So tonight is All Hallows Eve, AKA Halloween. The Eve of All Hallows or All Saints Day in the Christian tradition. A time to celebrate and remember those who have passed and visit their graves.
There’s also the theory that it’s just a Christianized version of the Gaelic festival Samhain. To be fair, the church did realize that people didn’t want to give up their holidays so they made a lot of them Christian holidays; so probably true. Samhain (the end of harvest season) is a transitional festival. It marks the end of the light and the transition to the darker part of the year (when the days are shortest). Therefore, it is believed to be when the veil between this realm and the next is the thinnest. Parties are held with offerings to appease the Fairies who would fuck you up. Disguises to trick them. And places set at the table for past family members to visit.
All Hallows, or All Saints Day is tomorrow. Then All Soul’s Day on Saturday, November 2nd, wraps up the three days of Allhallowtide. There used to be 8 days, according to the Catholic tradition, but in 1955 they were like “fuck that, it’s 3.” Catholics make it up as they go along. However, some faithful still believe you earn plenary indulgences for visiting cemeteries and praying for the dead during the octave of Allhallowtide. And what is an Indulgence? No, not a Reeses pumpkin — according to the Catholic church, an Indulgence is “a way to reduce the amount of punishment one has to undergo for (forgiven) sins.” Totally makes sense.
Sorry, I got distracted. Allhallowtide, and particularly All Soul’s day also coincides with… wait for it… DÃa de (los) Muertos! AKA the Day of the Dead in English. And how do we celebrate this holiday? Leaving favorite treats, images, and items of our loved ones out in remembrance of them.
So basically, if the dead are gonna visit, it’s now according to multiple cultures.
So you know how some people get the warm and fuzzy feelings that their dead loved ones are with them? Yeah no, I’ve never gotten that. So WE’RE GOING ALL OUT, BITCHES.
That’s right, we have an ofrenda. No, those are not Mexican marigolds (AKA the Flower of the Dead), but I did grow these merigolds myself from seed!
Mom, I got out one of those cute heart plates I used to leave your coffee on. And the very used cutting board you gave me from that Pioneer Woman set. If you visit and know where the yellow measuring cup/dish from that set is, let us know.
I tried to get you one of those amazing apple streusel muffins you loved from Panera, but the lady said they haven’t sold those in years. The world has gone to absolute shit so I’m not surprised. I did, however, get the blueberry streusel and I’m pretty sure you’d like it too.
I grew these marigolds in my pumpkin patch! You’d have loved my pumpkin patch. And I know you are so proud of me. Have you seen my new body? Like the stomach and the boobs? I look good! You’d be amazed. Also, I’m pretty sure you’d love the art of the tattoo I’m still working on. I did the red poppies for you.
And Jack — you sweet sweet adorable biggun — my precious — my fuzzy — my spirit animal — my soulmate — WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN? I’m dying here. I miss you much more than is rational. I still cry that you are gone. My snuggle buddy! Oh how I miss you. And your polka dotted belly. I fear I am forgetting you. It sounds stupid, but having a new cat — sometimes I’m afraid I will forget you and how you were. Sometimes I wonder if you were as snuggly and lap cat as I remember and then I look at photos and yep, you were always in my lap. My precious. And I remember when I came home, I’d pick you up at the door and you’d stretch out full length and stretch out your back legs as long as possible and look over at husband and purr like “yeah, she’s mine.” And what I miss the most, your good night wishes. Bedtime is when I miss you the most. You always followed me to bed and waited until I got settled to smash your paws into my breast bone and purr while I petted you and wished you goodnight. Then, when you knew I was settled and not going anywhere, you’d go downstairs and hop on the counter to see what noms were to be had. Oh we heard you, you never fooled us.
Speaking of, not only do you have your favorite banana toy — I made icing JUST FOR YOU. Husband asked why there was cream cheese and butter on the counter and I said it was for you and I’m pretty sure he thinks I’ve lost it. Half cream cheese icing, half butter cream. Your favorite. I already ate some so I know it’s delicious. Yes, I made a little extra for me to have on toast or something. And fuck it, eat the merigolds and pumpkins if you want. You’ve earned it. And the gingerbread house! It’s absolutely covered in icing. Have at it, buddy.
Seriously though, sometimes the only way I can cope with the absence is to think of you and mom sitting together sharing a biscuit or an apple streusel muffin together while you wait on me. We know she shared her breakfast with you every morning and you loved her for that. And I never minded. I thought it was adorable and sweet. Oh how you loved when mom visited. BREAKFAST! Well, here’s yalls muffin. Enjoy.
And Jack, come give me some purrs, please. Just a little snuggle.
If husband had an ask, he’d probably ask you to tell Louie to stop biting him so much. It’s kinda hilarious, but I know it hurts too cause teeth are sharp. *sigh* Louie can never replace you. Yall are nothing alike. Maybe that’s good. I don’t know.
May the scent of the merigolds and the love from my heart bring you home for just a little bit. I miss you.
Oh! One more thing! Mom, YOUR COFFEE! How can you an Jack have breakfast without coffee!? I’ve got pumpkin spice coffee too! I’ll make you a cup right now before I head off to bed. Dang, I might have to dig out the Keurig. It’s cool, it’s yalls ofrenda.
Sweet dreams and Happy Halloween. I love you.
Mom, take care of Jack for me.
UPDATE: I did add mom’s coffee after I posted this:
So I found myself looking for four-leaf clovers today. I needed to wait outside, and I like to find them. Plus, Saint Patrick’s Day! I did well. Once I found five, I was like well, fuck, I gotta make it seven for the holiday. So I scoured. Number seven was elusive. I had left number one on the steps and was sure it would have blown away before I got the seventh.
I was in my PJs in the front yard on a main road. So I wasn’t comfortable leaving my yard to be the crazy lady on the side of a four-lane main road in her pajamas looking creepily at the ground. I mean, my own yard is enough already. I’m still the insanely weird lady — but like, on a leash. “She’s keeping to her own yard” – ya know? Even though there are MASSIVE patches of huge clovers over there. So like, my hunting area was limited.
I was thinking to myself how I can only do this because I’m really good at patterns. I think others could if they cared to. It’s like those picture puzzles online with a ton of 8’s or something and you have to find the 9. People love those, but they don’t apply it to real life. Don’t look at the clover patch as plants. They’re all equilateral triangles. They’re all perfect 120 angles between the leaves. Just a bunch of triangles. Now find the square. It’s quite simple. I’ve spotted them from the second story of a building before, no lie. Find the 90 degree angles. With practice, they stand out as abominations.
I’m quite good with patterns. I’ve always been focused on pinning the repeats in wall paper, fabrics, carpets. How small is the repeat. It’s quite elegant how some of them work the repeats. Very interesting to break it down to the square they are repeating. You have to break images across the square to hide it well. I’ve never created my own patterns, so there’s still a bit of mystery in how they do it. Anyway, it interests me. And after a few decades of practice, you get very good. Hence my magic power of four-leaf clover spotting.
I was about to give up with my six clovers. I was thinking how I could never find any of the more elusive clovers. The fives, the sixes, the seven leaves — they wouldn’t be as obvious in the way I find them. No squares, no 90 degree angles. And then…
There she was. My seventh. With five leaves.
Amazing. In my 41 years I’ve never found one above four. Ever. And I look. This one met my pattern — it looks like a four leaf from the top — but there’s a little baby runt leaf sticking straight out of the top. I had husband come look immediately. How special! I took a video to capture it. These are actually stills from the video.
You know, it was a bit sentimental. I haven’t done a lot since mom died. I mean, I’ve done a TON – but there are things I didn’t care to do. I used to decorate for EVERY holiday — I haven’t decorated for Easter in 4 years. Back in 2020, I actually bought a very cute leather journal to keep my four leaf clovers in. I put Jack’s foot print in it. I kept my clovers in it. There’s butterfly wings. There’s even one clover that mom found after searching with me. I made her sign it. I didn’t stop right after her death. There are clovers from 2021. But nothing from 2022 or 2023. Well, I had found a few and stuck them in my little tiny notepad to dry, but I hadn’t bothered to mark the dates or put them in the leather bound journal. It wasn’t fun anymore. My happy book wasn’t happy anymore.
This year I went out and found four a week or two ago. That’s when I noticed the lack of two years in my leather book. I put the clovers I had pressed in, but obviously I could not date them. I think what caused the resurgence was Louie’s one year adopt-aversary coming up. It’s time to add his foot print. It made me think of the leather bound journal. It inspired me to go find some clovers. And today I had thought about it but wasn’t going to. But then K needed to pick up something she’d loaned me. So I was out in the yard waiting as to give it back quickly. No need for them to have to come in and get it — they did loan it to me back in October and I hadn’t returned it yet. So I decided — why not — I’ll look while I’m waiting. Then I got to the must-find-seven.
And I did. But there’s more than JUST the five leaf. I needed a new book to press them. I’ve been using a tiny 3-inch composition notebook I got for free at some convention or training or something. The pages are too marked with dates and wrinkly now. They did a horrible job of pressing the four I found earlier this month. So I thought of a journal. I’ve had it for almost 4 years. I’ve kept it as it was sentimental, but never had a use for it. I knew it was a gift from my aunt-in-law. But I’d forgotten the circumstances. Just that it was thoughtful of her to buy it for me because it’s Star Trek and she knows I like Star Trek. Well, it’s hard backed and I needed a journal to press clovers so I grabbed it.
The card she included was tucked inside. Ahhh. It was a gift from when mom died. She had been thinking about me and saw this journal and thought I could use it. That’s why I’d kept it. It was so sweet and thoughtful of her to buy it and mail it. She wanted me to know I was in her thoughts. The time wasn’t right to use it when I got it. But now the time is right. I think of moms clover when I hunt now. She was so proud to find one. And today I was so proud to find my first five-leaf.
There’s a warmth there. A time to move on a little bit more. Kinda like a sign, if you believe in those things as I do. Louie has been helping to heal my heart of my loss of Jack. And now he’s brought back my clovers and a sweet memory of my mom. And the cherry on the cake is the journal given to me to try to ease my grief a bit making a simultaneous appearance.
Maybe it’s God. Maybe it’s mom being impressed with my overwintering of last summers plants, rescuing plants I normally would have let die to nurse them back to health, and now seeding my own plants for this summer.
I’m stepping into my destiny. Not some awesome destiny where I get a sword and a birth right. Just a tedious one where I stop letting plants die every year only to replace them. One where I nurture the sick plants back to health. One that has me out in my yard in my PJs looking for plants. Maybe one were I grow my own Halloween pumpkins.
Today was my last day at my shitty job. They read me out a little early so I got home around 3:45. Mr C took a nap, but I had to stay “up” for the AC repair guy. After he left, I decided I wanted a nap too. I set my alarm for an hour and a half so I wouldn’t sleep too long. I ignored my alarm. Mr C got up to go fetch him some dinner and I stayed in bed kinda 75% asleep and 25% awake. Maybe 80/20. I miss Jack. Obviously, sometimes I think about getting another cat when I’m ready. So I was thinking about looking at cats. I have a long weekend between jobs as I have Friday off and Monday is a government holiday. I thought maybe mom could come up and we could look at cats together.
That would be nice. She could help and it’d be something we could do together. Maybe hit up a few Saturday adoption events. I wasn’t decided or anything, just a thought I probably wouldn’t act on. I decided to get up when a strand of Christmas lights went out on the bedroom tree changing the general cast of the ceiling from a warm red to more of a green shade – then that strand must have completely died and returned the walls to the warm red. When my feet hit the ground I remembered mom’s dead.
I saw a gently sweeping stripe of dead lights on the tree confirming my suspicions.
This is a post about gingerbread houses. And Mom. And Jack. And how Mom got her groove back through gingerbread. Just go with it.
So back in 2006, I had just moved into my own place on Golf Road. Lovely shitty apartment of my own. $545 a month. Just me and Jack. And mom visited a lot. I worked at the police department as a dispatcher and was less than a year away from starting my career (though 5 years from graduating — not the point). It was Christmas! My first Christmas in my OWN place. This called for something special. This called for … a gingerbread house!
So mom came to visit and help me make my very own gingerbread house. There were issues. We couldn’t find any gingerbread mix. So it was really a sugar cookie house. It counts, OK? It had windows! Mom showed me how to crush up jolly ranchers and melt them to make stained glass windows! We had a peppermint roof and a full length chocolate chip chimney. I cut up gum drops and made a wreath. It was glorious. This was before cheap battery-powered lights, but if we had had those, it would have glowed gloriously through my translucent blue and purple sugar windows.
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Then the next few years we’d always do something special for Christmas. Usually treats. Like chocolate dipped Oreos, or chocolate covered Ritz Crackers with peanut butter, or those fancy treats where you melt a Rolo on top of a pretzel and smush it with a peanut M&M — or if you’re going somewhere fancy — a half a pecan. Sometimes we even did gingerbread cookies and decorated them with icing.
Then, in 2009, I was feeling adventurous. I was in a much nicer apartment with a guest room and dating a cute guy who would become my husband. It was time for another gingerbread house. We had to outdo our previous effort. This had to be magnificent. We would do something with more grandeur. We would make a church.
How does one make a gingerbread church? Well, you just make the front and back taller so the roof is steeper and put a steeple on top. We’re not on the Food Network here, aint nobody got time to make templates and stuff. But don’t you worry, we got this. It would have even more jolly rancher windows! More icing! The M&Ms would be Christmas colors to look like Christmas lights! And best of all: Shingles. We would use Cinnamon Toast Crunch cereal and put individual shingles on that shit. Boo-yeah!
Now, I would like to say, we kept improving on our gingerbread game. We got so good we could do competitions! But we didn’t. The church was actually the pinnacle of my gingerbread greatness. Sad, I know. But that’s not where the story ends. Those were merely flights-of-fancy in the gingerbread game of my own. Mom would take gingerbread houses and flip the script.
So take a step back. I moved away from my text-book codependent family in 2003 and got a shit ton of therapy. In my evolution of self, I turned from my father. Fuck that asshole. No, not God, my real father. THAT asshole. Sometimes the pendulum has to swing really far to right itself. Now my beloved mother had been beaten down by that motherfucker for decades. And you can be damn straight I turned my pot-stirring self to getting her to realize it. And she was really coming around by the time she kicked the bucket. I think she might have had the gumption to skip Christmas by the time she died. I’m sad I never got to see that and sneak her a wink and a high five. OK, back to the early 2000s:
So dad always controlled every holiday. Though they divorced when I was two, dad always controlled everything. Holidays were at his house. We’d go over the weekend before and scrub it clean cause he’s kinda a hoarder. Mom would make every single dish and we’d go over to dads and pretend to be happy. Even after he got a girlfriend — who thankfully took over the cleaning part. Mom would still cook for a week and haul it all over to that bastards house so he could have his happy family holiday (yes, with his girlfriend and my step brother — the kid he had while he was still married to my mother). Every Thanksgiving and every Christmas — even Easter.
At some point, she started making extra to “hide.” Is it hiding if you make it yourself, in your own house, and just don’t take it over? Not really, but in my codependent family it was rebellion. I think this started when the girlfriend would start making to-go meals for her friends and for my step brother (the affair child). We stopped having leftovers left. Mom stopped having food to eat off of for the next week after she’d spent all week cooking for everyone. No more turkey casserole! You know, where you shred the turkey and mix it with the dressing and cream-of-chicken soup? None. So mom started making extra dressings and extra mac & cheese and keeping it at her house. Come 2014 something had changed.
Now I’m not sure what triggered the change. And I wouldn’t dare say “something snapped” — nay, something clicked into place is what happened. Maybe that was after dad started putting rules on presents — how much we could spend, and then one year declaring we weren’t allowed to give gifts at all (yeah no, fuck him — yall know I didn’t listen to his shit). But 2014 was a new era. In 2014, mom decided to have her own Christmas.
Now don’t get me wrong, it was still a secret. It didn’t replace dads Christmas. Mom would just have her own Christmas on a different weekend with only her own children and we’d ACTUALLY be happy for real. There were kinks. Bitch sister banned pictures so there are no photographic memories to look back on with my blessed mother. Because god-forbid dad find out and get his wittle-feewings-huwt. So I’m a bit bitter that moms gone and I can’t go back and look at those non-existent-photos, but it happened. And I have the gingerbread houses to prove it. Recently, I took an internet deep dive to find them.
2014 was a learning year. What would we do for moms Christmas? She’d make a big meal but what should we do? Gingerbread houses! But we’re not going to be all difficult about it. This was before gingerbread house kits were a thing, mind you. Mom decided we’d make cardboard houses and decorate them! And we’d use hot glue and caulk because ain’t nobody eating these anyway. So we made cardboard houses in advance. And even one Pringles can which became a rocket of sorts. Then, when the night came, we exchanged presents and ate food and laughed and made merry in my sisters tiny house where mom lived. And after dinner, we gingerbreaded! We had tons of cheap candies and graham crackers, pretzels and cereals, all sorts of shit to glue to your box house!
I chose the biggest box house because I’m ambitious. I did not anticipate the sheer amount of time it would take to cover such a large house with graham crackers, cookies, and smarties. Much less how much time it would take me to caulk to entire roof and lay it with pretzels. It was all I could do to get a Twizzler door and butterscotch windows before the night was over. But it was a wonderful Christmas party! And mom was beaming.
I returned home with my house and eventually, I had to spiff that shit up. I had run out of time! So one night while my husband was playing D&D at the table with friends, I sat in the living room with hot glue gun and made that shit SPIFFY. Look at this. M&M Christmas lights! Lined windows! My signature gumdrop wreath — and Christmas tree Peeps. Fuck Yeah. Much better.
Oh now we had a tradition. And the next year, we found gingerbread house kits! 2015 brought a cookie roof and a ice-cream-cone tree (pretty sure mom made me that). We even started saving all the leftover candies because, again, nobody is eating this stuff. And we got better. Caulk is great for cookies and cereal, but don’t use it on the sugar candy — it melts it. Like, it never dries and the candy melts off it. Some kind of chemical reaction. I don’t know. Eventually we gave up on caulk anyway.
In 2016, I bought a whole stash of PREBUILT gingerbread houses. All we had to do was decorate. I went with a Chex roof.
By 2017, gingerbread house kits were becoming a thing. Not only were they easy to find, they started making weird shit. Mom bought me this sweet Mario castle kit! For some reason it didn’t come with a roof or second-story walls. But I’m an engineer so I hot-glued some wooden-skewer beams for supports and filled in with graham crackers. Fuck yeah. Add some Peep trees. Magnificent.
I should also point out that it started to become clear that this tradition was spreading in the family. And by family, I mean Jack. It became very clear that he was sneaking on the counter at night to eat the icing and marshmallows. I let him have at it. It was Christmas, after all. It was pretty evident on that red mushroom though.
In 2018, I brought back my cereal shingle technique. Notice the Mario-Coins saved from the previous year.
In 2019 mom really went all out. Sister had moved into a bigger house so we could set up in the downstairs game room. Multiple tables were set up and everyone was gifted an adorable little spruce tree in a gingerbread box. I’m gonna be honest, I don’t remember this year much. I had some pretty bad brain trauma and I probably barely made it there. That might also explain why the hell there is so damn much icing on the roof. Not my best showing.
2020 was one hell of a year. The party almost didn’t happen because — well, Covid. My husband wasn’t about to leave our house and he really didn’t want anyone here. But I begged and God was on my side. Everyone promised to quarantine and come up here for the party so I wouldn’t have to travel (I was still recovering). God really made that year special for us. Everyone came up. And everyone spent the night! It was so much fun. We had a full house. And mom had got us all matching PJs! We took one of the family’s most cherished photos that night. A family photo with us in our matching PJs and mom up front. Who knew it would be the last family photo we ever took? We didn’t even hardly have any family photos — maybe just my wedding photos, actually. I’m still so sad my sweet husband took the photo because that means he’s not in it. If only I had thought to ask CB to take one with him in it…
Well, we didn’t actually do houses that year. We decorated cookies to make things easier. J had bought an ugly sweater cookie kit and me and mom baked hand-cut gingerbread cookies before everyone got up here. I think it was December 19th? Just a week before she died on Christmas day. Fucking Covid.
The next year, 2021, not everyone was in much of a celebrating mood. But my sister-in-law and brother agreed to host. I found these spiffy fondant penguins at Target. My sisters didn’t come. But we kept the tradition alive. Hey, I even did a damn fine showing with a frosted miniwheats roof. And that was the last Christmas with my precious Jack. And damned if he didn’t go after that house in those dark mid-night hours. He nearly ate a whole damned Peep tree! And look how his tongue sanded down the wreath candies and the fondant door. And is that a Super-Mario star I spy from years before atop the tree?
This year, 2022 was a little better. My sisters still weren’t feeling the joy so I said I would host. And I bought us all fun kits from Publix! I honestly didn’t expect my sisters to come, but last minute they did! Not only did they come, but they stopped at the store and picked up their own gingerbread kits to make! Since I didn’t expect my sisters and I’ve been insanely depressed about Jack, I invited K2 to join us. She made her first gingerbread house in the form of a Publix. I made a moose lodge with a pretzel roof. Apparently, my husband doubted my pretzel roof. SHAME on you, husband! My pretzel roof is fantastic — I mean, there’s a lot of glue strands but whatever.
It’s not very traditional Christmas-look, but it’s there. I wasn’t feeling it as much this year without Jack. Last year we didn’t have mom, but it was still a tradition for me to make a house for Jack to eat in “secret.” This year was harder for me without mom and without Jack. But we kept the tradition alive. We KEEP the tradition alive. Long live mom and her rebellious Chirstmas parties!
1) How do people walk around using cracked phones? Friday I cracked the gorilla glass protector on my phone and it’s driving me insane. I ordered a new glass cover that will be here tomorrow but good lord it’s driving me crazy. How do yall put up with this shit? I’ve seen people using cracked phones for weeks. Fuck that, I’d be upgrading LOL
2) How do people with nipple piercings hide them? Since my breast lift, I’ve had a problem with pointy nipples. I sought help on the internet. How do you hide your pointy nipples? A lot of people use these silicone pasties, but I don’t want anything with adhesive since it gives me reactions sometimes. Someone suggested cotton balls – but like, really? I saw some makeup cotton pads in Ks guest bathroom and think I might try those. Turns out the only people who replied with nipple piercings just show them off loud and proud. Interesting.
3) I’ve been watching Sorted Food for the past few weeks/months. It’s a youtube food channel (linky). They’re doing a live viewing on the May 21st and K2’s gonna come over and we’re gonna make a day of watching them live record videos. Maybe with some pool intermissions.
4) For the love of God. I’m seeing the surgeon on Tuesday about removing my damn surgical drain. So great, right? Only today it has been draining DOUBLE. fuck you, drain! Are you kidding me? My pools gonna be open this week and I can’t even pretend to get in. And It’s not like I can just get in when the drains gone. The big hole has to heal up before I can get in. I’m going to a Memorial Day pool party with my family at my sister’s. She lets her dog swim in her pool. That shit has got to be healed solid before then! UGH. I’m honestly considering fudging the numbers.
5) Well, Mother’s Day. It hasn’t been so bad. I’ve tried to just ignore it. I sent my mother-in-law some live succulents earlier in the week so I took care of that. But I didn’t wish her a happy mother’s day today. Kinda on purpose. It just feels wrong. I wanna cancel this holiday forever.
I did plant some things in honor of mom. I put fresh sun ferns on the front porch. I planted the planter on the back stoop. It would look gorgeous if it wasn’t against the backdrop of 4 foot weeds sprouting through the pool rocks. I wonder if my boobs can handle a little weed eating? I’ll ask the doctor Tuesday.
It’s Easter. This holiday is a bit sad for me. Obviously, I miss mom. I haven’t decorated for Easter since she died. That’s two Easters. She just got so into Easter. She decorated like crazy. She loved getting everyone their favorite candies. She was all about weird flavors too.
She loved the flavored M&Ms. I remember the year they had carrot cake M&Ms. She was so excited for me to try one and guess the flavor. And one year she got us all different flavors of Jelly Bellys. I got peas and carrots because I love peas and carrots. The jelly beans were fruit flavored, don’t worry, they were just shaped like peas and carrots. She mailed them to me. The day they arrived she made sure I went to the mail box. She said she’d mailed me fresh peas and carrots to cook. She actually convinced me they were gonna be real peas and carrots in my mailbox. Ha.
For those who don’t know, mom died last Christmas day. Now.
We’re putting up the Christmas decorations. I need to get everything ready before my surgery. Getting moms room done was easy. I didn’t take down her tree last year, I just shoved it in her closet. So All I did was get it out, change out the blankets and pillows and get a few more things from her closet. Easy-peasy. And I actually liked seeing it back the way she left it.
Last night we did one of the Christmas trees. The living room tree. And it sucked ass. She gave me like a third of the ornaments on there (if not more). The cat ball. The jelly fish the year I was a jelly fish for Halloween (she was so proud of that one, perfect find). Even the ones she didn’t give me, I remember showing her proudly or picking out with her. She’s always been around when we do the Christmas tree. Mostly she’s usually here as we put it up. Even if not, I’m always excited to tell her about it and for her to see it when she visits. We always go to at least one Christmas market and pick out a new ornaments each year.
The nativity wasn’t bad even though she’s given me pieces of it. She was so proud one year to give me the very coveted shepherd and camel set. I guess it wasn’t bad because she got to see it hit peak glory last year. I built a creche for it and we had a sideboard in the dining room for it. It spreads out beautifully. I’ve got it lit with LEDs. I added the beautiful mercury glass trees she gave me. I adore it. I don’t know of a more beautiful nativity that anyone else owns.
So mom saw that and that pleases me. I guess that’s why her room was the same. She knew what it looked like. She was super proud of the ribbon window swag I made her for her bedroom window. She told me exactly what she wanted and supervised the whole thing. I only added one thing: A beautiful cardinal that I know she would have loved.
There’s two more important boxes to go grab and decorate with. One of them being breakables and one being soft things. Soft things like Christmas stockings. Like moms Christmas stocking. What the fuck do I do with her Christmas stocking?
I’d lay it on her bed, but my sister-in-law will be staying in there while I recuperate from surgery and she’s very emotional. But I don’t want to just leave it boxed up. I don’t want her to be gone. She can’t be gone.
*Tears up* So it’s just been easier to lay here on the couch and not go get that box.
The end of this month is stacked! I hate having plans.
This past week was very stressful. I’ve been trying to get everything settled for the new job — and it is! I formally turned in my two-weeks notice on Friday. Mr C was supposed to travel so I took him to get a rental car on my way to work. They didn’t HAVE ANY and his reservation wasn’t for another two hours so he had to call me back to get him. Turns out his boss just waiting until the negative minute to tell him he no longer needed to go. Thanks, boss! My in-laws visited. It was moms first birthday after her death. And I had legal depositions.
Next week, Mr C really will be on travel — it’s a family vacation I opted out of. He leaves today. I’ve got two doctors appointments. One of those being with the plastic surgeon. And our 9 year anniversary is Wednesday. Then it’s Halloween weekend.
Mom’s birthday was pretty upsetting for most of the week. However, my sister-in-law and my brother met me halfway between our cities for lunch. We ate at an adorable cafe. And it was so funny that we all ended up getting hamburger steak. Funny because whenever Mr C was gone, shed cook me my favorite meals that Mr C doesn’t care for. Of course one of those was hamburger steak! So it was really great getting to see my brother and marking the day in remembrance of her. I was really worried about letting it just skirt by and having to entertain my in-laws. But lunch let us celebrate her and tie a bow on it so I could close out that part of the day and embrace the in-laws.
My legal deposition was Thursday. I had in office prep with the Lawyer on Monday, and again over the phone on Wednesday. It was extremely stressful. The defense is going to try to paint me as a person with mental illness faking a condition and trying to cash out. Not that the jury knows that even if I win the maximum we can sue for, I’ll only see, maybe 15k. For a cracked skull, losing a job, taking a huge set back in my career, missing months of work, and being stuck with fucking migraines I have two different medications for. Lord knows I need more medication. And lets not forget the family drama of missing the holidays for 2019 and 2020. After almost 3 hours, I felt like it went probably badly but they lawyer said I did great. Honestly, there were so many questions, I don’t even remember them.
So now the lawyer says it depends on my neurologist’s deposition this coming week. Will he paint me as someone with mental illness, or as someone with a real condition?
Cheers to my last two weeks on the job! New job start date is November 8th 🙂
I’ve been known to have anxiety and panic attacks. I take medication for it. Valium, to be specific. One of my friends was amazed at how much valium I take, but I used to be agoraphobic, okay? I’m basically brought to you by psychiatric drugs.
Anyway, today I had a total anxiety attack. It started at work and I knew it was coming on hard so I peaced the fuck out. I teared up a bit in the car and came home to give my sweet husband the hug I needed. He asked what was wrong and I was like I just needed to hug you and the cat. And when I started blabbering the huge amalgamation of what was wrong, one thing stood out more than the rest: mom.
Last night we discussed Mr C’s work trip coming up. Well, mom always visited when Mr C went on work trips. Mom always felt like she was going to be a burden so she was insanely careful not to step on toes. However, when Mr C went away for work, she knew she would be doing me a favor by visiting. I get to spend time with her, she cooks me delicious dinners that Mr C doesn’t like (hello, meatloaf and hamburger steak and canned corned beef sandwiches), and there’s no way she could be bothering Mr C. So she always came up for his work trips. And he’s going on a work trip. And moms not coming.
Of course, Mr C told his sobbing wife that he could cancel. However, him going on a trip isn’t a problem. And of course I could ask a friend (especially K) to come stay with me — but it’s not about having to stay by myself. It’s not him being gone or me being lonely, it’s mom not being here. He’s going to go away and It’ll just be… me. Without momma. We always loved hanging out together when it was just us. Like a little vacation. No more mom. No more little vacations while Mr C is gone. No more momma.
And to make things even more awkward — the day Mr C comes back is the day his parents will be coming to spend the night — on my sweet mommas birthday. Her first birthday when she’s not here. And when I feel like I should be mourning not having my mom — or maybe making a special treat in honor of mom (hello pumpkin cream cheese muffins), I’m going to be celebrating my in laws. It’s going to feel a bit blasphemous. So is Christmas. Christmas in any form will feel blasphemous. She died on Christmas Day. This year is Christmas with the in laws. Ugh. But at some point I’m going to have to suck it up and embrace Christmas again. Just wish it wouldn’t be so soon. Mom LOVED some holidays. So not going all out for the holidays would be a disgrace to her memory.
That said, I did put up Norbert the dragon for Halloween, but I won’t be decorating the inside. I just don’t feel it. I doubt I’ll feel Christmas either.
*sigh* (again, I actually took a deep sign before I typed that).
I do have a lot of anxieties going on right now. Everything running the gauntlet of petty: what if I can’t take the pain of my tattoo and I wuss out? To what if I can’t take the stomach surgery? What if it gets infected or I get botched or I DIE? I’m interviewing for new jobs — two interviews this week. Mr C’s in a hole of despair hating his own job. Work sucks, obviously, for both of us. The lawsuit from my injury is finally coming up and we calculated that if we win the MAXIMUM we can ask, we won’t make enough to cover one of the plastic surgeries — much less a small fraction of what I lost in wages. Not even the gap in the pay cut I took for this new contract. We are not making it out well, and that’s if we win the max. Thank God the lawyer only gets paid by how much we win. And I’ve got a house guest. So I’m anxious about is the house clean enough — does the bedding smell bad? Am I too in her face? I don’t wanna be invasive.
Oh and one of the new friends that had best friend potential — yeah turns out not so much. She supports some things I just can’t look past. I’m so damn judgemental. This is why I only have three true friend peeps.
Anyway, I got out before I cried at work. I came home and hugged my sweetie (the husband, not the cat) and bawled about mom — or more accurately, the lack of mom. Then I took a nap with my cat. Now I’m cathartically writing it all out. Then I’m going to the circus. Yep. But the people kind, not the animal kind. Cheers!
This photo was in my memories yesterday. Just one year ago. Wow. How could it just be one year? Look at my innocent little self. We have pool hair because it wasn’t so cool last year. We were painting modpodge pumpkins from a coloring book. One of us found the coloring book and I cut them out and stuck them on canvases for us to paint. The other canvases are still leaning against the wall behind the curtain where you put them. Look at us just having fun doing nonsense. And I was fresh and new in my job so I didn’t realize what a shit show it was yet! Ah, innocence.
It seems like years ago. Has the world turned over so much in just a single year? Nay, just 9 months. Damn.
I can’t stop looking at this photo. Just a year ago… Man I miss you. I put up Norbert yesterday and I couldn’t quite figure out where to put him just right. Last year we argued that I wanted him closer to the road and you wanted him closer to the house. So of course he had to go exactly where you said he should go again this year. But where was it exactly? A little more that way? It was a struggle. Today I found the Casper the Ghost Halloween mask you sewed me. Heh. It some how was in my normal non-holiday mask pile that I just washed and ironed.
I miss you so much.
There’s so much to tell you! Isn’t this weather crazy? So cool. I hope we have a long Fall. I got an appointment to get my goomba tattoo! You knew I wanted a sleeve but you didn’t know about the goomba. I know you’re not a fan of tattoos, But I also know you’d have blessed the goomba. I can just hear you saying that its so ME. It is, isn’t it? I’m super excited. Wish you could come along and you and K could take a picture of me getting it and then explore Nashville while they finish it up.
We’re gonna consult about the sleeve I want too. I really want Megan Massacre to do the portrait part and then have Devon Greig do the whole rest of the sleeve. They’re both amazing with color – I did my research. Jack is the center piece. Of course. My precious Jack. You didn’t know it, but he’s in stage 3 or 4 kidney failure. Terminal diagnosis, not reversible. Sucks. I feel like if you were here, it wouldn’t be so upsetting losing him. After you died I just couldn’t handle the thought of losing my precious so I actually took him to the vet. I know! He hated it! And it cost like $600. I know! But I had them run him for everything to make sure he was solid. Well, he’s not solid.
Hey while I’m typing this, someone not part of the family, is giving sis1 shit for posting about Covid vaccines. Apparently, we know this person who thinks it’s romantic that their BF came to take care of them with Covid and now they’re in the hospital holding hands and getting treatment together. How romantic! Fucking dumbasses. No one takes this shit seriously and it’s so infuriating. Yeah it only kills a few people. Like you. It killed you. The only death out of the — how many are we up to? $600k yet? Yeah but you.
I get so mad at these anti-vaxxer morons. You’d tell me to shut up. I’m over here stirring the pot and you’d certainly call me and tell me to stop. But you know what, CODA and my therapist tell me that it’s not my responsibility how people hear what I say and how they choose to respond.
Anyway, there’s a whole shit pile of bad I could catch you up on. I mean the world’s gone to shit, Mom! Like absolute shit show dumpster fire over here. But there’s so much good on the horizon that I wish I could talk to you about!
Like the tattoo, so exciting. When better than when I’m coming up on 40? Oh oh oh oh — OH MY GOD. You don’t know WHY I’m finally getting my tattoos! Mom, I’m getting my arms fixed! Mr. C’s totally cool with it. I’m taking all of December off because I’m having my stomach and arms done! It’s going to be amazing. I don’t know how I’ll do it without you here, but I’ll do it. You’d be so excited for me. I’m sure you’d talk down all my worries. Because this is something I’ve wished for and worked so hard for.
And I’m doing CODA every Monday and crossfit three time a week! Can you believe it? I know you can. You’d tell me as you’ve told me before. When I want something, I go at it and I get it. As far as the surgery, I can see you telling me I’m prepared for everything. Like when I surprised you with a shit ton of Aldi bags. Or not surprised you, because as you said then — you know I prepare for everything. Though you still doubt me sometimes. Like you’d have 100% supported me taking today off over my hurting knee. You’d tell me I’m going too hard. But dude, crossfits expensive. I can’t pay that much and not get my moneys worth. And the more fit I am, the better I’ll recover from surgery 🙂 Just two more months.
