One more thing I’ve learned and I think it’s worth a mention…
It could turn your world upside down
Those who need me know how to reach me…I treasure you more than you know.
But the WWW and I are finished.
I won’t delete because I’ve learned my lesson there…but I’m done.
Best wishes to all of you
I have loved this and have loved you all
xo
R
Today is my one year anniversary with 50 Shades of Gray Hair.
And they said it wouldn’t last…HA!
Well, actually, I do have a history…
Remember Help Me Rhonda?
So, it’s actually my second anniversary, but I’m trying to forget deleting myself.
But, all I can say now is “WOW”
A lot has changed (and thank God for hormone therapy!)
So, to celebrate my second chance, and to show my appreciation for all the love and support you have so generously and willingly shown me here these last two years, I’d like to spread some words of wisdom.
I know…I’m better at spreading ‘da poo’ and I will again, but for today…a slight change in tone and texture (eew)
The words may not be mine, but all the same…the photos and the sentiments are, and the lessons are very real.
![164422_10200718193788093_1281701548_n[1]](https://50-shades-of-gray-hair.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/03/164422_10200718193788093_1281701548_n1.jpg?w=660)
And finally…
Cheers and thank you all for the love
xo
R
Adventurers we ~ bravely tread
Winding walks through nature’s bed
Of scrub and tree and man-made reef
Tanks and troughs beyond belief
Wood duck, newt, and endless snakes
Jellies, horseshoes, sharks, and skates
But the nightmare prize goes not to tuna
It belongs to one, the one named LUNA
Pink of eye and white of scale
She reeks of evil, head to tail
But unfairly judged, as ‘book by cover’
For a gator’s a gator by any other…
…name
Today’s post…despite the title…is about inspiration. I know right? The title is kind of misleading but…
A friend told me today that she missed my ‘more-often’ posts.
Yeah, well, me too!
I’d been so busy scooping poop these last few months, I hadn’t realized they only thing inspiring me to write was shit!
So, her comment was timely in that I’d just read two blog posts talking about seeing the big picture, keeping your eyes on the prize, concentrating on the good, listening to your heart’s softly whispered ‘it’s all going to be ok’ when you’re mired in the daily shit that could otherwise keep your psyche locked in the outhouse.
To count your blessings instead of lamenting your woes and understand that life is bigger than the last busted bone or paddleless trek up shitcreek. All true, though as we all know, it’s not easy.
More than possible, but not easy.
Now, I’m not one to call myself particularly optimistic (I have my reasons), I do engage in this battle daily…trying to see the bright side, seeking out the silver lining or at least trying to find the humor in all things, counting my blessings, stomping on the sneaky devil ankle-biters that are always trying to knock me on my ass and piss me off. And while the war is ongoing…the battles are getting easier. My reaction muscles are learning new tricks (and I’ve taken to wearing armored high-top boots!)
But to get back to it…when Jules made that comment today, it did get me wondering why, with my new-found pseudo-optimistic outlook, I haven’t been inspired to post something light or happy or springy.
That’s easy…and sad…
It’s pretty obvious I’d gotten into a routine of slinging the contents of those overfloweth buckets of poo I’d been collecting during those last few shit storms. Namely…
“Areyajokin, Bulleffincrap, and Canyashootmenow”
For now though, it looks like storm season is over and it’s time to dump the shit where it’ll do some good. Nothing so wrong in my new garden that a few buckets of good old-fashioned manure won’t fix.
So, time to get to emptying them and refilling them with something that smells a bit better, tastes divine, and looks a lot like happiness.
Never mind that it’s sleeting and snowing…my backyard’s full of flying flirts, the bulbs are busting and bearing up, the seedlings are starving, and I’ve got just the shit for them.
And for you…at the top of my Things I’m Thankful For list…
But seriously…
Here’s to looking up, looking within, and looking out…to find your inspiration
xo
Last night saw the end of the longest running nightmare of our married life.
The move to Virginia
(a.k.a. As the Shade Spins)
(aa.k.a. Two Thugs and a Truck)
(aaa.k.a. The Snap Heard ‘Round the Block)
(aaaa.k.a. Row, Row, Row, Your Washing Machine)
Moving on (yikes, that phrase alone gives me heartburn)…
At 7:00pm we waved goodbye, with heartfelt thanks, to the crew that installed our new floors. Adios and gracias if you know what I mean.
By 9:30pm we’d placed the last piece of furniture, made-up the last bed, plugged-in and set the alarm clock, and hopped (the mattress sits about boob high on me. HE hops…I use a stool) into our bed with sighs (grunts) of exhausted relief.
To say the day went off without a hitch would be completely out of character for me, so in keeping with keeping it real…I suppose I must share that too…
I’m usually the one in charge in all things ‘house’. But due to my slight limitation in mobility, I reluctantly gave up control and took my place as the minion this one time, physically anyway. (For some reason my mouth just can’t give up being the boss!)
Anyway…I was placed inside the frame of the bed, to help place the box spring. But, as my hands were catching the box, my eyes spied the very obvious fact that the bed was NOT in the right place. Why weight it down with box and mattress when we could easily move it first?
So naturally, I dropped the box spring where I stood (I may have spouted something here, but I take the 5th) and turned to exit the interior of the bed frame so I could move the bed to where it belonged.
In doing so, I didn’t quite clear the hurdle that was the side rail…tripped…and landed flat on my face (and boobs and belly and though I didn’t realize it at the time, my left wrist.)
(Did you know that OOF is a real sound? IT IS!)
Anyway, I gave a shout out to the Big Guy upstairs, thanking him for yet another reminder of my bad temper, cradled my wrist, and left the other big guy to finish. Turns out, the tendons on top of my left hand took the brunt, are strained, and yell at me when ever I lift my hand…but other than that, the other bruises will heal.
Considering my history, I’d say this was one of my better days. 🙂
I climbed the mountain that is my bed, and sat up for a while, thinking about the last 10 weeks {‘how the hell did we get through this without killing each other?’ was my predominant thought} realizing that it was going to be the first night since moving in, that I didn’t dread the following morning.
The nightmare was over.
That light at the end of the tunnel that everyone talks about is there.
I can see it.
Today is the first day for the rest of our lives.
Today is a day for emptying boxes, hanging pictures, filling bookcases, marinating steak to put on the grill…
Today is a day for doing NONE of those things because my hand is screaming.
Today is a day for waiting for tomorrow to try again.
Today is a day for blaming no one but myself for things going wrong.
Today is a day for eating humble pie with my grilled steak.
Today is also a day for giving thanks that we’ve made it through the nightmare still optimistic about tomorrow, regardless of what happened 10 weeks or 10 minutes ago.
Today…Is a Good Day!
It is also a day for meeting our new neighbors…they just moved in…next door…a cute couple…and she, like me, seems to be in charge of the house.
I wish them well.
I offer NO advice yet will keep my garden open to them.
Welcome new neighbors…when you get settled, stop by and we’ll sit and chew the suet and reminisce about Moving Day!
First day out walking the neighborhood. Kept it short and sweet, didn’t want to overdo
But…
Things
Are
Looking
Up!
And…
So am I
But don’t miss what’s down below…shadows of Spring from the snow!
Today was the first day since December 10th, that I’ve been free to walk out of my house on two feet, sans crutches, sans male nurse disguised as husband, and just dooooooooooooo!
Whatever I wanted.
Whatever struck my fancy.
Just Do It!
So…what did I do?
I grabbed my camera and took her out on a date.
In Mini, who I’ve not driven since then either.
We’ve shared not one single moment of exploration time since moving to Virginia…and I must admit, that’s been worse than the broken leg!
Trouble is…the eastern seaboard is either getting hammered or getting ready to be hammered my Winter Storm PAX.
I am in the latter group…getting prepared.
Normally this would not bother me in the least. I mean, I’m a Yankee for God’s sake! I have ice in my veins.
(No..not THAT kind of ice…the pretty kind 🙂 )
But one must remember that I now live in the land of “OMG OMG OMG…THEY ARE CALLING FOR SNOW” people and that made for a poor ‘Mini, take me away’ day.
It was more a “Mini, get me the hell home because the people on the roads (and I swear…they are ALL on the roads) are LUNATICS and it hasn’t even started yet!”
I made it as far as Wal-Mart, a mere 6 miles from here, because I had some photos I wanted printed. I am supposed to return, but frankly, I don’t think it would be worth it. After all, I’m not collecting hazard pay and having just tasted freedom for the first time in more than two months…NO accidents for me, thank you very much!
So…I returned good ol’ friend Mini to the garage, took CC with me to the backyard, and having left the world outside my little acre to go crazy nuts…I spent a few moments with my VISITOR.
Besides…the skies are dreary, the colors dull, the vibrancy of spring not yet peaking around the corner…I think I found the best the winter has to offer today, right here in my back yard.
Tomorrow is another day.
If there’s snow on the ground, all the better for me and CC.
If not, then we’ll see what we will see when we see it.
In the meantime, my VISITOR and I shall be, for today, FREE BIRDS!
Life is good!
Just ask Lynyrd
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)
He seemed
willing enough…
He did a good job
without complaint…
Put it right where I
wanted it…
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…
For those of you thinking the little darlins’
EVER change?
Think again!
Gotta love’em
🙂
By dinner time tomorrow, our soggy, box-full, furniture-empty, house will feel like home despite it all.
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…
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…
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…
She chose the dress in the color that says “I am not afraid as I face the world with the man I love”
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…
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
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
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…
…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 .
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
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?
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!
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?
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)
50 Shades of Gray Hair 
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