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

...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?

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

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 ????

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

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

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

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.