perfect . . .

“…grief is like the wake behind a boat.
It starts out as a huge wave that follows close behind you
and is big enough to swamp and drown you
if you suddenly stop moving forward.
But if you do keep moving, the big wake will eventually dissipate.
And after a long enough time, the waters of your life get calm again,
and that is when the memories of those who have left begin to shine
as bright and enduring as the stars above.”

From Jimmy Buffet’s “A Salty Piece of Land”

thanks for passing it on, Robin.

moo . . .

earlier in the week i wandered downstairs to make sure the doors were locked and the alarm set and realized that the house reeked of garlic.  REEKED!!  Bruschetta!  It's what was for dinner.  Tomatoes, basil, garlic, salt and pepper, marinated all day in olive oil, spooned on toasted french bread slices cut on an angle,  sprinkled with Parmesan and drizzled with balsamic vinegar.  Slurp!

and then Sunday was breaded fried eggplant circles, smeared with herbed goat cheese and topped with basil, marinated in olive oil with crushed red pepper flakes.

not to mention the ever present roasted brussel sprouts and asparagus.

Stacie was over Friday night and I made a mess of sliced zucchini and yellow crook necked squash sauteed with stewed tomatoes and mushrooms, onions and garlic, topped with Parmesan.

I'm in such a lovely rut and it is called vegetables.  They make me such a happy camper. 

Oh and I am still on my quesadilla kick.  Each week I bake a couple of chicken breasts, let them cool and then pull the chicken.  Makes enough for a weeks worth of sammies, quesadillas and salads.  With a drizzle of olive oil in the pan, chicken sprinkled with Adobo seasoning, a handful of spinach heated until the spinach just starts to wilt, a spinach wrap flipped into the pan and sprinkled with mozzarella,  the chicken and spinach tossed back in, the heat turn up to crisp the quesadilla to be cut it into quarters and dipped into anything good.  my current favorite is a smokey but creamy hot sauce.  double slurp. 

and thus i realized that left to my own devices, veggies are my delight . . .  with chicken for protein and lots of cheese.  Cheese glorious cheese.  I took inventory today and there they were:  bleu cheeses, shredded mozzarella, fresh mozzarella, fresh feta, colby, five blend mexican cheese, goat cheese, cottage cheese, a good chunk of Locatelli Pecorino Romano and somewhere stuffed in the back some sliced American cheese . . . Kidlet loves her grilled cheese sammies.

What is saving me from a veggie and cheese implosion?  Kids!!

Kidlet came home from school last night and having lost weight during mid terms, asked for food.  Real food . . . according to her . . . meaning M.E.A.T.   And so tonight, we will feast on moo and steamed artichokes.  And tomorrow night Stacie is joining us for pot-moo with carrots and taters. 

God bless kids.  Life has changed but it is still glorious and filled with love.

when . . .

Kidlet went to college, I thought I would finally have the bathroom to myself.

From the time she could navigate on her own, my days of privacy were numbered.  If I was in the bathroom, she was in the bathroom.  For a while there, if I was in the tub, she was in the tub.  Thankfully, she finally got too big for those shenanigans but the room was always, always doubly occupied. 

When she hit middle school, I thought I would have some peace and quiet.  How wrong I was.  Some of our deepest conversations were held within reach of the porcelain goddess.  Tears were shed, wails heard, hugs given.  The drama of 6th, 7th and 8th grade played out in technicolor within the confines of our upstairs bathroom. 

High school.  In high school surely it would once again become my sanctuary.  Gah!  Again it was not to be.  The 'facilites' became neutral territory where Kidlet grew from childhood to adult.  Secrets were shared, questions asked. Advice flowed . . . some ignored, some taken.  but tranquility?  not so much.

When she went to college, I thought finally.  Finally, it would be mine.  But it seems the 9TS was just biding his time until she left and he could move in.  Whether I was happily soaking, brushing my teeth, or fooling with my hair, the sloth felt no remorse, in he would come.

And now.  Now?  The house is empty.  Peace is mine.  Right? 

 Not, apparently, in this life time.

be careful what you wish for . . .

Joanie and I went furniture hunting for what I thought I wanted.

Turns out it wasn't.  On the pro side, the frame had a 15 year warranty.  They had a slew of fabrics and frame colors from which to choose and most importantly, without cushions, I wouldn't be sitting on puddles after a rain storm.  Cons: the fabric only had a five year guarantee, and it has a tendency to sag.  It wasn't all that comfortable and the price tag was huge.  Gulp.

And so after much deliberation, I decided to keep the usable frames from my old set and just buy new cushions and table tops.  All for a price well under the cost of that which I thought I wanted.  And even under that which I had drooled over last summer at another store.  The wet cushions?  Not a problem, flip them over and they are dry and good to go.  No, we are not getting into how I could have owned the afore mentioned cushions for 14 years and not have realized that.  No. No. No.

Here they are.  Mine will be a darker color.  The better to hide the dirt, my dear.

But since we are just replacing cushions and tops, I also get to keep this:

Minus the umbrella and the scenic lake.

It was a good afternoon outside of the cave.  A very good afternoon and oh yes, they deliver!!!!

om and splash . . .

OK, so life doesn't really suck.  the birds are chirping again.  the weather is three degrees past glorious.  the beasties are cuddle bums and i shouldn't complain.  so i won't.  so there.

since the pool is slowly deciding not to be green, i thought i would go out and clean the deck and get it ready for use . . .  that translates roughly into me reclining on a lounger, book in hand.  i hosed the deck getting it clean enough to rest the soon to be bleached and scrubbed furniture and cushions, before it gets bleached and scrubbed.  i started with the tables . . . encrusted with mold and pollen . . . and that is as far as i got.  last summer, sloth and i decided the furniture had had it.  it was 14 years old and lived a good life.  the only thing that prevented us from getting the furniture we had looked at was the logistics of getting it home.  so we waited.  i can wait no more.  the tables have all but disintegrated.  i put the brakes on cleaning and hopped on the computer instead, visions of outdoor furniture dancing in my head.

today i am going in search.  and hope they deliver.  please deliver.   i am not replacing the table and four chairs.  we just didn't use them enough to justify the expense.  i am however, looking for three loungers and two side tables.  the deck will be less cluttered that way, which means more room for yoga mats and relaxation after water aerobics.  yep, that's my plan.  om and splash.

Oh, and much more importantly, Happy Birthday, Stacie!!!!

the truth?

life sucks.  i have good days and bad days but none of them have the one thing i really want.  my 9TS.  i don't know why yesterday was so crummy.  i try as a whole to keep busy.  i went through piles of accumulated paper work, sent out some long overdue notes, made my grocery list, brushed down the still green pool, ran to the clerk of the court for a certified copy of my marriage certificate, emptied the dishwasher, tossed a huge pile of junk to the street for garbage collection, finished a book, ate and fell into the wine bottle.  worshiping the porcelain goddess is not the answer.  and finally, i broke down and took an ambien.  and slept until 5:14.  still no sloth.  and, as we all know, everything seems worse in the depth of night.  even my chirping bird friends are silent.  my brains are going round and round and I know they won't stop until the sun comes up and brings another day. 

i keep the downstairs bedroom door closed.  even though the furniture has long been put back in place, i can't lose the vision of him in that hospital bed, struggling.  dying.  i still see the pain on the faces of my family. i want to remember the good times but they won't come yet.  i just want my sloth back.  is that really too much to ask?

burp . . .

Joanie and I are still walking five miles, four times a week, but now we are carrying a few extra supplies . . . whatever bread happens to be in the fridge . . . for our friends of course!

We were also feeding Delphina, the Muscovy duck, but she seems to have taken a vacation and has wandered off. 

I finally added my Canon to the bag of goodies and got some shots the other day.  Life is good.  I just have problems resisting taking a toothbrush to clean someones back.  Their hygiene is significantly lacking!!!

and life goes on . . .

• did I ever tell you the 9TS was a shoe ho?  we have a local shoe repair owner who collects gently worn shoes, brings them back to life and distributes them to the homeless.  we donated four huge bags of my sloths shoes.  I am so happy they will find good homes. so is the 9TS, I am sure.

• The 9TS was adamant that he take care of the pool all these years . . . and take care he did.  But unlike my inability to keep most green things alive, I had no trouble turning the pool green  . . . a major algae bloom!  So I called the company who replaces our motors when they die and they sent a very sweet gentleman to teach me the ins and outs of keeping up a pool.  I may or may not have flunked the course.  We should know in a week or two.

• the gray goose has also found another home.  my miata is not upset in the least.  she is happy to have more room in the garage.  she can now sleep on either side and doesn't have to stay squished up against the wall anymore.  it was an arranged marriage after all.  zoom. zoom.

• social security has been contacted and I have realized there is a new word heading my list of least favorites:  widow.  I may be sloth-less but I am not a widow.  I am temporarily deprived of his companionship but eventually we will be together again.  Please, don't use the W word! 

• i loved my iPhone unconditionally . . . until I discovered it stored voice messages.   "hi hon, going to lunch with the guys.  see you soon.  love you."  sigh.  an arrow to the heart.

and so each day goes.  some easier then others.  some not so much fun.  but cards are still pouring in and each one brings a message of love. 

and because I can't help myself.  my PSA for today and everyday until I breathe no more:  get yourself checked.  make an appointment with a dermatologist.  go.  slather on the sunscreen.  stay out of noon day sun.  melanoma is a tricky beast who strikes without rhyme or reason.  do it for yourself.  do it for your family.  just do it!

milestones . . .

i slept through the night last night for the first time in weeks and with the beasties still confused by daylight savings time, they let me sleep until 8: a.m.  that's big!!!

i also slept alone in the house last night for the very first time EVER and survived.  i rock!  i needed to know that Kidlet would be ok up north by herself and that i would be ok at home, so yesterday, i kicked her out she departed temporarily.  we both survived . . . but of course i know she will be popping in and out . . .  she loves to be fed!

and, since i didn't really like my chemically induced bubble, i ditched the Ambien, tossed the Ativan and cut back my Lexapro.  did i give up my wine?  of course NOT!!!!

none of this would have been accomplished without friends and family . . . none of it.  baby steps.  little tiny baby steps.  i remind myself constantly that i can do this.  i've done it before and i can do it again.  i can.  i will.  i just thought i would never have to.  big sigh.

goodbye sweet sloth . . .

his memorial service was packed.  what i thought would be a small family based affair, overflowed the chapel.  how did i forget how well loved he was.  police came from all over.  family, friends, the gym rats, karate choppers, even the old manager of carrabba's.

when the chaplin called asking about eulogies, my jaw dropped.  yet one more thing to worry about.  i was quizzing him about what actually was required and he said the basic premise would be:  who was the 9TS . . . what do you remember about him as a man . . . as your dad . . .  what did he mean to you.   a voice popped up from the other room and kidlet said, 'i want to write one' and so she did.  and even when she waffled about standing up in front of a crowded room, she did.  she stood and clearly spoke of her memories and her love:

How do you express how much you love someone and how grateful you are that they were in your life when the words “I love you” and “Thank you for being my dad” don’t seem to be enough? You don’t. The truth is, you can’t. Words just aren’t enough. Instead you express it through your actions.

You offer to adopt a little girl when you marry her mother, because you accept that they’re a package deal, and you want both of them in your life. And on their wedding day, you call him Dad for the first time and you never stop.

You support each other and cheer each other on when you compete in martial arts, because it’s what you both loved to do together. And when your daughter competes first and gets a black eye, you 'offer' to make a cut under the swelling, just like Rocky, so she can continue to compete. Later when you compete, she cheers you on, a compress pressed to her eye, still swollen shut since she . . . um . . . declined your offer to help.  And at some point, you both decided together that you wouldn’t tell mom what happened until we’re on our way home.

After your middle toe has been removed due to the cancer, your daughter cheerfully informs you that your foot now looks like the Vulcan hand symbol from Star Trek. And when you ask her to check out your odd little bumps and bruises, she looks you in the eye and calls you 'weird', even though you’ve been taking care of her bumps and bruises since she was five.

When you have to start driving down and back to Tampa, your daughter argues that she should get to go too. Eventually you let her, because you know she’s just as stubborn as you. As you start feeling worse, she wrangles her way into going to more of the appointments, and eventually you find yourself sitting in the backseat of your car while she drives.  At least you know she’ll stay awake, since she bought a coffee earlier with 'your credit card'.

And when it comes down to the last appointment, she sits in the waiting room while you and mom consult with the doctor, because you’re afraid that the news won’t be good and you don’t want to put her through that. When you change your mind and ask where she is, mom goes to get her from the waiting room, and she joins you without a second thought. And even though you don’t want her to miss school, she stays at home with you until the very end.

The truth is that even though “I love you” and “Thank you for being my dad” doesn’t convey how much I loved him and how grateful I am that I got to have him in my life, I’m not worried that he didn’t know. Because I know how much he loved me, and he didn’t even have to say anything.
Although Craig could not bear to read his, the Chaplin shared the following:

I want to thank everyone for coming to honor my dad today.

 Everyone has someone that they look up to. That someone for me, was my dad.  He was my Superman.  He was the man on top of the mountain that no one could knock down.

He taught me when life got hard to keep my head up high . . . take it day by day . . . always keep trying, and never let life knock you down.

Not only was he a great father, but he was also a wonderful grandfather to my daughter, Kaitlyn. He got her started in tae kwon do and helped her earn her black belt.

The toughest thing I've ever had to do was to say goodbye to my superhero.  Goodbye Pop. I love you.

and so with words spoken and hearts low, we said our goodbyes to the physical  . . . but nothing will ever dim the memories we each hold dear.  he was my love, my heart, my best friend and i miss him so very, very much.

and then . . .

What do I say?  I miss him so much I want to rage across all time . . . and I know it has yet to all sink in.  But the one thing I do know is that love has crept in from across the globe.  I have found nuggets of peace from friends and family, from emails, from Facebook, on my blog, phone calls, cards.  Family and friends have helped lift me up.  Kidlet is taking some time off from school to stay with me.  Stacie, Craig and Colin help me stay afloat more than they will ever know.

His memorial service and our final goodbyes will be Monday . . .  sort of.  I have taken to sitting in his room and chatting to him.  OK, so we all knew I was strange. It just makes me feel better.  Like when I careened off a door jamb and told him to stop laughing at me . . .  because he so would have.  and when I went to call him to take the cork off the cork screw and realized he wasn't here . . . I told him he should do some hocus pocus and get the job done anyway.  I bet he tried his best. 

He was my very best friend and the love of my life . . .