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

Summer Daze

I've been lazy.  The past three or four weeks have just been a haze of computer games, reading, dozing and an incredibly strong and unusual craving for ice cream.  Every once in a while, I'd get a mild burst of energy.

During one of those groggy bursts I went out to the shed and brought three boxes inside to sort through.  I stacked them in the back room and there they are still.  Tabitha likes to lay on top of the stack.  And it's a good place to pile the grocery bags while unloading the trunk.

During another somewhat more gumptious burst, I finished organizing my books!  Yay!

This is the beginning.  The door is just to the left.  Obviously, I want to paint.  Lime green walls and charcoal ceilings are not my colors of choice!

This is the middle.  The west wall under the slant.  As you can see, I had to "double park" some of the books.  I mixed it up a little, setting some stacks on an angle.

This is the end (for now).  The window is just to the right.  My lamp has a gooseneck, so I can adjust it and point it almost anywhere.  The book rack on the right revolves.  It was my mother's and had come from Bombay & Co.  Remember that store?  I loved that place.


When I was done, I felt like I had really accomplished something for myself.  It was a great feeling!  Then I went in my closet.  And I remembered I had boxes of books stacked in the corner.

That stack consists of four good sized boxes of books (unread).  They are covered in plastic bags to prevent any feline, um, bodily fluids from getting on them.  It also protects them from bugs.  Unfortunately, when I was moving my books from my bedroom to the storage room, I discovered some of the books on the floor had bookworms.

Yes, there are actual insects called bookworms.  Actually, they are the larvae of certain beetles or moths that bore through wood or wood products.  I was going to put a picture of it (from the internet) here, but the images really squidged me out.  *Shudder*

Since the book project is finished--well, the books that are not packed, anyway--there isn't anything I want to work on right now.

A lot of the little bit of energy I have has been expended on Jessicat.  She's 17 years old and has been having trouble with her, uh, digestive system.  Not only is she on canned cat food, she's on the expensive canned cat food.  Fancy Feast.  Not the most expensive, but pricey enough.  She's also extremely fussy.  The Gravy Lover's line of Fancy Feast is her favorite.  Then there are the flavors.  No beef.  Unless it's mixed with chicken.  She might deign to eat it then.  If it's the Gravy Lover's.  Anything chicken is good, but she doesn't like to eat the same flavor twice in a row.  Turkey is only slightly more tolerable than beef.  Salmon is a notch above that.  Again, if they are mixed with chicken, she will take it under consideration.  I get the feeling she'd love it if I cooked her some chicken and chicken livers and chopped it up finely.  Not ground up, though!  Oh, and she doesn't mind duck.  I found some Purrfectly Chicken that has a chicken and duck flavor.  She liked it.  There's also the whole problem of keeping Bebe from eating Jessie's food.  Fun.  NOT.

Maybe if we get some cooler and/or less humid weather, I'll get some oomph back.  Until then, I'm (relatively) content in my summer daze!