Life in progress


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Don’t you hate it when that happens?

I’d decided that I would stop refreshing my damned stats page, I’d stopped looking for new posts to read in my reader and I’d even gone as far as turning off the laptop.  And the other laptop. And the PC.  So I’m standing in the kitchen, making my coffee for the morning and it hits me. The perfect subject for a post. Before I know it I’ve lost count of how many scoops I’ve put in the coffeemaker (I only have to count to seven, but there you go) and I’m trying to decide whether to a) get out a pen and paper and jot down the idea or b) turn a computer back on and risk staying up yet another hour to write – and refresh – and read.

So I’m writing this now (it’s 6:46pm) but all this happened to me last night. I failed to do neither a) nor b) and now I can’t remember what my brilliant idea was. But I still got a post out of the experience, so it wasn’t a total waste. 😛


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Call me weird

This may be strange – it’s something I’ve never talked to anyone about before – but once in a while I kind of sit back from myself.  Hmmm…no, that’s not right.  (Maybe this is why I’ve never talked about it before.) Try again.  Sometimes I look at my life and wonder how I got here.  By here I mean in this house, in this town, with these people I live with. I guess that’s the strange part about it. ‘These people’ I live with are two of my kids. Of course I know ‘these people’ – I gave birth to them. …wow, right? I am responsible for the existence of ‘these people’!

Anyway, this is something I’ve done over and over again in my life. Just sat back and looked at where I am and what brought me here…living with my kids.

For the first time in the years I’ve been doing this however, this morning I did it and it scared me. I realized that this is what dementia must feel like.  How did I get here? Who are these people? That there might come a time when I can’t smile and answer those questions for myself – that there might be a time when I’m asking these questions for real…

I think I have a new appreciation for what it must be like to have Alzheimer’s Disease.

But am I weird for doing this in the first place? Or does everyone do this once in a while?


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Unparalleled grief

goes on

Flowers for Aaron

Down the street from me lives a lady. I see her often, sitting on her front porch, when I’m going by on my paper route. Occasionally I stop to talk to her – she has a grandmotherly attachment to Alex, my son. In the summer she gives him popsicles.  She never fails to ask me how he is if he’s not with me.

In early January she lost her husband quite suddenly. She has family, two daughters who live with their own families not too far away, who were very supportive, taking her where she needed to go since the driver in the household passed away. When I talked to her about the passing of her husband she seemed to have made peace with the idea that he was in a better place. He left her to live alone with her disabled son.

Today, when I came to her house I stopped to talk and she asked me, ‘Did you hear?’

‘Hear what?’ I asked.

‘My son passed away last week…’ she told me.

Tears came to my eyes before I could stop them, causing hers to flow as well.

Her son was an adult. He had been sick for the past two weeks and was unable to fight it off.  His heart gave out. He was born with a heart defect much like my Alex was.

No parent should outlive their child. I’ve said this again and again and yet, it happens.  How can life go on after that?

How?


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How comments can hurt

It didn’t start as a comment directed at me, but it bothered me nonetheless. The discussion was about a situation in which a man, with a disabled wife and a small child had taken a weekend ‘off’ to visit with friends and came home to find his wife had died. The comment, on a friend’s journal, stated that the commenter couldn’t understand why, if the man loved his family at all, he would need a weekend away from them.

I am a single mother of two disabled kids with whom I live alone. I love them more than anything in the world – but I need time off! By the time their father’s scheduled weekend with them comes around, which is supposed to be every two weeks but is more often not until the third weekend, I’m all but pulling out my hair. Loving them doesn’t preclude the work that’s required to look after their every need, nor does it make up for the fact that I don’t get any more than five hours of sleep a night when they’re here.

Back to the comment: I tried to explain to the girl who made it that it’s not that clear cut – that there are many things that go into the care of the disabled and the very young. She came back to say that she knows – and that she looks after her disabled parents. I fail to see the parallel. In the end I got the last word, telling her that she is a better person than I am.

It’s probably the way the conversation was left that bothers me the most. That I couldn’t make her see I’m not a terrible person and that I don’t not love my kids because I need time to myself to recharge and re-align my emotions, still sits badly with me.

It makes me wonder whether people out there with different problems than I have are just reluctant to look deeper into the difficulties of others or if they simply don’t care to try. It’s this ‘it’s not my problem so you must be doing something wrong to make it yours’ attitude that worries me. At the same time I hope they are never put into my situation, a little part of me hopes they are. Not very altruistic, but there you go. Sentiment breeds like sentiment.


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Just for laughs

Old Lutheran Humor
Church Bulletin Bloopers

·For those of you who have children and don’t know it, we have a nursery downstairs.

·Due to the Rector’s illness, Wednesday’s healing services will be discontinued until further notice.

·Evening massage – 6 p.m.

·The eighth-graders will be presenting Shakespeare’s Hamlet in the church basement on Friday at 7 p.m. The congregation is invited to attend this tragedy.

·Potluck supper: prayer and medication to follow.

·Don’t let worry kill you off – let the church help.

·The concert held in Fellowship Hall was a great success. Special thanks are due to the minister’s daughter, who labored the whole evening at the piano, which as usual fell upon her.

·Scouts are saving aluminum cans, bottles, and other items to be recycled. Proceeds will be used to cripple children.

·The outreach committee has enlisted 25 visitors to make calls on people who are not afflicted with any church.

·Low Self-Esteem Support Group will meet Thursday at 7 to 8:30p.m. Please use the back door.

·Ushers will eat latecomers.

·The Rev. Merriwether spoke briefly, much to the delight of the audience.

·During the absence of our pastor, we enjoyed the rare privilege of hearing a good sermon when J.F. Stubbs supplied our pulpit.

·Next Sunday Mrs. Vinson will be soloist for the morning service. The pastor will then speak on “It’s a Terrible Experience.”

·Stewardship Offertory: “Jesus Paid It All”

·Remember in prayer the many who are sick of our church and community.

·Pastor is on vacation. Massages can be given to church secretary.

·22 members were present at the church meeting held at the home of Mrs. Marsha Crutchfield last evening. Mrs. Crutchfield and Mrs. Rankin sang a duet, The Lord Knows Why.

·The choir invites any member of the congregation who enjoys sinning to join the choir.

·Weight Watchers will meet at 7 p.m. Please use large double door at the side entrance.

·The rosebud on the altar this morning is to announce the birth of David Alan Belzer, the sin of Reverend and Mrs. Julius Belzer.

·This afternoon there will be a meeting in the south and north ends of the church. Children will be baptized at both ends.

·Tuesday at 4PM there will be an ice cream social. All ladies giving milk will please come early.

·Wednesday, the Ladies Liturgy Society will meet. Mrs. Jones will sing “Put Me In My Little Bed” accompanied by the pastor.

·Thursday at 5PM there will be a meeting of the Little Mothers Club. All wishing to become Little Mothers, please see the minister in his private study.

·This being Easter Sunday, we will ask Mr. Vassilas to come forward and lay an egg on the altar.

·The service will close with “Little Drops Of Water”. One of the ladies will start (quietly) and the rest of the congregation will join in.

·Next Sunday, a special collection will be taken to defray the cost of the new carpet. All those wishing to do something on the new carpet will come forward and get a piece of paper.

·The ladies of the church have cast off clothing of every kind and they may be seen in the church basement Friday.

·A bean supper will be held on Tuesday evening in the church hall. Music will follow.

·At the evening service tonight, the sermon topic will be “What is Hell?”. Come early and listen to our choir practice.

·The 1991 Spring Council Retreat will be hell May 10 and 11.

·Eight new choir robes are currently needed, due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones.

·Mrs. Johnson will be entering the hospital this week for testes.

·Please join us as we show our support for Amy and Alan who is preparing for the girth of their first child.

·The Lutheran Men’s group will meet at 6 PM. Steak, mashed potatoes, green beans, bread and dessert will be served for a nominal feel.

·The Associate Minister unveiled the church’s new tithing campaign slogan last Sunday: ” I Upped My Pledge-Up Yours.”


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Kids these days

What does it say about today’s youth when I am surprised and impressed to see a teenager on Facebook use an apostrophe while spelling the contraction for ‘you are’?  It is mind-boggling that it has become so common for kids to get it wrong that when they get it right it’s noteworthy.

I don’t know anymore whether to blame the school system or the cell phone companies. I mean, you’ve got to give the kids their due. When they’re being hassled by their parents to cut down on the text messages, what better way to save space than, for example, to use ‘u’ instead of you?  I’m guilty of it myself  -but only when I’m driving.  Kidding! I don’t text and drive. But the practice of this cell phone ease carried over into everything else is utter laziness. Why don’t they care? Is it just me or is there some amount of dignity in at least trying to do things right?

Maybe it is the schools’ fault. What are they doing to make kids pay attention? I was flabbergasted to find out that the penalty for skipping high school is suspension.  You want to take a day off? Why not take four? Go on, enjoy yourself!

It’ll give u more taim 2 fuck up you’re grammer on Facebook!


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Proof

It is done – my final assignment for the last of the courses I am taking this semester. A few extra grey hairs later and more than a few late nights of agonizing over words and sentences and paragraphs and I can finally breathe again. And blog. Speaking of blogging…

As of this moment (that is before I publish this post) I have had a grand total of three visitors to my blog in the eighteen hours that have passed since midnight. This shows me that in order to have anyone visit my blog I have to visit others and comment on them – two things I have had little time to do these past days.

Proof positive that if you want an active blog you need to be active in the blogging community.

…or you need to put hashtags in front of trending words in your title…


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What’s in a plan

I remember back in high school being asked where I thought I’d be and what I could imagine I’d be doing with my life in the year 2000. There was no way I could have predicted that I’d be living in the province of Quebec by that time but I was. I remember thinking I’ll have 3 kids because that’s what my mother says my hand is telling me – not palm reading exactly but counting the small lines in between the bigger creases in your fist where your baby finger meets your hand. Try it. Is it right? Somehow I doubt it if you’ve got five or more children. But I digress.

My thought for today is that speculation is really useless. Take the bombing in Boston for instance. There, right there, is proof that no one can predict what might happen in the next few seconds, let alone the next 20 years. (Yes, I’m dating myself.)

Having said that, all three of my children were born in the province of Quebec, and yes, they were all born by the end of 2000. But how many things might have happened to change that in the years between?

Do you ever think about what you’ll be doing in 20 years? I suggest you check your fist…

fist


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Bored?

For anyone disentranced with content (or lack thereof) of my blog lately (I’m busy finishing up a couple of courses and haven’t had the gray matter for much else) I’d like to remind you that I have a fiction blog here on which I have expended a few spare brain cells to write some amusing and/or dramatic short scenes.
Many of them are unrelated, so they need not be read in order. For your convenience however, I have put the names of the characters in the tags so you can find scenes containing them, should find one or two characters you connect with. My personal favourite is Drommen, a polite pervert who can’t seem to catch a break.

Enjoy. 🙂


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The more

Contentment. Who has it? Put your hand up if you have everything you want. A new computer? A better place to live, of your own perhaps? A new car? Perhaps a mate? Even more followers on WordPress? Or for someone to acknowledge your brilliant work? Yes, most of us are guilty of wishing for more of that.

With the internet came this wonderful tool for being recognized. Faster, further the more people the better.  And more and more. As a society we’ve become greedier than ever before. Recognition has become the new consumer’s must-have. People are coming out of the woodwork to publish their photography and their art, their stories, and regardless of how good or how bad it is, it’s being consumed by those who want reciprocation.

Will it ever end? Will we drive ourselves into the grave staying up til all hours, sitting on our asses pounding out our work while the blood clots in our veins, eating too much or too little until one day someone finds us with a smoking keyboard… ‘But he did some great work!’ they’ll say. They may appreciate us when we’re dead. Only we died in discontentment, wanting more.

More fiction