Tonight, my house will be quiet.
Tonight, no one will stumble into my house at any hour of the night.
Tonight, no dishes will have to be done. No laundry either, unless I just feel like it. I'm not thinking that is going to happen, tonight.
Tonight, I will not have to worry about anyone coming to my door.
Tonight, dinner can be a bowl of cereal. Or popcorn. Whatever I want!!
Tonight, I will be able to take a bath without locking the door.
Tonight, I will turn off the alarm and not have to worry about what time I will get up tomorrow. This may not sound like much, especially given the fact that I wake up around 5 am every morning of the world, but it makes a big difference just knowing that I will not "have" to get up by any certain time tomorrow.
Tonight, I will be able to get on the computer anytime I want.
Tonight, no one will be killing zombies in my basement.
Tonight, no one will be saying things like "Screenpeeker!!" "Are you serious??" "Really?" "You just had to shoot me---REALLY?"
Tonight, no one who weighs more than I do will run up the stairs yelling "Nobody kill me!!!" Nobody who weighs less than I do will either. Nobody will at all.
Tonight, I will be able to watch anything I want on TV, and if it means I land upon a show about Gigolos, well, so be it. There will be no one to shield from such information. Side note: from what I've seen, men and women in this field make about the same amount of money also. IF I had wanted to upset y'all, I would have said men made more and sat back and waited for the fireworks. LOL
Tonight, I will be able to talk out loud to myself, sing, and dance around my house with no one to watch. Or record me on their phone.
Tonight, I will probably miss all my kids and smell their pillows. Except for the one who always sneaks the dogs in to sleep in his room. I can smell his room without actually entering it. All the way down the hallway. Note to self: More Febreze.
Tonight, I will not feel guilty about not cleaning that room.
Tonight, I will just shut the door and put it out of my mind, delirious with the freedom from guilt.
Tonight, I can even sneak the dogs in and let them sleep with me.
Tonight, I will have my long awaited reunion with my Laura Ashley sheets. I am new to these. A friend of mine found some and bought them for a fund raiser for our local Humane Society. I picked them up for $10 and noticed they were size "large". True story. I thought to myself, this Laura Ashley person must not know anything about sizing sheets. Well. Turns out, it doesn't matter. That Laura Ashley knows everything she needs to know about sheets. I put my "large" sheets on my queen sized bed and have had a terrible time getting out of it ever since. Either I'm depressed or that woman makes some damn fine sheets. I'm going with the latter. Best $10 I ever spent in my LIFE.
Tonight, I can stay up reading till 4 in the morning if I want. It won't matter a bit.
Tomorrow, I will get back on the ride of life.
Back into the swing of things.
I will feel guilty.
I will clean.
I will fix meals.
But TONIGHT....................Tonight is all mine.
I'm going to enjoy every second of it.
Apr 29, 2011
OK, so I watched the wedding...
At least I have the guts to admit it. Turns out there is some "girly-girl" left in here after all. But I didn't plan it . It just happened.
I, who normally roll my eyes at all things wedding.
I, who didn't even plan my own and is particularly proud of the one that I only spent $125 on.
I, who didn't even have a back up for my outside wedding, we'd just get married at the Elk's, where we were having the reception anyway! Screw it! (My in-laws-to-be thought I was nuts. They weren't wrong, but none of this has anything to do with weddings)
I, who scorned everyone who said anything about all this hoopla, woke up this morning and literally could not find anything else on any station that is supposed to carry news.
At 5:30 a.m. I went to every news station I have and each and every time was met with the same scene. Which did not include the happy couple most of the time and featured a lot of music that I am sure was beautiful if you were there, but frankly left a lot to be desired if you were in America and just wanted to know whether or not it was going to rain, or if we might have a tornado.
Anyhoo, at some point it did show the happy couple. They looked stunning. I had to wait for her to stand up before I loved the dress, but I thought it was beautiful.
With Di's dress, I did not at the time, and to this day I still believe I have not met anyone else who would pick that dress. But maybe this was the point. Maybe she planned it that way. If so, it worked. Up to this point, I had a very bad feeling about this thing ever since he gave her the ring that Diana was given. Why Diana did not drop that bit of bad luck like the old lady did with the "heart of the ocean" in The Titanic is beyond me. (Oh! Charles, I don't know what happened! It just slipped off. I must have lost weight!)
I didn't care for it the first time, and that was before it had all the ugliness associated with it. Of course, Now Diana was in my mind, and I remembered how right after we finally made it home from having the twins, I remember every single detail of her death. Because I was up. It was the only thing on the news, and would be for days. My first thought was "Oh, those poor boys". Then I remembered how Charles actually stood up for her in death, assuring that she would have a royal funeral and walked with those boys into that same church. Here came the tears, and even worse, the realization that I had watched this man since he was born. Really, I had. Whether I wanted to or not.
By now I was hooked, and THEN I think it was Joan Lunden who told a story about a common woman who yelled to William that "his mum would be SO proud of him" and how he looked at her and got emotional, and by that time I had to go dig a new box of Kleenex out of the linen closet. By the time I made it back, it was more of the crappy (no offense) music and I had time to wonder why on earth they would drag trees inside the church. The church, it should go without saying, is absolutely phenomenal.
The camera's panned the audience.
There is Camilla. Ugh. How she ever had the nerve to show her face in public again is beyond me. Some people just have no pride. They could be the lucky ones, for all I would know about that. I have too much. It's a burden I happily bear.
The Queen has most excellent taste in clothes. Choosing the usual suit and hat, but today in a pale yellow.
Everywhere there are strange and mesmerizing hats.
By the time we needed to leave the house,we I didn't want to leave because they hadn't come out on the balcony and kissed yet, and of course I remember the Charles and Di AND Andrew and Sarah (oh, has it not been painful to watch that train wreck?) and I felt I somehow owed it to history to witness this. As if it won't be replayed at every opportunity for the next 40 years. This made perfect sense at the time, which is how I now know I was under the spell. (Somewhere studio executives were opening champagne and celebrating their ratings.)
This is how they get you suckered in. To bring myself out of it, we went and got donuts before school and work and they had these sugar cookie sandwiches with butter cream icing, and we all had one in honor of the happy couple. I didn't mention this to anyone else, but that is what we did. Don't tell the boys.
At the end of the day (I think that's an English expression, Fergie used to say it a lot at any rate, old chap!) I wish them all the best. I hope they are very happy and have as many children of whatever sex as they want. I hope they put that ring in the safe or vault or somewhere where it will finally rest in peace (anything that big is just tacky. I don't care if it's the Hope Diamond, which, incidentally, has not brought a lot of happiness to anyone either...), and I hope that they will above all lead a quiet, private life together.
I will probably never bother you with such shallow drivel again.
Amen
I, who normally roll my eyes at all things wedding.
I, who didn't even plan my own and is particularly proud of the one that I only spent $125 on.
I, who didn't even have a back up for my outside wedding, we'd just get married at the Elk's, where we were having the reception anyway! Screw it! (My in-laws-to-be thought I was nuts. They weren't wrong, but none of this has anything to do with weddings)
I, who scorned everyone who said anything about all this hoopla, woke up this morning and literally could not find anything else on any station that is supposed to carry news.
At 5:30 a.m. I went to every news station I have and each and every time was met with the same scene. Which did not include the happy couple most of the time and featured a lot of music that I am sure was beautiful if you were there, but frankly left a lot to be desired if you were in America and just wanted to know whether or not it was going to rain, or if we might have a tornado.
Anyhoo, at some point it did show the happy couple. They looked stunning. I had to wait for her to stand up before I loved the dress, but I thought it was beautiful.
With Di's dress, I did not at the time, and to this day I still believe I have not met anyone else who would pick that dress. But maybe this was the point. Maybe she planned it that way. If so, it worked. Up to this point, I had a very bad feeling about this thing ever since he gave her the ring that Diana was given. Why Diana did not drop that bit of bad luck like the old lady did with the "heart of the ocean" in The Titanic is beyond me. (Oh! Charles, I don't know what happened! It just slipped off. I must have lost weight!)
I didn't care for it the first time, and that was before it had all the ugliness associated with it. Of course, Now Diana was in my mind, and I remembered how right after we finally made it home from having the twins, I remember every single detail of her death. Because I was up. It was the only thing on the news, and would be for days. My first thought was "Oh, those poor boys". Then I remembered how Charles actually stood up for her in death, assuring that she would have a royal funeral and walked with those boys into that same church. Here came the tears, and even worse, the realization that I had watched this man since he was born. Really, I had. Whether I wanted to or not.
By now I was hooked, and THEN I think it was Joan Lunden who told a story about a common woman who yelled to William that "his mum would be SO proud of him" and how he looked at her and got emotional, and by that time I had to go dig a new box of Kleenex out of the linen closet. By the time I made it back, it was more of the crappy (no offense) music and I had time to wonder why on earth they would drag trees inside the church. The church, it should go without saying, is absolutely phenomenal.
The camera's panned the audience.
There is Camilla. Ugh. How she ever had the nerve to show her face in public again is beyond me. Some people just have no pride. They could be the lucky ones, for all I would know about that. I have too much. It's a burden I happily bear.
The Queen has most excellent taste in clothes. Choosing the usual suit and hat, but today in a pale yellow.
Everywhere there are strange and mesmerizing hats.
By the time we needed to leave the house,
This is how they get you suckered in. To bring myself out of it, we went and got donuts before school and work and they had these sugar cookie sandwiches with butter cream icing, and we all had one in honor of the happy couple. I didn't mention this to anyone else, but that is what we did. Don't tell the boys.
At the end of the day (I think that's an English expression, Fergie used to say it a lot at any rate, old chap!) I wish them all the best. I hope they are very happy and have as many children of whatever sex as they want. I hope they put that ring in the safe or vault or somewhere where it will finally rest in peace (anything that big is just tacky. I don't care if it's the Hope Diamond, which, incidentally, has not brought a lot of happiness to anyone either...), and I hope that they will above all lead a quiet, private life together.
I will probably never bother you with such shallow drivel again.
Amen
Apr 27, 2011
In which we cry over Charlie the cat
First, I just have to say that I don't really care for cats. At least, throughout my life I have never cared for cats, I have always preferred dogs. I never hated cats, I just didn't really like them. When you try to pick one up, all it's guts run to the other end, they shed on you, they often dig their claws into your flesh just because they like to do that kind of thing, and frankly, I just didn't trust them around children. But that was before Charlie.
Nevertheless, we have had quite a few kittens as pets. Whenever the kids would talk me into having a kitten (or two) I would say "OK, BUT you have to understand that they are going to be outside cats, and cats do what they want. IF THEY CHOOSE TO STAY, then they will be our cats, and we will get them fixed, and shots, etc., etc., but DON'T get too attached, because they are cats and they might just disappear." I still stand by this advice, but I don't think we will be worrying about this problem for quite some time. We stuck to it and many cats have disappeared with no more than a token tear shed, but that was before Charlie.
We have had Charlie for many years. I don't know how many because he was one of many I figured would just disappear. I knew better than to get attached. We got him from one of the boy's babysitters, and got him fixed right off. He was actually the second Charlie we've had from that same place, the first on happily disappeared after befriending a recent widow in the neighborhood long ago. We wished him well, and were not sad at his departure. We were really doing good on the not getting attached thing at that point. But that was before this Charlie.
Somewhere along the line our most recent Charlie got his leg broken. I can't even remember how, but we nursed him through several weeks with a cast on his leg and when it came time for me to cut the tape away and take his cast off, he actually almost got mean with me. I stopped and said to him "CHARLIE!! You know I would never, ever, hurt you intentionally. I just have to cut off the tape." And do you know, he relaxed and let me do it without another protest. He always seemed to understand what your intentions were. He was not the kind of cat that would rub up against you, unless you invited him to. Even then, he would just come over and sit by you. I loved this about him because I can't stand cats that rub against me.
With the kids, he would let my pretend grand baby pick him up UPSIDE DOWN and I would see his claws come out, then a pause, then they would go right back in again. He would let himself go limp, to make it harder for her to drag him, and within seconds either I was there to help her carry him to the bench where he always hung out or she would give up and he would make his get-a-way. He seemed to sense that she meant no harm. "Eat! Eat! Eat bwekfas, Chaw lee". But he wouldn't even defend his own food dish, and I suspect I've been feeding quite a few cats around the neighborhood for a long time.
After my mom died, every time I went outside there was Charlie, and I resented even seeing something else that I needed to take care of. I felt bad about it, but that was just the way it was. One morning I went out and there he was and I thought "oh, no, not again. Just go away and leave me aloooooooonnnnne!" I was whining in my mind. At that moment, I heard my mother's voice give a little laugh and say "Just like God's love, that's Charlie. Never pushing up to you but just always there waiting for you to notice." And I realized two things. I was really, really angry, and I probably needed to deal with that. And my mother, like God, was still with me as close as my own heart. It might have been at that point that I started getting used to Charlie and even become fond of him.
Over the years, I got used to his thumps on the front porch, being startled when he would suddenly emerge from the somewhere among the wreckage of the top shelf of the garage and jump all the way down, leaving the garage door up a little at all times, and admonishing every single member of my family, including the Cyclist, from feeding him EVERY time they went out the door. He was probably the best fed cat, in terms of sheer volume, that ever lived. Which may also explain the other cats hitting the all day buffet if they are in the area.......
Several times he has disappeared for up to a week at a time and we would think he was gone for sure. I never could figure out where he went or what he was doing, but as he couldn't get anything pregnant, I figured it was nobody'e business but his own. And when he came back? He would meow outside and we would yell "CHARLIE?!?!" and he would meow again and Charlie would be back from whatever adventure he had been on and we would all rejoice that he was all right and now home. He never made noise unless he wanted something. No howling at the full moon or anything else from our Charlie.
Last night Charlie darted right out in front of a neighbor of mine, by chance my dentist and by God's grace one of the kindest, gentlest men I have ever had the privilege of knowing in this life. He stopped and sat with me and held onto my hand as Charlie quietly died, and I stroked Charlie and told him it was all right and that he was the best cat in the world. He told me when Charlie was gone for sure. He told me to get a bag from the house and the shovel and he helped me bury Charlie under the big grass where he loved to pretend to be a fearless lion. I hope it wouldn't embarrass that man to say that I can't think of a better person to have gone through that with, poor man, he felt so bad. I told him the same thing I have always told the kids, how you can't get attached because cats do what they want. I told him a lot of things and he just listened and dug. I told him I used to be pretty good at not getting attached, but that was before Charlie.
I watched the boys come down the street, one standing behind the other on 1 bike, laughing all the way down the hill. I will never forget that moment. I've never felt so old. I told them and held them while they cried. We put some lilacs on Charlie's grave and then we all went in and cried some more. Quite a lot, actually, kind of all night long. When I locked up for the night, for the first time in years, I let the garage door go all the way down. No Charlie to leave the door open for now. Then I cried some more.
This morning I saw the same look on my son's face as he let the garage door go all the way down for the first time he can probably ever remember. But he didn't cry. He just took a deep breathe and came on to the car. And I thought how he was growing up, and how losing a pet is part of life, and how he will never forget Charlie. We were lucky to have him at all.
Nevertheless, we have had quite a few kittens as pets. Whenever the kids would talk me into having a kitten (or two) I would say "OK, BUT you have to understand that they are going to be outside cats, and cats do what they want. IF THEY CHOOSE TO STAY, then they will be our cats, and we will get them fixed, and shots, etc., etc., but DON'T get too attached, because they are cats and they might just disappear." I still stand by this advice, but I don't think we will be worrying about this problem for quite some time. We stuck to it and many cats have disappeared with no more than a token tear shed, but that was before Charlie.
We have had Charlie for many years. I don't know how many because he was one of many I figured would just disappear. I knew better than to get attached. We got him from one of the boy's babysitters, and got him fixed right off. He was actually the second Charlie we've had from that same place, the first on happily disappeared after befriending a recent widow in the neighborhood long ago. We wished him well, and were not sad at his departure. We were really doing good on the not getting attached thing at that point. But that was before this Charlie.
Somewhere along the line our most recent Charlie got his leg broken. I can't even remember how, but we nursed him through several weeks with a cast on his leg and when it came time for me to cut the tape away and take his cast off, he actually almost got mean with me. I stopped and said to him "CHARLIE!! You know I would never, ever, hurt you intentionally. I just have to cut off the tape." And do you know, he relaxed and let me do it without another protest. He always seemed to understand what your intentions were. He was not the kind of cat that would rub up against you, unless you invited him to. Even then, he would just come over and sit by you. I loved this about him because I can't stand cats that rub against me.
With the kids, he would let my pretend grand baby pick him up UPSIDE DOWN and I would see his claws come out, then a pause, then they would go right back in again. He would let himself go limp, to make it harder for her to drag him, and within seconds either I was there to help her carry him to the bench where he always hung out or she would give up and he would make his get-a-way. He seemed to sense that she meant no harm. "Eat! Eat! Eat bwekfas, Chaw lee". But he wouldn't even defend his own food dish, and I suspect I've been feeding quite a few cats around the neighborhood for a long time.
After my mom died, every time I went outside there was Charlie, and I resented even seeing something else that I needed to take care of. I felt bad about it, but that was just the way it was. One morning I went out and there he was and I thought "oh, no, not again. Just go away and leave me aloooooooonnnnne!" I was whining in my mind. At that moment, I heard my mother's voice give a little laugh and say "Just like God's love, that's Charlie. Never pushing up to you but just always there waiting for you to notice." And I realized two things. I was really, really angry, and I probably needed to deal with that. And my mother, like God, was still with me as close as my own heart. It might have been at that point that I started getting used to Charlie and even become fond of him.
Over the years, I got used to his thumps on the front porch, being startled when he would suddenly emerge from the somewhere among the wreckage of the top shelf of the garage and jump all the way down, leaving the garage door up a little at all times, and admonishing every single member of my family, including the Cyclist, from feeding him EVERY time they went out the door. He was probably the best fed cat, in terms of sheer volume, that ever lived. Which may also explain the other cats hitting the all day buffet if they are in the area.......
Several times he has disappeared for up to a week at a time and we would think he was gone for sure. I never could figure out where he went or what he was doing, but as he couldn't get anything pregnant, I figured it was nobody'e business but his own. And when he came back? He would meow outside and we would yell "CHARLIE?!?!" and he would meow again and Charlie would be back from whatever adventure he had been on and we would all rejoice that he was all right and now home. He never made noise unless he wanted something. No howling at the full moon or anything else from our Charlie.
Last night Charlie darted right out in front of a neighbor of mine, by chance my dentist and by God's grace one of the kindest, gentlest men I have ever had the privilege of knowing in this life. He stopped and sat with me and held onto my hand as Charlie quietly died, and I stroked Charlie and told him it was all right and that he was the best cat in the world. He told me when Charlie was gone for sure. He told me to get a bag from the house and the shovel and he helped me bury Charlie under the big grass where he loved to pretend to be a fearless lion. I hope it wouldn't embarrass that man to say that I can't think of a better person to have gone through that with, poor man, he felt so bad. I told him the same thing I have always told the kids, how you can't get attached because cats do what they want. I told him a lot of things and he just listened and dug. I told him I used to be pretty good at not getting attached, but that was before Charlie.
I watched the boys come down the street, one standing behind the other on 1 bike, laughing all the way down the hill. I will never forget that moment. I've never felt so old. I told them and held them while they cried. We put some lilacs on Charlie's grave and then we all went in and cried some more. Quite a lot, actually, kind of all night long. When I locked up for the night, for the first time in years, I let the garage door go all the way down. No Charlie to leave the door open for now. Then I cried some more.
This morning I saw the same look on my son's face as he let the garage door go all the way down for the first time he can probably ever remember. But he didn't cry. He just took a deep breathe and came on to the car. And I thought how he was growing up, and how losing a pet is part of life, and how he will never forget Charlie. We were lucky to have him at all.
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