Bittersweet and melancholy

Fourteen years ago I moved to Pennsylvania, leaving behind my entire family.   Most of them didn’t care, and some of them did.   I went back a few times, once a year, for the first few years.  Then life got in the way, and it’s been six years since I’ve been back home.

I just spent ten days there.  I’m going back to my real home tomorrow.   It’s been a wonderful ten days, I saw so many people, people I still love, who still love me.   I think I miss them more now, when I haven’t even left yet, than I did before I came.

But my heart is in PA, and oh how I’ve missed my Bear and my Max.   I long for my home.    I dread the drive, but I can’t wait to be in my Bear’s arms, and have my Max do a happy dance around me.   I don’t even care if he knocks me down.

I’ll get up in the morning, and pack the few things that are still in my motel room into the car, drink a cup of tea and get a quick shower and head home.   I really hope there isn’t a lot of traffic or construction delays.   But I have a book on CD so the time will pass, but every minute sitting is one more minute I’m away from my Bear.   And every mile I drive is one mile closer to home.

 

I never thought I’d leave the little town where I grew up.   Funny how falling in love can change your mind about things.

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She bit me

Yes, sweet little kitty turned out to be not so sweet.

She bit me

Drew blood

And a whirlwind of doctors, shots, antibiotics, followed

My arm is sore from the bite, and from the shots

My heart is sore – I failed her.   She’s no longer welcome here, because the Bear does not allow anyone, or anything, to hurt me.

Max has chased her away.   He never liked her anyway.

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I interrupt this conversation to……..

This morning I saw a meme posted on facebook that says something like “I don’t mean to interrupt you, I just randomly remember things and get so excited!”   and it was followed by tons of comments like, “oh, that’s SO me, LOL!”   and “I KNOW, my friends get so annoyed, but I can’t help it!”

Bullshit.

You can help it.   It’s rude, and it’s annoying and it makes the person you interrupted feel like you weren’t listening at all, that you were merely waiting till it was your turn to speak and you got tired of waiting.

Stop it.

A few people posted that they have adult ADHD and can’t help it.  Really?  Sounds like an excuse for bad behavior to me.

Do you let your children interrupt you?  Do YOU not get annoyed when someone does it to you?   Then stop it and stop saying, “oh, that’s just who I am!” and acting like it’s all cute.  It’s not.  It’s not cute when you’re 5 and it’s not cute when you’re 35 and it’s not cute when you’re 85.   Well.  Maybe 85, because by then the fact that you’re still breathing is kinda cute in itself.   But otherwise, no, it’s not cute, it’s not funny.

It’s a statement, one that says, “what you’re saying is not nearly as important as this random piece of nonsense that just flew into my brain and is flying out of my mouth.”  It says that you are the most important person in the conversation, which is obviously not a conversation at all, since you’re not listening to the other person.

People tend to talk over me.  I’m not sure why.  I reach a point where I let it be known that I will not tolerate it for another minute, but it takes me doing that more than once to actually have it sink in with a lot of people.   I’m one of those people you’re interrupting, and then laughingly apologizing to – an apology that’s meaningless because you’re about to do the same thing again in a few minutes.   While you’re being amused with yourself, stop for a second and think how it makes the other person feel.   And when I stop talking to you, stop trying to make myself heard, don’t ask why we’re not friends any more.   That is, if you even notice.

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I’m a sucker

Or maybe just a softie.   I’m ruining my reputation.   Sigh

Yesterday my husband told me that a cat had been sleeping on the septic cover.   He said, “she looks hungry, but we’re not keeping her.”

Last night, she showed up in the front yard.   I went out, sat down, tossed treats to her – dog treats because that’s all we had – and within 5 minutes, she was up the hill and rubbing her head on me.   I fed her cheese and treats, and we got a cup of dog kibble and she gobbled it down.   And then rubbed against us – both me and the man who insisted we’re not going to keep her, while every other sentence involved how we were going to have to take her to the vet, and get the dog to accept her and by the way, we’re not keeping her.

We let Max out and he chased her into the woods.   But she came back this morning.   He chased her again.   She came back tonight and got supper – I bought kitty food – she’s a baby, tiny, starving, but so pretty.  She talks to me.   She meows and purrs and rubs against me, and she’s completely breaking my heart.

Max hates her.   He chased her again tonight.

I came in and washed the dishes and cried – and called myself a silly sentimental old fool.

 

Today is my mother’s birthday.   She hated cats.  I keep thinking, “DId you send this cat to me?   But you HATED cats!”

And by the way, we’re probably going to keep her.   If we can ever get Max to not want to eat her.

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sometimes it’s good to google

Periodically, I get this pain in the left side of my chest – enough to catch my breath, but not enough to make me run to the ER. It’s annoying, and even though I know it’s not my heart, there’s a moment of panic each time. Plus, it hurts!

So tonight I went googling – random stabbing pain in left side of rib cage – and came upon something called  precordial catch syndrome

Damn, it matches exactly what happens to me. Well. That’s a relief. I normally avoid googling symptoms because it’s pretty much a guarantee that you’ll find you have something deadly and have only a few minutes to live. But every now and again, I just have to check.

(Disclaimer – I have a condition called condritis, inflamation of the cartilage between the ribs, so I am no stranger to chest pains, and have had multiple cardiac tests over the years – all of which come back clean. Also, I have a doctor appointment this week and will be discussing this with him.)

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Hooray for May

Ah, May – three little letters that knock me to my knees, every single year. I keep telling myself this year will be better, it won’t hit me so hard.
I’m always wrong.

My Poppa died in May. He died two days before my mother’s 80th birthday. Mother, being Mother, said, “Your father knew how to get everyone together for my birthday,” as we scheduled his funeral.

Mother’s Day – who came up with that brilliant idea? A knife in the heart of every person who doesn’t have their mom any more, and anyone who tells you that loss grows easier with time has either never experienced that pain, or is just an outright lying sack. It gets deeper, and slower, and more a part of your every breath – but it never gets easier.

Her birthday – a day that we always celebrated in grand style – is now a day that I spend staring into space and wishing she was here to tell me to stop my nonsense.

And my favorite sister – the sister who died too soon, who went where she couldn’t take me even though she’d promised me she never would – her birthday is also in May.

It’s all a bit more than a princess should have to bear.

My Bear takes care of me – he doesn’t really understand, but he tries. He takes me out for ice cream, and he makes me laugh. If it wasn’t for him, I would spend this month in bed, with the blankets over my head.

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Difficult days

Today was one of them. There’s been a lot of stress in my life the past couple of months, I have a very hard time watching someone I love in pain, mental and physical pain, when I can’t fix it. I’m the support system – and I don’t mind, it’s not like I’ve never needed someone to be there for me when I couldn’t hold myself together.

So I’ve smiled and carried on.
And today, I took Max to a thing with me where there were a bunch of dogs, all of whom he thought he needed to greet. Sadly, there was a three foot rule in place, all dogs had to be kept three feet apart. Max doesn’t understand not being able to greet every dog he sees, after all, aren’t they just friends he hasn’t yet met? So the hours we were there were spent with him hauling me around, trying to get to the nearest dog.

Had I been alone, I would have just taken him home and gone back by myself. I went with friends, who were off looking at the stuff for sale, and totally oblivious to my struggles. So I talked to some people, and tried to get him to settle, and got him a drink, and walked around – while he pulled me in the direction he wanted to go. I’d finally had it when my friend headed for the car to put something in. I said I was just going to leave him in the car and she said no, she’d take us home.
Relief was short lived – he had pulled so hard that he set off a chondritis flare – one that had been lurking for the past couple of days.

I went to bed when we got home. I slept for 4 hours. I had a minor meltdown first, too much stress, too much on my shoulders, a weight I needed to put down for a few minutes.

I still hurt. The weather and the pulling combined to make my ribs cry. But I’ll be okay, and I’ll find my strength and keep on smiling and being the strong one for awhile.

Just as long as I can get a nap every now and again.

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Dear Orioles

Kansas City is NOT that great a team, you can beat them if you get it out of your heads that you can’t.
Even if the announcers think that every Kansas City player is the second coming, you don’t have to agree.

I can’t watch the games when these two teams play each other. I just want to reach into the tv and smack the announcers – on both sides.

Good thing we have more than one TV! Bear can watch happily and I can go quilt or watch something else.

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He is NOT a senior!

Max is 8 years old. Eight and a half, actually. Yesterday, he was a puppy. He came into my life, into my arms, and changed my world. He drives me crazy, and he makes me laugh, and he’s the only creature on this earth who has ever totally loved me – totally been mine.

And now he’s 8 years old. They tell me that makes him a “senior.” Every time I think about it, I burst into tears. Do I start counting the days we have left? Senior implies the end is near. I’m not ready for that. I’ll never be ready for that.

So he’s not a senior. He’s just a bit older than he used to be.

And if he doesn’t quit barking at whatever is outside and making me think there’s an axe murderer in the woods, he may not get to be a senior after all!

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Tuesday random thoughts

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/events/tuesday-chatter/

  • students are way too addicted to cell phones
  • parking is a nightmare
  • my ribs hurt
  • it’s a full moon – and raining, double whammy for the ribs
  • this is the first day in ages that I wiped out my to-do list by 5 pm
  • I love the library
  • Unplanned walks with Max turn out to be the best kind
  • I hate Winter
  • I wonder who thought it was a good idea to replace booze ads with drug ads
  • Crocheting scrubbies is way too much fun

I have way too much random chatter going on in my brain.  🙂

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