Thank You, Marilyn

I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.

— Marilyn Monroe

 

Thank you, Marilyn. You were often misunderstood and undoubtedly frustrated by the duality within yourself, for you were more than a sex symbol, as all the world chooses to remember. You were the talented and smart Norma Jeane long before you became sexy Marilyn, and you were far more complex than you were ever given credit for. Sadly, you left this earth far too young for reasons we may never fully comprehend.

I had my good cry. Forcing the tears with old movies helps. Though, poor Ken had to take the brunt of my insecurities before the dam burst. It is all good in my world for now, especially since I focused my energies on drawing Marilyn. Cool, huh? An original work of art! I so love to create and charcoal seems to be my favorite medium.

Darling, diamonds may be a girl’s best friend, but the true gems in my life are my best friends. Love you, you know who you are!

Wha?! Why?

So, for the past four nights, I have had very disturbing dreams. They are full of anger and full of people disappointing me. Three of them seemed to be continuations of the night before, as they all involved this basement we were moving into and how there was no food and no money for food, yet there was this amazing gourmet kitchen and plenty of fruit punch and ice (maybe I was thirsty?). And all these people from my past kept coming out of the woodwork and just moving in with us. By the end of the third night, there were at least twenty people in all living in this little basement, and I could not get rid of them. Nor could I get them off their butts to go get jobs or help buy food.

It is very disconcerting (and so not like me) to wake up wanting to beat the living tar out of somebody. With my habit of sleep walking, I told Ken he had better sleep with one eye open.

My dreams are usually very telling of some problem I am having in my awake world, but all this anger? I just don’t know where it is coming from. I used to have anger issues, but I worked through all that a while back. Yes, I do get angry, as anyone does, but the major issues are gone.

So, what to do with this dream-state anger? Its not like I’m angry while awake, though being angry in my sleep does affect the quality of my sleep.

Maybe its just that our plans have changed, and yes, I am upset about that a bit. But in a way it is a good thing because it gives us more time to get everything done here.

Maybe it is just my frustration rearing it’s ugly head about all that needs to be done and all that I cannot do myself because of this stupid illness. Who knows?

Maybe I should just do what I told my hubby I was going to do after watching Ingrid Bergman in “Goodbye, Again.”

Ingrid Bergman’s character was being used by her philandering lover and she just kept taking it and taking it. Then I thought she had wised up because she left him, but he came crawling back, saying that he could not live without her. They married and she thought with those vows would come his fidelity. But he immediately started his old tricks again, and she looked so dejected in the end as she applied face cream. I just wanted to scream at her. But then I told Ken that I was going to go take a shower and have a good cry, because the movie had really gotten to me.

So maybe I should just go have a good cry about our changed plans and quit being so stubborn and stoic about it all.

What’s That Sound?

If you have ever wondered what that far off, distant rumble is, when there’s no foul weather system in sight, well, that sound is God laughing. I heard that all too familiar sound today. You see, I told God what plans I had for our future. Then He, in his omnipotent way, compared my plans to his scrolls, and immediately began laughing.

If you will notice to the right, the Wagon’s Ho counter is missing. I could not continue counting down when our departure date is once again up in the air.

Ken needs surgery on his right shoulder, to take place in about three weeks. After that, he will be in a sling for six weeks, and then physical therapy for several months.

It seems I just had the “what if” conversation yesterday with a friend, and I came to the conclusion (well, it is the only conclusion where God doesn’t laugh at me) that it all must be turned over to God: the surgery, the completion of our downsizing and elimination, and our departure date.

I did tell Ken that we could take mini trips instead of leaving on our extended journey. One caveat, there will be a crazy mamma driver behind the wheel. Look out world, here I come!

Two Words . . .

 

 

 

 

 

There were two words that, growing up, I learned never to let roll off my tongue, no matter how true I thought they might be.

I’m bored.

But there they are. And, yes, darn it, I am bored. I have just spent the last two weeks nursing a whopper of a migraine, plus achy joints and back, and now I am itching to do something more than bury my head under the covers. Two weeks lost. It is frustrating, this whole chronic illness gig I got going on here.

But I am bored. Silly. Bored silly. I just want to escape.

As I intimated earlier, those be deadly words. If Mom heard us say the “B” word, she would sentence us to chores, chores, and even more chores. Most of the time Mom left us alone, and we had our ways of getting away with things, like pretending we had worked all day long in the garden while she was at work. Obviously she should have been able to tell how much work we did by the amount of dirt we rubbed into our jeans, and not by the number of weeds yet to be pulled. Silly us for trying to get away with laziness on top of admitted boredom.

So, I guess my only recourse is to give myself a to-do list. After all there is plenty to do around here, and there are only 67 days left until May first, according to the counter.

Let’s see, there’s finishing the Roman shades, reorganizing the cabinets in the Raven, going through my wardrobe again, getting things ready for another yard sale and deciding on a date for it, and, and, and.

But for now, maybe something simple, then a shower, and then take Ken to his orthopedic appointment for his shoulder. I pray it is an easy fix, but I fear he will need major surgery for his torn tendon and arthritis. Pray for Ken today, please.

Oh, and since I am bored, I thought I would finally get around to the Multnomah Falls pics from last month. Enjoy! (Besides, these little day trips are what I really like to do when I am bored.)

Even Odd Even

Or Odd Even Odd?

My son is such a genius. His mind has always fascinated me, from counting the cups of flour needed for our cookies (in reverse) at age two, to describing the origin of black holes at age six. He is one amazing young man. And he is a math whiz to boot. Tonight he came upstairs with a deck of cards, ready to amaze me once again—and of course he succeeded. He had seen this card trick online, and so he tried it. What amazed me the most, however, was how he mathematically figured out why the trick works. In fact, he was able to go back downstairs and figure out how the trick works in less time than it has taken me to upload the silly video of him doing the trick. To be honest, I am still waiting for the video to finish uploading to You Tube as I write this.

Trevor’s Mad Math Skills

This was just what this mamma needed on an otherwise miserable day. Thanks, baby!

Good Day

Good day doesn’t have to be a Friday

Doesn’t need to be your birthday

The next one then you won’t survive

Sing along hold my life

A good day is any day that you’re alive

Yes a good day is any day that you’re alive

Asked me mmmmm, you had to ask me

In the dreams you tell me

Tell them only you were tired

Sing along hold my life

A good day is any day that you’re alive

Yeah, a good day is any day that you’re alive

A bad day comes every once in a awhile your body says

Fourteen hundred shooting stars and (every time?)

A bad day comes every once in your body life

Goodbye

Hold my life one last time

A good day is any day that you’re alive

Yes a good day is any day that you’re alive

Yes a good day is any day that you’re alive

These are the days

Paul Westerberg, Good Day Lyrics

 

Any day I am alive is a good day, even the days when my head is splitting and my body is all but broken. Even the days when I can barely see our dreams any longer. Even the days when the bed is my only solace. Even these are good days. These past few weeks, with all their pain, these too have been good.

I wonder also whether our plans will work out, when Ken now has a torn tendon in his right shoulder. He cannot do all that needs to be done any more than I can. Will he need surgery? Will this cause him endless pain? Will he be able to drive the Raven? Will we be able to leave in May?

Keep the faith.

Keep the hope.

Believe in miracles.

Stay alive.

The Confession and The Test

We are the typical American gluttons, and then some. We have an upright freezer, well stocked with organic meat and berries, and two refrigerators—one for “the overflow and beverages.” How wasteful is that? We have a well stocked larder in the basement as well, having the ingrained habit of buying in bulk at Costco. We have enough kitchen and linen items to furnish two households (though to be fair, we did combine two households way back when). We each have a closet burgeoning with clothes we hardly ever wear.There isn’t much we really, honestly want for, besides space.

We are also in dire staits this month because, as it happens, when sh** hits the fan, it goes everywhere. Everything that is due annually or semiannually is now due. Everything that is a medical necessity, like CPAP masks and shoulders, break when you yourself are broke. And all this after we put just about everything we had saved up into getting the Raven fixed.

But that is life.

So, now this brings us to the test, the true test for the hoarder and the glutton: Can we live off of our overstock for the next two months, only buying those few perishable necessities like milk and eggs as needed?

Because this crisis comes at the perfect time, as with everything God does, whether we recognize its perfection or not at the time, we need to deplete the surplus which is in our freezer and our larder because it won’t all fit in the Raven’s tiny refrigerator. How perfect is that? It is a great reason to clean out the cupboards and learn a new way of shopping, to boot.

Another test is how fast we can sell the rest of our “treasures” so that we can get on the road. Texas awaits!

She’s Back!

Yesterday was one of the most amazingly beautiful days, especially so far this year. It was bright and sunny with nary a cloud in the sky. Absolutely gorgeous.

And me without my camera. Bummer.

Yesterday, we drove out to Sandy to pick up the Raven. They finally finished the roof and the catalytic converter. It was way more expensive than I had hoped, and it was even $200 more than what he had quoted me a few weeks ago. But those things happen, I guess. After scraping together all our pennies and waiting to pick her up until after payday, our budget is now stretched so thin, I can see through it in places. It will be tight, tight, tight this month.

I thought, (silly me for thinking too much) that I might ask my adult son for a little help this month. After all, he has been living here rent free so that he could save up some cash to get his own place. As I rested yesterday afternoon, after picking up the Raven, thanking God for all the good in our lives, I received a call from my son. He dislocated his shoulder again, at work this time. Well, there goes any further notions in that direction for now.

But she is back and I am so happy that we can get started in earnest on our projects once again.

And I am back too. It is a sweet feeling when things start to click. One of the medications I had been on for the past six months or so was messing me over big  time. It had caused increased anxiety and panic attacks and even increased my depression. Thankfully, my doctor is one smart cookie. He took me off that nasty little number and Jenni is back in business! Of course, I still have the pain and fatigue, but we are working on that.