Honey, I hate to bug you…

I’ve given him space; allowed for hours of

R(elaxing) and R(eclining)

So, I thought I’d ask an

itsy bitsy favor…

(Me having a broken leg and all)

“Honey…would you mind putting up the flag pole for me?”

He seemed

willing enough…

He did a good job

without complaint…

Put it right where I

wanted it…

“Gee, thanks Hon…looks great”.

He then returned to

R(ecline) & R(elax)…

Having done

such a fine job…

He hadn’t appeared

at all perturbed

or overly taxed

after finishing this

itsy bitsy favor

for his dear ol’ incapacitated Ma

But…apparently we are in a

‘one and done’ situation here…

EeeK…all I did was walk into the room!

For those of you thinking the little darlins’

EVER change?

Think again!

Gotta love’em

🙂

One Day

By dinner time tomorrow, our soggy, box-full, furniture-empty, house will feel like home despite it all.

IMG_0024

He leaves the deep freeze on the shores of the Arctic Ocean tonight and will arrive on the unusually frozen southern shores of the Atlantic tomorrow.  Knowing he had not planned on bringing his arctic gear, an emergency phone call took care of that.  True winter in the lower 48 awaits his arrival.  He doesn’t mind though, winter is kind of his thing…

matt2

We’ve not seen him for over a year, Christmas 2012 to be exact. So much has happened in his life and ours since then, I’m not sure his two weeks will be enough time to sort it all out.  And sort it out we must, for as much excitement as there is in his return, it wears the shroud of sadness that only a broken heart wears.

You see, he fell in love with a dog, who owned the girl, that stole our son’s heart…

tandum

He chose the ring for the knot that means a great deal to her and announced to the world “SHE SAID YES!” on July 20th…

the ring

She chose the dress in the color that says “I am not afraid as I face the world with the man I love

the dress

They chose the date, Friday, February 13, 2015, to tell the world “We have no fear of your superstitions, we’ll face it together

They spent every spare moment they had together, traveling the land they both love so much…

matts land

One of the hardest things to witness is the breaking of your child’s heart.  Whether 2 or 25, the heart cares not the why or the how, only that it’s a pain unlike any other.

The life plan has changed. The love won, now lost. “She said yes!” echoes hollowly in the darkness following “I’ve changed my mind, I don’t want to be with anyone”

As his mother, I grieve for his tender heart and shattered dreams.

As his mother I silently thank the girl for knowing this truth now and being brave enough to say so.

As his mother, I weep for and with him, longing to make it better, but knowing I can offer nothing but a safe place for him to cry.

So, it’s time for this boy, this man, our Matthew, to come home to slide into the open arms of his Dad and me; the only place he can let it all go.

The place where the man can again be the boy who needs what only his family can give him…a safe place to grieve, a hearth to warm the bone deep chill of lost love, and the touch of those that know the truest nature of him…love.  He shines with it and has since he was born.

He will find The One.

Someday.

One who will see him for who he is, and love him completely for it.

We know this.

He will too.

One Day.

Until then, we’ll do what we have always done…love him, guide him beyond his feeling foolish for having loved “too much”.  With the gentlest of reminders that no love is ever foolish or ever wasted or ever “too much”. That to deny the best part of himself for fear of being hurt this way again, would be to deny the very air he breathes.

He won’t.  He can’t.  It’s not in him.

As his mother, this I know.

Welcome Home Matthew…where the heart is

matt1matt 3

Ebb and Flow?

need a paddle

While the recent trauma-drama had not yet completely ‘drained’ from my brain, it had, at least, ‘trickled’ to a minor, albeit steady, unresolved, ‘drip’.

Something akin to Chinese water torture.

However, that said, I was surprised that I was surprised when I found myself, yet again, ‘wading through a ‘puddle of shit’ left behind by another supposed professional’s incompetence!

This time, a new washing machine installation gone horrendously wrong…to the tune of 9,000 bucks (and counting)!!!

[Not to worry though.  The insurance companies are duking it out…and if ours wins, we hope to recover the 3 grand over what the insurance has paid so far to re-build my laundry room and replace 1,296sf of carpet and pad upstairs, along with all the molding, as well as damaged drywall and insulation!  Which of course means I still have basically NO furniture up there and everything still dumped into boxes!  43 Days People!]

To say I was disappointed would be an understatement, I left disappointed in the frozen north about a month and a half ago.

But, surprised?

Yeah, I was.  Surprisingly surprised.  HA

IMG_0043
Are. You. Shitting. Me ???

Because truthfully?  I thought I was on ‘dry land’ once the move was finally over.  Even though I was still having to deal with those numbskulls at Colonial Van Lines Relocation, Inc. out of Margate Florida on a daily basis

(oops, did I just reveal the goon squad’s company?)

…I still felt I’d made strides away from the mind-numb “knuckle-dragger pulling me by the hair” chief cave-cook and horn washer, not to mention head buffalo hide pee-er on-er…

Ugh

…to the “upright walking, slightly behind and to the left of the Neanderthal” can you take me out for a bison burger instead of hacking it off the carcus and throwing it to me to cook cave-slave .

don’t get used to it

In other words, almost human!

Writing about it here helped; receiving validation for my outrage here helped.

Not quite in charge, but gaining power.

Or so I thought.

This is not where I thought I’d be 43 days in

…without a you know what

Ya know?

While you were reading about the moving shade spinning out of control, I was ‘immersed’ in that new ‘flood’ of bad karma.

I know some who’d say that this is just the way things are sometimes, and that I should just ‘ride the wave’.

Others I know might say I should not let this stress me because all things eventually come out clean in the ‘wash’.

And more still who might believe that at some liquid point between the amniotic fluid and the tidal wave that is my life, I did something mighty wrong and am paying for it now.

Am I?

Are these the waters “come to cleanse my soul”?

Maybe.

But then, if that’s true, I’m not sure how happy it makes me to think that my salvation lies in the gushing effluent of semi-rural, semi-agricultural Virginia.

How cleansing could they be having traveled the length and breadth, in 200 year old plumbing, before snaking its way through the plastic portals of my laundry room; sent to bathe me in their healing, mystical, all forgiving, powers?

eeeeeeeeeeeeeewwwww-ah
(that’s a two syllable eew for those that don’t know)

I mean…Noah got rain.  Fresh, pure, clean from the pristine clouds of the pre-industrialized world, never heard of acid rain, sky.  And he only had to deal for 40 days!  I’m already at 43 and I’m NOT done yet!

And I dare say, even HE had a paddle!

anyone seen my paddle?

 I get rusty, fertilizer tainted, used to be filled with poop but now we use chlorine, WASTEWATER!

When is it going to be MY turn?

“Who’s saying ugh now huh?”

Oh nevermind me…a girl can dream can’t she?

(ps…thank you to my grandsons Kyle and Alex for giving me the means to express the faces of surprise and eeeeew)

V I S I T O R S

IMG_0007 (3)
looking left
IMG_0006 (3)
looking right
IMG_0004 (3)
yeah, well
don’t look at me
I’m not your lunch!

Voracious is his appetite

For that which scurries in his sight

Inside this little acre’s banks

He finds the bellies, cheeks, and flanks

Sees them, pounces, and devours

The mouse and mole, their final hour

I see this each and every day

The perch, the drop, death’s cruel play

Tragic yes, for those that nourish

Needed though, so he may flourish

One harsh truth, it’s not their living

It’s in their death that they are giving

Real worth and value to their kind

The ones we humans often find

Stuck on traps of glue or worse

Death by bird? Or a sticky hearse

What can I say?  Was a slow day in the newsroom!

😉

“As the Shade Spins Some More”

Grab a bowl of warm can o’ worm stew off the stove, and please make sure you only take what you can eat…there is plenty, but we want everyone to get their fair share.  Yum!  Oh, and there’s some (Canadian) almost-beer in the cooler to choke it down with. (You’re welcome NB) Then pull up your favorite soap-opera-watching-tv-chair ’cause we’re ready to go.

As we return to our saga…we are about to enter the Final Act, which, you’ll recall, has been referred to as the “then shit REALLY got interesting” act. This is an act of more than one part…so we’ll begin with part I:

After months of searching and a dozen or more unanswered emails and phone calls, as well as the same amount saying they’d love to help but they don’t service our area, I finally found a moving company to pack us, load us, and deliver us from evil….I mean from the north.

I did my due diligence, checked BBB (a couple of issues, but nothing unresolved), checked previous client testimonials (no red flags there), did a background check on the owner, who seemed a long-standing professional in her field. Though I’d never heard of them, they were a national mover, based in Florida, but serviced more than their fair share of relocations from the northeast.

Cool.  And.  Phew.

I mean, we were right down to the wire and I was so thrilled to have the worst of the moving process settled..someone to pack the stuff, load the stuff, and deliver the stuff.  Not cheap, but not out of line with the current industry rates either.

Happy      😆

Moving day is here!  YAY

Zero degrees outside and I know once they are here the heat will go off because the door will be open, but so what?  I am so excited it’s finally happening that I don’t care.  Coats, scarves, gloves inside?  Psshaw…nothing to it.

I’d spent the previous two days making sure all was ready for them.  Nothing on the walls, soft goods tucked neatly in drawers, like items all in one place, kitchen gadgets and little bits placed in baggies for easy packing, all important papers and cables, etc. boxed and in my car, bottled water aplenty, toilet paper left on the holder for those special moments…what more could I ask for.  I was breathing easy and actually looking forward to the crew’s arrival…

Promptly at 9am

No – slightly late at 11am

Whoops – damned late at 1:30pm

Shit – you’re so damned late why bother showing up at all friggin’ late at 2:30pm. (And they show up in a truck too small by half and already half full!)

Says the husband:

“No fucking way will our stuff fit in THAT!”

Says the wife:

“Now, now Dear (teehee, not really), let’s give them the benefit of the doubt.  You know how movers are…they can fit 50 pounds of shit in a 5 pound bag.  It’s an art!”

Says the diver: (at least this is what we think he said)

“Slept late, so sorry.  Phone didn’t work, please excuse.  Needed to stop and buy work boots, so glad we passed a Wal-Mart on the way here.”

Husband  😡

Wife  🙄

Driver  😯

Uh Huh.  Okay then, daylight’s at a premium up here in the Northeast Kingdom this time of year, so they best get cracking if anything was to be done with what was left of the day (which, as it turned out for them, was about 4 hours, the last 3 of which were in the dark!  More on this in Part II).

Time to get rolling on the process, the paperwork, and to get the crew working on bringing in boxes and packing material.

We get the process explanation (sorta); no sign of the crew.

We get the paperwork and the explanation of that (sorta); no sign of the crew.

We get frustrated with the back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, due to a language/communication problem (sorta); still no sign of the crew.

Husband  👿

Wife  😕

Driver  😯

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, seems the driver had told his two-man-crew to stay put while he got the paperwork done (one hour and one translator later).  We are now at 3 dark thirty, which is fine for packing inside, but shit for loading a truck with overhead lights blocked by the previously loaded job.  By damn-ass-dark thirty, an hour later still, all that had been accomplished was bringing boxes and ‘some’ packing material inside rendering what little floor space left, utterly useless.

Hmmm, where to find room to tape these boxes together.  Hmmm, I know, let’s not worry about that now.  Let’s start wrapping some furniture and taking it out to the truck.  Yes…let’s do that.  Let’s fill the nooks and crannies usually filled in nicely with boxes with MY FURNITURE instead because you can’t get to your job on time, can’t get your crew working without your paperwork being done, you can’t speak English, and can’t get your head out of your ass long enough to see it’s FUCKING PITCH BLACK OUT THERE!

Husband  😯

Wife  👿

Driver  😥

More in part II…I’ll save some stew  🙂

“As the Shade Spins” A traji-com-edy of dysfunction and disillusion

Paragraph

once upon a time

once upon a time

long ago and far far away, in the beginning of a dark and stormy night, it was love at first sight…then shit REALLY got interesting!

2014
The new year’s babe came roaring into existence
dragging what was left of her meaner older brother
2013
by the roots of his dead gray short hairs

I had hoped to see the end of The Year That Almost Totally Sucked Ass (T.Y.T.A.T.S.A.) around the same time I saw Massachusetts in the rear view mirror

Seems Ol’ 13 had other ideas.
Seems Ol’ 13 wasn’t quite ready to belt out Auld Lang Syne
And it’s obvious good Ol’ 13 conned his newborn kid sister into taking him along to continue the never-ending days of madness and mayhem

No way was he going out like a lamb
If he was anything at all, he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing
And determined to stick around for the final act he called

 “Wanna see the crazy old crow lose her mind?”

IMG_0007 (3)
WHAT’S HAPPENING?
(shades of poltergeist…at the 2.08 mark to be exact!)

My enthusiastic and optimistic return to enthusiastic and optimistic blogging in March of T.Y.T.A.T.S.A., has not gone quite as I had planned.  Then again, how does one plan life anyway.

I won’t recount the entire war, as I have already shared a few of the bloodier battles here already.

Those days were the “Once Upon a Time” and “In the Beginning” days.

And, I’ll leave it to you to decide whether to visit the “”Long Ago and Far Far Away” tales and wade through those deep and scoured trenches.

For now, if you choose, a quick peak at what optimism looks like (On the Road Again), then maybe a bit of “Love at First Sight“…

For soon, we’ll pick up where the shit REALLY gets interesting!”

Somewhere between Moving Day and Moving Day II

The can of worms is in the pan and on the stove, so join me for dinner and a show…

Next time on “As The Shade Spins

😳

As Promised…The Opening Line

Once upon a time, long ago and far far away, in the beginning of a dark and stormy night, it was love at first sight…then shit REALLY got interesting!

(Okay…as first lines go, a bit tamer than I was feeling when I wrote “Pulling out the 50th Shade…”, but it works all the same)

😆

Here’s a tease

…let’s go to the movies!

“My Left Foot”
Gets an Oscar
while
My Right Ankle
Gets the shaft?

Stigmata?
(Lights that Weep?)

Weapon of Mass De-SUCTION?
Ok…not a movie, but really?

IMG_0022
From Hole to Eternity?

Mercury Rising?
Mercury Rising?
I mean, PHEW, thank goodness it was NOT one of those dangerous and banned
incandescent bulbs!

Does the show go on?

YeS!

Do you want to hear it?

Hope so…if for no other reason than you being able to laugh AT me if not WITH me…

Stay tuned…

Pulling Out the 50th Shade

Famous Opening Lines…We all know them and know too, that when we hear one, there’s bound to be a good story to follow!

Once Upon a Time…

Far, Far, Away…

Long Ago and Far Away…

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night…

In the Beginning…

It Was Love at First Sight…

You get what I mean right?

I know when I hear one, I feel a true sense of anticipation for what’s to follow.

Good storytelling does that for me.

A good story begins at the beginning; that great opening line.

One that gives me that special kind of ‘tingle up my leg’

(stole that from some pseudo-famous liberal’s “tingle heard round the world”)

Anyway…while preparing to re-enter the blogosphere after my short but eventful hiatus from sharing, I needed to capture, in one good opening line, the true sense of what’s to come.

A line to draw you in and make you want to keep going to see what there is to see and feel what there is to feel.

An open to encapsulate the last 374 days, 17 hours, and 49 seconds in a little amuse bouche that, once tasted, will leave you wanting a bigger bite.

None of those listed above will do for me though.  Not this time anyway.

While great, they are lacking that je ne sais quoi I’m hoping for.

So, to that end…I’m pulling out the final shade in my Bag O’ Fifty; the one I didn’t think I’d get to for at least another 5 years minimum, if ever.

The one I call “The 50th Shade – Kiss My Ass and Call Me Fred, What Next?

I know, I know…we are such a huge community of optimists here.

And I love that about us

I do!  🙂

But we all have our limits.  That point where we tell optimism to fuck off!

After we’ve fallen through the hole of the shithouse two-seater, but before we decide whether to wallow in the muck and mire and drown in the sludge, or crawl out and take a damned shower!

Okay…this is me…post-wallow…yet…pre-crawl.

I’m covered in it, sticking with it, red-faced, and blotchy skinned from it…but I ain’t drowned.

I’m one slime-covered maggot with a boil on its ass away from dead, but not dead yet.

I still have one good leg and two good arms with which to push and pull my way out of this crap, and I’m using them now.

(Well, maybe the good leg’s not so useful on the keyboard, but hey, I’m giving it its due)

Stay tuned…my famous opening line is coming…as soon as I think of it.

Then watch out (or at least have an anti-microbial handi-wipe ready)

See ya soon!

In the  meantime….

Moving Day

It’s finally here.
The big day.

image
Wake Up!

Two weeks to find it.

image
Home Sweet Home

Two weeks to haggle, inspect, haggle some more, fix, and sign on the dotted line.

image

Leaving behind the bright lights of northern Vermont

image
Come on men...we have a new kitchen to set up...

image
Wait for me you Oinkers!

Nothing to do now but wait for the professionals who’ll pack whatever is not nailed down…

image

Just in time for the holiday…

image
Like we don't have enough to do?

So here we go…time to move

image

Next stop…
H O M E!!

See ya’ll real soon.
🙂

(PS) this is from my phone…can’t really see it…hope it came through as intended.

And Now You Know the Rest of the Story…

His name was Fleming, and he was a poor Scottish farmer.
One day, while trying to make a living for his family, he heard a cry for help coming from a nearby bog.
He dropped his tools and ran to the bog.
There, mired to his waist in black muck, was a terrified boy, screaming and struggling to free himself.
Farmer Fleming saved the lad from what could have been a slow and terrifying death.

The next day, a fancy carriage pulled up to the Scotsman’s sparse surroundings.
An elegantly dressed nobleman stepped out and introduced himself as the father of the boy Farmer Fleming had saved.
‘I want to repay you,’ said the nobleman. ‘You saved my son’s life.’
‘No, I can’t accept payment for what I did,’ the Scottish farmer replied waving off the offer.

At that moment, the farmer’s own son came to the door of the family hovel.

‘Is that your son?’ the nobleman asked.

‘Yes,’ the farmer replied proudly.

‘I’ll make you a deal. Let me provide him with the level of education my own son will enjoy.  If the lad is anything like his father, he’ll no doubt grow to be a man we both will be proud of.’

And that he did.

Farmer Fleming’s son attended the very best schools and in time, graduated from St. Mary’s Hospital Medical School in London.

He went on to become known throughout the world as the noted

Sir Alexander Fleming.

The discoverer of Penicillin.

Years afterward, the same nobleman’s son, who was saved from the bog, was stricken with pneumonia.

What saved his life this time?

Penicillin.

The name of the nobleman?

Lord Randolph Churchill .

His son’s name?

♦♦♦♦ ♦♦♦♦ ♦♦♦♦ ♦♦♦♦ ♦♦♦♦ ♦♦♦♦ ♦♦♦♦ ♦♦♦♦ ♦♦♦♦ ♦♦♦♦ ♦♦♦♦ ♦♦♦♦ ♦♦♦♦

Sir Winston Churchill

IMG_0090
“The simple act of paying attention can take you a long way.”