One of my dear friends just started a blog
https://steven-speaks.com/?%3F%3F
and you really need to follow her. 🙂
It’s been a long, sad, week.
The backstory – my sister and I haven’t spoken in several years. A lot of stuff went on when my mother died, a lot of lies were told, a lot of lies were believed and a lot of people chose to believe the worst about others. (I most likely was as guilty as the others. ) It often seemed as if I were alone against my entire family, with little support from anyone.
Time went on, hurts festered, nothing was said because talking about things is NOT how my family works, and years passed in silence.
Last week my brother in law died, suddenly. I loved that man, he was a genuinely nice guy who was almost universally loved, although he had a sharp wit, and could be as sarcastic and impatient as easily as he could spend hours explaining something to a child.
There was little discussion about me going to his funeral – I knew from the minute I was told of his death that I would be there, that I had to be there, that nothing would be right for any of us if I wasn’t. The weather – I checked obsessively – because I hate snow and that would have been the only thing that kept me away.
Wednesday came clear and bright, with nothing but rain in the forecast. A six hour drive took me home. Home to a sister who can only be described as fragile. This has taken a toll on her, and it scares me.
We hugged, and talked, her kids, her grandkids, and me. We laughed and cried and it was like nothing had ever happened except overnight we all got a bit grayer. I left yesterday morning, after coffee and talk with my sister, more hugs, and a promise to keep in touch.
I intend to keep that promise. I rarely make New Year’s resolutions but this one I make and this one I’ll keep – I will call the two strong women who helped shape who I am, monthly, if not more often, from now on. My life is better with them in it – for all their faults and quirks, they are who they are and I love them with all their cracks and flaws.
So out of sadness comes some peace. Thank you for that, Douglas. See you on the other side.
I miss Christmas. I miss spending time looking for the perfect present – hoping it was perfect, anyway – and the look of joy when someone opened a package and delighted that I knew what to get for them.
My brother in law loved chocolates. I bought him home made chocolates from a lady who made them in her kitchen and sold them from her home. They were amazing – and not terribly expensive – and he loved them. I told him that Emily Post said that if someone gives you something like that, you don’t have to share it, you just have to mention it when gifts are shown around – as they always were in my family. “What did you get?” “ohhhhh! that’s so cool!” He opened the box of candy with great delight, tucked it under his chair and would bring it out whenever anyone new came around, saying, “Susan gave me these” and tucking the box back under the chair without offering anyone a sample.
It annoyed my sister no end. It made me laugh, and it’s a memory that’s made me smile today.
My mother made chocolate covered creams every year. It was a three day process, and she loved it. Everyone looked for those candies every year – I ate my fill while she was making them, looking totally innocent and proclaiming that someone had to make sure they tasted as good as last year’s batch!
We spent days wrapping. Christmas Eve always saw the frantic rush to sew on buttons, cast off that last stitch, sew that last seam because it seemed like a really good idea to make that something last week, and now the hours are counting down.
We spent the day traveling – brunch with one sister, then back home to unload the car because THAT sister loved to shop and loved to give presents and there would so much to bring home. Reload the car and off to the next sister, who had so little that her kids sometimes didn’t have a gift till we arrived.
The oldest sister was last. She had no Christmas spirit, and could suck the joy out of the day for everyone else. One year she put up an artificial tree in a spare bedroom so she could shut the door and not look at it when no one was around. The Grinch had nothing on her. Still, I gave her presents. I made her placemats one year – she used them till they wore out and even though she didn’t express any gratitude, the sight of them on her table made me smile, because maybe just once, I did something that pleased her. It happened very rarely.
“Just give me money,” is the refrain of the last few years. It saddens me. I have so many things that I hold, and look at, and remember who took the time to choose that just for me. I have turtle necks that my sister bought for me and I still remember how we laughed the day we went shopping and she bought them without me knowing they were for me. I have a small glass bottle, with a tiny ceramic pig inside, that one of my nephews gave me – it makes me think of him every time I move it, and I remember the year he gave it to me. “A pig in a bottle?” “Yes, Auntie, you NEED a pig in a bottle!” And so I have one.
Will they someday look at a one hundred dollar bill and think, “wow, I remember the year I got that for Christmas! It was awesome, I spent it all at Starbucks!”
Sadness, melancholy, missing days that were sweeter, and simpler, and more joyful – and trying not to ruin what’s left of the day for others.
I’m not sure you believed in them, but that doesn’t matter. As if Christmas wasn’t already a time of sadness this year, word comes that someone I loved for many a long year, has suddenly died.
No warning, no time to say goodbye, no last “I love you.” Just a phone call, “I have bad news.” Tears falling all day, reaching out to those who’ve been estranged, finding common ground in shared grief – is the only good thing to come of this.
It won’t last, but for now, we hurt together. I may not make the funeral, traveling to NY at this time of year is not the best of ideas – between snow and holiday traffic, it will probably be a nightmare. And the Bear doesn’t want me to go. My heart wants to be there, but my brain is saying to think it over – no one will hold it against me. (Well, they probably will, but they’ll fake it unless they’re talking when I’m not there, and then I won’t know and won’t care.)
The tears continue to fall, as they have so often this year. January has long been the month I feared. And then February – a month of snowstorms that lock us into our house, with a driveway that’s impassible, the chance of losing power and the constant stress of forecasters screaming about the end of the world unless we all stock up on toilet paper. Max got sick in February this year. I knew – even as my mind denied it – my heart knew he would be gone by the end of the year, by summer. I knew. March brought appointments with the vet, chemo, watching him try so hard to stay with me and just being so tired. He left us in April.
May brought Maverick. The one happy event this year, surrounded by the anniversary of my father’s death, and my mother’s birthday, a reason to smile again.
June brought Maverick home – and brought sleepless nights and worry and crazy puppy antics and more worry and tears and missing Max and loving this bundle of energy who has no idea that he isn’t the first and best dog to ever live in this house.
But there was sadness still – friends who lost parents, diagnoses of strange diseases, loved ones aging and failing.
Days pass, we think they’re infinite. We think we have forever to do the things we want, and to call tomorrow, say we’re sorry, talk it out, “go there.”
Then the phone rings, and there are no more tomorrows and no more chances and was it worth it to hold onto that anger for so long?
My niece hasn’t spoken to me in several years. I don’t know why. I told her brother to give her a hug, and that I hoped that maybe she could let things go, that whatever was the problem could be resolved. He told me not to count on it.
Another thing to think about – if she doesn’t want me at the funeral, what do I do? Does her misplaced anger deny me the chance to comfort my sister, my nephew, my great nephews and great niece?
And in all this, will the man who was my friend, and my big brother, be forgotten? I will remember him, and tell the stories, and pray that the angels sang him home – and that he’s having a beer with Poppa, or maybe a few.
and he decides it’s a good time to jump all over you. Â
Today I had a bone density test.  Way to make a girl feel old!  Apparently, when you reach a “certain age,” you have to get all sorts of body parts checked to see if they’re still working. At least this test wasn’t invasive, I just had to lay on a table while a thingie slowly scanned me from top to bottom.  I suspect I’ll be told that I need some fancy drug because that’s what doctors do, prescribe tests and then tell you you need fancy, expensive drugs so the drug companies can justify the gazillions of dollars they spend telling you that you need to “ask your doctor about this wonder drug with side effects that will make you shit your pants every time you fart, but you’ll feel amazing – except that you’ll probably need to take another drug to combat that shitting your pants thing, and that one will make you pee yourself every time you stand up, but it’s okay, we have yet ANOTHER drug for that !” Â
God Bless Medicare.  Trust me, you do NOT want Medicare for everyone  Nope, nope, nope.  Sigh
Maverick got groomed today. He looks wonderful. He was very worn out from this experience, but being Maverick, he didn’t crash till around 10. He then woke up full of piss and vinegar and decided that he would try to steal the pillows off the bed, and if that wasn’t gonna work, he would chew them, and if that wasn’t gonna work, he would just jump on me.  Every bone in my body now hurts. I’m out of Biofreeze, so my heating pad will have to do. Â
The pain gives me an acceptable reason for my tears. I don’t have to explain that Christmas hurts this year.  That my heart is still so broken that tears are always close.  I can just say it’s my back – and not my heart.
Maverick and I went to visit our favorite doctor today – he has a “something” on his foot and Mommah worries.  I thought it was a tick but it’s not going away, he’s licking and it’s red and it looks like a sore button so the appointment was made and off we went. Â
Dr. Dave treated Max almost from the beginning, we’ve never gone to another practice and never will.  He treats all the animals as if they were his own.  When it was time for Max to leave us, my husband said that he knelt and prayed before giving Max the shot that would release him.  I asked, when it was done, “is he gone?” and his response was, “Max is in Heaven now.” Â
He was incredibly kind all through the last days of Max’s life. I trust him with Maverick. I know that he knows my quirks and worries and won’t laugh at me, but will make sure that I know all is well with my baby. Â
So examination revealed something called a hystiocytoma.  A WHAT????????  It’s a benign “tumor.”  Phew.  There is a chance of secondary infection because someone will not stop licking it, so a shot of cortisone was administered, and antibiotics and that amazing yellow cream called Anamax was applied.  Â
Cortisone shots cause intense thirst and equally intense peeing.  Oh, dear heavens, run to the door and not the rug!  Oh well, rugs can be cleaned. Â
It should be cleared up in a couple of weeks.  Let it be so. Â
I got slammed on Facebook for saying this.   Someone posted a picture of a license plate with the caption,” Share the hell out of this!  This bitch didn’t stop for a bus and this needs to go viral!” Â
I’m not defending the person who didn’t stop for a school bus with flashing red lights. I may not like kids but that doesn’t mean I think it’s okay to fly past a stopped school bus because you’re in a hurry, putting the lives of the little rats in danger. Â
I stated that clearly.  What I said was, “Is anyone else bothered by the public shaming and the mob mentality that follows?”  Apparently I am not only the only person bothered by it, I am worse than pond scum for even considering that maybe this is not a wise choice.  Â
Are we so unaware or so naive, that we don’t realize that someone could track down that person and show up at her home?  Do you want to be responsible for that?  Does the driver need to be punished for her stupidity? Hell yeah! If one of my grandkids got hurt because someone couldn’t be bothered to wait 5 seconds for a bus, I’d be raining hell fire and brimstone on someone’s ass. Â
And THAT is exactly why this kind of thing worries me.  I wouldn’t go to such lengths as to find someone whose information was posted like this. But maybe someone else would.  Are we so intent on being self righteously angry – HOW DARE YOU DO THIS???????????  I AM SUPERIOR AND WILL SMITE YOU AND AND MAKE SURE EVERYONE IN THE WORLD KNOWS YOU MADE A MISTAKE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! – that we’re willing to ruin a life?
Flashback to Judge Kavanaugh – I guess we’ve answered that question. Â
One of my friends is heavily involved in Greyhound rescue and has been for years.  Last week, the voters in Florida chose to ban greyhound racing.  The implications of this decision are far reaching.  I won’t go into the lies that were told by PETA and HSUS to get this bill passed, or the blindness of those who believe them.  The result of this decision is that thousands, (yes, thousands, probably around 15,000) dogs will need homes in the next two years.  A good year was when 1000 dogs were placed.
I was very upset when I learned this bill had been passed.  My friend posted on facebook, and I told her I could make “belly bands.” Basically these are diapers for the dogs to wear till house trained.  I’ve made them before, and I’m willing to make them again.
We talked in message.  She said that foster homes will be a desperate need, but without a fenced in area, I can’t do that part.  BUT, I thought, I know someone who can, and I also know someone who already fosters and works in rescue.  Within minutes I had connected my friends.
A few days later, a group has been formed and a sewing party planned.  There are also people with the ability to transport dogs.
I am amazed at how fast this came together.  Some days, I have little hope for the future of the world, little faith in the kindness of others.  This has been a blessing to me as well as to the dogs we’ll help.
I’ve never been part of something like this. I am truly awed at the outpouring of goodness, in just a few days.
So…………..if you can help at all, contact your local greyhound rescue – or any rescue (not the ASPCA, they’re a bunch of crooks) and ask what you can do.  15,000 dogs will thank you.
I’ve thought about this all day.  I shouldn’t have let it bother me, but it keeps coming back to me.
Thousands of people marching across a border is not a caravan, it’s an invasion.  I don’t invite strangers into my home, I lock my doors, why is it wrong to keep my country as safe as I do my home?  A cousin pretty much told me I was a heartless bitch because I feel this way.  I’ve known her since she was born.  She’s known ME since she was born.  She’s so blinded by her hatred, hatred that is based on lies and half truths she’s been fed by the media, and which she never questions, that she’s willing to insult someone who had cared about her all her life.
She said she didn’t mean to hurt my feelings but I shouldn’t judge if I don’t want to be judged.
I’ve put her on my restricted list and she won’t see any of my future posts.  I would like to unfriend her, but I don’t want to cause family drama.
It’s a cluster and that’s that.
Suziecreamcheese Sings the Blues 
