Today I will tell you about an event that scarred me for life instead of telling you about how I'm packing more boxes in my office, sending out more overnight packages, and working on billing. Because who the heck cares.
I used to share an office with a girl who had what we'll call a difficult personality. I do not remember ever working with anyone else that I got along with less. My ex-mother-in-law would have been easier to share an office with and I could barely stand the sight of that woman. Approximately 4 days out of the week my office mate would say something incredibly ugly to me first thing in the morning to which I would reply, "I'm putting on my headphones and listening to music for the rest of the day. Please do not speak to me again." I really said that, y'all. The first time I did it, I almost made my own self fall out of my chair because it was so unlike me. But then I realized she actually stopped talking to me so I said it pretty regularly after that. 95% of the time I just put my headphones on. I wasn't even listening to anything. I just wanted her to shut her effin' mouth. For instance, one morning she walked in and and before she even sat down said, "Good morning. I've been meaning to ask what's going on with you. Why are you gaining so much weight and getting so fat?" I know! What a nice person, huh? I ran to the bathroom in tears, came back and instructed her to not say another word to me all day.
If she would stay home sick she would tell me that she would check her emails twice and then put down on her time sheet that she worked 8 hours because she had worked from home by checking her emails. I know, y'all!
She came in and left each day on whatever schedule she felt like. She got in trouble for it every year in her review and I would hear her call friends and tell them, "I'll just come in and leave at the times they tell me I have to for the next couple of weeks and then I'll go back to coming in and leaving whenever I feel like because they won't ever fire me."
She got fired. Finally.
But on very rare occasions we would get along sort of.
During the time she and I shared an office, there was a Starbucks in our building. It's gone now. We have three towers in our building and it was in a different tower, but the towers are all connected by glass hallways so you don't have to go outside. She asked me if I wanted to run down with her to Starbucks one morning and I said okay. Oh how I regret that......
As you walk from the lobby of our tower towards the hallway to the next tower, you pass a couple of businesses, an elevator, etc. As we were walking by the hair salon, this little old lady jumped out from behind a wall and scared us half to death. "Excuse me," she said. "I'm wondering if you two can help me?" I assumed she was lost so I asked her how we could help.
I was not at all prepared for her answer.
Any sane person would have responded, "Sorry, Toots. You're all on your own with that one. Good luck to you."
I'm not sane.
She was about 80, dressed to the nines in her nice dress slacks, a silk blouse with a big bow tied at the neck, her hair was perfectly done up, her makeup was flawless, and she had on a wool blazer with patches on the elbows. So I didn't expect this at all:
"I really need to go to the bathroom. But my panties are stuck in my zipper. I need you to help me get my pants undone."
Oh. My. Word.
I really just wanted a cup of coffee. I didn't intend on helping an old lady with her underwear problem. And I cannot tell y'all how much I detest the word "panties." Also I detest the word "moist". And if you ever say them together I will never speak to you again.
I thought about my own sweet little grandmother though, and if she had been in that predicament I would have wanted someone to help her too, so I looked at my co-worker and said, "Go ahead. See what you can do."
She gave me an evil look, then stepped towards the little old lady and kind of hesitated until the lady said, "It's okay. Stick your hands down there and see if you can pull my panties out. They are really stuck."
My co-worker was unsuccessful at resolving her problem and stepped back as she said, "Beverly, I can't get them unstuck. You try now."
Y'all, the very second I, um, stuck my hands down a stranger old lady's pants right in the middle of the lobby of my building before 9:30 a.m. and before I'd even had a cup of coffee she said this:
"Please hurry, I just peed on myself a little bit. I really need to get out of these pants quickly."
Of course she peed herself at the very second I put my hands in her pants. Of course! She had moist panties, y'all. It was like my biggest and most disgusting fear was coming to fruition right in front of my eyes. And incredibly close to my hands.
I pulled and tugged and thankfully I also avoided the old lady pee but could not get her undies unstuck. She then got frantic. And a little demanding if I'm being honest.
"Y'all, I REALLY have to go bad. Cut them out. I don't care what you do. I HAVE GOT TO PEE NOW!!"
As I said before, we were standing in front of the hair salon in our building. I ran in there and asked the owner if I could borrow a pair of scissors and explained I would be right outside his door. He asked me what I needed them for.
"Um, I need to cut some very delicate fabric."
He handed them to me, I quickly went back out into the hall and stuck my hands down in an old lady's peed in pants for the second time that morning. Which is not something I thought I'd ever be saying. I cut her undies out of the zipper and she almost screamed with joy.
As I started walking back into the salon to return the scissors she said, "Oh girls. Thank you so much. I don't know what I would have done without you. Can I please buy you a cup of coffee to show you my appreciation?"
"NO!" we both quickly said. I really didn't want to go have a cup of coffee with a stranger after I'd had my hands down in her pants. Twice. With pee in them. "We're good. Hope the rest of your day is much better," I said.
We almost ran to Starbucks, went straight to the bathroom and scrubbed the living daylights out of our hands while we almost stopped breathing from laughing so hard.
My cousin's wife asks me to tell this story every year at our family reunion and she almost pees herself laughing every single time. Luckily her undies don't get stuck in her zipper too. But if they ever do I will say, "Sorry, Toots. You are on your own."
If you ever have a little old lady peeing her pants and asking you to help her get her panties unstuck from her zipper, (and really, how will you all ever get through life without having that happen from time to time) only say yes if you also happen to be standing in front of a hair salon when it happens. Don't say I never gave y'all some damned good advice.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Wednesday, September 26, 2012
Look at me posting before Friday! Or Sunday!
Surprise! I'm posting the Music Monday results in a somewhat timely fashion this week. I know! Shocking, isn't it?
This isn't going to be a long post because I'm exhausted quite frankly. I was packing up and moving boxes of files all day at work (remember we are renovating our office? I have to move out of my office in a month and get three bosses' offices packed up and moved too). Then I had physical therapy tonight and I had to do 30 pushups (I honestly don't think I've done 30 pushups in my entire lifetime all added together before tonight), 45 bicep curls with a 7 pound weight (almost died), 60 tricep thingies with a stretchy band (easiest part of the session), I had to bounce a weighted ball against the wall with my hand above my head for 2 minutes (thought my arm would fall right off), and various other stretches, band exercises, rode the hand bike for 8 minutes, and then had the painful soft tissue work and joint manipulations done by the therapist.
After that I went to the grocery store and bought a week's worth of stuff, then stopped and got gas. (Atlanta peeps, do y'all ever go to the Quik Trip on Sidney Marcus near 400? I've never been there when you don't have to wait in line to get to a pump. Even at 8:30 on a Wednesday night. It's insane.) By the time I got home, unloaded my car, put the groceries away and made a piece of toast for dinner it was after 9:30.
I'm beat! So let's get on with the Music Monday results because it takes a while to upload all of these videos. Then I can go take some Advil PM in order to be able to move my arm tomorrow and go to sleep.
Y'all had some great submissions and I've had a hard time choosing. But here's what I decided:
First place is a tie:
Just Paula for Midnight Train to Georgia. LOVE this song:
And Lisa Pie for Fast Car. Another favorite:
Second Place is also a tie (because I think I had a pretty good submission myself and I'm sorry if it offends anyone but I do love this song) - Highway to Hell:
And also Just Paula again for some good ol' Willie Nelson:
Third Place goes to Sadie for her Steve Earle submission:
Thanks for playing again this week! I'm going to shock y'all and post again this week. You just wait and see. Assuming I can lift my arm to type tomorrow.....
This isn't going to be a long post because I'm exhausted quite frankly. I was packing up and moving boxes of files all day at work (remember we are renovating our office? I have to move out of my office in a month and get three bosses' offices packed up and moved too). Then I had physical therapy tonight and I had to do 30 pushups (I honestly don't think I've done 30 pushups in my entire lifetime all added together before tonight), 45 bicep curls with a 7 pound weight (almost died), 60 tricep thingies with a stretchy band (easiest part of the session), I had to bounce a weighted ball against the wall with my hand above my head for 2 minutes (thought my arm would fall right off), and various other stretches, band exercises, rode the hand bike for 8 minutes, and then had the painful soft tissue work and joint manipulations done by the therapist.
After that I went to the grocery store and bought a week's worth of stuff, then stopped and got gas. (Atlanta peeps, do y'all ever go to the Quik Trip on Sidney Marcus near 400? I've never been there when you don't have to wait in line to get to a pump. Even at 8:30 on a Wednesday night. It's insane.) By the time I got home, unloaded my car, put the groceries away and made a piece of toast for dinner it was after 9:30.
I'm beat! So let's get on with the Music Monday results because it takes a while to upload all of these videos. Then I can go take some Advil PM in order to be able to move my arm tomorrow and go to sleep.
Y'all had some great submissions and I've had a hard time choosing. But here's what I decided:
First place is a tie:
Just Paula for Midnight Train to Georgia. LOVE this song:
And Lisa Pie for Fast Car. Another favorite:
Second Place is also a tie (because I think I had a pretty good submission myself and I'm sorry if it offends anyone but I do love this song) - Highway to Hell:
And also Just Paula again for some good ol' Willie Nelson:
Third Place goes to Sadie for her Steve Earle submission:
Thanks for playing again this week! I'm going to shock y'all and post again this week. You just wait and see. Assuming I can lift my arm to type tomorrow.....
Monday, September 24, 2012
Please send paper towels. I've almost run out.
Oh. Hello there, blog I seem to have abandoned for a week.
Y'all, I'm sorry. I really am. I cannot seem to get everything done lately but I promise I try and I am really, really, really going to try and do better. In fact, I may go ahead and write some posts tonight to have "on hold" for this week in case I have another week like last one. But honestly, you would not have wanted me to blog last week to update you on what was going on. Because this is how it would have been:
Went to work.
Went to physical therapy.
Went to the grocery store.
Went to the gas station.
That's how exciting the first few days were, y'all. Then my dad's wife called one night and was all sad and wanted to talk and reminisce and cry and then I got all depressed and stuff. I didn't feel like blogging when I was all depressed and stuff. Then I had some completely unexpected company from out of town come and stay with me and believe me when I say they would not know what a blog is. I would have had to try and explain why I had to go type some stuff on my computer to some people I've met in real life and some people I've never met in real life and all about June and how I threw a birthday party at my house for her even though I've never met her and that's not even her real name, and how I started this blog because we thought June was going to stop her blog and we're all friends even though most of us have never met in real life, but then June didn't stop her blog and, OMG I'm exhausted just thinking about trying to explain all of this to someone who doesn't know what a blog is. So I didn't blog.
But then. Then I was definitely going to blog on Saturday. I was also going to go work for free at my office all day on Saturday (long story) but neither of these things happened. Because my cat is an asshole. An asshole with a sensitive stomach.
My plan was make myself some scrambled eggs, sit on the front porch with a steaming cup of coffee for 10 or 15 minutes to enjoy the gorgeous, cool, crisp Fall morning, then take a shower and go to the office. And blog when I got home Saturday evening. Instead, as I was scrambling my eggs, Bailey was running through the house like her butt was on fire. Then she ran (sliding around the corner) into the living room and I suddenly heard the unmistakable noise she makes when she is preparing to barf. I walked in to make sure she didn't run to the front door to puke on the rug which she usually does, and I don't know if I scared her or she just wasn't finished running like a maniac through the house, but just as she started puking, she started running. So I had a 6 foot long trail of cat vomit all the way from one side of my living room to the other. Which? You know. That's just about as awesome as it sounds. Bailey ALWAYS throws up in 3 spots. So then she ran to the doorway of the dining room for her second, um, "gift". Oddly, I thought that was it because then she went and jumped in the bay window and promptly fell asleep like she was cool.
I was wrong.
So, so, so wrong.
I finished making breakfast, sat at the island so my back was to all of the disgustingness going on in the living room and ate my eggs. Then I grabbed a roll of paper towels and got to work. As I was cleaning up my ENTIRE living room floor (stupid running cat), I thought to myself that my floors really needed me to take the steam mop to them. So I cleaned up the two "gifts", then walked out on the porch to have my coffee. As I sat there cussing to myself about my cat, I decided I would grab the throw rug out of the downstairs bathroom to take up to the laundry, and that on Sunday I would wash all of the throw rugs in the house and steam mop the floors. Since it was Saturday and I had plans to go to the office. As I walked to the bathroom, I glanced into the sunroom.
There was her third gift for me. Right next to the leg of a wicker chair.
I moved the chair so I could clean up yet more cat puke and that's when I discovered another gift. Only this one had been hidden and was old and really gross. And I knew there were two more somewhere just like it. There were. Behind another chair.
So I finished cleaning up 6 disgusting gifts, and headed upstairs to the laundry with the bathroom rug and to take a shower and go to work for the day.
As I got to the top of the stairs I almost fainted.
Because that's where I discovered a gigantic pile of cat poo. Let's just say her stools were loose and she didn't make it to the litter box in time. And then she must have gotten some on a paw and decided to fling it off. All over the door of my laundry closet. All up the wall as high as the light switch. All over the baseboards. All over the floor. It was every effin' where. And all over the rug in front of her litter box. O. M. G. I could have killed her. I know someone is going to question why I didn't rush to the vet because of all of the puking and pooping, but this was all because I changed her food this week. Yes, when I change her food I mix them to gradually adjust her to a different food. And usually that works. But not always. She has done this a couple of times in her 13 years and she's lucky she's so cute is all I can say. After cleaning up all of that, I didn't have it in me to go to work. So I steam mopped my floors which took hours. And then I was in no mood to blog.
Sunday, I was still recovering and trying to decide if I still loved Bailey even a little bit. I also did some work in the yard, did some more house cleaning, cooked my lunches and dinners for the week, and in between tried to keep up with all of the games I'm addicted to playing on my phone with some of y'all. And didn't blog at all.
So let's get on to announcing the winners from last week's Music Monday contest and then get on to this week's.
First place is a tie:
Sadie! For Duran Duran - Girls on Film
And Lisa Pie! For Def Leppard - Photograph
Second place goes to:
Tee! For Lady Gaga - Paparazzi
Third place goes to:
Scraps! For Freeze Frame - J. Geils Band
And now let's move on to this week's theme. Today there was a story which a couple of my friends posted on Facebook about Mitt Romney. Apparently he was talking about his wife's plane having the electrical fire last week and having to make an emergency landing, how relieved he was that she was okay, etc. But then he said this:
“I appreciate the fact that she is on the ground, safe and sound. And I don’t think she knows just how worried some of us were,” Romney said. “When you have a fire in an aircraft, there’s no place to go, exactly, there’s no — and you can’t find any oxygen from outside the aircraft to get in the aircraft, because the windows don’t open. I don’t know why they don’t do that. It’s a real problem. So it’s very dangerous. And she was choking and rubbing her eyes. Fortunately, there was enough oxygen for the pilot and copilot to make a safe landing in Denver. But she’s safe and sound.”
To which I say, "huh?" No, Mitt, you can't roll down the windows on an airplane because, you know, everyone would die.
Here is a link to the article in case you think I'm making that up: LA Times
So this week's theme is traveling and flying. The song(s) you submit must contain a travel related word in the title (plane, fly, travel, suitcase, etc.).
And I promise I'm going to try to blog more. And it won't all be about my asshole cat and her nastiness. If she does that again, I'm going to roll down the window and throw her out on the street. What do you mean I can't "roll" down the windows in my house? I don't know why they don't do that. It's a real problem. (I'm just kidding, y'all. I don't know what I'd do without my pain in the butt cat even when she's completely disgusting. ALL over my house.)
Y'all, I'm sorry. I really am. I cannot seem to get everything done lately but I promise I try and I am really, really, really going to try and do better. In fact, I may go ahead and write some posts tonight to have "on hold" for this week in case I have another week like last one. But honestly, you would not have wanted me to blog last week to update you on what was going on. Because this is how it would have been:
Went to work.
Went to physical therapy.
Went to the grocery store.
Went to the gas station.
That's how exciting the first few days were, y'all. Then my dad's wife called one night and was all sad and wanted to talk and reminisce and cry and then I got all depressed and stuff. I didn't feel like blogging when I was all depressed and stuff. Then I had some completely unexpected company from out of town come and stay with me and believe me when I say they would not know what a blog is. I would have had to try and explain why I had to go type some stuff on my computer to some people I've met in real life and some people I've never met in real life and all about June and how I threw a birthday party at my house for her even though I've never met her and that's not even her real name, and how I started this blog because we thought June was going to stop her blog and we're all friends even though most of us have never met in real life, but then June didn't stop her blog and, OMG I'm exhausted just thinking about trying to explain all of this to someone who doesn't know what a blog is. So I didn't blog.
But then. Then I was definitely going to blog on Saturday. I was also going to go work for free at my office all day on Saturday (long story) but neither of these things happened. Because my cat is an asshole. An asshole with a sensitive stomach.
My plan was make myself some scrambled eggs, sit on the front porch with a steaming cup of coffee for 10 or 15 minutes to enjoy the gorgeous, cool, crisp Fall morning, then take a shower and go to the office. And blog when I got home Saturday evening. Instead, as I was scrambling my eggs, Bailey was running through the house like her butt was on fire. Then she ran (sliding around the corner) into the living room and I suddenly heard the unmistakable noise she makes when she is preparing to barf. I walked in to make sure she didn't run to the front door to puke on the rug which she usually does, and I don't know if I scared her or she just wasn't finished running like a maniac through the house, but just as she started puking, she started running. So I had a 6 foot long trail of cat vomit all the way from one side of my living room to the other. Which? You know. That's just about as awesome as it sounds. Bailey ALWAYS throws up in 3 spots. So then she ran to the doorway of the dining room for her second, um, "gift". Oddly, I thought that was it because then she went and jumped in the bay window and promptly fell asleep like she was cool.
I was wrong.
So, so, so wrong.
I finished making breakfast, sat at the island so my back was to all of the disgustingness going on in the living room and ate my eggs. Then I grabbed a roll of paper towels and got to work. As I was cleaning up my ENTIRE living room floor (stupid running cat), I thought to myself that my floors really needed me to take the steam mop to them. So I cleaned up the two "gifts", then walked out on the porch to have my coffee. As I sat there cussing to myself about my cat, I decided I would grab the throw rug out of the downstairs bathroom to take up to the laundry, and that on Sunday I would wash all of the throw rugs in the house and steam mop the floors. Since it was Saturday and I had plans to go to the office. As I walked to the bathroom, I glanced into the sunroom.
There was her third gift for me. Right next to the leg of a wicker chair.
I moved the chair so I could clean up yet more cat puke and that's when I discovered another gift. Only this one had been hidden and was old and really gross. And I knew there were two more somewhere just like it. There were. Behind another chair.
So I finished cleaning up 6 disgusting gifts, and headed upstairs to the laundry with the bathroom rug and to take a shower and go to work for the day.
As I got to the top of the stairs I almost fainted.
Because that's where I discovered a gigantic pile of cat poo. Let's just say her stools were loose and she didn't make it to the litter box in time. And then she must have gotten some on a paw and decided to fling it off. All over the door of my laundry closet. All up the wall as high as the light switch. All over the baseboards. All over the floor. It was every effin' where. And all over the rug in front of her litter box. O. M. G. I could have killed her. I know someone is going to question why I didn't rush to the vet because of all of the puking and pooping, but this was all because I changed her food this week. Yes, when I change her food I mix them to gradually adjust her to a different food. And usually that works. But not always. She has done this a couple of times in her 13 years and she's lucky she's so cute is all I can say. After cleaning up all of that, I didn't have it in me to go to work. So I steam mopped my floors which took hours. And then I was in no mood to blog.
Sunday, I was still recovering and trying to decide if I still loved Bailey even a little bit. I also did some work in the yard, did some more house cleaning, cooked my lunches and dinners for the week, and in between tried to keep up with all of the games I'm addicted to playing on my phone with some of y'all. And didn't blog at all.
So let's get on to announcing the winners from last week's Music Monday contest and then get on to this week's.
First place is a tie:
Sadie! For Duran Duran - Girls on Film
And Lisa Pie! For Def Leppard - Photograph
Second place goes to:
Tee! For Lady Gaga - Paparazzi
Third place goes to:
Scraps! For Freeze Frame - J. Geils Band
And now let's move on to this week's theme. Today there was a story which a couple of my friends posted on Facebook about Mitt Romney. Apparently he was talking about his wife's plane having the electrical fire last week and having to make an emergency landing, how relieved he was that she was okay, etc. But then he said this:
“I appreciate the fact that she is on the ground, safe and sound. And I don’t think she knows just how worried some of us were,” Romney said. “When you have a fire in an aircraft, there’s no place to go, exactly, there’s no — and you can’t find any oxygen from outside the aircraft to get in the aircraft, because the windows don’t open. I don’t know why they don’t do that. It’s a real problem. So it’s very dangerous. And she was choking and rubbing her eyes. Fortunately, there was enough oxygen for the pilot and copilot to make a safe landing in Denver. But she’s safe and sound.”
To which I say, "huh?" No, Mitt, you can't roll down the windows on an airplane because, you know, everyone would die.
Here is a link to the article in case you think I'm making that up: LA Times
So this week's theme is traveling and flying. The song(s) you submit must contain a travel related word in the title (plane, fly, travel, suitcase, etc.).
And I promise I'm going to try to blog more. And it won't all be about my asshole cat and her nastiness. If she does that again, I'm going to roll down the window and throw her out on the street. What do you mean I can't "roll" down the windows in my house? I don't know why they don't do that. It's a real problem. (I'm just kidding, y'all. I don't know what I'd do without my pain in the butt cat even when she's completely disgusting. ALL over my house.)
Monday, September 17, 2012
I'm full of sap and mush in this one
Well y'all. I didn't exactly get around to posting this weekend even though I said I might. I'm just no June Gardens with her blog dedication, am I? (It did make me feel a little better to see she didn't blog this weekend either.)
Saturday I left at 10:00 a.m. to go out to my dad's house and I was there until almost 5:00 p.m. Y'all, his wife is so sad and it breaks my heart to see her crying, packing up her things to move at almost 80 years of age (my dad was 72 - she's a bit older than he was), being scared about her future, missing my dad SO much (he was the love of her life even though they had only been married 2 years), but also being angry with him and feeling deceived over the complete financial mess he left us to deal with, leaving her with absolutely nothing, etc. We had my dad cremated because she wanted to have his ashes buried with her. Now she says she can't even bear to have the urn with her and seeing it every single day will prevent her from ever being able to get over his death. She wants my brothers and I to have his remains and she wants us to spread at least a portion of his ashes on our biological mom's grave so we will have our parents back together again. I don't know when I'll be able to handle that. I've told her we don't have to decide that kind of stuff immediately and she should take some time to think about it. She says her mind is more than made up. She feels my dad would want his three children to have his remains. Is it weird that I don't think I can handle having his ashes in my house either? Because I really don't think I can.
After I left my dad's house, I met my sister-in-law and niece for dinner over an hour away from my house, stopped at the grocery store on the way home where I saw a poor man knock over an entire shelf of jars of crushed garlic (breaking many of them), and didn't get home until about 9:00. I could still smell garlic for hours. Yesterday I cooked all of my lunches and dinners for the week, did a tiny bit of yard work, a tiny bit of house cleaning, and some laundry.
Then I picked up a paint brush for the first time since I broke my arm over 7 months ago. My soul needed some therapy in a very bad way. A blank canvas, some paint, and a few brushes is the best therapy I've ever found in my life. I'm painting a piece with butterflies - one large butterfly representing my dad and three small ones representing my two brothers and I - because butterflies are such a great symbol of resurrection, transition, lightness, and I've heard some cultures think of them as returning souls of the deceased. I'm painting them because of all those things and as a symbol that our family is now going through a transformation and a change to a life without my dad. Butterflies seem to dance as they move through the air which reminds me to get up and move and to work towards feeling joy and lightness again. Also, I have seen what I think is the same butterfly in my front yard repeatedly since the week my dad passed away. (Is this enough cheese for one post? I think so.)
And that was pretty much my weekend in a nutshell. Super exciting, huh?
Let's move on to Music Monday.
We began looking through my dad's stuff this weekend and making some plans for which pieces, stuff, etc. we are going to keep and what we are going to sell to pay towards my dad's funeral, etc. My dad was a professional photographer and his basement is full of photography equipment so our theme for this week is: Photography! The song(s) you submit must contain a word in the title associated with photography (photograph, picture, film, camera, lens, etc.) As ususal, I have a few songs in mind but can't wait to see what y'all come up with!
Saturday I left at 10:00 a.m. to go out to my dad's house and I was there until almost 5:00 p.m. Y'all, his wife is so sad and it breaks my heart to see her crying, packing up her things to move at almost 80 years of age (my dad was 72 - she's a bit older than he was), being scared about her future, missing my dad SO much (he was the love of her life even though they had only been married 2 years), but also being angry with him and feeling deceived over the complete financial mess he left us to deal with, leaving her with absolutely nothing, etc. We had my dad cremated because she wanted to have his ashes buried with her. Now she says she can't even bear to have the urn with her and seeing it every single day will prevent her from ever being able to get over his death. She wants my brothers and I to have his remains and she wants us to spread at least a portion of his ashes on our biological mom's grave so we will have our parents back together again. I don't know when I'll be able to handle that. I've told her we don't have to decide that kind of stuff immediately and she should take some time to think about it. She says her mind is more than made up. She feels my dad would want his three children to have his remains. Is it weird that I don't think I can handle having his ashes in my house either? Because I really don't think I can.
After I left my dad's house, I met my sister-in-law and niece for dinner over an hour away from my house, stopped at the grocery store on the way home where I saw a poor man knock over an entire shelf of jars of crushed garlic (breaking many of them), and didn't get home until about 9:00. I could still smell garlic for hours. Yesterday I cooked all of my lunches and dinners for the week, did a tiny bit of yard work, a tiny bit of house cleaning, and some laundry.
Then I picked up a paint brush for the first time since I broke my arm over 7 months ago. My soul needed some therapy in a very bad way. A blank canvas, some paint, and a few brushes is the best therapy I've ever found in my life. I'm painting a piece with butterflies - one large butterfly representing my dad and three small ones representing my two brothers and I - because butterflies are such a great symbol of resurrection, transition, lightness, and I've heard some cultures think of them as returning souls of the deceased. I'm painting them because of all those things and as a symbol that our family is now going through a transformation and a change to a life without my dad. Butterflies seem to dance as they move through the air which reminds me to get up and move and to work towards feeling joy and lightness again. Also, I have seen what I think is the same butterfly in my front yard repeatedly since the week my dad passed away. (Is this enough cheese for one post? I think so.)
And that was pretty much my weekend in a nutshell. Super exciting, huh?
Let's move on to Music Monday.
We began looking through my dad's stuff this weekend and making some plans for which pieces, stuff, etc. we are going to keep and what we are going to sell to pay towards my dad's funeral, etc. My dad was a professional photographer and his basement is full of photography equipment so our theme for this week is: Photography! The song(s) you submit must contain a word in the title associated with photography (photograph, picture, film, camera, lens, etc.) As ususal, I have a few songs in mind but can't wait to see what y'all come up with!
Friday, September 14, 2012
It's been a week, y'all
So Friday is a good day to finally post Music Monday winners, right? I just can't seem to get it together this week......
If I could get my lazy butt up 30 minutes earlier in the mornings I'd post each day, but I have major sleep issues and it's all I can do to drag myself up to get to work on time.
Monday night the girl was at my house until after 10:00 p.m. doing my hair. My hair is much darker which is what I wanted and I like it. But I keep freaking out every single time I see it in a mirror. It’s much closer to my natural color now, it’s just that I haven’t seen that color in about 10 years. I don’t recognize myself without all the gray and ugly brassy highlights it seems. I’ve been wanting to go back darker for a while, but the last two people who colored it just didn’t quite do it. My last hair guy lost his wife to cancer and he kind of started doing weird stuff to my hair and I didn’t want to upset him so I didn’t say anything, but kept going back to him because he had formerly done a great job on my hair and I kept thinking he’d do better the next time I went. Then I called and they told me had he moved to D.C. so I had to find a new person.
Everyone at work says they like it much better darker and I know Hot Brazilian will agree when I finally see him again. Or when we video Skype or something. When I went toBrazil Cyprus
Anyway, on Tuesday night, I finally got to start back to physical therapy after arguing with my insurance company a whole bunch and getting my doctor to write a new prescription for a possible rotator cuff tear or impingement instead of for my broken arm. They gave me 4 more sessions and that might be it. However, our benefits manager messed up her shoulder and is about to start with my same therapist and if she has insurance issues maybe she will get the insurance company to, you know, cover needed physical therapy since we supposedly have unlimited PT each year. Starting back to therapy after a month and a half break from it made me very hurt-y and tired so I didn’t blog that night.
Then Wednesday night I met a friend of mine for dinner since I’m completely broke and it sounded like a good idea to go out and buy dinner for myself. And a beer. But just one. I had not seen her in about 5 months and she wanted to give me a shoulder to cry on because my year has sucked the big one. I didn’t really cry, y’all even though this year really has sucked quite a bit. Actually, a couple of days ago my mom and I were summarizing the past year and a half in my life: my dad had 2 heart attacks and ended up on life support, having 3 surgeries, and being in the hospital for a month, then one of my awesome uncles died of cancer, then my mom got remarried and moved from Atlanta to Texas and she’s kind of my rock and I miss her a lot now that she’s 12 hours away, then I went through the worst home buying experience my agent has ever seen in his 20+ years in the real estate industry, then I lived in my house during 6 weeks of major renovations, then I tripped on my flip flop and broke my arm and elbow in 4 places, then my house started breaking every single time I turned around to the tune of $7,000 of repairs in 6 months, and now my dad is dead. So yes, my friend thought I might want to cry, what with having a crappy, sucky, awful year so we talked until almost 10:00 and, once again, I was too tired to blog when I got home.
Last night, I was just feeling too lazy to do anything so I didn’t blog then either. And now it’s Friday already. Ack!
As I mentioned in June’s comments, my older brother and I are meeting with my dad’s wife’s kids tomorrow to discuss how to handle the mess my dad left behind a few weeks ago. Someone mentioned in the comments that I should consult an estate attorney. I work at a law firm and I’ve talked to our estate attorney and have gotten some advice. At some point I may feel like posting what the true situation is that we’re facing, but it doesn’t seem like the right time to do that right now. But we have a lot to do in the next couple of months and I’m not looking forward to any of it. If you’re so inclined, please say a little prayer for my brothers and I as we go down this road ahead of us. And pray that everyone is still speaking to each other when we're done.
Imma move on to Music Monday results and stop talking about so much negative stuff!
First place goes to Heather for ol' blue eyes:
Second place is a tie! Just Paula for Patsy Cline's "I Fall to Pieces":
And also to Lisa Pie for Earth Wind & Fire:
And Third Place belongs to Bobbi for some awesome Van Morrison:
My contribution is this one from Paolo Nutini (have any of you heard of him?):
I may try to post over the weekend and shock all of you!
If I could get my lazy butt up 30 minutes earlier in the mornings I'd post each day, but I have major sleep issues and it's all I can do to drag myself up to get to work on time.
Monday night the girl was at my house until after 10:00 p.m. doing my hair. My hair is much darker which is what I wanted and I like it. But I keep freaking out every single time I see it in a mirror. It’s much closer to my natural color now, it’s just that I haven’t seen that color in about 10 years. I don’t recognize myself without all the gray and ugly brassy highlights it seems. I’ve been wanting to go back darker for a while, but the last two people who colored it just didn’t quite do it. My last hair guy lost his wife to cancer and he kind of started doing weird stuff to my hair and I didn’t want to upset him so I didn’t say anything, but kept going back to him because he had formerly done a great job on my hair and I kept thinking he’d do better the next time I went. Then I called and they told me had he moved to D.C. so I had to find a new person.
Everyone at work says they like it much better darker and I know Hot Brazilian will agree when I finally see him again. Or when we video Skype or something. When I went to
Anyway, on Tuesday night, I finally got to start back to physical therapy after arguing with my insurance company a whole bunch and getting my doctor to write a new prescription for a possible rotator cuff tear or impingement instead of for my broken arm. They gave me 4 more sessions and that might be it. However, our benefits manager messed up her shoulder and is about to start with my same therapist and if she has insurance issues maybe she will get the insurance company to, you know, cover needed physical therapy since we supposedly have unlimited PT each year. Starting back to therapy after a month and a half break from it made me very hurt-y and tired so I didn’t blog that night.
Then Wednesday night I met a friend of mine for dinner since I’m completely broke and it sounded like a good idea to go out and buy dinner for myself. And a beer. But just one. I had not seen her in about 5 months and she wanted to give me a shoulder to cry on because my year has sucked the big one. I didn’t really cry, y’all even though this year really has sucked quite a bit. Actually, a couple of days ago my mom and I were summarizing the past year and a half in my life: my dad had 2 heart attacks and ended up on life support, having 3 surgeries, and being in the hospital for a month, then one of my awesome uncles died of cancer, then my mom got remarried and moved from Atlanta to Texas and she’s kind of my rock and I miss her a lot now that she’s 12 hours away, then I went through the worst home buying experience my agent has ever seen in his 20+ years in the real estate industry, then I lived in my house during 6 weeks of major renovations, then I tripped on my flip flop and broke my arm and elbow in 4 places, then my house started breaking every single time I turned around to the tune of $7,000 of repairs in 6 months, and now my dad is dead. So yes, my friend thought I might want to cry, what with having a crappy, sucky, awful year so we talked until almost 10:00 and, once again, I was too tired to blog when I got home.
Last night, I was just feeling too lazy to do anything so I didn’t blog then either. And now it’s Friday already. Ack!
As I mentioned in June’s comments, my older brother and I are meeting with my dad’s wife’s kids tomorrow to discuss how to handle the mess my dad left behind a few weeks ago. Someone mentioned in the comments that I should consult an estate attorney. I work at a law firm and I’ve talked to our estate attorney and have gotten some advice. At some point I may feel like posting what the true situation is that we’re facing, but it doesn’t seem like the right time to do that right now. But we have a lot to do in the next couple of months and I’m not looking forward to any of it. If you’re so inclined, please say a little prayer for my brothers and I as we go down this road ahead of us. And pray that everyone is still speaking to each other when we're done.
Imma move on to Music Monday results and stop talking about so much negative stuff!
First place goes to Heather for ol' blue eyes:
Second place is a tie! Just Paula for Patsy Cline's "I Fall to Pieces":
And also to Lisa Pie for Earth Wind & Fire:
And Third Place belongs to Bobbi for some awesome Van Morrison:
My contribution is this one from Paolo Nutini (have any of you heard of him?):
I may try to post over the weekend and shock all of you!
Monday, September 10, 2012
Trying to come up for air and trying to act normal again
Okay, I know I haven't "talked" at y'all much in the past two weeks since I've been dealing with my dad's passing, but I can't talk much today either.
I’m busy at work because one of my bosses just got back after a week of vacation and he was hiking in a canyon (to which I said, “that is not my idea of a vacation at all”) and had no email or voice mail access so we are playing major catch up today.
And I have someone coming to my house to cut and color my hair tonight so I may not be able to post after work either depending on how late she’s working on me. Don’t I sound like a snot? I have a stylist coming to my house because I’m too important to go to a salon. (Not really. In case y’all actually believed me.) She is my friend’s niece and she used to work in a salon but is now working somewhere else and trying to build up a side business doing hair so she comes to your house and let me tell you how happy I am that she does. I have not had my hair cut and colored since January. January, y’all. Being in a body brace and cast with my broken arm for over 3 months, coupled with all of the crap that I’ve had to fix in my house and co-pays for doctors and physical therapy, etc. I just haven’t been able to go get my hair taken care of. I have some brown, some reddish highlights, some dark roots, lots of gray, etc. It is a hot, hot mess. Well, I wouldn’t actually say it looks very hot. But it’s a mess. The girl stopped by my house Saturday to see what color she needed to buy and she very diplomatically told me that it’s going to be a challenge to straighten out the color situation I have going on. Y'all keep your fingers crossed that I'm not too much of a challenge for her....
I did want to get back to Music Monday though because I'm trying really, really, really hard to start feeling at least the tiniest bits of normalcy again in whatever ways I can muster. My dad’s death has really knocked me for a loop in so many ways. So let’s play! This weekend inAtlanta
I’m busy at work because one of my bosses just got back after a week of vacation and he was hiking in a canyon (to which I said, “that is not my idea of a vacation at all”) and had no email or voice mail access so we are playing major catch up today.
And I have someone coming to my house to cut and color my hair tonight so I may not be able to post after work either depending on how late she’s working on me. Don’t I sound like a snot? I have a stylist coming to my house because I’m too important to go to a salon. (Not really. In case y’all actually believed me.) She is my friend’s niece and she used to work in a salon but is now working somewhere else and trying to build up a side business doing hair so she comes to your house and let me tell you how happy I am that she does. I have not had my hair cut and colored since January. January, y’all. Being in a body brace and cast with my broken arm for over 3 months, coupled with all of the crap that I’ve had to fix in my house and co-pays for doctors and physical therapy, etc. I just haven’t been able to go get my hair taken care of. I have some brown, some reddish highlights, some dark roots, lots of gray, etc. It is a hot, hot mess. Well, I wouldn’t actually say it looks very hot. But it’s a mess. The girl stopped by my house Saturday to see what color she needed to buy and she very diplomatically told me that it’s going to be a challenge to straighten out the color situation I have going on. Y'all keep your fingers crossed that I'm not too much of a challenge for her....
I did want to get back to Music Monday though because I'm trying really, really, really hard to start feeling at least the tiniest bits of normalcy again in whatever ways I can muster. My dad’s death has really knocked me for a loop in so many ways. So let’s play! This weekend in
Sunday, September 2, 2012
Thank you
Thank you to everyone who sent emails, left comments, mailed me cards, sent messages on facebook, left comments on facebook, etc. this past week. It has been a rough one but your words have helped more than you know.
Last Saturday, I had been working in the yard and my cell phone was sitting on my front porch. I had talked to a couple of people and then pulled weeds for about 45 minutes. When I looked at my phone again, I had missed calls, text messages, and voice mails from 5 different people and as I was about to check the messages to see what in the world could be going on, my older brother called. And he told me my dad's wife had found him in the bedroom floor when she woke up and he had passed away. She told me later he had his legs up under the bed and that he had tucked a pillow under his head so apparently he didn't die immediately and tried to get comfortable. She is almost deaf and never heard him fall but she said he was ice cold when she found him so it had been a while.
My dad had two heart attacks about a year and a half ago. He had never had any heart problems before that. He spent a month in the hospital, was in ICU on life support for 10 days, and then had a triple bypass, a pacemaker and a defibrillator put in before he was finally able to go home. He seemed to be doing okay, but he said he never got his energy or stamina back. I had just had dinner with him the Sunday before he passed away. He was joking around as usual and seemed fine. His wife said that on Friday he had been feeling bad and never could get comfortable. It was the exact symptoms he had before his heart attacks last year, but she is kind of elderly and I guess it just didn't register with her and they didn't take him to the doctor or hospital. But there is no way of knowing if that would have even saved him. And knowing my dad, he would never have agreed to go.
I talked to Hot Brazilian the morning of my dad's memorial service. He quoted a Bible verse for me to look up about faith (Hebrews 11:1). I then almost fell over at the church. It was pouring down rain when my mom and I walked into the church so we stepped into a Sunday School class to kind of put ourselves back together. As I walked in the door of the room, I stopped and my mouth fell open. On the far wall was a big piece of paper with handwriting in magic marker and it was Hebrews 11:1.
I was talking to my younger brother's wife/girlfriend (long story) yesterday and she started telling me that he had seen a hummingbird in their foundry metal shop the day after they got back home and I told her I had seen one when I was sitting on my front porch one morning this week. I had stepped out there to have a few minutes of quiet (I had a houseful of people all week). Neither of us had ever seen a hummingbird on either of our properties before this week. She then explained that she had always been told and understood since she was a little girl that hummingbirds represent a connection with the spirit world and it was a sign from loved ones who have passed away. Because they can fly backwards and forwards, it's a sign to look to the past but not dwell on it, and to keep moving forward. And their wings move in the infinity pattern. They are also supposed to be a symbol of resurrection and if you see one soon after a loved one has passed, it is a sign that they are still with you and watching over you from above.
The sad truth is, my dad had almost looked forward to death for the past 40 years. He had told me he absolutely didn't want to live to be an old man. My biological mom died when I was 5 (in 1973) and he really always wished he had died with her. I'm not just saying that, he actually told us he wished he had died with her. He told us years later that when she died he gave serious consideration to loading his clothes in his car and driving off and leaving my two brothers and I because he just didn't want to deal with us. I'd like to think he changed his mind eventually and was glad he didn't. But when she died, my dad closed himself off emotionally to everyone, including his 3 kids. He remarried 9 months later to my mom who raised us. And my dad basically kept his feelings and emotions buried deep and never shared himself completely with any of us ever again. He and my mom divorced after 33 years and then he married for a third time about two and a half years ago. Don't get me wrong, I loved my dad. We never had fights, there were never instances where we were mad at each other or not speaking. We always got along very well. But he never let us inside. I can only remember 3 times he really opened up to me and I could tell it was quite uncomfortable for him but for whatever reason, on those 3 occasions, he felt like he needed to share some things with me. The last time he did, he shared with me the many regrets he had for how he handled things when our mom died (basically we were expected to act as though she never existed and we understood not to talk about her). So his death has filled me with tons of mixed emotions: sadness that he's gone and I'll never feel his great hugs again or hear his laughter, regret that I could never break through his walls, lots of unanswered questions about him and how he felt about things, a sense of peace because I knew he was at peace with death and not afraid to die, and quite honestly I feel a good bit of anger towards him for a lot of things. My dad came across to most people as a pretty simple guy, but the truth is he was an incredibly complicated person who I will never feel like I knew as much as I should have as his daughter.
I know I will be going through these emotions for a while probably, and possibly for the remainder of my days. But your concern, thoughts and prayers have lifted me up and I appreciate them more than I can ever express.
Last Saturday, I had been working in the yard and my cell phone was sitting on my front porch. I had talked to a couple of people and then pulled weeds for about 45 minutes. When I looked at my phone again, I had missed calls, text messages, and voice mails from 5 different people and as I was about to check the messages to see what in the world could be going on, my older brother called. And he told me my dad's wife had found him in the bedroom floor when she woke up and he had passed away. She told me later he had his legs up under the bed and that he had tucked a pillow under his head so apparently he didn't die immediately and tried to get comfortable. She is almost deaf and never heard him fall but she said he was ice cold when she found him so it had been a while.
My dad had two heart attacks about a year and a half ago. He had never had any heart problems before that. He spent a month in the hospital, was in ICU on life support for 10 days, and then had a triple bypass, a pacemaker and a defibrillator put in before he was finally able to go home. He seemed to be doing okay, but he said he never got his energy or stamina back. I had just had dinner with him the Sunday before he passed away. He was joking around as usual and seemed fine. His wife said that on Friday he had been feeling bad and never could get comfortable. It was the exact symptoms he had before his heart attacks last year, but she is kind of elderly and I guess it just didn't register with her and they didn't take him to the doctor or hospital. But there is no way of knowing if that would have even saved him. And knowing my dad, he would never have agreed to go.
I talked to Hot Brazilian the morning of my dad's memorial service. He quoted a Bible verse for me to look up about faith (Hebrews 11:1). I then almost fell over at the church. It was pouring down rain when my mom and I walked into the church so we stepped into a Sunday School class to kind of put ourselves back together. As I walked in the door of the room, I stopped and my mouth fell open. On the far wall was a big piece of paper with handwriting in magic marker and it was Hebrews 11:1.
I was talking to my younger brother's wife/girlfriend (long story) yesterday and she started telling me that he had seen a hummingbird in their foundry metal shop the day after they got back home and I told her I had seen one when I was sitting on my front porch one morning this week. I had stepped out there to have a few minutes of quiet (I had a houseful of people all week). Neither of us had ever seen a hummingbird on either of our properties before this week. She then explained that she had always been told and understood since she was a little girl that hummingbirds represent a connection with the spirit world and it was a sign from loved ones who have passed away. Because they can fly backwards and forwards, it's a sign to look to the past but not dwell on it, and to keep moving forward. And their wings move in the infinity pattern. They are also supposed to be a symbol of resurrection and if you see one soon after a loved one has passed, it is a sign that they are still with you and watching over you from above.
The sad truth is, my dad had almost looked forward to death for the past 40 years. He had told me he absolutely didn't want to live to be an old man. My biological mom died when I was 5 (in 1973) and he really always wished he had died with her. I'm not just saying that, he actually told us he wished he had died with her. He told us years later that when she died he gave serious consideration to loading his clothes in his car and driving off and leaving my two brothers and I because he just didn't want to deal with us. I'd like to think he changed his mind eventually and was glad he didn't. But when she died, my dad closed himself off emotionally to everyone, including his 3 kids. He remarried 9 months later to my mom who raised us. And my dad basically kept his feelings and emotions buried deep and never shared himself completely with any of us ever again. He and my mom divorced after 33 years and then he married for a third time about two and a half years ago. Don't get me wrong, I loved my dad. We never had fights, there were never instances where we were mad at each other or not speaking. We always got along very well. But he never let us inside. I can only remember 3 times he really opened up to me and I could tell it was quite uncomfortable for him but for whatever reason, on those 3 occasions, he felt like he needed to share some things with me. The last time he did, he shared with me the many regrets he had for how he handled things when our mom died (basically we were expected to act as though she never existed and we understood not to talk about her). So his death has filled me with tons of mixed emotions: sadness that he's gone and I'll never feel his great hugs again or hear his laughter, regret that I could never break through his walls, lots of unanswered questions about him and how he felt about things, a sense of peace because I knew he was at peace with death and not afraid to die, and quite honestly I feel a good bit of anger towards him for a lot of things. My dad came across to most people as a pretty simple guy, but the truth is he was an incredibly complicated person who I will never feel like I knew as much as I should have as his daughter.
I know I will be going through these emotions for a while probably, and possibly for the remainder of my days. But your concern, thoughts and prayers have lifted me up and I appreciate them more than I can ever express.
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