In which we discuss death, among other things

My son Twitch called me. Twitch, who has chronic depression. He called to tell me, among other things, that he hates tourists (he now lives in Charleston, SC, a popular tourist destination) but has told me previously that he loves living in Charleston. He told me he's sure he was born on the wrong planet. The universe made a mistake in placing him here. He hates his life. He wonders if there is a way to remove all the nose hairs from his nose without pain. Why? I ask him. Because they are bugging me, he says. Increase your pain tolerance. I recommend that he not use Nair™ in that sensitive mucous membrane. He wants to live in a place with a low cost of living and excellent public transportation and cultural opportunities. But not on this planet, evidently. It was a whine fest conversation. I said "I gave birth to you on this planet." I wanted to say more, something like STFU!, but all I could do was sigh. Then I hung up on him. I don't have the energy for that shit today.

Warning: I'm about to write about death and suicide. 
Before he called I read an article in The New Yorker by David Sedaris, written about his sister Tiffany's recent suicide. It's a very good article, but then we are talking about David Sedaris who is an excellent writer. Back to Twitch, who is dissatisfied with his life and has been for much of it. And David Sedaris' sister Tiffany who evidently was dissatisfied with her life. I have long feared that Twitch will take that exit ramp from life. Today my brain says to me "What if he does? How will that affect you?" Of course I would be ... what word describes an extreme form of upset? On the other hand, I'd know he was out of the misery of this life. Who was it said something like death is the greatest adventure? Some famous philosopher or something. I have often considered suicide myself, a few times seriously. It's something I think about, abstractly, often. Right now I have decided not to kill myself because I wonder what will happen in my life as I get older. What kind of old lady will I be? I have to live long enough to be an old lady to find out. How old is "old?" Well into my 70s, at least, and probably to my mid to late 80s. 90s? Maybe. Depends on how healthy I am.

While we're speaking of death, I'd like to discuss my father's death. I might have gone through this before in this venue, but I need to rehash it. He died on March 25th of this year. Too early, I thought. But now I think it was right on time. I believe that things happen for a reason most of the time. Also, there isn't anything I can do about it anyway. He's dead and nothing will change that. I miss him. I've been thinking of him more frequently of late. Daddy did not want to "linger" incapacitated and be a burden to his family. After he died I learned that he had begun to lose his mental faculties. He'd become increasingly forgetful in a senile dementia sort of way. His compromised heart and consequent decreased oxygen to the brain might have been a factor there. But it frustrated and frightened him, I know. No, he didn't tell me this, but I know him well enough. I just know. And now he's free of this world's limitations. I am happy for him, I guess. No one knows for sure what if anything comes after this life, but we like to think it's pleasant. If he's in a "better place" then good for him. As for the rest of us, we'll deal. What else is there to do?

I followed a link from a link in a link in an email to this site called Tunein. It's online radio, or something like it. I am currently listening to French programming. Programming in French, though I think not from France itself. If I remember correctly, it originates in Brussels, Belgium. It's talk radio, and I have no idea what they're talking about but it sounds really cool. I know a few French words, and catch some meaning here and there. In the last program the voices said "et cetera" a lot. A few programs ago some ladies were talking about Pre-zee-'dent O-ba-'ma. Right now they're playing some kind of new age-y music featuring lots of bells. Related quote: "New Agers might be whack, but they do make some nice music." - Superman. I'd like to learn French some day. Maybe when I am an old lady.

And speaking of whack, Diva. Let's entertain ourselves with another Diva story. Just today the child was telling us that we need to meet her boyfriend, get the embarrassment over with. Yeah, whatever. She was using Superman's phone to text the guy. Superman took his phone with him to run errands and the alleged boyfriend texted back. Superman asks who this is, and the guy got defensive saying something like wha' chu mean who am I? So Superman said it was his phone, his daughter had been texting. Yada yada, the point is that Diva was communicating with a much older guy (don't know how old) and had told him she was 20 years old (she'll be 16 in about six weeks) and in college, living by herself in her own house. Superman corrected the misinformation. The poor ersatz boyfriend was freaked out about being "played" like that, and assured Superman that he has absolutely no desire to be involved with anyone that young.

Why does she tell lies like that, string innocent people along, legally endangering them? She's whack, obviously, but really. Superman had a talk with her when he got home from running his errands. Then I fussed at her for a while. Don't know if it will make any difference. I asked her if she understands how she could have ruined his life if she'd followed through with her story and gotten physically involved with him. He'd be labeled a sex offender FOR LIFE and wouldn't be able to get much of a job, get housing in very many places, etc. Ruin his life, basically. She stared at me like I was yammering to the wind. Whack, I tell you. (OK, so obviously my word for the day is "whack.") Oh, she also gave him our address. This isn't the first time she'd done shit like this. A couple of years ago I answered a phone call from another guy in his 30s, if I recall correctly, who she was stringing along with lies of this nature. She'd given him our address, too. She has no sense.

Another Diva story, this one not so ... whack. She wanted to have a combination birthday/Halloween party, celebrate her b'day early because it's too cold in early December to have a party outside. The kids had a day off school Friday (teacher workday, end of grading period) so we did the party thing in the pavillion at the local Parks and Rec center. I made a cake. It looked awesome, and tasted so-so. I used box mixes of her desired flavors. I took pictures. (Long side note: I have a new-ish camera because my old one that I knew how to use got dunked with me in the river when I was canoeing with my brothers after my dad's non-funeral party. The new camera has a big square battery reminiscent of a cell phone battery. I'm not sure if I'm supposed to recharge it or replace it. Probably it's rechargeable, but I don't know how to do that. I took a few pictures on Friday before the camera lost power.) Due to the otherwise dark theme of this post, I won't add the pictures now. Also, I haven't downloaded them from the camera yet.

Game 4 of the (small, only North America) World Series is about to start, so I'm outa here. Cards ahead 2 games to 1 over the Red Sox. Boo-yah!

Oh my stars it's been so long since I posted!

Full disclosure: I have had a full bottle of ChocoVine cheap nasty red wine with chocolate milk or something in it. Lovely stuff, though cheap and nasty. The buzz is beautiful, though. I don't want to know the calorie count, so don't even tell me.  It looks like chocolate milk and tastes rich and inviting. Twitch said it tastes like chocolate flavored cough syrup, so I don't have to worry about him getting into it, eh? Hee hee. 

Posting pictures is going to be a problem for a while because I lost my camera. Well, I have the pictures I took before it died. By "lost" I mean this: 
Java goes canoeing swimming! My camera was in a small pack that was in the canoe when it overturned. It got kinda wet. It kinda doesn't work anymore, though I was able to save the SD card. So I have a few pictures to post. The picture above was taken by my loving brother Jim who was in a kayak following our canoe. Hal (a former step brother with whom I lived as a teen) was in the stern of the canoe, I was manning the bow. This was the first time we dumped. Once we got the canoe on the bank, dumped the water out, and got settled in it again, we headed down the river again. Fifteen minutes later we did the same damned thing. That is me with the funny hat on in the above picture. We were carrying most of the lunch stuff. And we spent so much time in the damned water that we really didn't have time to stop to eat lunch. After the second time we dumped into the drink, I moved into my brother Mike's canoe and that worked a bit better. Part of the problem is that I'm a bit too heavy to ride in the bow of a canoe. Woe is me.

All of my brothers, the two biological ones and the three step brothers I grew up with, went canoeing on the Juniper run in the Ocala National Forest the day after Daddy's life celebration party. It was more "closure" than the party was. We had a small packet of Daddy's ashes that we sprinkled into the river. Daddy and Mary (the step brothers' mom, Daddy's second wife) used to take us canoeing on this piece of river when we were kids. That was the reasoning behind the canoe trip and sprinkling his ashes into the river.

I have canoeing experience, but it was so long and so many pounds ago that I've lost my touch. Amazingly, though, I was hardly sore the next day, and not at all sore (except some bruising on my legs) the day after. I did kinda make the trip hard on the brothers though, and I feel bad about that. But I really wanted to go, really wanted to be present for the disposition of Daddy's ashes. I'm glad I went, even if it was more challenging for the brothers.

And can we talk about the brothers for a few? I love my brothers, specifically the two biological ones. The step brothers, for the most part, I like well enough. There's one in particular that I have some "uncomfortable" history with, and I won't go into that here. (If you're terribly curious, email me privately and we'll talk.) Nevertheless, about the brothers: they're pretty damned critical of me. I had a hard time with them  last week. (for reference, I arrived in Gainesville on Wednesday April 17th and departed Wednesday April most recent, whatever that was.) It's a hard time in retrospect. I was too busy living in the moment to realize how troublesome it was at the time. I love my brothers, I really do. And I have a lot of respect for them (the two I'm directly related to, particularly). Here's my take-away impression from my interactions with all five: I am not good enough. I'm not as good as they are at the things they do well. Canoeing is  but one example. Parenting seems to be another, at least in the case of two of them. I certainly don't keep house as well as they do (which, by the way, is true). It seems to me that the only comparisons are the ones in which they shine. What about me? I can do many things well. I'm sensitive and caring, I sew well, am good with arts/crafts. I'm very nurturing, which can be a good thing in moderation (evidently). I am very intelligent. But when I'm with them, we play by their rules, on their playing field. And I fail there. Java < brothers. Java < men. 

Maybe I'm a bit butt-hurt. Maybe I should get over myself. Maybe I should have a really good cry over all of this and move on. What I've been doing is drinking too much.

Let's find some pictures. That might cheer us up a bit.
This is Hal, the step brother with whom I shared a canoe. Also the one with me when the canoe tipped over. Twice. He did not want his picture taken, so he hid every time I pointed the camera backward.

 And here's the river. It really is beautiful.

 Much of the river bottom is clear white Florida sand. Some of it is a thick layer of mucky detritus. It was in the mucky part that we dumped the canoe both times. Icky, and hard to get out of.

Here's my Mama at the life celebration party for Daddy. She's his first wife.

 These are the step brothers, Mary's sons. Mary is Daddy's second wife. She is still alive, but suffering from some pretty severe dementia. Not sure if it's actually Alzheimer's. Hal (the one in the middle) is taking care of her mostly. She's in a nursing home near where Hal lives.

 Left to right that's Dan (the youngest), Hal and Charles (the twins). Charles, by the way, is gay. He's living in Vancouver, BC, Canada and is officially married to his husband Bob (whom I've never met). Dan lives in Gainesville and I've seen him recently, but haven't seen Hal and Charles in over 30 years. Nice, mostly, and also kinda weird to see them again.

Light flew in from Pennsylvania for the festivities! It was really good to see her. Didn't get to spend much time with her, though I plan (hope) to get up to Pennsylvania to see her before too long.

 This is Kathy, Daddy's third and final wife. She is the grieving widow.

And she is, too. She really misses Daddy. She's mad at him because he died, because he isn't coming home. She keeps waiting for him to walk in the door. They really loved each other. They were together for 20 years, twice as long as either of his first two marriages lasted. Kathy is having a rough time. She also has Parkinson's disease which is getting worse. She will soon (I think soon, anyway) need to have a lot more help with daily living tasks. Daddy was planning to be there for her, to help her as long as he could and keep her as independent as possible. I'm not sure what will happen with Kathy. Her oldest son Tom came from Portland, Oregon to be here (there) for the life celebration. I'm really glad Tom was there. He needed to see for himself how fragile his mother is now, how much her disease has impaired her abilities.

I like Kathy a lot. She is very opinionated and outspoken, and some people in my family (some of the brothers) have a hard time dealing with her. She is wise and has a lot of good things to say. She's also full of shit sometimes. The trick is to recognize the difference. I don't have much trouble taking the good and ignoring the bad. I'm worried about her. I want her to be well cared for as much as possible. She has a strong independent streak, so it might be tough for her to let go of some things, to accept her limitations which continue to increase daily. I feel bad for her. Parkinson's is a rotten way to go. Avoid it if possible.

And I have been drinking more. I don't think I'm turning into an alcoholic, but then the alcoholic is the last to know, right? This is the way I'm dealing with the stress. Not healthy. Most of my medications caution against drinking while taking the medicine. Yeah, well, right now I don't care.

In my next post, Sproing! What's he up to now?

Yes, I'm still here **With Update!

Hello my peeps! I've missed you. I have been kind of busy. Right now I'm in Florida again, this time with Twitch. Twitch is all over my nerves, too. He complains all the time and makes excuses for why he can't do whatever is suggested to him. I don't want to talk about him right now.

I'm very tired. It's quite late, and I've had a busy day. There are a few things I want to relate, but don't know how much I'll remember to say right now. But I really want to get something up here before you all forget about me. And right now I need my blog friends.

Sunday afternoon is the memorial "life celebration" party for my dad. I've been here since Wednesday. My brother Mike arrived today. My brother Jim lives next door to my step-mom's house, so he's always here. My Uncle John (Daddy's brother) was here when I got here, don't know how long he's been here. Yesterday my step-mom's son Tom arrived. It's very good for him to be here. He needs to see how his mom is. She's got Parkinson's and it's getting worse. Not sure what she needs, or what Tom and his brother Sam will be able to do. I'm concerned about her.

Just this evening (Friday night... I know it's officially Saturday, but I'm still working on Friday) we had some good discussion, processing as a family through Daddy's death. There will be more. Tomorrow (Saturday) is a day to prepare the house for the party. It's gonna be a big one, I think. Lots of people have said they're attending. Lots of details to iron out.

Light flew in to Orlando this evening. My Mama picked her up. Mama lives in the greater Orlando area, so she and Light are spending the night there at Mama's house and will drive up to Gainesville tomorrow. I'm looking forward to seeing my daughter. I guess I'm looking forward to seeing my mother, too, but really I want to see Light.

OK, lets get on to a few other things that have come to mind recently. Let's try bullet points, shall we?

• Had sushi for lunch today. Shopped at a Fresh Market store near the step-mom's house and picked it up from the deli counter. It is pre-packaged from "Sushi with Gusto" which came from, of all places, Greer, South Carolina. Greer is an hour north of Greenwood. So yeah, my lunch today that I ate in Florida was actually made close to my house and followed me down to Florida for me to eat. For the record, it was tasty. 
• The stores in Gainesville have much better beer selections than anything I've found in Greenwood. I got some Samuel Adams Cream Stout, which I am currently testing. And enjoying quite a bit, thank you. Yummy stuff!! I also tried Stella Artois today for the first time. That is available in G'wood, but I've never tried it before. It's OK. Definitely drinkable, but not remarkable. The Cream Stout is definitely remarkable! I got a whole 6-pack of it, so some should make it back home for Superman to share. I was able to get a "make your own 6-pack" from the Publix, which is where I added the Stella Artois. Also got some Magic Hat stuff, can't remember now what it is. Haven't tried it yet. And other stuff that looked good at the time but I forget about now that I'm not looking at it.
• I stayed in my step-mom's house the first night we were here, then moved to a hotel. My Uncle John had reserved a room for himself, but changed the reservations to my name for reasons I'm unclear about. Whatever. He's paying for it. As I said to Mike today, it's on Uncle John's dime, and he has more dimes than I do. It's a much nicer place than I'd have chosen, but I like it. Last night Twitch was with me. Tonight he is at his Uncle Jim's place sleeping on an air mattress in Jim's game room. I am blissfully alone. Did I mention that Twitch and I have had a bit too much together time this week?
• Light will stay with me for the next two nights. She goes back to Orlando with Mama, flies back home Monday afternoon. I'll check out of the hotel Monday and go back to step-mom's house. Her son Tom is leaving on Monday, so I'll get his bedroom I guess. I'm fine with that. I'm finer with staying in this hotel though. This is Florida, and all the people here are used to living here in this heat and humidity. The crazies leave their air conditioning set to nearly 80. It's awful. I can't change my step-mom's thermostat, of course, but here in the hotel I can crank the temp down to a more comfortable range. I'm finally blessedly cool! I fear I might freeze Light out tomorrow night. Though she lives in Pennsylvania, she prefers warmer temps than those that comfort me. First world problems. 
• I miss my husband. He's a wonderful guy, and right now he's too far away. I heard from him today. Work is beating his ass but not as much as the younger kids are. He isn't having a lot of fun. I wish he were here. 
• Man, I really like this Samuel Adams Cream Stout! 
• I told you last week about a puppy. Yes, we have a puppy. His name is Oreo. I took some pictures of him to post here, but I'm too tired to do that now. Also I think the dear deserves his own blog post. So stay tuned. Don't know when  that will happen. I have more to process here about my Dad's life celebration, like the fact that my ex-step-brothers are coming to town. 
• So, my dad has had three wives: my Mama was first, he left her for his second wife Mary who had three boys. Daddy and Mary got together when I was about 8 or 9 years old, and finally divorced when I was in college. I grew up with Mary's sons as my step-brothers. I have two new step-brothers now, but I barely know them. My dad married their mom back in the early 90s when I was married with two little kids. So when I think of step-brothers I think of Mary's sons. One of them, Dan, lives here in Gainesville. Hal lives in Greensboro, NC and Charles lives in Vancouver, BC, Canada now. Growing up with these guys, well, there's a lot of history. Some of it is ... kinda difficult. I haven't seen Hal and Charles in over 30 years. They are twins, and a couple of years older than me. Dan is a year younger than me. I've seen Dan a few times when I come to visit Daddy, but haven't seen the twins in, like I said, a very long time. A lot has changed for all of us. I dreamed about them last night. Both the twins will arrive in town tomorrow evening. We're all getting together for dinner and to go through pictures of Daddy and the family. There will be lots of pictures at the party, and we all get to pick out which ones to display. Together. I gotta tell you, I am nervous about seeing the twins. 
• Right now it's 1:30 in the morning. I am very tired. I had a dream about Hal last night that kind of upset me. Am I afraid to go to sleep now because of that? Or am I just stalling because it's what I do? I've had a glass of wine and a beer, but spread it out over the past three hours so I'm not feeling tipsy at all. Don't know it that's a good thing or not. But my head is beginning to hurt a little and I think it's from the tired not from the booze. And I have successfully written a blog post (in that it is written, not that it is necessarily a good post) which was my goal, so perhaps I should shut up now and go to sleep. 
• I still have stuff to process about my step-brothers, my Daddy, my Mama coming to my Daddy's death party (oops, I mean life celebration party), and probably some other stuff that I'm too tired to remember now. I hope to be able to ramble about some of that stuff here soon. Until then, I'm going to sleep now. Or something. 

Update: 
I survived the first night of get-together with all the family. Seeing the twins was a bit odd, and slightly uncomfortable, but for the most part very positive. The purpose of tonight's gathering was to go through photographs, picking out great ones of my dad to display at tomorrow's (technically today's) party. We found some great ones. Hal brought a bunch that his mother had taken from the years we were all together as that family unit. A lot of them were from building the big house out in the woods. Awesome stuff. I visited a lot of good memories from those times. Hal's stash also had photos from the Christmas we spent with my his mom's parents back in... hang on, let me figure it out... 1974 I think. I have a lot of very good memories from that visit. My dad had a lot of very old photographs from his parents' collection, some from their parents' generation even. Those were very early in the days of photography. There were some great ones of my grandpapa and his brothers as children and young men. I learned a lot about my grandpapa. I saw a picture of my grandmama when she was maybe 20 years old, one that I'd never seen before. I never knew her to look like that. It was a powerfully emotional evening, lots of laughs, lots of memories being tossed around.

Those in attendance tonight were my step mom and her son, who were mostly in the background because tonight's pictures were from before their involvement in Daddy's life. All three of my former step brothers were there; Hal, Charles, and Dan. Dan's S.O. Sunshine and their 3 yr old son Byron were there. Byron is the cutest and brightest 3 year old I've known in a long time. Light and Twitch were there, as were my Uncle John and his son, my cousin Jay. I haven't seen Jay, Hal, or Charles in at least 30 years. No, I may have seen Jay at my grandmama's funeral which was in 1996. Still, that was kind of a long time ago. And of course my brothers Mike and Jim were there. Jim's wife and 8 year old daughter were kinda hanging around in the background, but not in the thick of things.

It was fun showing my kids pictures of me when I was a kid. Light looks a lot like I did when I was in my teens. Actually, when my step brother Charles first saw her he wanted to call her by my name, she looks so much like he remembers me. My youngest step brother Dan is still very trim, but Hal and Charles have both developed quite the gut since our youths. I've probably gained the most weight, but it was a bit comforting that they are large now, too. And shucks, my brothers Mike and Jim are both fit and trim like years ago. They take better care of themselves than I do. eh. 

Moving on

... because what else is there to do?

It took us 11 hours to get home from Richmond, VA today. We stopped a few times, had a sit-down lunch at a Cracker Barrel before we ever got out of Virginia. Then we stopped for supper at my favorite place in the Charlotte, NC area. the IHOP on Cox. I took pictures. I'll post them soon, but not tonight. As I type this it's 1:53 a.m. Superman and I are driving down to Gainesville, FL in the morning to be with my brothers as we mourn Daddy's death.

It's been a surreal day. Started out with snow on the ground and more snow falling gently from the skies over Virginia. We tried to take a truckload of snow home to the kids, but it somehow disappeared between Richmond and Greenwood SC.

My Daddy isn't here anymore. All day today that reality keeps sinking in deeper. He wasn't supposed to die yet. He was supposed to have another 5, maybe 7 years. That's my opinion, anyway. He was 78 years old.

And I'm doing OK, really. He was a fine man, lived a good life more or less. He certainly had a full life, and did a lot of things that he really enjoyed. His life ended rather uncomfortably, but until a few days ago he was fine. He kept his mental faculties until the end, and I know that was very important to him. He did not linger, was not a burden on anyone, and lived his life on his own terms, at least the past few years.

Of course he's gone now, and that's not going to change. So we change with it. He's gone. We carry on.

Superman is allowed three consecutive calendar days of bereavement leave for the death of a parent-in-law. He took Monday off anyway for our return trip from Delaware. His three bereavement leave days begin tomorrow, go through Thursday. Good Friday comes at the end of the week and is a paid holiday where he works. So, he has the week off. We'll go tomorrow to be with my brothers and step-mom and stay for I don't know how long.

There won't be any kind of memorial service anytime soon. Daddy didn't want one, I think, and neither does his wife. They are now planning a celebration of life party on his behalf to be held in about four weeks. Daddy's wishes were to be cremated and have his ashes cast upon the waters of the Atlantic Ocean. Sometime this summer, I suppose, the brothers and step-mom will arrange a deep sea fishing trip and celebration of Daddy's life. We'll go east into the Atlantic and broadcast his ashes, perhaps drink a bit ("a bit" means "a lot") maybe do some fishing, and remember a truly special man. So nothing this week except being together. More formal and public celebrations of his life to follow later in the year. Though I wish there was some kind of memorial service for him this week, I'm OK with the way things are. It's what he wanted and what his widow wants for him. That is more important than what I might want. My immediate family here in South Carolina can have our own private memorial ritual.

And right now I really need to get to sleep!

Got some really hard news this morning

My father died around 2 this morning.

I want to post it to Facebork, but my brother doesn't want it there yet, so I'll wait. But I want to let my blog buddies know.

Last Tuesday Daddy had a heart valve replaced. Things went well with the surgery, the valve was doing what it was supposed to do. Evidently, though, his intestines didn't wake up from the anesthesia. He never passed any stool, they gave him laxatives and an enema that didn't work. He was nauseous a lot. Then last night he "coded." They revived him, but he coded again a little while later and he was gone.

He's gone.

I got up this morning, showered, dressed, and checked my phone. I'd plugged it in last night and turned off the sound. I had five missed calls from my youngest brother Jim and a text from the older (but not older than me) brother Mike. The text was sent at 4:00 this morning. It said "Call me at either number as soon as you get this. I love you." and I knew it was bad news. Didn't know how bad, but ... well, you know. So I called Mike. And now I know. I'm glad I had a good night sleep last night.

Superman has packed the truck, we're about ready to leave for home. We spent the night last night with my cousin in Richmond, VA. As much as I enjoyed being with Jay, I'm really glad to be with family this morning. We'll be home late this afternoon/early evening. I'll try to get a good night sleep tonight, then head down to Gainesville, FL tomorrow.

Superman and I had the most marvelous weekend in recent memory. I am so glad we got to spend that time with such wonderful people at the Bloggerpalooza. I feel somewhat refreshed and very much supported to go into this difficult week ahead. I'll keep you informed as I am able.

Hair and death

Diva got a new 'do. She wanted me to share it with you. 

She hates this second picture because it shows her teeth. She says she has baby teeth, but they look pretty good to me. Of course, being the parent, I think they look good primarily because she doesn't need braces, so her teeth aren't as expensive as, say, Light's teeth, which look good now because we spent thousands on getting them straightened. 

These pictures were taken with her standing just outside her bedroom. This is her bedroom door, the outside of it. She "decorated" it herself without permission. It's ugly and tacky and pisses me off every time I see it. And I see it every time I come in the house, since it's opposite the foyer in the hallway.

What else was I going to tell you? I know, let's talk about death. We, Superman and I, are at an age where a lot of our older relatives are dying. Just yesterday Superman's Aunt Jackie died. Poor ol' gal has been hanging on by a thread for a while now. She got dementia and hung around for a while with that, but recently began deteriorating rapidly. Aunt Jackie is the older sister of Superman's mother, and the nicest of all the siblings. She got all the nice that her older sister missed. The oldest aunt is a sour, spiteful woman, and still alive. Superman says she's too sour to die. Preserved, as it were, with her sour attitude. Anyway, we may be taking a 500 mile round trip for Aunt Jackie's funeral. Not sure we're going, depends on a few things that depend, gas prices being one of those things. (I could rant about gas prices, but I'm sure you can find lots of other such rants most places on the internet these days.)

In other death news, the mother of my long-standing best friend from childhood died last Sunday. Her husband died last year (I don't remember exactly when, but I think it was within the past six months). Her name is Pat. She's a hoot. Graveside service and interment is Monday in Ohio, though they've lived in Florida since 1972? Early '70s, anyway. But the family is originally from Ohio, so that's where she's gone to decompose. Pat was like a second mother to me. Honestly, my mother was a bit nicer than Pat, but Pat was more interesting. She had a bigger zest for life. She was also a lot crazier than my mom. We found out years later that she was abusing prescription drugs that whole time, so that's an interesting twist. She was a good Catholic wife, had five babies, of which my girlfriend is number four. And five children was a bit much for her to handle, I think. Now, she might have gone crazy otherwise, but I suspect raising five children pushed her over the edge.

My friend posted on facebork last week that she was in the ER with her mom. I commented that I'd just had a dream about Pat. I'd just woken from a nap and logged onto facebork when I saw the post. While napping, I had a dream in which Pat appeared. Can't remember much about the dream, and Pat was, I think, a minor player in the dreamscape drama. And she was drunk. So I commented on the facebork post "I just had a dream about your mother. Aside from being drunk, she was fine." Well, my friend passed that message on to Pat, who had a hearty laugh at that. I am really glad that at least I got to help Pat laugh again before she died.

And I think I've mentioned that Superman's father is in really bad shape. He only has about half of one kidney left, the rest of his kidney parts having been surgically removed a few years ago. And that partial kidney is failing. And he refuses to go on dialysis. I don't blame him for that, though. I'd probably make the same decision were I in that situation. He's ready to die. And once he goes, my MIL will not hang on long, I think. Superman's brother who lives in the area mentioned that their mom seems to be losing her memory. Lordy, I hope she doesn't get the dementia that Aunt Jackie had. That will be ugly.

Although I'm not on death's door or anything, I'm coming down with some kind of ick. But not fish ick. My lungs are tight and heavy-feeling and my throat and right ear are beginning to hurt. Superman had these symptoms right after Christmas, spent over a week being too sick to do much. I'm trying to get lots of rest and drink plenty of fluids - and not beer, either! Speaking of which, I could have oatmeal and milk for breakfast: Highland Oatmeal Porter and Duck-Rabbit Milk Stout, both of which are currently in our beer crisper. But I'm not. I had some yogurt instead. And now I'm going to put that load of laundry in the dryer and go back to bed.

We need a new blog post here

I must tell you that I am faring much better than I was when I wrote the previous post. Also, the previous post may have been influenced by hormones just a little bit. Which is not to say that the previous post was not in many ways accurate, however, but I have come down from being quite that close to the brink. I'm coping a little better.

I am also not at home once again. Some of you are familiar with my dear friend Indigo. His mother died after an extended illness (COPD, a terrible way to go) last week. After talking to him on the phone Thursday I realized that yes, he really needed me to be with him. So Friday very early I got in the car and drove to Baltimore, from whence I type. Actually, I will leave very soon, within the hour even, but I felt compelled to write a brief (as brief as it gets with me, which is a dodgy proposition) update on my life, or something like it.

I will drive this afternoon from Baltimore to Richmond, VA where I will spend the evening and overnight with a dear cousin of mine. I haven't seen her since her wedding a few years ago, and have never met the most precious little boy in the world (I have it on good authority - his mother - that this is true of him). So that is where I will rest tonight, then on to South Carolina Monday morning.

And I am away from home once again, as I mentioned. This is significant because I am, once again, thinking with perhaps a clearer mind. I have some ideas, even some inspiration maybe, about my immediate future (within 6 months, say). Note to self: explore ideas of creating interesting fun stuff to sell on Etsy to make enough money to pay my student loan bills. Also, the radical idea of going to seminary to prepare for work in the Unitarian Universalist worship tradition or something similar. Wow. Where did that come from?! We will be discussing these things in future posts, mayhaps.

To continue the original trajectory of the previous paragraph, my mind works differently, with what feels like more clarity, when I am not at home. And here's my theory: those young crazy people who share my last name suck the energy from my soul and cloud my mind with troublesome trivia. It feels like I'm walking into a trap when I go back home. It isn't only my children, either. I strongly suspect the town/city of Greenwood and the state of South Carolina play a role in this strangulation of my soul. Unfortunately, I must go home and I must work in my home and on my home to enable myself and the family to break free from The South (TM) and it's nefarious influences. I understand that with clarity when I am not there. It's harder to see that when I'm up to my ass in alligators in that particular swamp.

These are the things I wish to share with you now. I will finish packing my stuff and get on the road south now. I hope to get back here before too long to continue the saga of whatever the hell this life is.

Fondly,
-Java

Answer to a question I didn't know to ask

There is a cat on my study notes and other rants and ramblings

There is not enough art in my life dammit. Not enough beauty. (I can tell when I have hit the crux of the matter when tears form in my eyes.) I was going to say something about visual arts, music, and other performance art, but I realize that it boils down to a lack of beauty.

I've been hovering near the edge of tears for a few days now. Don't know why. I know why I don't know why, though. I'm not giving myself time to sit and contemplate. I need time alone to mull things over. Even when I'm in my room by myself I can feel the influence of others in the house. Would I feel this way in, for instance, an apartment with thin walls and noisy neighbors? I don't know. At home I know that others could come in the room. I'm available in an emergency, and others' concept of "emergency" is much broader than mine.

Earplugs help. I like to think earplugs would help in noisy-neighbor-apartment conditions, too, but I don't really know. Anyone want to weigh in on the question? Operators are standing by. Plus, if you call in the next ten minutes, you will receive a bonus package of a dozen replacement widgets.

I have an exam in my Behavioral Stats class today. I was studying, but Samhain (the sleek black cat) settled himself on the paper I was making notes on. He's very content. I've studied pretty well for this one, I think. I'm going over some definitions now (or was) and am fairly confident about most of those. Needs a bit more work. Other stuff I think I've got. We shall see.

This is what I mean by art and beauty. Well, some of what I mean. There's more. I'll know it when I see it, but can't really express it now.

Miss Perky, my fitness and wellness instructor, lectured about cardiovascular disease today. She's five foot nuthin', blonde, and fit as a fiddle. Of course. And perky. Gawd, how annoying. Probably even more annoying at 8:00. Thankfully I don't see her until after 10:00. She's a nice lady, though. I don't like the class, I don't like how she teaches it, but from what I've gathered about her as a person, I like her. Mostly. Except she emphasizes exercise so much it grates on my nerves. [*]

*Translation: I react poorly to her enthusiasm. I get nervous and uncomfortable when confronted with all this blatant truth about my lack of personal fitness. (Here come the tears again. They're a good indicator.) My lack of personal fitness in pretty much every broad area of my life (and I am very broad) indicates impending death. I'm 48 years old. I'm at least twice as heavy as I should be. I get very little exercise. I make unhealthy food choices. There is a lot of unresolved stress in my life. There's a history of heart disease (and mental illness) on my father's side of the family. There's a history of obesity on my mother's side of the family.

And I'm taking a course on death and dying. I've discussed this before. It's an odd, uncomfortable confluence (I love that word) of intellectual input about mortality. (That's a big sentence full of big words.) (I am parenthetically trying to divert the topic away from Me being Dead.)

I like truth, mostly. Truth can be painful. Lies can hurt, in the "damage" sense. As part of my advancing wisdom, I try to be truthful to myself about myself. This blog fits into that scheme, which means you get to read all this raw ugly truth. Or not. The next happy thing is just a click away. You are under no obligation to keep reading this maudlin pile of crap.

How would I react if I had a mild heart attack? Would it wake me up and inspire me to get fit? Or would I give up and surrender to impending death? I really can't know unless and until it happens to me. I've wondered about how I'd react to a diagnosis of cancer. My sedentary lifestyle and other bad habits put me at greater risk for cancer. They say one in three people in North America will get cancer in their lifetime. I'm a big walking welcome sign for it. I don't particularly want to get cancer, but I expect to get it eventually. Would I try to fight it? Depends on what kind of cancer it is, how treatable it is, etc. If the prognosis is bad, I think I'd rather not spend a buttload of money on treatment, but rather receive palliative care. Again, I can't know how I'd react without the real thing actually happening.

There are a few people who love and depend on me. I'm supposed to keep myself alive for their sakes. It'll do in a pinch, but it seems like an inadequate reason for living. It's probably what has kept me alive this long.

On that depressing note, I'll leave you all and go study for this test. I want to do well on this test. Today that is motivating me to stay alive. I will return and post more later. Don't know when "later" is, exactly, but I'll be back.

Update: I set some serious whupage on that test. :)

We need a new post, so here it is

Brain jostling around in the skull tonight. Hang on, it's gonna be a bumpy ride.

Got our taxes did. We don't do them ourselves, a friend of ours is a tax preparer and we take them to her. After the time that the IRS corrected our return to give us a couple thousand dollars that Superman missed in deductions, we've had them professionally done. Superman is a super man, very smart and good at many things, but he's not anything like an accountant. I'm smart, but my brain doesn't work along those lines, either. Ironic, really, because my mother has made a nice living for the past 30 years as an accountant. But that's not what I came to tell you. Did you know that for the 2009 tax year there is a deduction for college expenses? I don't know the nature of it; that's why my friend does our taxes. For those of you keeping score at home, remember that there are three members of our family who are now in college. Our refund. Wow. We've never gotten a five figure refund before. (Small values of five figures, but five figures nevertheless.) Superman is excited about getting a lot of bills paid off.

Did I tell you about my social psychology class? Did I tell you that social psychology is fine in theory, but a bunch of bunk in practice? I mean no offense to any practicing social psychologists among you. I have friends who are social psychologists. I'd even allow them to use my bathroom. However, this class is driving me crazy. I have been encouraged by people I respect to drop the course. After today's class, I'm more strongly considering it. There's a group project due on Thursday, so if I withdraw from the class, it won't be until after Thursday. I don't want to leave my group hangin'.

Took Diva to her therapy session this afternoon. I think I mentioned that she's starting with a new therapist now. This group is part of the state system of behavioral health care, and they have a psychiatrist on staff, both of which the last place lacked. I liked the previous therapist much much much much better. She wouldn't let Diva get away with bullshit. The lady she's seeing now, though a sweet woman, doesn't give the impression of being savvy to the special kind of fuck-up-ed-ness that Diva displays. I had a private discussion with the gal after she talked to Diva. I told her that the girl's condition is much worse than it outwardly appears. Here's the thing: she's a liar and a thief. She has spurned every one of my attempts to develop a loving parental relationship with her, but not at first. She plays along with me until I begin to think we're really getting somewhere. Once I have some hope and confidence about our relationship, she does something deliberately, overtly damaging to me or something that is important to me. She has built me up only to smash me down so many, many times that I am no longer capable of trying to relate to her. I provide for her physical needs, and make small meaningless overtures to pretend like I'm a "good mother," but I cannot be emotionally available to her. I told that to the therapist, though I wish I'd told is as well as I just wrote it. C'est la vie.

In Death and Dying class today the prof had us write our deathbed scene, as if for a movie. How old am I? Where am I? Who is with me? How do I feel, both physically and emotionally? What is causing my death? That sort of thing. I wrote for a while. In my story I'm between 70 and 90, in my own bed at home, and Superman has died within the past year. My children are with me, but only if they can get along and not fuss. There is more detail, but nothing important. What I came to tell you is this exercise really upset me, more than I thought it would. I am not afraid of death. Hell, a lot of days I'm eager for it. I'm not even sure what exactly upset me.

I must go make cookies. I promised to provide cookies for the psychology club bake sale at school tomorrow. Not sure what I'm going to make. Probably oatmeal. They're a good sturdy cookie.

TTFN

An upsetting evening

I have two items of bad news, and I'm not sure which one to share first. I'll tell you in the order Superman told me.

Our dog Ruby died. She was outside for her late evening constitutional and was evidently hit by a car. There are no obvious signs of blunt trauma on her body, but her neck appears to be broken. I think it was quick and relatively painless. She was an old girl, about 15, and in poor health. Her hearing and sight were just about gone, and the way she moved indicated she had arthritis. She has not been very comfortable for months now. This is an ugly way for her to go, but in a way I'm relieved she's out of her misery. It was soon going to be time to consider putting her down. The decision has been taken out of our hands now. May she rest in peace.

C is in jail tonight. What I heard was that he was riding in a car with two or three other friends and they were pulled over by law enforcement for speeding. One of the guys in the car had been smoking pot and the officer smelled it. So all of them were arrested and taken to the county lock-up. S said C hadn't been smoking pot, and he's probably telling the truth. The law in this state is written such that in these situations, everyone gets arrested. I don't know what will happen. S has gone to spend the night with one of his friends, and I think the friend's mother will take them down there tomorrow and see what can be done. I have no earthly idea what to do or think. I fear, though, that C will lose his state scholarship. We have an "education" lottery, and he is/was receiving scholarship money for at least part if not all of his tuition. I know that he could lose the scholarship, but don't know the law well enough (at all) to know the details of what exactly has to happen for it to be taken away. Does he need to be convicted? If so, of what? If he wasn't imbibing in the drug himself, what exactly can they arrest him for besides suspicion?

Anyway, there are a lot more questions than answers right now, and my brain is reeling from the onslaught of grievous news. That is all.