Running around like crazy.... and a haiku.

Today I opted for a quick haiku. Today is my mom's birthday. My life is a rush today. Last night, as the habit seems to be developing, much to my chagrin, I stayed up wayyyyyy too late. And therefore, today started late. So I woke up feeling behind and rushed. Too much to do and too little time, a disaster of my own making. But I also have these commitments I've made for the month of March., both slicing and drawing for my SDD group. So today's slice of life includes an image in my head of the rabbit in Alice in Wonderland, quipping "I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date!" and that is the gist of my world at the moment. I still have to resolve an internal conflict of what to make for a birthday dessert for tonight, get said dessert made, wrap a gift, complete another gift, make a card.... which leads me to today's SDD prompt.... beautiful rose. I am throwing around the idea of creating said rose on the front of a card and BOOM! two birds, one stone. And we are meeting at a place of my choosing, at a time of my choosing, but it is super early for us. We don't ever eat dinner at such a time. In fact, the first meal of the day usually happens sometime around mid-afternoon, and I think I'll skip that today. But I was fortunate enough to take place in a fundraiser for the wildfire victims where I bought some super expensive cinnamon rolls. I'm getting ready to indulge. and then maybe if the ibuprofen starts working, I can get busy....  

 A mother's love

Happy Birthday Mom.

I am grateful for your love,

selflessly given.

-Carrie

Mom tried on the tiedye shirt I gave her for Christmas.

The mystery of grief

 When sadness descends

and envelops me 

wrapping me in a blanket of melancholy.

My heart grows heavy 

my mind grows weary.

Sorrow

like the weather 

is an ever changing entity.

Somedays it roars,

howls, and rages.

Other days it clings to me

like a scared and weepy child.

Somedays it is subtle,

and I barely notice it, 

but for the gray that filters out the sun.

Grief,

that strange beast,

is not growing smaller

nor quieter.

It seems 

it is gaining in size and strength.

The frequency of it's visits 

and the intensity of it's outbursts

a mystery,

hidden until 

it is already upon me.

-Carrie 

Yesterday I wrote of the day Dad left us. Today I am caught up in the unpredictability of grief and the sadness that encompasses me. 

The Anniversary....

Today is the anniversary of the day my dad left us. It has been two years. I wonder if it will always be such a prominent memory? Or if it will fade? Will I forever find that I live in a nightmare from January 21 until March 10? 

My dad was a jolly human. He had a passion for life and a huge, charismatic personality that drew people to him. Those cute little memes and quotes that say, "surround yourself with people who feel like sunshine." That was my dad. He was bolstered by people. You could watch him come to life when surrounded with people. It fed his soul. He was always a "the more the merrier" sort of person. To the point that sometimes we would be annoyed at how we could never just have a family gathering. To him everyone was family and no one should ever be without this. 

I've pulled him off his pedestal on occasion this year to exam some of the ugly behavior. But seriously, why do I want to come to grips with that side of him now? He's dead. I have the right to remember and cherish and damn the haters. but my brain says that if I look at some of this shtuff honestly, maybe I can move past some of the crippling emotional stuntedness in my own life. The stuff that makes me choose the wrong guy every time. the stuff that makes me doubt myself on a basic level of human existence. Pedestals are dangerous places. And I know that. 

But I also remember this day, after the one night that no one stayed with him. The night he was alone. I wonder how alone and frightened he was. I wonder if he just needed that one soul in the room with him to hang on. I wonder if that would have been better? no. I know that since the 2nd of March when we chose hospice, until the 10th when he left, was hell. Utter. Literal. hell. hell to know his pain. Hell because he was hovering between life and death. Hell of morphine induced sleep. Hell. 

I ofter wonder if there had been another way. But there wasn't one that we saw. And the suffering blessedly ended on this day. March 10. 2020. 

Rest in peace my sweet Daddy. I know you are rejoicing with your savior.

This is the last day Dad was ever home. We did not know then that a vicious microbe was consuming his brain and stealing his life.

Breaking Biases... gender equality, gender ability, financial bias....

 Today is International Women's Day.  I watched a youtube video on Breaking the Bias. It was good. I watched a snippet from Reese Witherspoon about ending the silence of sexual assault. It was thought provoking. I know that men can be sexually harassed. I know that for men it might be even more of a secret because of the shame and humiliation of it. But what I have experienced is that it is the norm and even expected for women to take and keep their mouths shut. 

I am a big breasted woman. It has led to much heartache. One of male "friends" once told me that maybe I get sexually assaulted because I put out the wrong signals. This same friend also said that I am not the marrying kind. I am not the kind of woman that men want to marry. Wait, what? Because why? Because I come across as the American male ideal of sexy? really? Or just what is the reason? I'm throwing this out there, and yet I don't think I want to know your answer. 

In high school I was grabbed on the ass by another student in the dark and when I confronted him he said, "Well, you didn't scream, you must have liked it." Really? 

And people wonder why I'm so jaded. 

But International Women's Day.... yeah. I mean YES. Yes please. Break the fricking bias. hell to the yes.

Kick down the door and let women be heard. Let us be worthy of the same pay that men receive. Let our efforts and hard work be acknowledged and known. Let the same amount of effort as our male counterparts be adequate and acceptable for the same acknowledgement and the same pay. Many times I see women get the accolades their male counterparts might get, but they have gone mile after mile after extra mile. How much would our work world change if men put in the same amount of time and effort as I see women putting in for the same pay and acknowledgement. Just putting that out there. 

Break the bias.... toward gender roles. Yes, my girls CAN play with tractors and motorcycles and build hypotheses and so on. And my boys CAN excel at laundry and dishes and cooking and nurturing. 

Break the bias.... this is a long list and I will just leave this much of it right here. You can add to it, you can argue with it if you really dare, you can ruminate on the thoughts I left you with. Today is International Women's Day. And whether we are quietly knocking on doors or loudly kicking them in, today is the day that we will celebrate.

I am not good at faces. I'll just keep on trying though.

Five finger Gratitude....

 Today I am grateful. So very grateful.

1. I am grateful that the fires are 70% contained and that my home was not in the path of the devastation. Hallelujah.

2. I am grateful for the child in the other room, battling a migraine, hiding in the darkness. I love her. I am blessed because she was born. I don't show it enough.

3. I am grateful today for my kitten, Dommy. Domino. He's sleeping beside me, like a dog. He is a pain when he's tearing through the house across countertops and leaping onto the guinea pig cage and terrorizing the dogs. But he loves me and he comes to me and we have long conversations. I love him. I'm grateful he would not be a willing participant in the quest to rehome him as a young kitten. 

4. Sunshine. Today i'm a little bit snowblind. The sun is radiating off of the sleet-snow we had yesterday. It's bright for sure. But I'm grateful because it keeps the depression at bay. I start to come alive just like the natural world around me in springtime. I am grateful for the sun.

5. I am so grateful for the farm. I have named her the Hippie Chick Farm. And the house is so much of a mess. But a mess that came on 1.6 acres for a ridiculously low price. It's my mess. And I love the sound of the roosters crowing, the hush of the world out there, as it stays away from my little slice of paradise. I love the space, the sunsets, the porch sitting, the chickens and ducks and geese.... oh my. 

There is always something to be grateful for. And I have so much. I am rich. Penniless. But rich.

Hop on over to two writing sisters and read about everyone's slice of life today. The link in attached to the pic so just click on the slice. 

The weight is sometimes heavy

 Today I was able to merge the drawing prompt with what is on my heart, so I have a nifty illustration to accompany my slice of life today. Yay! Join other bloggers or just read and comment and enjoy by following the link for the Slice of Life Story Challenge, blogging every day in the month of March. Click on the link in the sentence or click the slice icon.

Today's SDD (Simple Daily Drawing) prompt was this: Hammerhead Shark. I got the hammer part, and I got the head part, but the shark part kinda got left out. 

Yesterday we saw and smelled the smoke/fire. It made me nervous. It made the animals nervous. They were a mess. One of my chickens even tried to come inside. Which is funny because not too many of my remaining chickens get confused about whether or not they are indoor or outdoor chickens. Uno has never really been confused or concerned about it. But last evening she ran to the back door. And the dogs walked around and whined, and the cats were just crazy. Everyone smelled it. All creatures at our "farm." They didn't like it. It smelled like danger. Amen. I completely agree. Ugh.

We came back from a back road sneak into town trip to the Dollar General. Ironically enough, the highway wasn't closed, we could have gone the other way. But we didn't. The roads were closed on the other side of the highway from DG though. So a mere 2 miles from us the roads were closed. And late last night I learned that a friend lost her home and animals. Not a super close friend, but more than a casual acquaintance. I bought a walking stick from her husband, she bought tiedye from me. We talk about teaching and kids and what's broken and what's not about education. 

I believe in God. A God. Not the god of my youth. But a power that is greater than myself. A force. Energy. Something that sustains me. It's name is often simply, "Good." At our house, it is known that Good takes care of us. But as good and as gentle as I believe this force is, sometimes I am stubborn. Too stubborn to pray, to ask for help, to submit. Knowing a power or force is greater and stronger than me and giving up my own stubborn will and ambitions, are two very different things. And sometimes I am only bent into pray through consistent and constant hammering of life situations until all that beating bends my neck and bows my head and I cry out for help. 

Hammering away on me are the daily struggles, the big things, the little things and currently, wildfires. Not metaphorically, though that is valid too, but literally. There's a lil ole Kansas wildfire that started raging yesterday afternoon and paralyzed me with fear. I now have emergency preparations of food, cages, bowls, blankets and so forth for critters. I have decided which critters will get packed up and which will be left to fend for themselves. I have a list of what needs to be included in the "go bag." For critters, the bag will pack swiftly. For the humans, that is more complicated. I am aware that I need to pack a go bag with toothbrush and toothpaste and all that good stuff for situations like this. And then just leave it alone. Not steal from it, etc. 

I spent at least an hour of the time I should have been spending packing and preparing being overwhelmed and distracted and doing everything but what was needed. I gave THREE birds epsom salt baths for instance. I suppose on some level it made sense to me at the time. But really? Birds number one, Raven, I think she has bumblefoot. I think she's gonna lose some toes. How did it get this bad? Probably because I have only read about bumblefoot before, it's my first hen to try to treat. Then I find that my little Wood Duck drake, Diego, is limping. I don't know why. But I know what will cure him.... epsom salts. They are the miracle cure of the animal world. and the people world, so you know. When in doubt, soak it out....

So I soaked his feet. and then I inspected him the best I could. He wasn't a very willing participant. In spite of how cute and cuddly he appears, he was not all about being handled and hugged and turned and looked over. But I didn't really see or feel bumblefoot. So maybe I soaked his feet for not. Who knows. So.... I go to treat my injured hen that still needs to be sprayed with Vetericyn and saline wash. I see she has poop all over her fluff on her fluffy butt. So I clean it, and clean it, and clean it. Because it doesn't really want to come out of her soft, fluffy, downy-like feathers. And then, completely by accident, I felt it. A hard egg-sized spot just to the side of her vent. Could she be egg-bound? Oh boy. Into the epsom salt bath she goes. Epsom salt bath numero tres in the time I had designated to get prepared for the worst so we could believe for the best. (Latest check shows she has not passed the egg yet and her life could be in danger).

Alas, I was still not prepared and my chickens and ducks and geese were waiting impatiently for me to come through for them. Or at least to feed them. By now it's dark and dreary and the winds are somewhat calmer than earlier. So I feed and lock up pens and collect any eggs. Except a little nest of duck eggs. I am experimenting with that little nest to see if they sit and hatch their eggs. The nest says that they want to try. And I have a plenty of duck eggs already, so try my duckies, try. 

Finally, I'm inside from choring, I have prepared foods and whatever for animals should we be told to leave. It's almost 10. My kiddo is up from her "nap." lol. Seventeen. Her internal clock is WAY way different than mine. And it seems that we are safe from the fire hazards. Safe enough anyway to breathe, find some dinner, chat on the phone, sit and relax..... 

But my mind is still being hammered. 

When will I know about income? What will we do? What is the next step? Lord, I need your help. Oh, yeah, God, can you look after my kids? I know the oldest is overwhelmed, tired, stressed and stretched really thin. I know I miss her and want to spend time but that scheduling that could quite possibly be that one more thing that she doesn't need right now. So grateful she has "a life": husband, kid, bonus kids, job, friends, pets, and so on. But I have to tell you God, I just wish she wanted to spend time with me. What? What are you telling me God? You might be right. I don't really wish that. Because this seems right, normal, and she seems happy. So in spite of my loneliness, I am grateful. Thanks God for my kid and her health and happiness. Please protect her.

I'm worried. I am the mother of a trans kid. I had this beautiful, funny, intelligent daughter named Carolyn. She was such a bright spot in my bleak world. But she was scared, overwhelmed, closeted. I have been in the know for over a year now. My Carolyn is not a Carolyn after all. Because she is Levi. She is he. Him. I worry. I know he gets frustrated that my journey is slow to accept and embrace him as he is. Well, not-so-much-as-he-is-today. I mean, I'm sure I fall short. But I think I do okay with the present. It is the past. He was my girl, my Carolyn. And it irks me a bit that I'm not supposed to just acknowledge and relive those memories as they live in my head and heart, that my child feels like I am somehow making him less today by remembering her. My little one with the long red hair and the bright eyes and smile. This is only a tiny slice of my grief. There is my worry. Constant worry. What will happen if.... (fill in the blank). But a huge piece would be, what would happen if my Mom and sister were to be informed or somehow "accidentally" found out that my Carolyn is now Levi. That I have decided I am not going to play God and shame or blame or wish for the other. That I am going to love him to the end and pray to god that the end is not premature because of the overwhelming weight of his transgenderness (? is that a word?). Because in the face of my family's conservative Christianity (for lack of better terms), both he and I will be shamed. Possibly disowned. But not without some literature or letter writing about how we are wrong (him for who he is and me for choosing to just be a mother to the child I have without shaming or disowning him) and more heavy judgement. This worries me. And I think then about the fear that the LGBTQ+ community lives with daily. And I am bent farther and I must surrender and pray. 

The worries of the world are heavy and hammering away. But once I bend down my neck and pray, the hammering is less crippling.

For the love everything writing....

This sounds like the title to a piece about writing. But I am literally pounding the keys about the utensils I use when WRITING, drawing, coloring, filling out paperwork, making crafts and drafting a grocery list. Oh... for the love. This is my slice of life today, the 5th day of March, 2022. To read more, click on the Slice icon. The link will take you to today's Slice of Life posts. Scroll down to the comments and read and comment. It's what we love. 

For the love of.... 

flair pens. 

I mean, what's not to love?! 

The colors make my page say that what I am writing is

happy, bigger than ordinary, fun.

For the love of....

sharpies.

Really? Do I really need to explain this one? 

Sharpies are fun and bold and bright, or dark, 

and precise, or spread out--

sharpie on notebook paper equals smear and smudge

because they expand and spread and become somewhat fuzzy.

But sharpie on paintings,

sharpie on your cup, 

on plastic, or vinyl, or wood. 

Hooray for sharpies! 

I love sharpies.

But what about the love of....

Papermate InkJoy gel roller pens? 

Oh. my. stars. 

the lucky stars anyway.

These are perfect for

cards, both creating cards and signing cards;

calendars, who doesn't want to record all their scheduling and appointments and plans in color?

and doodling. (no descriptives needed)

I also love coloring. 

How about the smell of a freshly opened box of crayons? 

Is there any smell that is more educational?

any smell that is more filled with hope and preparedness and new beginnings?

But you know,

know what is also very public school, 

brand new year, 

I'm a big kid now? 

Colored pencils.

for creating... maps and charting growth and meeting reading goals,

and color papers and making cards and whatever a heart could desire. 

What about the love of....

the mechanical pencil? 

for sure. For sudokus and planning and list making and first drafts

for fun, for seriousness, for in-between.

But drawing.... 

for the love of drawing

there are drawing pencils and number 2 pencils and even the blessed Ticonderogas will work.

I love drawing. 

Last summertime, I indulged in

a set of drawing pencils.

All different softnesses and hardnesses. 

So don't even get me started on the love of paper....

notebooks and loose-leaf and printer paper and stationary and card stock and construction paper. Oh my!