Comfort and Joy

The sun rose today on shoppers already weary from shopping since midnight.  A few even were out Thanksgiving Day evening.  I'm all for getting a good deal, but it would have to be something really special to drag me out in the middle of the night.  And I am a night owl.

But I also like my creature comforts.  One of those basic comforts is my jammies.  Right now, it is not even 8:00 p.m., but I have on my new pajamas (bought at a Black Friday sale today).  I almost always wash my new clothes first because of dyes, sizing and other chemicals used in the manufacturing process.  Not today.  I was upset (story for another time) and all my comforting jammies are in the wash.  I figured as long as they don't itch, I'll wear them.  I don't know, though.  Certain, uh, sensitive portions of my torso, are feeling a little...roughness.  Oh well, I can change.  But I've digressed.

Ah yes.  Creature comforts.  Nothing makes me quite as happy as wearing something jersey knit, having my sun-mimicking lamp turned on, a good book (is there any other kind?  Well, yes there are actually...but another time) and something tasty.  The only thing missing is someone to cuddle with.  Four out of five ain't bad, I guess.

So for those who stayed up to get in line before midnight, well, I hope it was worth it.  For those who got up before sunrise, well, I can understand that--somewhat.  A couple of years ago, I got my benefits check on Christmas Eve day--direct deposit is great. I was at WalMart at 5:30 a.m. hoping to beat the crowd, only to find out they didn't open until 7:00 a.m.  So I went to Home Depot who had opened at 5:00 a.m.  And I still got to WalMart before it was too crowded.  Then I went home and went back to bed.

Today, I got up at 6:30 a.m.  For me, that's almost a miracle.  I went to bed early last night (12:30 a.m.) so I could get an early start.  I had to wash my hair and then I had to check the bank accounts.  Once I was online, I went to Facebook and Bebe was cuddling with me (Oh! I do have someone to cuddle with!) so it was 7:20 before I left.

The first store I hit was Half Price Books.  I had a coupon, of course.  I spent two and a half hours there.  I had finally learned how to access the internet from my cell phone so I was able to call up my Amazon wish list to make sure I didn't buy any duplicate books.  So cool.  Since I hadn't eaten, I was getting kind of lightheaded and dopey.  So my second stop was Dunkin Donuts.  I know, not very healthy and not good for the blood sugar.  But I figured...all right, justified it, by reminding myself that the pumpkin muffins would be gone after Christmas.  And there isn't any better coffee.  Anywhere.  

Starbucks?  Smells like a used cat litter box.  I can't get past the smell to actually taste it.  Gloria Jean?  Too pricey and still only so-so.  Peets?  Heard of them, but haven't tried them.  Seattle's Best?  Good second choice.  Coffee Bean and Tea Leaf?  Nice place to sit and I'd rank the coffee as third choice.  It's a Grind?  Love the name, but haven't tried the coffee yet.  However, I've digressed again.

While in DD, I used my cell phone to send a message to my Facebook friends about where I was and what I was doing.  (I gloat because learning how to do that was no easy feat!)  Then I headed to Catherine's, where I purchased the above mentioned jammies.  And a pair of earrings.  That's it.  Really.

Third was Ulta.  I went there to get a gift card for my daughter.  She's been wanting--and putting off getting--a new hair straightener.  The ones she likes are the over-$100 kind.  When I got there, it was a mad house.  The check out line was a good 10-12 people deep.  So I browsed.  I went back and looked at the straighteners.  Yeah, the best were $149 or so.  I found a good one for $59, but my daughter is a prima dona.  She doesn't want to settle for less than the best.  I keep telling her that the highest price doesn't mean it's the best quality.  So I browsed some more.  I found the Rusk shampoo I like and decided to splurge on myself (like I hadn't been doing that already?!).  I found the self-adhesive fake eye lashes which were on a "two-for" sale.  So I got two, naturally.  And just a few other little things for my daughter's Christmas stocking.  I pulled out my Ulta perks card.  My card is old.  I got it back in 1989, when most of the stuff I bought there was for myself.  The card is still good and when the clerk saw it, she treated me like I was the Grand Dame of Ulta.  Funny, I always think of Grand Dames as being old.  I guess I was wrong.

Lastly, I went to Target.  By then it was almost noon.  But getting cat litter was absolutely necessary!  I'd been to WalMart on Wednesday, but they had been out of the Arm & Hammer brand.  It's not good to change litter brands.  Cats don't like that.  And cats have innumerable ways to show their displeasure.  I got a few other things, too.  The hummus my daughter likes was on sale, which precipitated a rather lengthy phone call to her about which flavor she wanted and my trekking up and down aisles looking for flatbread.  I finally found it in the bakery section (right next to the deli where the hummus was) but it wasn't the kind she likes.  Aaargh!

I was home around 1:30 p.m.  That's six hours of shopping (with the exception of the DD stop).  After I put away the few refrigerated or frozen items, I took a few bags upstairs, fed Bebe, then dumped the rest of my bags by the stairway door and crashed on the couch.  My little entourage of feline friends snuggled around me and we napped.

Except for an incident with the old cat, it was a great day.  I'm happy.  But I would never have done all that starting at midnight!

Nectar of the gods!

This & That

For the first week after my mother died, I didn't have much of an appetite.  I'd eat when I felt lightheaded or my stomach growled.  During the second week, my appetite returned with a vengeance.  Last Monday, I stopped at Dunkin Donuts for pumpkin muffins.  My favorite!  Since it's cheaper per muffin to buy four of them, I did, figuring I'd have them for a couple of days.  I surprised myself by eating two of them with my DD coffee.  Huh.  My appetite was back.  Shoot, I'd been really hoping I'd lose some weight.  Oh well, I was going to be physically active with sorting, packing and lifting.

I'd had a really good day last Monday, October 10th.  It was Columbus Day.  No mail.  No banking.  My mind was back in the day when Columbus Day was a national holiday.  I was outside in the beautiful weather, hauling the last of my stuff from the shed.  I was surprised to see the yard waste pick up truck coming down the street.  Well, that meant there would be regular garbage pick up on Tuesday.  So I proceeded to fill both of the green regular garbage containers and the blue recycle container.  In fact, the blue one was so full that the lid was nearly vertical, resting against an old, cracked Sterlite container.  I was very pleased with myself at how much I'd accomplished.  Even my daughter commented.

My energy flagged a bit after Monday.  Not that I wasn't busy.  I just wasn't doing as much physical work.  I was doing a lot of online research.  I looked into the Section 8 housing for various Illinois counties.  I researched the value of several items I wanted to list on ebay.  On Tuesday, after I went to the bookstore and sold some books, I picked up my sister from work--where she gave me a bunch of boxes--and we had lunch.

Also, on Tuesday, I finally received my optical scanner.  With it, I can scan the ISBN codes on my books to enter them in my catalog software.  OMG, I was so excited!  I'd been typing them by hand, but with the scanner I could zip through a couple of boxes very quickly.  This did spur me on to start packing the books already in my database.

On Wednesday, I made some phone calls and continued my research.  My sister sent me a text message that she had more boxes and I told her I'd get them Thursday.  But Thursday dawned gray and rainy.  I put my sister off until Friday.  I went to the library and Dollar General.  I  watched TV downstairs with Tabitha, Khai and Emmy all sleeping nearby.  When I went upstairs, I took a nap with Jessie and Bebe.  Feeling a bit more refreshed, I scanned and packed up a couple more boxes of books.

Friday was errand day.  But I didn't hurry.  It was sunny again, but cooler and very windy.  I went to the bank, picked up more boxes from my sister and went to WalMart.  This was my first grocery shopping trip since my mom had died.  It was a very difficult excursion!  I got run into by someone's cart when I stopped short in the personal hygiene aisle because I suddenly remembered that I didn't need to buy Depends!

So many little things made me think of my mom.  I almost broke down in front of the dairy section.  They had eggnog!  Several brands, too!  My mother was an eggnog fiend.  Every year, while I could get it, I almost always had eggnog in the refrigerator.  I made pancakes, french toast and muffins with eggnog.  I put it in her Cream of Wheat, for pete's sake!  That was another thing I couldn't buy--Cream of Wheat.  I liked it and never minded having it three or four times a week.  It was inexpensive and I'd flavor it with Nesquik for myself.  My mother, however, was getting tired of it.  A couple of months ago, I had purchased caramel bits in the baking section at WalMart.  We put them in our Cream of Wheat and my mother really liked it.  I stood in the cereal aisle, looking up at the Cream of Wheat (they always have it on the top shelf--no matter where I shop), and trying to picture myself eating it by myself.  It made my heart hurt, so I didn't get it.  I think I'm going to get myself some instant oatmeal.  I bet the caramel bits would be good in oatmeal.

Today, Saturday, wasn't too bad.  I did three loads of laundry.  Mostly my bedding because I have an elderly cat who seems to be incontinent.  I ran to Dollar General because I'd forgotten hangers and thank you cards on my other shopping trip.  Then I carted a few boxes into the living room to sort through while I watched TV.  I got one box done and lay down on the couch with my laptop on my stomach.  I tried to play my Facebook games, but I fell asleep.  Tabitha and Khai kept me company.  Emmy stayed as long as I petted her, then left.

Poor Emmy!  She keeps looking for my mother.  It breaks my heart to see her like that.  I try to give her extra attention, but she looks so lost.  I need to find her a new home.  She's a sweet, gentle cat.  But I have Tabitha.  Actually, Tabitha has me.  If my daughter moves in with her boyfriend at his parents' house, she can't take Bebe and Jessie with her.  I may be with three cats!  And Emmy is an Angora.  She has long fur that needs to be brushed every day.  I have neither the time nor inclination to brush a cat that much.  She would also be much happier as an only cat, with a person or persons to give her lots of affection.

If anyone knows of someone who'd like to adopt her, she's 11 years old.  Her front claws were removed (before we got her) and she's been spayed.  She likes to play with fuzzy balls and catnip mice and to chase a feather teaser.  She's quiet and reserved.  She has beautiful green eyes.  In fact, her full name is Emerald--named for her eyes.

Emmy

Loss & Aftermath - The Funeral

Tuesday was quiet.  My brother took me for breakfast.  A cousin came over and the two spent most of the day together, which gave me some much needed decompression time.  I was, however, dreading the funeral.  Every time I thought about it, I felt like I was going to throw up.

Wednesday, 10/5/11, was the funeral.  My brother took me for breakfast again.  I don't recall what we did between breakfast and the funeral.  My daughter helped me pick out what to wear.  I didn't have a lot of options.  The weather was warm and sunny and I didn't want to be too hot.

When we got to the cemetery, my friends were the first people I saw.  Seeing them made me feel better.  I hadn't even noticed I was tense until I felt it ease from my neck and shoulders.  As I made my way inside the main building, I greeted family and friends.  Once papers were signed we all proceeded to the chapel.  It was the shortest funeral procession I'd ever seen.

At the last minute, Bo found a Catholic deacon in the restroom.  My mother would have appreciated that little quirk of fate.  The deacon did a short service and sprinkled holy water, which would have thrilled my mother.  She was a Catholic at heart.  People were invited to come up to the casket, but I didn't notice that anyone did.  I guess when it isn't open, it's not as interesting!  Bo let us talk a quick peek inside--mostly to assure my sister that it was indeed our mother inside.  (She has a real issue about bodies not being where they should be.)  But it also gave my oldest brother a chance to see her for the last time.

My visiting brother and I had already planned to go for dinner at a local restaurant and my daughter and her boyfriend were joining us.  My other brother and his family, along with my sister were going to a much fancier place.

I couldn't help but wonder, if I wasn't already going with my oldest brother, would the others have invited me to accompany them?  Further, if we hadn't had any plans, would we all have gone together?  I'll never know, but I did have a really good Santa Fe chicken salad at Wolf's Head Inn.  My brother got his favorite and my daughter tried flying fish (ugh) and her boyfriend had a bacon-burger.  It was very good and we had a nice time.

I tried to take a nap when I got home, but I couldn't sleep.  I brought my laptop downstairs and spent the evening with my brother since he was leaving very early Thursday morning.

All in all, his visit was good.  I surprised myself by having a small, momentary regret that he wasn't staying another day.  I think it worked out fine and I feel that all four of us siblings are a little bit closer now.

Loss & Aftermath - Monday

Less than 24 hours after my mother passed away, I made an appointment with the funeral director at Damar-Kaminski funeral home.  My sister and brother offered to accompany me.  I didn't need them in the respect of what to do and the decisions to be made.  But I sent my sister a text to meet me for the emotional support and, to a lesser degree, to play devil's advocate.

My sister deals with stress with humor.  Sometimes inappropriate humor.  And sometimes something that's not quite humorous.  But, I knew that trait would help keep me from losing it completely.  She was at Damar first and went in to use the restroom.  The first thing she said to the funeral director was "Business been good?"  Yep, that's my sis.

A little background first.  My mother was horrified at the thought of cremation.  She threatened three of her children--including myself--with haunting us if we were to cremate her.  And whether or not you believe in ghosts, we took her threat quite seriously.  My mother had strong ties to The Big Guy.  They'd've worked something out!  To me, she had also asked that she get "something besides a pine box." Ooookay.

At Damar, the first thing was to find out what her life insurance payout was.  Well, that didn't go as well as we thought.  On the phone, I had indicated what I thought would be the payout.  Not much, but should cover basic costs.  So the guy helping us--I'll call him Bo--had worked up a draft of what we could do.  I told Bo about my mom's "pine box" comment and what he had looked good.  He left that with us while he went to get an exact amount from State Farm.  I knew something was wrong when he came back in with the phone because the SF rep wanted to speak to me directly.

The payout--which hadn't been much to begin with--was less than half of what we expected.  My heart sank  As I hung up the phone, I said, "Well, I promised no pine box, so how about pressboard?"

We spent the next 45 minutes or so going over the options--which were few.  Even my sister's humor was faltering.  It looked like we'd have to cremate.  One of the biggest costs by far was the opening and closing of the grave.  The plot had been paid for when my dad passed on, but the cemetery fees were steep.  Bo and my sister were looking to me to say yes to the cremation when, exasperated, I said "Even if we could put her in a pauper's grave, just so she wouldn't be cremated."  When I looked at Bo and asked "Do they even do that anymore?"  I could see he had thought of something.  "You're mom's Catholic, right?"  My sister and I both nodded.  A hesitant smile played across his face and he said two words.  "Catholic Charities"

After that, decisions were made quickly.  Bo called the CC and we worked up (yet another) draft.  There was more humor, as we felt much better about the whole thing.  When we went to look at the casket, my sister's humor kicked into overdrive.  I fed off of it.  I think we both felt so relieved that we got the giggles.  My sister and I, touching the cloth-covered casket, looked at each other and said simultaneously "pressboard!" and burst out laughing.

I looked around the display room and said "It's not as creepy in here as I thought it would be."  My sister said, "Well, there aren't any dead bodies in them."  I responded, "They could use mannequins."  Bo grimaced.  As we were leaving the display room, my sister set off another round of bad jokes by saying they should put buttons in the caskets with recordings so during a viewing you'd hear "Don't I look like myself?"  I went further with "motion sensors" that could say "Does this casket make me look fat?"  And "How's my hair look?"  Bo beat a hasty retreat back to the conference room.  I can't imagine why.  But it's a very good thing there were no wakes going on at the time!

My sister took me to lunch afterwards.  When we got to the restaurant, she said "We forgot about an obituary!  That's another $125 or so." and whipped out her cell phone.  Thinking about how word had spread so quickly through Facebook and email, I said "Do we really need it?  Look how fast the news got out through Facebook and email."  She closed her cell and said, "You're right."

After lunch, I tried to take a nap, but as emotionally drained as I was, I couldn't sleep.  My brother was coming in from North Carolina that evening so I just tried to relax.  I made some phone calls and put out emails and Facebook messages about the funeral arrangements.

My brother arrived early at about 5:45 p.m.  He offered to take me to dinner, but I'd had that big lunch and wasn't hungry.  I made it clear from the start that the food in the refrigerator was Brittany's.  I handed him bread, lunch meat and cheese and let him make himself a sandwich.  I was a little surprised that he wanted to stay at the house.  He'd have to sleep in my mother's bed, which, although I had changed the sheets, was kind of creepy to me.  I was able to escape upstairs about 8:30.

I'd have to say Monday was almost as stressful has Sunday had been.

Loss and the Aftermath - Sunday

My mother passed away Sunday.  It's been very difficult.  Not only was she my mother and housemate, she was my job.  I was cook, nurse, maid, chauffeur, and companion as well as part-time pharmacist, pet groomer, launderer, and all around gopher.

Not that I've had much time to be at loose ends.  When I got home Sunday early evening, my daughter made sure I was okay.  She brought me food (Thai!) and sat with me for awhile.  I was very appreciative of her and I love her all the more for taking care of me.  When she mentioned she had been planning to go out, I encouraged her to go; I needed time to myself.  She checked on me a couple of times, which was nice.

I was exhausted and planned to get to bed and maybe--just maybe--get some sleep.  Wasn't happening.  I finally got up and went on the computer.  I sent emails and posted info on Facebook.  I got responses almost immediately and anyone who asked if they could help were told to contact the members of their immediate family who weren't on Facebook or for whom I did not have an email address.

Much later at night--closer to midnight--I could feel myself falling into a deep, dark funk.  Too late to call one of my bf's, I tried to play Farmville or Zoo World, but I just couldn't get into it.  At that point, one cousin living in Oklahoma came up on chat.  She and her two sisters were closer to me than many other cousins, simply because we were of an age together and had spent many summer vacations together.  When she was older, she took care of our grandmother for awhile.  So did my mother.  We had a really nice chat about that and our respective health issues.  We caught up on what else was going on in our lives.  We chatted for an hour and a half and when we signed off, I felt much better.  She helped me through a potentially bad time and I knew God was taking care of me.

Phyllis M. Peto
1/7/32 - 10/2/11
We Miss You!

I Need A Hero...

Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear.  ~Ambrose Redmoon

Today, Americans everywhere honored those who lost their lives or were injured in the horrific events of 9/11/01. The men and women who died in, or bear the scars from, New York, Washington D. C. and Pennsylvania will always be considered heroes.

As will those who worked the rescue and recovery during the attacks and in the aftermath.  And the officials who had to notify families of their loss.  And those who combed through the ashes.  And the people who cleaned up the ashes and rubble.  And the insurance investigators, claims processors, psychologists, etc. who helped those remaining try to get on with their lives.

 In my view, there are two kinds of heroes:  those who are victims of circumstance and those who jump into the fray.  Oh sure, the firefighters, police and other rescue teams get paid to put their lives on the line.  But how much is a life worth?  And what about the "civilians" who leaped into action to help?  Like the co-worker who dragged his colleague down seemingly innumerable flights of stairs to safety?

I remember reading about one survivor of the Twin Towers attack who, because of injuries, had to sit in a stairwell and wait for someone to help him.  He said a couple of people ran right by him--one of them he knew from work.  The third person who came by, helped him down the stairs and out of the building--just seconds before it collapsed.  The Good Samaritan--turned Good New Yorker--2000 years later.

There are lots of heroes really.  Smoke jumpers parachute right into the line of fire to help stop, contain or prevent wildfires.  They save all kinds of lives--human, animal and plant.  Honestly, in my opinion, death by fire has to be the worst way to go.




 And there are heroes who face dangers in their jobs to provide food and other necessities of life.  For instance, fishers who battle temperamental oceans to bring seafood to our tables.  Well, not my table.  Blech!  But you get the point.  According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, fishers and fishing workers ranks as the 3rd most dangerous job.  Logging workers and aircraft pilots are 1st and 2nd, respectively.

Now, these are truly the most unsung heroes.  Refuse collectors/recycling workers ranks 5th as most dangerous job.  Not dirtiest (sorry Mike Rowe)--most dangerous!  Kind of gives you a little different perspective, doesn't it?


Heroes come in all shapes, sizes and colors.  To the Little League player, Daddy or Mommy is the hero for making it to the ball game.  Considering how Corporate America requires a person to give their lives to the company, that parent probably is the Greatest American Hero.

It is surmounting difficulties that makes heroes.
Louis Pasteur 

Weeds are nature's graffiti. ~Janice Maeditere

A few days ago, the temperatures dropped into the 70's.  The first day or two, my allergies and asthma flared up and I wasn't up to doing anything.  But on the third or fourth day, I took a notion to go out and do some weeding.  There was a section of front yard under an evergreen that the lawn service didn't mow.  I guess because a third of that area has Tiger Lilies growing.  Anyway, I grabbed my gardening gloves and my pruners and headed out.

The weeds were near 4 feet tall.  And there was quite the variety there.  It bugged me a little that I didn't know the names for most of them.  I worked for a good solid hour or more on a patch of land about 7 feet by 4 feet.  It felt good to be productive.  I ached for two days after, but it sure looked nice!

But not knowing what those weeds were still nudged the back of my mind.  So I looked them up.  Oh, I knew some of them: thistle, clover and creeping charlie.  I love to learn new things and research them, so this was not work for me.  I found the names for the following weeds:

Henbit: a cousin to mint

Mallow:  Hollyhocks evil cousin

Ragweed:  'nuff said

Wood sorrel:  a member of the shamrock family

Black Medic: a thrifty little yellow-flowered clover

Cocklebur:  One of the hardiest weeds known

I had never seen Cockleburs in our yard before.  There were only two plants in that weedy mess, but they were the worst to deal with.  I was so glad that I was wearing my super-duper gardening gloves!  I was able to easily pluck off the few burs that stuck to my gloves and shirt.

An interesting little project--at least from my point of view.  With Autumn moving in upon us, I also cleaned the dead lily stalks and cut down the dead peony stalks. I think I left my summer daze behiind me--for now.

I always think of my sins when I weed.  They grow apace in the same way and are harder still to get rid of.  ~Helena Rutherfurd Ely, A Woman's Hardy Garden, 1903