Suddenly

his week I hit a wall. I’ve been working very hard physically for over a month now, I got fired Feb 12th and Dad’s stroke was the next Sunday and the fire the Sunday after that.  The wall finally smacked me in the face.  No energy.  I’ve had 5 boxes from upstairs to unpack and it’s taken me 5 days to do it.  I look at all of it and wonder where I’m going to put stuff. I sold all my bookshelves you know.  I’ve puttered around a bit, every once in awhile I get enough steam to do a project like that closet and then I crash again.  In front of me this week is painting the spackle patches in the bathroom and installing the three shelves, towel racks, toilet paper racks, and the temporary carpet until we get the new linoleum.  Don’t seem all that interested.

I am itching to get back to crafty stuff but am still in a limbo. So much is still in storage and I haven’t had the energy to deal with the craft room.  I know some of you are hankering to see it but it is a very slow slog for me.  But slowly the urge is starting to percolate.

My dear long time and recently back in my life friend, Breath of Fresh Air Leslie, has a knitting meetup group.  As long as you’re doing something textile related you can go. Which is good since my brother and I decided that socks are no longer working for him.  I picked up the Bohemian blouse I’ve set aside and started hemming the rest of the pieces in prep for the embroidery and then the faggoted seams.  Leslie took a photo of me, one of my new favorites.  I have to say this photo really captures me.  Needle in my mouth, hands pressing linen, biker jacket on the chair, vanilla latte , hair in disarray, amulets and talismen around my neck…

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Groundhogs day

I can’t remember the last time I worked this hard.  I am getting some muscles going on here.  And its looks good on me.  I weigh the same but I’m looking good.  Want to keep this going after the work stops.

We’ve really had so much stuff to deal with.  Yesterday we got all the furniture into the mostly empty garage. We need the rooms as empty as we can get them for painting and the new rug.  That work starts tomorrow.  Thursday I will go and get the rug part started.  Today, we finish with the smaller furniture, the last of the books, the camera equipment.

It’s all been very hard to do because we are Dad Wrangling.  That poor guy, he’s making our lives hell when we need it the least.  He wants to help, of course he does.  But everything he touches turns to crap, literally. What would have been a free desk now has to go to the dump.  At some point early this morning he went downstairs and started rearranging, which is bad enough, taking stuff out of the trash to keep etc…  But when I saw that he’d removed the panel that was the right support for a desk in order to fix it, well, jagged nails everywhere, hammers, broken wood. *sigh*

He refuses to have his stress test and we refuse to have him go up and down stairs, lift 100 pound boxes of books but then he physically threatens us and does it any way and then his blood pressure falls to 60/47 or rises to 202/140 and we spend hours trying to stabilize him and then a couple more telling him what happened and he forgets that and asks again.  If I could ship him somewhere right now I would.  The angry agressive jerk that was my dad growing up is back and I’m having a hard time loving him right now.  We tell him all that we’re doing and ten minutes later he shows up and says what are you doing.  Mixing Alzheimers with Diabetes, Hypertension, and a history of aggression together and you have someone that is challenging.  Argh.

So.  The last cleaning and boxing up, patching holes and sanding for prep work.  Mom and I have decided that we are hiring them to do ALL the painting and the new carpet and whatevers left is what’s left for the other things.  We just no longer have the energy to do that part.

I’ve been congested in the head and lungs ever since the fire.  I can’t tell if I’ve got a cold or if it’s from the fire, all the extinguisher/smoke/dust dust.  I sound like Mickey Mouse. Seriously I do.  Very squeakey and sometimes none of it comes out. And I have a major interview Wednesday.  I’ve got to knock it out of the park.  So tomorrow I take it easy, putter in my own room, make sure I get enough rest, prepare my clothes.

The best thing out of this besides that I get my own apartment sans kitchen?  Is that my mom and I are working together as though we’ve done this all our lives, amiably, we agree on everything, almost no crankiness, smooth as butter.  What a blessing that is.

M. said the other night that he was certain that the reason I moved home a year ago was to be here for these weeks and the coming months.  I know he’s right.  I never would have guessed this was the purpose.  My poor mother if I was working and not here.  OMG.

The one thing I hear is that caregivers can die before the sick person they’re caring for from all the stress.  My job is make my mother’s life as easy as I can so that she can take care of Dad.  We would never be able to put him in assisted living right now, he thinks he’s fine and would just escape. That time is coming soon and not that far away though.  He looks and sounds normal to folks who don’t know him but he told some folks yesterday he got diabetes at 40 and that he’s now 88.  He got diabetes at 52 and is now 82.  His dates and numbers and facts are all scrambled up in there. He makes the worst decisions ever, he believes we are insane and making his life a living hell when it is really the other way around. If he were amiable and simply complaing that would be one thing but he’s very strong and very aggressive. He wants to manage his diabetes but if we let him he will fark it all up.

2010 is The Ball of Confusion but this is temporary, we will pervail, we will survive.

Transitions

My brother flew out this morning.  He did very well for the time he was here.  What we had to do was extremely stressful for all involved and with only one small dust up I’m proud of them all.  I wore my High Priest’s emerald necklace to keep me in cool love for the duration and it helped immensely.  We have built up a momentum that I hope to keep going through the spring.

The basement rec room, small bedroom, and bath are officially going to be mine.  Before March is over.  O joy, rapturous, delicious heaven.  O space, oh pleasant, private space of my own away from the frantic edge of CNN, away from the 6am beeping of the microwave, into my own little retreat. O bliss.  O Gracious Goddess and Great God, grateful thanks for your genius, bounty, and timing. Next time it would be nice not to have change brought about by a house fire but I must admit the results are glorious to me.  Can you say incense?  I haven’t been able to burn incense for a year now.  Privacy to practice my circle building skills.  Privacy for ritual.  This witch, this artist, is just over the moon happy about all this.

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Coming up for air

Literally.  It seems that the stuff in a fire extinguisher, and several were used, works by sucking the oxygen out of the air.  So not only was the basement missing oxygen but every single thing was covered with fire extinguisher dust, smoke dust, and then the dust of a decade of a never cleaned law office.  The insurance company sent in three women to clean this horror show of a wreck room.  Bottles of white out, pens, envelopes, 10 years of boxes of software, 5″ floppy disks, books books books.  A nightmare.

My brother, who arrived Wednesday night, and I have been cleaning out the garage for 2 days.  Four big loads in a huge rented pickup truck later, we are still not done.  Two to the dump, don’t think for a minute that throwing things in a landfill makes me anything but miserable, and two trips to our local thrift store.  He’s not had any sleep and I seem to have caught a cold.  This afternoon we will tackle it again.  Some of the boxes I’m sorting go back to junk mail from 1997.  OMG.   I can’t even begin to illustrate the clutter and packratedness.

On the flip side, it’s super good to have my brother here.  Together we can do what alone would have done us in.

This is not us but it was the photo that closest resembled what we’re dealing with…

Add in six trunks full of everything from great art paper to coffee tins full of nails plus 2 kayak racks, 10 boxes of various poisonous chemicals, baskets galore, and perhaps one box of stuff we’re keeping and well, *sob* and yet  *woohoo!*

The fire has catalyzed some serious action.  The faux ceiling in the bathroom is down and we are hiring an electrician to take care of that fire hazard that is our lighting asap.  Also, it looks like I’m going to be able to move into the basement finished rooms and have basically my own apartment with a shared kitchen upstairs.  That won’t happen overnight but it will happen in the next couple months and I’m pretty excited about getting my stuff out of storage and having something that looks like my life back in this area.  I’ve been living in a 10×10 room that is really like living in a hotel room for a year now.  It will be a year March 7th.  I’m really done with this and hope that I get to have some say in the paint color.

We did find a box of silver coins from 1883 – 1964.  None of them appear to be of much value for their dates or their condition but I’m going to sell them for their melt value.  Tons of furniture is going to be sold and what doesn’t sell is going to the thrift store or the dump.  It has to be done, there is no choice.  And most of this has to happen before Monday at 5pm.  Bro’s flight home leaves Tuesday morning.  What a champ he’s been and thank god for his force of nature presence in this project.

My parents are a little bewildered and stressed over this whole thing as one can well imagine but they have been very, very brave and let us make most of the decisions for them.  They’ve stayed away for the most part and just let us muscle our way through and they are to be commended because they simply couldn’t do it themselves and this is painful for them.  They are embarrassed, ashamed, and relieved.

See you all later next week when the work is done, bro has flown home, and I’m working on a cool project that is mine and perhaps in a space where I can actually work on larger projects.  We are healing from the trauma of 30 years of shame and the horror that is a wild fire in your home.

P.S.  My camera stopped functioning. About 6 months ago my brother sent my dad a camera but it has never been used.  Bro saw that Dad will never be able to use it because it’s the part of dad’s brain that has left.  The figure it out part.  I have a new camera just like that.  *snap*  Thank you thank you.

I cleaned out my mom’s office, which was like the photo above all by myself and bought a new twin memory foam mattress so that Bro had a decent place to stay. He said he would have been royally pissed to have to spend $1000 to stay in a hotel for a week simply because there is so much clutter no one can move.

I’ve been working extremely hard, physically and mentally this entire week, and I am sore as hell but I’m pretty impressed at how my body is taking this.  Any one would be sore after inactivity but I was worried about my fibromyalgia and I feel pretty darned good all in all.

And I haven’t had a period in 8 weeks!  WOOHOO!   No migraines, no cramps, no pms, happy camper here.

Three’s the Charm? Uncle? FIRE!!!

The fire trucks are gone.  The windows are open.  The cat is safe. The humans are safe.  The burned mattress no longer smokes in the front yard.

I awoke at 6:00am trying to find that alarm clock that keeps going off on random days that my parents can’t hear because they’re deaf and are sleeping.  I start downstairs and hear it’s actually the smoke alarm and my mother yelling FIRE!  Call 911!!


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