,

As you attend to things and

Respond to things,

Always rely on this mind that

Does not pursue things.

As soon as your mind starts to pursueThings, i

mmediately gather it back in.

Stay with this for a long time, and you

Will gradually become ripe.

- Luo Hongxian (1504-1564)

http://www.dailyzen.com/

I like this one. I've always been the biggest opponent and naysayer against a utopian environment as sadly we are not a self-actualized species and, as such, identify with possessions - with THINGS. It's as much of who we are as homosapiens as our opposable thumbs. Even the smallest child or the most developmentally disabled person can and often does identify their surroundings and theirself with objects. Later, a personal style sometimes develops and yes that involves more objects - more things.

That is not to say we can't rein it in when we start focusing on things -- start 'pursuing' things if you will.

Remember you own things; do not let them own you !

A little murder, a little mayhem

2007-10-29T03:13:00.000-04:00

...a little mystery?

Last night Jon and I went to Whispers for a dinner/murder mystery. It's not quite the 'last night I went to Manderly again' but then again I'm not a writer.

heh

I will admit it was wonderful to be out of the house and recapture some of the romance that has defined our relationship since its inception. We talked, we laughed, we discussed some subjects that were a bit overdue.

As for the dinner theatre: the food was ok, the plot was a bit strange, the characters were wonderful. Seriously it was like Old Home Week with "oh there's Tina, there's Brian ... is that Cybele?" Of course Jon recognized her first as I cue in on voices and that's makes recognizing your favorite mime - sans white makeup - more than a bit difficult.

The whodunit is something I will possibly forget in a few days. The warm feelings from seeing friends and spending time with Jon will be something I"ll remember for a long time.

Yes we'll definitely be back.

On The Menu - Sunday Brunch

2007-10-28T11:40:00.000-04:00

We're doing this as a test drive for Christmas Brunch this year.

Robert called last week to tell me that he really couldn't afford to come up for Christmas and hey if we were sending gifts $$$$ would be greatly appreciated.

Fortunately we have that type of relationship that we can say "hey if you're sending presents send money instead" and I understand the practicality of the request.

Meanwhile, since it's 'adults only' on Christmas I thought brunch - a high scale CHAMPAGNE brunch and who better to make it than I? This is a scaled down version (test drove today to a rousing sucess) of the menu:

Eggs Chesapeake (eggs benedict with crab cakes instead of canadian bacon)
Fresh Fruit
Cheese (in this case 12 month aged cheddar imported from Ireland - quite mellow)
Poinsettas (champagne and cranberry juice) or Mimosas (champagne and orange juice)
Fresh bacon (for Mom who won't eat crab cakes - yes Julie I can do this for you as well ;) )

Isn't it nice when you can celebrate absolutely nothing but the joy of celebration itself?

As Grandma used to say "Celebrate EVERYTHING !"

Pour you a mimosa?

The Revival of Art Sunday

2007-10-28T08:42:00.000-04:00

A side note - I seem to have more the fondness for blogger so I believe this will probably become my primary blog.

The above landscape (painted in 1598) is by Flemish Baroque painter Paul Bril and it's titled Fantastic Landscape. It's currently on display at The National Galleries of Scotland (in I believe Edinburg). I enjoyed the pastoral scene coupled with the magickal colors and scene in the background. A transition between mystical and pastoral a good example of the bridge between Renaissance and Baroque.

I thought with the return of (at least my participation in) Art Sunday, I'd try to offer music of the era as well as a more detailed explanation of the work and the artist.

from www.nationalgalleries.org

This small painting on copper is a fine example of Bril’s imaginary landscapes. He used the established convention of dividing a distant vista into coloured bands to suggest the idea of receding space, from the warm brownish foreground, through to the lighter greenish middle ground and the cooler blue background. Bril also combined elements from his native Netherlandish landscape tradition, such as the twisted tree trunks, rocky outcrops and steep sided river valley, with his interest in classical fragments and architectural ruins. The lively figures provide colourful accents and some human interest.

This was a unique era in art and music as it's the bridge between late Renaissance and early Baroque. Bach had yet to be born in 1598. The music was still of the rebirth from the dark ages. The musical artist I chose to feature is Josquin des Prés (or Josquin Desprez). I searched for his more famous work and just could not find it in MP3 form which isn't surprising though I do find it sad. Regarded as one of the more influential composers of the late middle ages, his masterpiece is Missa Pange Lingua and is considered an important work of the era and a fine example of Flemish-French Polyphony.

So for today's Art Sunday I bring you the 1500s in a Flemish artist and composer. See if you can see the parallels in richness of tone and style.

In search of Zen ....

2007-10-27T08:22:00.001-04:00

...or at the very least some form of balance.

I said before that my anchor was gone. That's not entirely correct - I seem to always have an anchor. Maybe I'm self-anchoring? It's more like my 'balance' has been disturbed (for lack of a better term). In a strange way to visualize it, picture if someone reached into your aura and just gave it a quick stir. The colors aren't balanced; the energy is off.

Someone mentioned "I wonder which gods YOU pissed off". That led to a rather lively discussion with Jon about the fact that mine and his have both developed a sense of the macabe - perchance there's a 3rd? Harold was pleased at that thought.

Perhaps though ... just possibly ... this is a cue to re-embrace my (our?) spirituality. It gets interesting however since we're in a mixed marriage - Wiccan/Christian (I'll let you figure out which one is which) but we also support each others individual beliefs so it works.

To quote a rather more famous muse: "...it doesn't matter what you have faith in, just that you have faith." Serendipity//Dogma I like that.

----a quick note about this blog: this one is mostly for me. As such it won't make much sense ... anymore sense in fact than it's name which yes Harold chose.

Whine Whimper

2007-10-26T16:19:00.000-04:00

bitch moan complain

I blame the cosmos

So I was doing a weekend roundup (yeeehawwww) of just what has gone on in the last 3 weeks and here it goes:

*Mom rushed to the hospital probable stroke
*Jon has Parkinsons
*Mom has emergency tooth extraction
*Jon discovers issues with his Mom's estate
*Mom emergency doctor's appointment (false alarm)
*My oral surgery (and the rather disgusting lisp I have obtained)
*Mom's insurance really screwwed up ('nuff said on that one)

This is just since the first week in October. Is there a wonder I'm not sleeping at night?

Yes I know it will get better...it HAS to.

I am finding a rather macabe sense of humour about the entire situation - I just tell people that clowns are the least of my concerns.

heh

Apprehension - let me show you it

2007-10-24T05:33:00.001-04:00

Sorry, that's a bit of a nod to my renfaire friends LOL

Today - this morning @ 9 a.m. in fact - I go in to finally get my teeth worked on.

Damage? nearly 10K No I didn't misplace a zero.

I will get bone grafts, a fixed bridge, rootplaning and gum debriedment (not the word THEY use but what it is), fillings, and possibly a cleaning.

It will be under sedation. You don't touch my touchy gums/teeth without some form of drugs.

To say I'm apprehensive would be an understatement.

To say I'm just a bit excited at my *new* smile would not be an overstatement.

I'm just so very fortunate that Jon is coming and holding my hand. I could face abdominal surgery with less trepadition.

An unusual state of mind

2007-10-23T07:10:00.000-04:00

Or should that be an unusual state of mine?

I all but closed my main blog on 360. I felt I needed to focus my attention and time on Jon. Also, I found it quite difficult to blog to readers about anything when the thing in the forefront of my mind still is his condition and how we're coping.

I still cry when I talk about it.

...but I digress.

Anyway, I got a few unhappy people after I removed all but 13 (including my alternate) from my friends list and locked my blog and quickies to friends only. I did that so that when Jon is comfortable talking about what is wrong (if ever) I will have that blog for moral support as it were.

I know there will be a parallel drawn for many but to me it's not the same. Either way that is the way it is pretty much. Mine is a choice for a different reason: currently that diagnosis affects literally everything I think about. I am a plan for the future kinda gal. I'm finding myself rethinking EVERYTHING.

I hope this too passes with time.

I hope the driving desire to go to ground like a small wounded animal also passes with time.

I hope one day the tears pass.

I hope one day the tears cease because I've come to grips with this - not because there are literally no more tears left to shed.

Later a full update

2007-10-22T07:31:00.000-04:00

...but for now a blip from yesterday.

Call it a 'captured memory'.

On the latest Pyrates Royale CD is a song called "Our Boat". It's a take off of "Our House" by The Beatles. So during the bridge (where everyone sings la la lalalala la la) Skivvee sings something else.

What could this be?

I couldn't hear because although he has a wonderfully deep voice, the higher tones are drowning him out.

So - in my most alluring pose (and voice) I ask him what it would 'take' to get him to tell me what he sings at the bridge.

You would've thought I asked a 5 year old to show me his toy car collection. The seductive pose was blatantly ignored (I'll tease him about that later) and I heard more about the book Two Years Before The Mast (by William Henry Daley) than I'd EVER heard.

(funny side note - yes Jon has read it. I'm surrounded by geeks *snicker*)

Anyway ... he sings this part where the captain is dressing down a crew member who was asleep on the watch and denies it.

Yes he proudly sang it for me.

All I can say is - in all honesty - THAT'S SKIVEE .........

Celebrating the day

2007-10-21T05:31:00.000-04:00

Today is the last day of MDRF for the season. In a record breaking move, we've actually missed 4-6 days out of 19 this year. I vowed it would not happen again.

We missed Oktoberfest
We missed a very good friends proposal
We missed people down for only one weekend
We missed some of the best days of faire.

---basically for naught. Especially missing yesterday which was - according to her doctor describing the emergency office visit - "totally unnecessary".

We will be going today. I will celebrate this day with my husband knowing - as always - there's a risk this might be the last time he can enjoy faire.

I know the anger isn't healthy and doesn't do any good but dammit the escapades of a teenage (70 year old) drama queen is robbing me of precious time with my husband.

Today however I put the anger aside and celebrate an unusual 78 degree Autumn day.

Johnny Depp at 2:30 in the blessed a.m.?

2007-10-20T02:31:00.001-04:00

ok anytime is a good time for Johnny Depp *weg*

So you might ask what I'm doing awake at 2:30 in the a.m. - drinking beer and eating pizza - watching Johnny Depp - the same 2:30 in the blessed a.m. that is the 2nd to the last day of faire - the same faire I look forward to each and every year.

You could ask.

It would appear that as soon as my husband left Mom alone for a moment yesterday, she ran and called her physician to schedule an emergency doctors appointment. Was it for yesterday? oh nay nay

For today. At 9 a.m.

Her prescriptions are scheduled to be picked up @ 5 p.m. Yesterday? nay nay

Today.

Saturday.

The 2nd to the last day of MDRF - the last WEEKEND of MDRF.

I set and look at my bodice knowing it won't be worn. I look at the DOW dress I borrowed knowing more than likely it will not be worn either.

I bemoan the fact that pictures weren't taken this year.

I know that each day, each month, each moment that passes, Jon's condition worsens. I wonder what will happen if this *was* his last year at faire?

I wonder how I will forgive the self-important drama queen if she's robbed me of a last season with my husband. She has currently kabashed any out of town trips and vacations. She has dictated - by her actions - where we dare to go and when we dare not. We have missed many days this season.

I only hope - for her sake - that there are many more seasons ahead.

Each day is a gift. Each day should be lived - not served.

I am currently serving - not living.

at least Johnny Depp is still cute

From the annals of Harold

2007-10-19T11:15:00.000-04:00

I have to smile sometimes.

When I"m just bone weary tired - dragging to the point that going on seems rather pointless - music is my sole refuge.

Today Harold's rather eclectic mix included:

Love Grows (where my Rosemary goes)//Edison Lighthouse
Everytime I Think Of You //The Babys
Southern Cross//Crosby Stills & Nash
Please Go All The Way//The Raspberries
Frankenstein//Edgar Winter Group
Wishin You Were Here//Chicago
Layla//Eric Clapton
Thunder Island//Jay Ferguson
Baby I Love Your Way//Peter Frampton
Feels Like The First Time//Foreigner
The Stroke//Billy Squier
Don't Fear The Reaper//Blue Oyster Cult
Take Another Piece Of My Heart//Big Brother and The Holding Company

....yeah - Harold is nothing if he's not eclectic.

Oddly it helps. After the last month I need all the non alcoholic help I can get.

Can't sleep clowns will eat me

2007-10-19T06:20:00.000-04:00

Ok so maybe not the clowns but sleep? Please.

This will sound judgemental, harsh, and unbelievably childish. All I can say to the critics is you've not lived my life with this person - I HAVE.

Mother.

One of my earliest memories is she teaching me to pull the stool up to the hanging wall phone (rotary back then) and telling me to dial 0 for the operator if I came home and found her asleep on the floor with a bottle of pills or if she was in bed and I could not wake her up.

Judging from the fact I couldn't read yet it's a safe guess I was around 3 give or take. This wasn't the first time. I was taught to drive for when she had a 'spell' and would pass out behind the wheel. I was 9.

My life has been to serve her needs when she needs and be absent (but available) when not. She currently lives with my husband and myself because she sold her house and had previously lived with HER parents but her mother died and her father in essence kicked her out in favor of an assisted care living situation.

So - she moves out with me. It wasn't going badly until this year. Ok we had the typical fussy high maintenance stuff that goes with life with Ma - the competition with the children - the drama over her long distance phone relationship with her first husband (a blog for another time) - the normal stuff with her.

This year, however, she upped the ante a bit. On Friday the 5th of October she came downstairs (quite agiley I might add - that comes into play later) and said "Steph (side note - the winds ne'er blow well when she calls me steph - it's either to insult or to dramatize) we have a problem. I had a stroke Wednesday night". OK I'm thinking "really?". Then she baldly states: "oh damn you're going to miss faire [MDRF]". I'm thinking ahhhhhh so THIS is where this is going. Anyway so I talk to her for a bit while I attempt to get ready for work and tell her to call her doctor. At 9 a.m. she calls me to tell me she called an ambulance. Seems as though when she called her doctor HE was under the impression she lived alone. Charming. OK so yes she had at some point had a light stroke (possibly) and was admitted for 5 days (until Tuesday the 9th) because she 'wobbled' for Physical Therapy (as she told me - "I wobbled for them just a bit") and insisted on self-medication (never a popular thing with hospitals.

--side note #2 - I had scheduled oral surgery for myself for the 24-26 of October. It had been scheduled since way back in September.

So she's now out of the hospital and charmingly has scheduled her tests and physicians appointments for - yep you guessed it - October 24, 25, and 26th. OK so I saw that coming and we've worked around it.

Monday October 15th. "Steph - we got another problem. My tooth is broke and hurts. Its EXCRUCIATING." OK so I schedule an emergency dental appointment for her for that Monday. She has such a fit in the office that they refuse to touch her (telling various people she'd just had a stroke and could barely walk, her blood pressure was 'high erratic' and her doctor knew another stroke was on the horizon yadda yadda yadda). So they schedule her for the oral surgeon the next day. At this point she has thrown herself from the chair, is on the floor on her knees, and screaming. I'm nonplussed what to do. I pick her up, pay the dental fees, and take her home fussing all the way. Anyway on Tuesday the tooth is extracted and she has pain meds etc sent home with her.

More nights no sleep.

Fast forward to today: "Steph we have a problem". *sigh* "My first BM since the surgery [she meant tooth extraction but ok] and it's black and sticky. Those antibiotics are making my stomach hemmorage I just know they are." *sigh* I read it in my book they would do that. *sigh* I give her the standard schpiel - call your doctor yadda yadda yadda. She tells me "Well now I know it's the last weekend so I WANT you to go to faire ... even if I am in the hospital ... even if they do SURGERY ... EVEN IF I'M IN ICU. Oh and you HAVE to have your dentist appointment on Wednesday. Well you just do that and don't worry about me."

Anyone else see where this is going?

So now it's 6:35 a.m. = I came in extra early because I know I will be going home to rush her to somewhere where she will laugh and entertain or possibly scream and cry and tell people 'Good Old Steph' without a thought of anything or anyone.

Sound childish? Sound like I"m mean? No it just sounds like Life With Ma.

Little did I realize

2007-10-18T07:48:00.000-04:00

Yes ok I'm a bit oblivious at times. Everyone who knows me knows that. I can remember something so delightfully obscure that people questions its veriest existance and I can totally miss the most obvious of nuances.

Call it a gift.

Little did I realize when *something* - one of those somethings that I always listen to and invaribly regret when I do not - when that same something told me "keep blogger private" that it was speaking for a very important reason.

I'm now glad I listened. One day I might give this address out. I figure if people find me its for a reason. If not then maybe this will avoid some therapy bills eh?

*******

Yeah end of segue

*******

I will thenceforth (is that even a word? Please Stephanie) use this blog for the very things I need to get out but cannot due to privacy issues. Job. Family.

Jon.

Parkinsons.

It still gives me chills and brings tears to my eyes to write both of those words on the same page.

Jon. Parkinsons.

The symptoms were there but the very obliviousness that I think helped me survive my childhood sadly enabled me to ignore the most commonplace things: he had a tremor and stiffness both. Parkinsons. He got tired and shook more. Parkinsons. Difficulty swallowing. Parkinsons. Difficulty walking and balance.

Parkinsons.

The most obnoxious facet of this disease is you can't diagnose it. It's basically what's wrong when everything else has been ruled out. Well it's not a brain tumor, it's not a stroke, it's not Bells Palsy, it's not Dropsy or epilepsy or anything else so it's Parkinsons.

Part of me is so very angry because I actually *did* think this is what it was so many times. However we didn't plan quite right and got a diagnosis without getting life insurance first (can't now) or long term care insurance (nope to that one too) -- in essence it's like this disease has turned my life upside down without even asking me - and I'm not even the one afflicted.

OK yes that's childish and in truth I *am* going through the stages of grief (it appears I'm at anger at this point) even though he's still quite alive and will be (god willing) for a loooong time.

I am simply mourning my dreams.

Dreams of *us*

Dreams of old age and rocking chairs and peace instead of dreams as once again I will become a caregiver except it will be to one of the most important people in my life.

What if I don't have the patience?

What if I don't still have the skills?

What if I just can't?

The hardest part is I *need* to talk but he's not ready to. Not yet.

So I wait. And write. And watch.

A silent vigil begins, begging to rally against the fates when it's just one of those things that just happens.

One of those things that I just can't fix.

There's more than one form of pirate

2007-08-11T05:08:00.000-04:00

No I'm not referring to the Johnny Depp variety

Recently I was thrust ever so rudely into the world of plagarism and intellectual property theft. I say rudely because I've always rather skated under the radar of this person - being neither loved nor hated. As such, as NOT being the tallest nail, I wasn't hit.

Yes I still should've said something before - called him out on his behavior - but I didn't and for that I feel 9 shades of a coward.

In essence what happened was this: I was directed to view a slideshow titled:

"MDRF from my eyes (2000 - 2006)"

You would assume that that meant the pictures were either *of* or *by* the slideshow creator. Sadly that wasn't the case. There were a number of fairly good photos that were neither - they were just blatantly used. In fact an entire series were mine. His excuse? They 'somehow' ended up in his archives. Well since I had not shared them with the group he's owner/moderator of and since he's not on my Live Journal friends list, he had to go hunting for them. Where? who knows. It really doesn't matter. I am not the only one either - a lovely friend of mine had one of her photos used as well. THEN the entire slideshow/video montage was copyrighted to his name at the end.

Let me tell you this leaves a horrible taste in your mouth. At one point I called this person friend.

At every turn we gave opportunity for apology. At every turn our comments were deleted and no apology - nor credit - given. During this time another friend requested images of her found on this slideshow/video montage be removed. I often photograph people and it's always been my way to allow them to have total access to any photographs they're in. If they don't want it shown, it is not. I give them the digital copy and then delete it from my laptop. Simple. Easy. Clean. When this lady requested her images removed, her comments were deleted.

His ultimate response was another entry with an avatar of someone flipping off and the letters BFD below. The test of the entry reads thus:

**********

Pyrate at Large (pyrateatlarge) wrote,
@ 2007-08-10 19:58:00

Current location: in the lair
Current mood: laughing and pointing
Current music: Opportunity - Pet Shop Boys
Entry tags: get a life

rolling eyes at juveniles (and so-called adults who whine)
If you feel so strongly. . . hire a lawyer! ROFLMAO

*************

As of this writing, the video was in incarnation #3. The photos in question that were not his work were removed. The photos that the person requested removed still remain.

All of this could have been avoided so very easily had this person not bullied his way through a good portion of his existance taking what he wanted without thought to others. Yes that is a fine definition of a bully and I've found that while I don't suffer fools gladly, I will NOT suffer a bully in my presence.

as the Drama Llama rears it's ugly head

2007-07-16T15:50:00.000-04:00

Probably should've called this As The Stomach Turns but that's already taken.

Yahoo. Friggin Yahoo. What a bunch of drama queens reside within your cyberwalls.

In the last couple of weeks I have been branded a racist, called a stupid ugly american (purposely non capitalized), villified on a private blog, ugly emails (untrue ones at that) sent to people on my friends list ... you know the drill - a flame war. Now it would appear one of the reigning 360 icons has decided he might wnt to blow that particular popcicle stand over some rumoured news of a Y!360 closure.

Hey if it closes it closes. There a million other places out there. Will things be missed? yes. Will friends stay in touch? probably not. Will the groupings be recreated somewhere else? maybe but doubtful because the one tiny thing that 360 has going for it is a sense of community. Yahoo sucks so bad that there's no way I'd stay if it weren't for that.

However, yahoo also has a time honored tradition of breaking the things that were working all along (witness clubs/groups and yahoo photos/flickr).

C'est la vie Adios Yahoo - you screwed the pooch again.

Homesick?

2007-07-02T07:09:00.000-04:00

Every so often I just get a pang of longing for the simple peace I find in the early (read too hot for the crowds) days of faire. The early mornings when the heat is nearly bearable to the long afternoons where you drink gallons of water, wear your fanning hand out, and find shade and solice wherever you can, to the early evening ... just as faire is ending ... just when you didn't think you could possibly take more heat. I miss the sights. I miss the sounds. I miss the smells.

I miss the feel of my wooden mug in my hand be it full of cider, ale, tea, or simple water.

The picture above is a favorite place. It's on the side of the Dragon's Lair just below the Dragon's Inn.

Mine is bigger than yours

2007-06-04T06:13:00.000-04:00

So it would appear another terror plot has been foiled. Yay. Go team.

...but...what is all this 'it would've been worse than 9/11', 'it couldn't possibly have been as bad as 9/11' (paraphrased off the overnight news) argument over this? What are they thinking?

I say to them: does it matter? Is this a valid reason for argument?

I understand the need to benchmark all things in the US against 9/11 but it just reduces the participants to a 'my daddy is bigger than yours' argument that frankly makes me sickened to be a citizen of this nation. It's such a waste of resources to have our 'best and brightest' (a debatable point that) simply argue what was worse.

Why not argue for a better America? wouldn't that be more enjoyable to watch and *gasp* maybe actually SOLVE SOMETHING?

((yes I live in a fantasy land rose colored glasses and all. Feel free to join me - there's always room for one more to tilt at windmills and wish we thus for a better world))

Annapolis -

2007-06-03T04:03:00.001-04:00

---irony art thou

The picture above is of a sculpture prominently displayed in Annapolis at the City Docks in memorial to Alex Haley. I find it more than ironic that the least homogenous city I've found in Maryland (ok not counting far west or the Eastern Shore) happens to BE Annapolis. The incogruity just struck me yesterday - sort of like 'THAT'S what's wrong' - a distinct lack of color in the natives.

Then again maybe I'm just seeing tourists and the smart yokels go to Baltimore or Washington to sightsee

What is this and how did I get here?

2007-06-01T10:16:00.000-04:00

Yeah go figure. Makes no sense to me either except I keep trying to have an anonymous blog and people keep finding me.

Odd bunch that - if I could hide from me I would - trust me.

If you stumble lightly down this trodden path just remember that it's nothing more than the thoughts of a free-spirited stifled artist hiding inside an monotonous accountant's body.

DAMN - that's depressing.

Do not look here for prose, poetry, or creative writing HA. I won't happen sadly. What hopefully *will* happen - when I find out HOW that is - is pictures and whining about whatever it is I choose to whine about - oh and the occassional movie review.

Enter at your own risk.

[EDIT: I found the button (thus shrieks the ex husband upon our last night together ... where did THAT come from?)