Relationships and whatnot

Mom has just swooped in for a visit, and is now off to visit my younger brother before heading back home.  She would liked to have visited with one of her own brothers (whom she is concerned for, and whom she loves very much) before trekking west across the state, and then ultimately to her home w - a - y up north, but she received absolutely no response from him or his wife in all the time leading up to the trip, nor once she arrived.  I attempted to make contact with them while she was here, giving them three phone numbers to reach us/her by (and an email address) for planning.

All of it was to no avail and I feel horrible for her, since she is driving down into the heart of rotten Detroit-suburbia traffic to their home, and will only hope to make contact with them before heading on to Lansing later in the afternoon (most likely encountering crappy commuter traffic in the process).
UPDATE -
Mom did finally get them to answer their door, but I am not certain what sort of visit she was able to have.  The rigamarole and drama created by these pious 'born again' people borders on the incredibly heavy-handed...and just outright rude, at times.

It's always very stressful - for both mom and myself - when we two are in tight quarters for more than twenty-four hours.  Sad to admit, but it's true.  If someone wrote a story to describe our relationship it would be titled:
"How a Leo Begat a Taurus and How They Lived Tenuously to Tell the Tale".  Seriously.

Suffice to say we are bruised and and bent and pretty much our strained normal, but still mother/daughter in love.

Been gone, but don't suppose ya noticed

I have been a little preoccupied and a little 'could-give-a-sh*t' over the last week or so. It's been a rough summer emotionally - and an eye-opener in so many ways - that sitting down at the keyboard to write seemed pointless.

No one is going to read [whatever], and the even more distressing and disappointing thought is that most readers would simply skim and absorb next to nothing of what I had to say (as apparently they [YOU] have been), and then never comment. So, I resorted to making very trite entries over the last few months.

My friends do occassionally comment (and I thank you most sincerely, you lovely people - all two of you), but by and large, I am disheartened by the readership numbers versus the commentors. I can safely say 98.9% of the comments are nothing but SPAM, and it makes the disappointment that much more palpable day after day.

I don't require the attention to survive, but if I am being honest with myself, I guess I am blown away by the fact that others blog and garner craploads of comments for seemingly no good reason. Quilt bloggers I have seen have many followers, and every entry receives some sort of feedback. What I don't understand is why I don't get anything by way of feedback; no greetings, compliments, criticisms, suggestions, questions, etc. You get the idea.

I get SPAM for the most part. And not even RELEVANT SPAM. It lacks intelligence; it insults my intelligence, and; it wastes my time.

It has also made me curmudgeonly and bitter, and you 98.9% people aren't worth it any more. You will not be allowed to drill in on my psyche and my self worth any more, so don't be surprised if you decide to look in on the blog one day and find you have no access. If you don't care enough to make an effort (even a little bit of one) why the hell should I?

That's right.....YOU SUCK! - you 98.9%. So put that in your bag of thoughtlessness and carry it around for a while. And while you're at it....bite me! If your readership is lost over this entry, as you can plainly tell, it wouldn't matter in the least. What difference would it make at this point?

Let's see if you respond to this. I am betting there won't be anything of value, one way or the other, left in the comments any time in the next month. If this is so, then you will have more time on your internet-trolling calendar very soon.

Congratulations.

For you relatives who drop in occasionally

My mom asked me to write a handful of folks (relatives) to let them know how she was doing, and to also inform them that she would be offline and fairly unreachable by phone for a bit.

So I did this.

I was to let them know she wouldn't be jumping to her feet to answer the phone, and that sitting at her PC to correspond would be next to impossible for her (for the foreseeable future). I was to let them know this so they wouldn't be worried or offended or upset should they not receive responses from her in a timely fashion.

Well, I did it in my way, BCC-ing those on the list. It's just what I do (a holdover from my corporate days), and apparently some peoples took this as a personally pointed message - an affront, if you will. Their panties are in a bunch and mom is probably on a couple of poop lists because of it.

Well...I'm sorry!

If you're ticked off, if you're a little honking mad at my messages, well...then blame me, and leave mom out of your nasty little blah, blah, wah, wah sessions. Do what one person did and respond with a nastygram to me. I can handle it, and it's totally my issue anyhow.

But g e e z, try a little understanding and stop taking everything so personally maybe, will ya? The world doesn't revolve around you, because it's too busy in my orbit. [schmarmy sarcasm intended]

Greater MI disappointments

Well, they abound, those MI disappointments.

I guess I've always known I could count on being let down by my MI relatives - e v e r y time.

You know that story, "Man Without a Country"? Well, I am a woman without a family. Good to know I have some things I can truly always count on.

Some people have probably just realized (or not) that they've been eliminated from the ol' FB page. Happy day for you all! Merry Christmas.

It's almost over

Oh, I know most of you think I am referring to 2012...but I am not.

Nope.  I am talking about my stay with Gran.

Yup.  I am here for two overnights and the surrounding days (generally the half day before, the full day in between night one and night two, and then the early half of the next day).

If you didn't get that, trust me...it doesn't matter.

And you might think that at 101 years of age she's a bit "feisty," but I am telling you she's been just pure cranky from the word "go."  Yeah, there's a difference between feisty and cantankerous - and she did not blur the line in the least.

Mean. 

Spiteful, even.

Well, I have just a little over 31 hours to go, so I am simply keeping this stupid grin plastered on my face until it's over.  I will be getting a little relief around noon tomorrow, when an aunt, uncle, and cousin come to call on Gran midday.

Thank you, Lord, for small gifts!

Geez

What an absolute fool I am, thinking I could just waltz out to my neatly assembled tool bag and find my assortment of wrenches waiting for me!

I clearly remember repacking it after the fiasco of finding my tools scattered hither and yon from various uses over the year - mostly on the part of Brian and his handy do-it-yourself art projects; chainmaile, boffer equipment, etc.; a bicycle repair (not really, but it was a good thought on his part); crude chipmunk-trapping attempts.

As I cleaned out the garage in fits of....in fits of - what?  Well, just in fits, really.  I cleaned the garage in phases over the spring and summer, but never really finished for all of the sidetracking that occurred - like in finding my errantly placed tools, and so on.  I would then set about collecting everything and get my tool collection back in its rightful place.

Seems I should have placed it under lock and key afterward.

Now that I am earnestly attempting to fix the bathroom faucet leak (stream, really), and have finally managed to locate the stupidly placed shutoff valves for the bathroom sink (basement ceiling joists), and have broken a wrist getting them to turn off, I can't go the next step to disassemble the handles because I no longer have the correctly sized wrench with which to proceed.

NOW, I must dress and head out to the local hardware store to first buy a wrench (which hopefully will fit -- something a smidgen larger than 9/16ths), then come back home to open Pandora's plumbing 'box' to reveal the specific washer/screw configuration, then head back out to the hardware conglomerate in hopes they have the pieces I need (in stock), so that I can once again return home to finish off the plumbing issue.

I'm thinking matches and a little accelerant might be easier.  Can you have a "pre-fire" fire sale?

Arrived yesterday

Driving through the height of the wretched snow storm, I arrived at Gran's for two overnight stays and the surrounding daytime hours.

You may say for 101 years she's just being 'feisty,' but let's be honest here.  She was cranky from the word "go." 

Just gotta keep this stupid grin plastered on my face for another 30+ hours.  Concentrate on laying out a few blocks for when you get home....or, write a bit. 

Open up the window and jump (just make sure you bring the car keys).

Glad to be home

Could do without the entirely stuffy, humid, warm abode, but was still glad to arrive somewhere where I do not feel so....inadequate.

Thank you, Aunt Joan, for the hug, and for not judging me.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Picked up Brian at the mechanic's garage on the way home, and hopefully, after tomorrow, the last of the work on his car (body work) will be done.

Weeks ago, the car was finished, but not "finished" finished...they had the wrong under-fender piece (for the driver's side wheel well) and neglected to get that re-ordered and installed before having Bud pay the balance and drive it away. It was left hanging, and has made me nervous ever since.

[heavy sigh] It's not my car, nor my money (however, life experience has taught me SO much). Anyhow...

...the kid has had to stay on top of these schmucks to make the final bit happen, but I had to push him this afternoon to commit to taking the damn car to the garage, or it never would have gotten done ('hovering').

Yeah, it's good to be home.

I was hoping...

...to post some of Karl's class work here.

Sadly, the blogger program won't upload the bits and pieces from his class work. :( They are mostly Flash projects or .jpgs, or small .mov files...but for some reason the uploads are stalling - and it isn't the sizes of the pieces being uploaded.

Perhaps this weekend I will load the items onto my YouTube account and set up links to them here - then all you need do is click on the link to view them...if you are so inclined.

In other news - it's grey and windy and beginning to look a lot like winter. Brrrr.

Brian's jeep is finally gone; he sold it to a low-balling scrapper, but it is now history as far as we are concerned. The person who bought it paid him cash Friday evening, and then said he'd be back to collect it on Monday - which he did! Bud made grown-up plans to use the cash to pay for his car insurance (for the next couple of months) and to replace his broken phone. Still, his expression was hard to look at, and his attitude was bleak for several days.

Once the vehicles pulled away Monday afternoon, Brian's melancholy grew, but there were pangs of relief mixed in with it all. Life lessons that leave you with a lot of knocks and bruises (and which take a great deal of money besides) are sometimes not easily gotten over. Hopefully, you retain the knowledge and take it to heart and you make better choices down the road. Hoping and praying.

A whole new May

Wow! Already into the fifth month of the year - and things are about.................

............the same.

Had a great day yesterday (despite "Mother Nature"...what incredible timing she has); helped move a friend's daughter's stuff from her apartment in Ann Arbor while she leaves town for the summer; had breakfast at a neat little diner in the heart of the worst parking area of A2 - Angelo's - the bread used for toast was just like my Aunt Pearl's...now I want to bake!

After saying our goodbyes, we departed her twins and left A2 for more fun. What a day!

Recently, I snagged a copy of an advertising newspaper for quilters and "craftys" which shows a statewide calendar of events and all of the quilt shops (who care to advertise) from tip to thumb; pinky to UP, and all points in between. I surveyed the publication for any (strictly) quilt shops with more than 2,000 bolts of material, and that were not craft-oriented in any way. Put together two lists of these shops and designated them as "Maria" and "Jean." Mind you, none of us has any extra capital so spend right now, so quilt shop hopping would be a horrible waste of time - but do we care about that?

Hahahaaaaaa...I laugh at your naivete.

Oddly, as Jean was navigating her burly, college-crap-loaded Suburban down the expressway, she mentioned she has seen a sign (several times) for a quilt shop in Davison and thought maybe it would be fun to explore it as we were already out and about, and we're not too far from it if we stuck to I-69 and took the 'back way' returning to my house. Well, who am I to turn down a chance to scurry through a small, unexplored, heretofore unknown shop; how can you justify not examining the contents before dismissing it off-hand?

Well, I couldn't. Besides, it was one of the shops on my new mission list! It was kismit I tell ya! She was reading my mind - thank goodness. And what a gem of a find it was!

If you ever find yourself wheeling around in the Davison area, head north of M-15 until you find "Linda's Quilt Shop," you won't be sorry. It is EXACTLY as a quilt shop should be!

I had the added pleasure of being recognized by the owner...and it had been over 12 years since she had seen each other last.

There was once a shop in Davison's old downtown that was loaded for bear with calicos and solids, flannels and new geometric prints. That was some fabric mecca for a small town girl. And it was forever crawling with new quilters, curious tag-a-long friends, long-time customers, and the instructors who taught classes there. The women who worked there grew to know me over time - as they did with all of their regulars - and somedays I would go simply to have fun looking and dreaming about new quilts to assemble, or to pick up just a smidge of something to finish a current quilt. The conversations were a riot, and I always left feeling as though I had just had a great conversation with a sister or favorite cousin and not a clerk who simply wanted to make a sale.

Well, here we are at the check out counter, and Linda said "You remind me of someone. Did you use to raise turkeys?"

You could have knocked me over with a quarter yard of calico! How did she remember that!?! Not only that, but she recalled that we lived in Hadley! Of all the women that she had met and gotten to know, she remembered my sons and me because that - and because of the chat we were having over the material.

Imagine that!

As we stood talking, she told me how the other women thought Brian and Karl were so well-behaved when they would be at the shop with me. I love my boys. She also said that after I would leave the shop, some of the women would laugh til they cried over some of the stories I would tell of the boys and the turkeys, and of my idiot husband at the time.

Hmmm.... :^) It's all good, I guess, if you can make a lasting impression - especially if it's a good one! LOL

Well, with two happy finds like that, you can bet your boots I will be returning to Linda's lovely quilt shop!

From there, Jean and I went to the Ortonville Quilt Show (yes, that was on the mission list, too), and as luck would have it, we were there on the first day of the two day show. We were both very impressed by the lovely pieces exhibited throughout the church. There were quilts of all ages and sizes either draped over pews or hanging along the walls. A woman played tunes on a piano up in the front of the church while women and men went around the exhibit, closely examining (and appreciating) the workmanship and overall beauty of the quilts on display.

I have a whole new set of quilting ideas and goals after having a look at so many beautiful quilts. I most appreciated the oldest pieces and their simple, rustic handwork, as so few woman finish their own quilts any more. Quite a few of them opted to have their quilts quilted via someone with a long-arm machine - a pity. While the quilting was precise, and definitely tell tale of having been stitched by machine, it lacked the imperfections of hand/machine work - that is to say, when someone uses their regular flatbed sewing machines to stitch the quilts by guiding the quilt under the needle freehand. Less than perfect results can happen, but I think the advent of the long-arm has taken away the last bit of creativity one can apply to the quilt in order to call it "hand made."

I can still remember when woman poo-poo'd others who would use the free hand method to topstitch the quilt, and refuse to consider the quilt hand made because of it - and that was a scant ten years ago! My, how the mighty have fallen.

Personally, I reserve my hand work (stitching-wise) for binding the quilt and for crazy quilting, or on standard miniatures alone. My crazier pursuits are not undertaken with a needle and thread. Besides, I know my strengths and weaknesses. Straight stitching (through layers) is not a strength of mine. Crazy quilting does not employ "straight" anything, and binding is an art which requires deftness to hide the stitches while accomplishing a strong and stable turning of the material from from to back. So, I issue the use of my skills where they are best appreciated!

Anyhow, from there we went back to Clarkston, where we watched a couple of movies we have been wanting to see, and talked about next steps, and what's next for classes and school, and work prospects and kid stuff in general - hers and mine. She's got an exciting week coming up with one of her daughters graduating from medical school! Another will be home college for the summer, a third is moving to heading to New York for a couple of months to re-energize, touch base with friends, dance with her NY troupe and have fun before architectural classes resume in the fall for her at...well, that supposed school in A2. Her son is providing her babysitting duties with her first grand baby, and she still has her own classes to tend to.

Me, on the other hand, I need a new life! More on that later - we have a whole new month, and I am certain to have news to share soon enough.

PS: Mucho thanks to Aunt Judy for the birthday email. You have always been my cheerleader - which, I suspect, you have been for all of your nieces and nephews. But I greatly appreciated the kind words. Yours was the only familial contact (except for my missed call from mom) on my birthday, and I was feeling pretty low. [hugs]

Decisions, decisions

One big decision has been made; I am no longer going back to Livonia for the duties I performed there.

I have a small gig for the month of May on an indie short in Detroit (so, no pay and unrealistic expectations, without thought on their part of compensation for drive time or gas expenditures). Small crews of "dedicated-to-the-art" people think that you should be as motivated and psyched about their production as they are, and under better/normal/full production scope conditions, I might be more geeked and invested. But coming in to the fold so late in the game, and being relegated to office PA makes it tough. My interest on this project is in the connections alone, and in the chance to load one more line onto my working credits and on my resume.

Sad but true.

The production? The Wars of Other Men.

I received the infamous last minute email requesting my help on the project about a week ago, and with little notice, was expected there only nine hours later. I wasn't even looking at my PC the evening the email showed up (after 12:30 am), so to expect I would be there as soon as instructed was not going to happen. Um, how about a phone call?

I have been told that I would get a chance to boom op during the production, since there is a strong chance their current operator might flake some days. Always a cool thing, those flakeys. So, I will sit in the prod office chair - manning the phones and troubleshooting - and wait for the call to deploy and boom op!

It could happen.

Changes

Well, I have had a busy week, and not that I am not used to keeping busy, but the sources of my work and activities came from so many different directions and requirements that I had a hard mental time keeping up and not fretting about other things that didn't get touched.

Hopefully those untouched items won't bite me too hard on the rear end.Last night and today are the first times I have even gotten online since last week!  I wasn't even on the PC over the last 2.5 days, let alone looking at email or anything else - hello you FB people.

I am suddenly involved in an indie production happening in the D, after not having any contact from the producer in weeks and weeks.  As is the case, 'they' want your time and soul committed 100% to their cause immediately, and at the last moment - without warning.  My only real complaints are the distance to drive (in Brian's car - inconveniencing him) and the lack of pay - AGAIN!!  I am screwing up my nerve to broach the topic of compensation for the mileage.  Currently, I am required there a couple of times per week, but once preproduction is over and production begins (in two weeks) I will be the office PA (required to be there every day of production to answer phones and troubleshoot from homebase), and the two kids (who have been given the chance to kiss butt since February) will be set PAs.

I know putting your time in and networking and getting to know and be known is key, but geez!  How about a little thought on the production company's part towards my expending my capital and 'volunteering' my time for their glorification.  I am unemployed, and not a Rockafeller...I cannot support them in that fashion without feeling it in the end.  Something has to give and I would prefer it if it weren't my doggone overstretched budget!

Hello!!!!!  I am barely treading water as it is, and sometimes breaking the surface for a gasp of air to make the bills is a struggle without adding the expense of 'helping' local productions by using my dimes and nickels.

This is not the first time, and it most likely won't be the last time; and I wouldn't mind so much if I had some cushion in the bank or a way to supplement mom's $ help while doing these poor indies.  But really, can't somebody above the line understand "supporting the arts" is all fine and good, but if it means I am paying to work for you - you can start taking my name off of your contact list.

I know, I know.  Sour grapes.

Plus, I haven't had any time to sit and work on my reel (or any other projects of my own) in I don't know how long.  Being stationary (not going back to Livonia) should help, but now with this production ramping up, I am most likely still not going to be here enough to make any strides.

I planted seeds for the flower beds about 10 days ago...maybe more, and still no signs of any little sprouts, yet.  I need to plant the next two trays just to get that chore over with, and then make my way out to the yard to begin doing what is necessary to get rid of weeds and prepare the beds for the plants once they do sprout and grow to a good transplantable size.  Also, we are excited about planting veggies and herbs, again.

Keeping the kids on task is hard to do remotely.  Keeping them motivated is impossible whether I am here or there (wherever that may be).  Because they have dragged their feet about registering for summer classes, my fear about whether they will be able to take anything (now that I am bitching about it in their ears) is probably going to be a reality.  One more semester lost to apathy and lack of motivation.

Please, Lord, something has got to change.  I am ready to receive your blessings.  Thank you.

And another thing

To the grocery-delivering cousin:

First, thanks for delivering the groceries. Every time I am here I make a list (long or short), and it's great that you can find the time as you do your own shopping to grab her few items and then deliver them. Your husband needs practice, yet, but the thought is there.

Your comment during your brief visit with gram (during the grocery drop today) was not appreciated. When the message was left for the "Cheezit crackers...whatever they are" by gram, she has no knowledge of the fact that she has eaten those before.

In fact, she has, in the recent past, smuggled away a box in her room - noisily eating them in the middle of the night - dropping handfuls of crumbs in her bed and on the floor.

So when you said to her "Well, I bring my own snacks when I come," because she doesn't recall eating the darned things...I think you can keep your unqualified comments to yourself.

I bring my own milk, spices and herbs, breakfast cereal, shampoo, body wash, wash cloth, snacks, treats and the like when I come to stay, so don't think you have anything over on me. And do not presume to inform me in some overt way - you have NO IDEA what goes on, and until you deal with it for more than one evening at a time (which you haven't done for a l-o-n-g time)...don't even start.

And another thing...as you sat listening to her whine about not having the box of quarters - a box I scoured her closets and writing desk looking for DAYS ago, and then you all wander into her room in a sad attempt to search for them AGAIN...as she watched, did it occur to you to ask me if I looked instead of taking her sad, demented, word that she can't find them? You did exactly what I did, but not to the extent that I did in searching, and did you find anything more than I did?

Huh. Thought not.

Yes, I was quilting when you showed up, because everything was done and taken care of for the time being, to that point in time. No, I did not come out to greet you when you arrived, because the old gnome was standing at the door, and there was no sense in my standing there, too. BESIDES, when I talk with her guests I get the standard crap comments about me taking up her visiting time. Ask some relatives, you'll understand what I mean.

Yup, that's my blog. MY blog.

Found my Easter eggs

If you don't want to read anything negative - if you are only looking for something uplifting - don't read this entry any further. The uplifting portion was the earlier entry...otherwise, this is reality.

You've been warned.

Seriously...I don't want to know about it later if you are offended by these words.

I've been here under 24 hours and she has sniped and attacked nearly the entire time - even in front of two other people. It was unprovoked and unwarranted, but she felt free to let it fly. Fortunately, both of these people understood and they hugged me warmly and sympathetically before departing.

I had decided several months back not to take it any more without responding - to not pretend it doesn't hurt. I had decided it wasn't water off of this duck's back. I wouldn't be mean in return, but a load of buckshot, blame, accusation and/or insult was going to be answered. No longer would her words be met with an understanding silence, which seems to be - to her - permission to continue with the activity.

Her pat answer to any comment regarding her slights is "I'm old." Another oldie-but-goody is "Well, that's not how I meant it."

Oh really?

I have listened to her comment on everyone (criticize, backhand compliment, berate, etc.) when she perceives a slight or an error in judgment, or a fault, or an omission of having her on their to-do lists, and on and on, and now I find I am on that receiving end. She is becoming more openly petty and vindictive, and it hurts to see (but more disturbing to my frame of mind is) it is making me regret spending time with her.

I so desperately need a job, and to get out of this position. I need a place to go, or a job to do; something which utilizes my brain and my talents, my abilities and my creativity. Somewhere, where the people I am around appreciate my effort and time and like it that I am there. Not someone bitter and confused and arbitrarily on your side one minutes and ruing the sight of you the next.

I realize she is like this with most of the caretakers, but the emotional security I need to back me up, to buoy me through the storm was not in place before I walked in here. I am emotionally (and mentally) more fragile now than I have been in over ten years. I lack the confidence in myself that I used to proudly carry on my shoulders.

I miss me.

PS The title has nothing whatsoever to do with the blog matter...it was merely a placeholder.

Don't knock it - it's not your life

I have toyed with the idea of editing the "Dreidels and Doorstops" entry to make happy a certain individual who sent me a rather curt (boy! I really had to work to find the right word) email. I never thought I would have to justify my emotions, my feelings, my thoughts and dreams and wishes and fears and ....well, you get the idea.

At the time, I was hurt by the lack of identity, and by words said that I both knew were not meant to be hurtful (but were) and by the fact that those words seemed to come from nowhere (when I quite heard the opposite stated form the individual uttering them originally).

Really? Is there really something wrong with saying I felt bad? I stated facts, I was not embellishing and I was cautionary in regards to my grandmother's age and mental acumen. I took all into account and still could not put aside the feelings it evoked. Sorry if that offends. Maybe, read with eyes and mind open, and for the entire content. That is just a suggestion.

Remember, this is my journal...my blog. So it will include my days, my feelings, my highs and lows, failures, insecurities, foibles, moments of pride, feelings of hopelessness, and reflect my successes and apprehensions, skepticism, doubt, hope, fears, my joy and pain. And I will write it all in my words.

Am I to start apologizing for reveling in a job well done, too? Well, then let me not mention that the video I created for Faygo ended up in second place.

I have always felt like an outsider in my own family. A misfit, as well as a miss-fit.

Why? I do not know, but the feeling has always been there.

Lately, I have begun thinking about how it seems I always carried a camera into 'family' gatherings in order to have a place - for a reason to exist in that spot at that time. Without the camera I was an intruder. Odd, I know, but I recall having those feelings.

To this day, I still feel those feelings...and I cannot tell you why. Only, with recent events, I have never felt more justified. Driving the nail 'home' are recent events with my youngest brother and the advent of discovering my 'father' has been here in Michigan for the last several years, only a handful of miles from us here in Clarkston, and coming face-to-face with him over the holidays.

My sons and I were heading to the theater Christmas day to see Sherlock Holmes, and I asked the boys to take a detour in order to knock on his door and say........what? What do you say to someone who so obviously had no desire to be a part of your life...or have me as a part in his?

Did I imagine some loving reunion? No, but I hoped for a bit of recrimination, or happiness, or something.

He didn't even know me. I knew the boys would be unfamiliar to him, but he looked through me, and when I said 'hello', there was no recognition. I asked him if he knew who I was, and he said "no." I told him I was his daughter, and he didn't even blink.

Why on earth didn't I turn and walk away?

He once told me he didn't want to be a dad, that he wasn't ready when his children came along - well, I guess I gave someone the gift they wanted.

He had made his life with the latest wife - Beverly number two - and her children figured in prominently, while his own kids were packed in boxes and the memories of us were pushed to the back of the attic.

I suppose, though, I should pretend it doesn't matter and not say a word about how I feel. Bitter, bitter, bitter.

They were having a glorious family Christmas, opening gifts and laughing and talking when we arrived...so I apologized for having interrupted their holiday and left.

Clearly we were not where we should be. I was not where I should be, and I had dragged the boys along for protection.

After all, I had given Bag Lady my phone number only 3 weeks before (so he could contact us and make plans to get re-acquainted with the boys - BS!). While Andy was in the hospital for his surgery, I called to get some sort of medical history, in case it might become pertinent. There was idle prattle and chit chat, mostly about them and their travails. No hint of concern about Andy or how he was...would I call and keep them updated? Dad wasn't there, and that's when I should have said I would call another time. I had had to explain who I was when she answered the phone, too.

Since then, I've not heard from them/him. I suppose I should not be surprised.

Standing there, in that entry way, knowing I wasn't part of his family - my family - this limb on my family tree, I felt small.

Where was my camera?

I keep replaying the scene in my head. I tried to briefly fill him in on Andy, but they kept making u-turns in the conversation, and bringing it back to dad and his health and job woes. There was nothing I could say that didn't become "them-centric," and Brian and Karl were standing there watching the train wreck. Brian made the effort to drag mom from the tracks, and I took the hint from his expression and subtle eye movement to make our excuses and go.

Don't look back.

Karl hoisted one poor inflated Santa from his prone wheezing position next to the driveway, and we climbed into the car and pulled away.

Lots of silence.

I suppose the next time I see him he will be in a coffin - that is, if I get a call that the final breath has been drawn. I'm not counting on that, though.

These are my feelings, holiday time or not. This is life, and just because it isn't happening in your living room or in front of you doesn't diminish the feelings I have. This is part of the reason I was bruised by Gram's words. There have been many such incidents throughout my life where I felt completely left behind, excluded, invisible some more recent than others. I know everybody has them, but I am dealing with my own. I am dealing with it as best I can.

Deal with it or read something else. May I suggest some Dickinson?

Sorry.

Disinterest is growing

The disinterest of my cousins has put me off my game and really slowed progress of my gift for my grandmother.

What's more, my aunt's snark-o-gram - in response to my blog a number of days ago - has really shot holes in my interest to communicate, postulate, demonstrate and just relate.

My own desire to finish the AV project I began nearly 12 months ago for Gram has waned significantly over the last few weeks.

Promises of photo submissions to come from a have fallen by the wayside, and while others are eager to see it, I am leery of 'finishing' the thing, for fear of more guff from several corners later on.

If I am going to catch flack for my own thoughts and opinions, for having feelings and expressing them in a blog, then can you imagine the crap that will fly when people do not see their own kids (and the grand kids those children spawned) while several visions of other cousins zip by?

I had a friend chime in that I should not just email or call and ask for photo submissions, but that I should drive to my cousins' homes and take - or make - dinner for them. Then, while they are eating, I take the opportunity to go through their photo albums (or boxes of unruly pictures - "because not everyone is organized to the point of having albums") and borrow the ones I need to scan for the video. This way, she reasoned, I would get exactly what I need and get it done quickly.

Tracy was right, but my cousins do not all live nearby (some as far as Washington State, Arizona, CA and CO), and others do not want to correspond let alone be bothered with a cousin asking for a harmless favor and a little bit of effort. What Tracy failed to factor in was the fact that I do not have ready transportation, nor do I have the means to pay for endless meals on wheels. It's the lackluster response from one particular branch on the tree that really gets me. I get hammered for being too involved, and others are close enough to be around, but stay completely removed.

The cousins who are hip to the idea of what I have been doing over the last year acted quickly. They are excited to get their family photos in the mix and have chatted amongst one another - and they've even contacted one or two to nudge them in to action. But those hold-outs...they are going to be put-out (maybe) once the final product is viewed. Hugs to those who have donated to the cause.

Mmmm...maybe the hold-outs won't care either, but there will be comments and snarky stuff from some source because I failed to include everyone, and I have had enough for the year. I am at my quota and will turn back whatever comes my way...with both barrels! Oh, and I do not want cheese and crackers to go with my WHINE (note the spelling).

So if you have a comment about my attitude, use the comment option here on the blog site or keep it to yourself. OR be prepared to find your choice words re-posted from my inbox for all to see. Yup, that's right, I would stoop to that level...the grinch stops here!

By the way, thank you WA, I have the photos! [hug you]

Doorstops and dreidels

Like a spinning dreidel, I move in and around, whirling and wobbling until I fall over. Then I am scooped up and sent whirling in another direction, depending upon the job and the need.

I arrived at Gram's on the ninth, to replace the woman who stays with her during those periods when no one from the family can be here. It seems I tag team with her more often than I do anyone else. Mostly, that's a bad thing.

Nothing is ever done (or, done well). It generally means dishes must be re-washed, laundry is not done, there's always a lot on the floor to be vacuumed, and she never dusts. Plus, she drops her medication and diabetic needles on the floor in the spare bedroom we all stay in, and doesn't bother to pick it up. I understand accidentally dropping something, but when it's meds or something that could pose an injury, bend over and pick it up...for crying out loud!!!

Gram has been in a rather over-tweaked mood this time around (I think it started with the doorstop I replaced). She has complained constantly about just about everything, and it begins and ends this time with being cold. I understand why - at 98 years old, it is hard to regulate your body temperature, and she is really feeling the gusts and bone-chilling temps we are experiencing outdoors.

Almost as soon as I arrived two days ago, I made for the windows in the two bedrooms. I attempted to tightly shut hers and then latch it to stop the breezes and the mournful noises. But it was no good.

So, I ran into the back bedroom and grabbed that pane out of the window and hustled into Gram's room, thinking I might find the fit a little tighter...or at the very least, the latch might actually close....AND IT WORKED!! It took a good deal of persuasion though, to get the window out of the track before moving it, but it was worth it.

Gram's room was now airtight as far as the horrible, non-insulated window was concerned.

Back in the guest bedroom I stuffed the ill-fitting (PITA) window into the track and pushed it shut, getting it to latch with just a little effort. At last that one was also FINALLY closed and not allowing the blustery 60MPH gusts into the apartment. We slept in comfort for the first time this winter without Gram cranking the thermostat up to 80*F.

When she complains about the other residents there not being social, I remind her that it is a two-way street, and sometimes YOU have to make the first move. Waiting for everybody else to knock on your door can be a futile endeavor. So when she raises the subject about the lack of folks to chat with, I encourage her to take a walk and knock on at least one door to simply say hello.

Sometimes it works. Sometimes she comes back complaining about having to make that overture (when she shouldn't have to...), and chickening out at the last minute.

Should I get as old as she, I shall never cloister myself behind my door and then crab about not having company!! If I entomb myself within my walls, I will relish the time and keep myself busy until such time I may choose to re-enter the world - with gusto!

When her pastor called out of the blue, he asked if he could stop by and bring her communion. She has complained about the lag in his visits, but when he called, the first thing she said was "Oh, I don't know. When? When were you thinking? Not today?" And he replied with hurt surprise, and told her it was the only chance he would have since he was going to be quite busy for the next several days. So, she acquiesced, and excitedly decided right then she would have to shower. You would have thought it was the Pope who was on his way (or Luther...since she is not Catholic). :^)

Her emotional pendulum swings faster than a woodsman's axe, and is three times more harmful.

When he arrived, the Pastor complimented her holiday decor. Commenting on the front door, she said my mom and her sister Joan hung the blue and other adorable things on the inside (bells, stockings...), but as the outside was my work, all she said was "somebody else did that part."

He complimented the Charlie Brown tree - tall and perfectly proportioned for her little home. She told me she wanted a blue tree for the holidays...and I trucked over quite a few ornaments to hang from it's boughs.

I suppose it is a matter of taste and up to one's likes or dislikes, but she said she liked it originally. However, she has since said to others that it isn't all that pretty. The Pastor said is was interesting and that the ornaments were lovely. She later conveyed to me that he really didn't say too much except that "...it wasn't all that much to look at and he didn't say it looked nice or anything."

Um, ouch!

And again, she said "The girl who's here now, she did it. I suppose she tried hard."

Smack and powie!

It's a good thing I am not all that attached to my name or my identity, or I would be a basket case.

This nameless dreidel only has two days to go before she is home for a scant two point five days. I need to recoup and lick my wounds where at least a couple of creatures on this planet [might] like me. Although, I do admit to wishing I was one of those cousins whose names she can remember and pull out of her twisted mind with ease.

Never having anything you can count on

...except the sting of diappointment in most details of your life.

What's it all about, Alfie?

Days are ticking by, and over the last week I have finally begun to receive more than just work to do - meaning: I have finally been sent my deal memo and all of the many other forms necessary to sign when joining a production.  Except, with this being a production for the armed services [read: government], there is a mountain of work behind the usual non-compete form and deal memo, behind the right to work form and tax form, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera  (as Yul Brenner would have intoned).

I am nearly ready to go.  My goods are mostly assembled, and all of my laundry is done, save for the bits I brought with me to Gram's.  I am mentally ready (nearly enough, I suppose), and despite the fact I am leaving with heavy concerns surrounding the boys and things that need doing, I am excited and eager.

My reservations and eagerness are equally matched at this point, and I am anxious over things at home that are in need of immediate attention...but now I have to focus all of my attention forward to my time in Grayling.

Currently, I am at Gram's, working on the last couple of days on my calendar.  An aunt phoned from St. Helen this afternoon to say she saw the casting "article" for the production I am working with in her local paper.  So, if she spotted it, then there are many more folks in MI who are excited, curious and wanting to get busy with this.  It could be a zoo on the 9th, or it might be a bust - we shall see.

There is still the matter of the car issue for Brian, but I can't focus on that right now.  

My biggest regret is how little time and attention is left to concentrate on Karl's birthday after all is said and done.   He turns 20 in just a couple of days, and I won't be able to make it special in any way, shape or form for him.  

For now, I am concentrating on tying up loose ends - as well as I can from a remote location - and preparing myself for the last several hours I will have at home once I am relieved at Grandma's on Sunday.  It will be a sprint to the finish line, and then sleep (perhaps), and then 230+ miles to work and my next six weeks or so.

I feel like Gulliver, Alfie...what's it all about?

"FREEDOM!!!!!!!!!!!" -- Sir Wm. Wallace

Soooo many things to do, and so little time...and even smaller personal physical freedom to get 100% involved in my life and favorite pastimes. Like the gardening, just as one example. Due to the whole "recovery process," I am still being admonished about not bending at the waist, not applying pressure or stress to the abdominal area, and certainly not exercising it.

Well, when can I get more involved in my own life, and when can I start getting the ab area back into shape?

Hello!

This is all beginning to feel very counterproductive.

A major grocery expedition still needs doing, and all I get from the boys is guff and noise and excuses, compounded by stalling tactics. I remind them that they eat the groceries, they use the cleaning products and toilet paper, etc. Sometimes that seems to make a dent in their psyches. Sometimes.

I gave the boys a chore to do. Yes, and to compound the problem, I asked them to accomplish the task together. The inside of my car still looks like a teenagers floor! Ugh! And now, silly me, I need another set of cleaning tasks accomplished (quick, but dirty and very necessary - more moving items rather than cleaning, really), and even just asking this morning in anticipation of the coming disgruntled response, I was shocked at the new strategy employed.

The first to come was a definite pause and a stern head tilt and squint, followed by the verbal response: "Uh, when? I have to work. Can I do it when I get home tonight?"

Silly boy...you only work until 4pm, so no worries, and I need it completed before tomorrow at 1pm. So you see, plenty of time.

His next maneuver will be to remain gone long after his ending time, and well past mall closing time. I am on to his games.

This is why I want my freedom back. This is why I need my freedom...or at the very least, obedient unquestioning slaves.