I’m a bit late to the challenge but I find it interesting. I especially enjoyed the picture of the two cats snuggling. Okay, here goes.
“It’s okay, she tends to be quite grumpy without her coffee. I’m used to the human”
“She’s scary.”
“But once she’s put the coffee on brewing, she gets us breakfast and then adjourns to her chair. I’m not sure what she does with her eyes closed and the deep breaths.”
” I don’t know what she’s doing either. Breakfast was tasty. I’m going to stay with you until she’s drank her coffee, maybe even a second cup.”
“Once you get used to our human Mom, you’ll find she’s the best. It’s so much nicer here than the shelter place I was before..”
Yeah, I know what you mean. It wasn’t nice there at all. I’m really glad you’re my big brother, now.”
I made a bacon, {saved 4 strips from last night’s BLT’s) pepper, fresh picked basil frittata topped with Mexican cheese to begin this day. The protein was great, so tasty. Added bonus, breakfast is already made for tomorrow. Woohoo.
The inspector for proof of occupancy came today. Almost made it through unscathed, we need to change one of our outlets to a gfi because it’s within six feet of our sink. Thankfully, he doesn’t charge to come back and check once it’s done. This worrying about cost involved is stressful. So looking forward to getting out of this money pit. Still no communication from the buyer’s realtor after the other inspector’s report.
Using zoom last night had some quirks initially but hopefully we have it all ironed out for next weeks writer’s meeting. Attendance was good and hopefully it will continue growing with additional interest. The format works well. Initially, I hated the online but I will say hanging out in my jams does have advantages. There’s also another factor too, once I’m in Vegas this will be my connection. Or maybe it will be time to walk away. Let someone else deal with the stress of micro-managers and people who pointedly make others uncomfortable. Lots of decisions.
I went through some more magazines, recycled them. Trash day was today and I filled it to the brim. This tossing and giving away isn’t as painful as it was. Though, I will say selling things on facebook marketplace is a total frigging waste of time. We have this large safe. I put it on there. I’ve gotten more hit on messages than any serious inquiries about the safe. It’s clear people are obnoxious. I wouldn’t waste someone’s time with stupid messages but apparently that’s not true of others.
I feel bad for Macavity, Vic grabbed the vacuum and he vanished. Poor baby connects vacuum with cat carrier. One of my criteria’s on our next place is minimal rugs. He doesn’t mind the broom or dust mop.
Olyvia, my granddaughter, and her competition dance team received highest overall score. Way to go girls! They have another competition this Saturday at 11:30am. I am so looking forward to being able to see her team compete once we’re there. She’s been dancing since she was two. Oh my, the girls were so adorable. They laid hula-hoops on the floor so they knew where to be. The end of the year recital is June 5th, I’m hoping we’ll be there in time.
A good shot of whiskey would have tasted pretty good a couple times this week but I know how easily I could slide back to my old crutch. I know I can’t drink all the stress away anymore than I could drink away an unhappy marriage. Like Justin and Chris, I’ve tried Jack, Jim, Jameson, Evans, Makers, and Crown… nothing took away the pain and unhappiness. I can’t drink the stress away but I can cleanse my space with lots of sage.
Did you know Beltane is on Saturday. Hard to believe it’s almost May. Beltane is a Celtic word which means ‘fires of Bel’ (Bel was a Celtic deity). It is a fire festival that celebrates of the coming of summer and the fertility of the coming year. “Emma Restall Orr, a modern day Druid, speaks of the ‘fertility of our personal creativity’. (Spirits of the Sacred Grove, pub. Thorsons, 1998, pg.110). She is referring to the need for active and creative lives. We need fertile minds for our work, our families and our interests.”
My attempt to write 30 poems in April went awry because of all the stress. I can’t let this crap keep ruining my life. I’ve been thinking a lot about how much this whole house situation has derailed me emotionally and add in some other additional stressors I need to focus on me. I agree with Emma, creativity has been lacking.
So I thought I would try 31 micro-fiction pieces for May. I’ve been scribbling in my journal a lot so taking it a notch shouldn’t be to challenging. I’ve already placed new salt on my altar and have candles ready for Saturday night’s fire ritual. I haven’t packed my tarot cards, a reading is overdue.
May 1st… time to replenish me…
“May Day/ Beltane celebrates the start of the bright half of the year. One of four main festivals of Celtic spirituality, it’s a time to make merry.”
We spent 4 hours clearing the crawl space/ slash 6 feet by 8 feet area which is under the concrete steps coming into the house and underneath the stairs that go up to the main floor. There’s a lot of storage in this house which I’m going to miss immensely. I’ve stored Christmas and Halloween in that space. Yes, I have a lot of seasonal decorations. What a time consuming event but for me the most frustrating part was the previous owners left 30 cans of paint underneath there. I never needed to get that far back under the stairs so I never touched them. I should have left them for her to clean out but I’m not that kind of person. I feel like a maid… I swear once I relocate I am not going to clean for at least a month maybe two. I’m so over this. Cleaning like you don’t live here.
While I was cleaning, I redid the caulk on the showers, tubs and toilets so they’re all spifty again. I can’t help but wonder if the roles were reversed would she be as nice. Probably not.
After meeting her for the first time , it’s reasonably clear that my gardens will never be cared for like I do. It’s sad…. no heartbreaking better sums it up. I feel like I’m leaving my babies behind with a neglectful caretaker or questionable caretaker. I wish I could say the perspective owner made a good impression but she didn’t.
The man who came for the home inspection was nice enough but the other man for pest inspections was another matter. He was rude as all get out. He walks up the driveway and the first thing he says you have carpenter bees. Well, yes they are flying around but I don’t have any holes on my house but my neighbor does. Our houses are attached in clusters of four. She has huge holes in her trim boards and the bees are always going in and out. I’ve spoken to her about the bees and she’s ignored me. So we get to pay for an exterminator because of her. He also said there were carpenter ants. I asked him where and he didn’t answer that either. Moments like that, I can understand why people give exterminators bad raps. He’s a classic example of TOTAL DICKHEAD. I’m not even convinced we have carpenter ants, I’ve been treating around our house for 5 years now with Terro Ant traps that you stick in the ground by the foundation. I have them every 12 inches in the back and the granulated powder in the front.
We spoke to an exterminator friend who told us it is challenging to eliminate the bees and ants with connected homes. Unfortunately, his company doesn’t do our development because the houses are connected and they can’t guarantee their result. So we’re going to have to find someone that does do the work and hopefully reasonably priced because cash wise we don’t have a lot to spare either.
This house is the nightmare that keeps on giving. The roller on the garage door broke on Saturday. Naturally, the door is heavy and requires a larger wheel and the box stores don’t carry it so we had to order one online. It doesn’t come in until May 6th – 11th. So we don’t dare use the door very often except to get the trash bin out because don’t want more damage if it actually falls.
I was so proud of Macavity today. He sat on my lap on the front step while the people went inside the house and then went back inside his carrier listening while Vic, Stephen ( our realtor) and I talked. Not a peep. He’s such a trooper. People under estimate how stressful all of the in and out is involved in selling a house for a pet.
This losing streak continues. Vic won two games of Scrabble, three games of cribbage and two of Yahtzee. GRRRRR…
On a high note, our youngest granddaughter has been invited to the gifted program in her school district. We’re so proud of her. She’s already way ahead of her grade level and finds it boring to do the same work as her classmates. Hopefully, this will help balance things out for her.
So far no calls from the mother-in-law since she dumped the last crap on Vic. I’m only looking at two bedrooms, two baths for us. Gotta have a guest room for Olyvia. Not going to have room for any long term guests.
It’s Monday and limerick time. I’m giving you three prompts this week. Unfortunately, I’ve got to have some more shoulder surgery, so I’ll be out of action for a while. But I’d love to see your limericks so please send them in to give me a smile. I’ll publish them all when I’m back blogging again.
My limericks are all dedicated to our three deceased grandchildren, Samantha, Logan and Johnny. We miss them immensely.
PAIN
The Loss of a Grandchild.
Pain has filled my life, way too often The anguish never seems to soften Regardless of my age I suffer the rampage silently wishing …no more coffins
HEAL
Endless Heartbreak
Everyone says, give it time you’ll heal I don’t want time, I want a new deal I want to see them play Not be stolen away I never had the chance to appeal
NURSE
It Doesn’t Get Easier.
The nurse hopes for a heroic verse Knowing nothing said could make it worse The hand clenching a cross knowing words can’t ease loss The nurse silently uttered a curse.
Nor is having a mother-in-law who at first calls your husband because she’s afraid to live alone after three recent visits to the hospital. I totally get that and yes, she’s not getting any younger. It’s not how I saw our lives in our new location. We’ll get two apartments so we can check on her and she still has her independence. Fine, but then she doesn’t want to live in a rental so she wants us to house shop. because she wants us to share a home. Okay after spending hours looking at suitable one story houses she decides that she’s not ready to move yet but we need to be ready. Fine and Dandy, but I don’t want to buy a house and wait for her to change her mind again. I didn’t want the upkeep or the stress of maintenance. And the more I think about it, I don’t want or need the stress involved with living with her. I could go into all the horror stories but I’ll leave it as is with simply she’s difficult. So we’re going with our original plan. Apartment for 2 and a fur baby. We need to do what’s best for us and our health.
The good news is we have a tentative offer on our house pending architectural approval for the sale. The house should pass easily enough so we can finally get to the next step in our lives. Now, I’m looking at apartments, and packing up an eight room house. Goodwill and the V.A. are loving me right now. 1000 books have left our home, three bags of clothing, bookcases, dishes and I’m not done yet.
I’m sorting the boxes as I pack what goes to the apartment and what goes to storage so once we’re there it won’t be chaos.
Anyway, keep your fingers crossed everything goes as anticipated and we get to move in 6 weeks.
At a glance, it could be easily missed sitting among Grandma’s things. It didn’t sparkle like her prisms or sun catchers did. Nor did it have any unique markings that might tempt a child’s fantasy but it did. Her wild imagination created a different story for the treasure every time she gazed upon it. Why did it have to be on the do not touch shelf? It didn’t look breakable. It didn’t look like it was worth millions but what did her young mind know about grown up things. She longed to tuck it into her backpack. What virtue hides inside. It was a mystery she needed to solve.
The admired paragon sat silently beside a angel cherub holding a feather. There was a miniature glass terrarium with a metal frame that cast colors of the rainbow across the wall every afternoon with the setting sun on the other side of the shelf. It shined pretty but it wasn’t what the little girl wanted to wrap her chubby fingers around. She wanted to know what secrets it held. And besides she could see what was inside unlike the object of her attraction without a latch to open it.
Would her Gram miss it? How much trouble would she be in if she took off the shelf? She studied it from every angle but decided that she couldn’t disappoint her Grandmother by breaking the rule.
“Logic will get you from A to Z; imagination will get you everywhere.”-Albert Einstein
Years later, the paragon of her childhood imagination no longer captivated her because it didn’t hold hidden treasures from a pirate ship. Nor did it have a unique gem from a secret lover. It was simply a box made of dark cherry wood with rounded corners. Why did she foolishly imagine it must be valuable. Not having a latch made a young mind curious, but she was older now and didn’t care.
Time passed and it was forgotten like many other unexplained childhood fascinations.
“You can’t depend on your eyes when your imagination is out of focus.” -Mark Twain
Until….
She picked up her beloved cat’s ashes from the veterinarian’s office. She opened the box and inside was a dark cherry wooden box. Her childhood fixation was an urn, just like the one she was holding in her hand. Now, she understood why it sat next to the cherub on the do not touch shelf.
She wished more than anything she wasn’t grasping this cherry box in her hand. She would rather be holding her beloved cat.
I tried to imagine it’s story. How did it end up in the Kennebec River up in The Forks, Maine. Why was it lying in just the right place for me to discover it?
Looking at my piece of driftwood, it most likely was a tree branch that dropped into the river in an area where it was tossed around a lot. My reasoning on this is because of the smooth rounded edges. There’s not a burr anywhere. T
I can’t help but wonder if it was happy to be discovered and removed from the chilly water or was it sad. It bet it wasn’t excited to be wood burned with the message fine and dandy on its slender side. Life changed a lot for this piece of wood for sure. Have I given it a better life or a worse one?
Is that man actually our boss the one chewing strands of dental floss I’ve heard of diet fads but he’s really sad soon will be six feet under the moss.
Is that man actually our boss the one chewing strands of dental floss I’ve heard of diet fads but it’s really sad he’s missing out on the applesauce
is navy blue with a beveled seat that feels just right. The arms are flat with curved ends that draw my eyes to the decorative notches in the structure. When I study it closely, I notice how the light plays off the painted finish. It holds my afghan perfectly on the tall back rest.
I’m reminded of my grandparents dining room. There was a card table by the window with a huge word find sheet and several pencils. There were a pair of rocking chairs on the other side of the room with a small table and a lamp. They used to sit together at night reading together. My grandmother’s rocking always had a cushion tied to the seat that hid the slat design of the seat. I never liked the cushion, I preferred the simplistic beauty of the chair as it was designed like my grandfather did with his rocking chair. He balked so much when my grandmother tried to make them match. She stashed it in the closet. Eventually, it migrated to her chair when her cushion cover gave out.
I remember sitting in his rocking chair. I loved the distinct noise on the hardwood floor with every rock. I found comfort in the sound while my grandmother puttered. Sometimes, I used to rock fast hoping it would carry me off to some magical place. The arms were just right I could easily navigate through space. I was invincible.
Other times, the rocking chair would whisper sharing it’s memories before it became a rocker. It was a sturdy oak tree on the edge of a meadow. The sun tickled it’s branches each sunrise and sunset. Children climbed its sturdy branches. The rocking chair confided those moments gave him the most joy.
I asked him if it hurt becoming a rocking chair. He didn’t answer at first but I stubbornly persisted as children tend to do. He said, the most important thing was now. He had a new purpose and it gave him joy. He said my enjoyment in his safe arms was worth it all. He was happy going on adventures with me.
I think he enjoyed rocking me away from everything that made me sad. His gentle sway always filled me with pleasure like a secret lover’s touch. I think he loved me as much as I loved him. I wonder if he ever thinks of me.
Its been forty five years since I’ve sat in my grandfather’s rocking chair. A few years ago, Vic got me a rocking chair for my birthday. I sit in my rocking chair letting the swaying of each rock carry me back to those special times at my grandparents. Maybe someday my rocking chair will whisper to my granddaughter.
Only Leslea Newman would choose a pomegranate for prompt to use in stream of consciousness writing. Yes, the fruit is a power color or as some would say a royal color. Although, I’m not fond of eating fruit that stain my fingers, but I do enjoy a glass of pomegranate juice. And it’s a nice change of pace from all the green hype. Just so you know, fresh juice doesn’t have to be green or full of spinach to be healthy.
Speaking of healthy, I decided to toss a soup together in the crockpot. It’s dreary and rainy again and a good hot bowl of soup is the perfect comfort food. I’m all about comfort these days. It’s not easy in this stressful existence to balance good meals and keeping the house looking unlived in.
Checked the balances in our account, no stimulus payment again. That’s three times we’ve not received anything. Our address hasn’t changed nor have our bank accounts. I’m not even sure why I bother checking, I only get more depressed. At least, our cupboards aren’t bare… I’m thankful I always kept them well stocked for emergencies. I just didn’t expect them to be happening for such a long period of time. No deposits from the insurance companies yet for Vic’s commissions. Absolutely deplorable! I totally understand why there is such a high turnover among insurance agents, the f-ing companies don’t pay consistently. It’s all about the shareholder’s and ceo’s accounts. There’s also the first quarter reports involved, got to keep that looking good for new investors. Yeah, lots of gray area to go around but that doesn’t pay bills.
Macavity was snuggled with me when I woke up this morning. He came down with me, watched me make coffee and then his breakfast before snuggling on my lap while I free wrote in my journal. He wasn’t happy when I picked him up so I could grab another coffee. He should know by now that nothing comes between my coffee consumption. Anyway, he’s lying in front of the window on his pillow. So there’s peace in both our worlds thus far, because there aren’t any showing requests yet.
I just finished reading Nina George’s The Little Paris Bookshop. What an interesting perspective! The story unfolded in first person with us joining Monsieur Perdu on his floating bookstore on a barge on the Seine River. He interacts with customers from time to time but mainly we’re reliving his pain from a lost love. He refuses for the longest time to read the letter she sent him. When he finally does, he sets off on a mission to where she lives. Our gift from this book is a reminder how the literary world can take the human soul on a journey of self-discovery and healing. Sometimes, we just need to be reminded of the power of stories and how they shape our lives. Amusingly, the back cover of the book is the same color as a pomegranate.
Thinking ….remembering my childhood. I wore my mask well, hiding behind laughter. I longed for someone back then to save me from my self-hate but no one cared enough. Now, I’m older and a lot wiser but there are times when my dark mind… fears, insecurities and the urge to cut again rises. Depression is a continuous battle that even a good cup of coffee can’t cure.
lyncrain 