Meh.

Today, I got word that my uncle was taken Flight For Life into a local hospital with congestive heart failure, fluid and blood clots in his lungs, among a few other problems. He hasn't taken the best care of himself, but conversely, this is still the best connection I really have to my dad (who has been gone for twelve years). I will be the first to admit that the news really shook me up. I had a chance to meet up with my grandparents and my aunt at a place up the road (prompting one of the funniest exchanges I've heard between them in a long while), and the intent of visiting my uncle on Friday morning when he is allowed visitors.

Tonight, I was having the discussion with my husband about my absolute fear of losing the men in my life. My mother lost her grandfather, brother and husband in a short amount of time. I've lost my closest grandfather and another man that was just like family to me. I told him I had sworn after my dad died that I wouldn't get married, or stay with anyone too long. I didn't want to lose anyone else.

HDH: You really felt that way?

HDW: Yes, I did. If you don't answer me right away, I am afraid you have had a heart attack somewhere and died. I can't not think that way. I've been preprogrammed after losing people I love.

HDH: I take good care of myself.

HDW: So did my dad.

HDH: Well, let's be realistic, shall we? If I'm going to die, it's not because I haven't taken care of myself. It's going to be because I've pissed you off enough that you "take care of the problem" and feed me to the fish. I'm just saying, HDW, that that's far more likely.

HDW: And you have a point. A good one.

Labels: family, hdh-isms

Labels: back in the day, hdh-isms, might've had too many martinis

Labels: just a great day, rainy weather

Last week REALLY just sucked. Top to bottom, it was not a great week on record in HDW World. Have you ever had one of those weeks? You know, the kind where every time you turn around something else is going wrong? My grandma says of those weeks, "Well, it's either the hogs or the windmill". So true, so very true.

Without divulging all of the wrecks that made my week, I will say that I managed to try and kill myself about every ten minutes, though. Unvoluntarily, too, I might add.

For example, I was sitting at the computer Tuesday morning, having my wonderful coffee, and took a giant breath. And while doing so, something went haywire in my shoulder and upper back. I can't really pinpoint where or what it was, but it shot pain through my shoulder, my head and my LEFT EAR. What the hell? So, for almost four days, I spent every two minutes wincing, as the pain shot through. A pinched nerve? But from BREATHING? That'll learn me to breathe.

Saturday night, I was giving my three-year-old son a bath. I stepped out to get a towel, and I heard him dumping water out of the tub. I went back into the bathroom, scolding him, and slipped on the water, feet went out from under me and down I came. I landed on my right side, right on the end of my elbow - HARD.

While laying on the floor trying to figure out if I had broken myself in half or not, The Bug was shaking, crying, scared. And rightfully so. He just saw his mommy do the whole banana slip routine. I stayed down, and proved my point. And by 'staying down', I mean, "I couldn't have gotten up if I'd tried".

Later on, I got to thinking about a song by India.Arie that I love. The lyrics say something like, "slow down baby you're going too fast you got your head in the clouds and your feet on the gas" ... and that is just what has been happening to me this past week.

And for the first time ever in my entire life, I'm happy that today is Monday. A brand new start to a new week. I'm hoping I'll avoid spilled water, and not necessarily breathing, but at least avoiding the injuries that come with doing so.

Labels: bad week, lyrics, ouch, the bug

See you next week!

Labels: receipt, weekend

Young Hillary: Be sure to keep in touch C.C. ok?
Young C.C.: Well sure we're friends aren't we?



Dear ETK,

Remember, in the Fifth Grade, when you showed up for the class the first day at our school and my classmates were making fun of your outfit? I went and stood by you because I didn't want you to be alone (and TJ made fun of MY outfit, too, called me Elvis). We were best friends after that. There hasn't been a day in my life I don't count you as one of my best friends, and it doesn't matter how much time passes, how many days between phone calls or letters.

You are stronger than you ever give yourself credit for. Look at much you've had to handle in the last few years! It hasn't been easy, I know, and you've made it look effortless. You need to take the time to take care of yourself now. There's no harm in realizing you can't do it all alone, that your arms are tired of holding up the ceiling.

You'll get back on track. You'll figure out what you need to. We all fall down. And when you're down, that's when you call on your friends. I'm glad you called me. And I will always be your friend. I can't imagine a world without you in it, you know. I will always champion you and I'll never not be by your side.

"A faithful friend is a strong defense: and he that hath found such an one hath found a treasure." ~Ecclesiasticus 6:14

I love you like a sister, you know,
Me

Labels: friendship, love thursday

Last year, I posted this story about my neighbor, The BirdKiller.

Feel free to re-read that story, I'll wait ...

Yesterday, she calls screaming. Apparently, she'd left her back door open, and the same kind of bird that she'd decided shouldn't be living in that box aforementioned (and the one that laid those baby eggs, and she took them out and killed them, ie: her name by me) took it upon itself to DIVE BOMB her, shit all over her kitchen and fly right back out.

I have laughed for hours about this.

Karma, it's great.

Labels: birdkiller, karma

I went home yesterday.

Sure, it can be argued that it was merely a house, and a family really makes a home. And this is true. My house now - with my husband and son - is my home.

But my first home, the one I lived in the majority of my life (and where my heart still hides), is almost three hours east, down a long highway that starts out jammed with exits full of WalMart's and fast food joints, stretches out along the plains, past all sorts of exits and overpasses that appear the same (according to my husband, but of course, I can name them off by sight alone), and into my little hometown.

It's intoxicating to go home.

This is the road that leads to my house:

Every time I turn the car to go up this road - and for the last ten years (as my aunt and uncle bought the house from us, so we go at least once a year) - I still believe for a quick second my dad's truck will be in the driveway. It's a little hopeless heart wish that he'll still be waiting on the front porch. Of course, he's been gone for twelve and that wish is impossible. But if I close my eyes tight enough, I see it the way it used to be.

Being at the house, of course, my dad is everywhere I turn. Memories I've forgotten come bounding back when I'm hardly expecting them. I feel like most times I keep my head down and look only where it's safe to look. I can sit in the dining room and talk to my grandmother, with her polite questions if I'm involved in anything interesting, and if I'm still playing the piano "because you should, you should".

If I look too long at a room, I'll remember how once he pretended to sleep on the dining room floor, and when I carefully walked by, he'd grab my leg, pull me down and tickle me silly.

Standing in my childhood bedroom, I'll remember the time I called out in the night because of a monster in my room, and my dad dutifully got out of bed, slept next to me, most uncomfortably for the night (all 6'5" of him in a full bed).

And of course, years later, when I moved to the basement and this childhood room became our 'piano room', he stood by the door listening to me play "Sea of Love" because I knew it was one of his favorite songs. I'd forgotten that, really, until I allowed myself to stand in that room again yesterday, making myself to be present in that moment. I could see him leaning against the door frame....

I swear I heard my dad. He was always just around the next corner, showing me something else I'd forgotten. I was carried away yesterday. I needed the break, the retreat, the memories. I needed comfort yesterday, and I needed him. And I felt like he was reminding me of something.

And standing out on the road, I remembered. I was reminded. The last time I stood in that spot, I was yelling at God for taking him from me. I was telling God to please take me instead - that my father could do more good than I could even think about doing. It was a colossal mistake and I would gladly trade places.

And so there I stood, twelve years later, listening to the squeals of my little boy swinging on the swing my father had made for me. I can't tell you how important seeing my son's delight on that swing gave to me, watching him exploring the same yard I'd explored. I saw it all again through HIS eyes.

Life went on. It didn't go the way I'd planned, not at all. My heart still breaks and hurts, but I remember that the one true love of my life - as crazy as that sounds - was that man.



I sang this song to myself, and now I'll share it with you:

"...If you leap awake in the mirror of a bad dream
And for a fraction of a second you can't remember where you are
Just open your window and follow your memory upstream
To the meadow in the mountain where we counted every falling star

I believe a light that shines on you will shine on you forever
And though I can't guarantee there's nothing scary hiding under your bed
I'm gonna stand guard like a postcard of a Golden Retriever
And never leave 'til I leave you with a sweet dream in your head

I'm gonna watch you shine
Gonna watch you grow
Gonna paint a sign
So you'll always know
As long as one and one is two
There could never be a father
Who loved his daughter more than I love you ..."

"Father and Daughter", by Paul Simon

Labels: father and daughter, going home, mothers day

A conversation earlier this morning:

Me: Hmmm ... Bug, what should I wear today?

The Bug (who is three): Um .... pants. And shirt. And nipples!

Labels: HDToddler-isms

I am pissed. Want to know why? I'm sure you do!

Labels: rant, screw sears, stupid assholes

It's Love Thursday!

And what better way to celebrate Mother's Day than a Love Thursday post ...

I love this picture of myself and The Bug. We were in Telluride, CO on our first family trip since having him. We were headed up the gondola, heading to dinner at a nice place. I felt human for the first time in months. I remember thinking it was possible I wouldn't be tired forever, that I would wear makeup and maybe, just maybe, complete full sentences again.

It's been three years since he was born. I can't remember really what life was like before The Bug. When he was born, I was born. I wasn't a mother until he arrived. I guess we started out on this journey together - both were pretty new at this.

I've messed things up. He's been pretty good about forgiving such things. We've fumbled through all of this together - late night feedings, diaper blow-outs, crying jags (uh ... his AND mine), scraped knees, the like.

The Bug is three now. He tells me all sorts of stories. Lately, he'd decided that staying in bed is for the weak; he'll get up and check out the party we're having once that door shuts to his room. He's sauntered down the hall to tell us he has holes in his jammies, that the dinosaur he's sleeping with is cool, that he made a robot out of blocks once. Last night, he got out of bed to tell me he'd tooted. You know, keeping mommy in the loop and all.

It's entirely rewarding to have been a mother, and of course, especially because I'm a mom to this little guy. When he throws his arms around my neck and professes his love for me, I melt. Even when he's wandering through the entire house screaming, "MOMMYMOMMYMOMMY!" only to find me and 'give' me a booger he'd saved, I couldn't be happier. (not to have the booger, necessarily, but ...)

Being a mother is a harder job than ANY I've had before. You are on duty 24/7. You don't get breaks. You think for yourself, your child. You are on alert at all times; you do not rest. You don't sleep peacefully; one ear is always open to listen for the pitter patter of feet coming to alert you about bodily functions.

So ... Happy Mother's Day to all of you who have children, have lost children, have gained children. Happy Mother's Day to my biological mom, to the mothers I have found a long the way that continue still to help me on this journey.

You are appreciated, you are needed, and you are most certainly loved.

"One of the very few reasons I had any respect for my mother when I was thirteen was because she would reach into the sink with her bare hands - bare hands - and pick up that lethal gunk and drop it into the garbage. To top that, I saw her reach into the wet garbage bag and fish around in there looking for a lost teaspoon. Bare hands - a kind of mad courage."

~Robert Fulghum

Labels: a kind of mad courage, love thursday, mother's day

My grandma is a hoot. Since I can remember, she has always messed up words. Always. It used to piss my grandpa off. Of course, it completely endeared her to the rest of us.

A few of her earlier hits have been:

"HDW, when are you going to get one of them BIN-EE-KEES?" (bikinis)

While driving through downtown: "Oh, HDW. Tsk, tsk! Would you look at at all the GRAPHITE!?" (graffiti)

Talked to her earlier this evening, and she didn't let me down:

Grandma: I told them (the window people) that I wanted the stained glass window fixed.

Me: What's wrong with it?

Grandma: Oh, I see cracks in it, and I told them, "You come out and fix my window!". I've had to put TRASHBAGS over it - it's just a damn mess. So I tell them (insert long drag of a Winston cigarette here), "Look! Put some of that ... oh, what's it called ... put that POLYGRAPH over it and it'll be just fine!".

Me: You mean polyurethane?

Grandma: (another pause) Yeah, that. No wonder they didn't know what I was talking about. I didn't know either.

Me: Yeah, no wonder.

Close, but not really.

Labels: jeannie bear isms

Another tornado hit in the Midwest recently (Friday night), and this time, south of where I went to college.

NINETY PERCENT of this town is gone.

A teacher of mine from high school sent me this link, and I thought it was worth sending on to you ...

Look at the size of this tornado, honest to God

Tornadoes scare me silly.

Labels: tornado

Meet "Bones the Birthday Pirate".

Bones was on loan last night from a neighbor; he seemed the appropriate way to greet folks as they showed up last night for Howard's 40th birthday party here at Casa HDW.

Bones' nametag's say:

"Hello, My name is .... YOUTH"

"Hello, My name is ... Karen Carpenter"

and

"Hello, My name is ... Nicole Ritchie - FEED ME!"

The party was a great success, I thought! Howard got a super cool gift ... and no, not the gift certificate. I mean, playing "throw balls at The Bug's Head" and "Pirate Ship". Duh!

After going out Friday night to celebrate Shmeder and her graduation from Nursing School and getting the house in gear all day yesterday (with the help from Kath*and Heather - honestly, thank you guys!), I am beat down today.

HDHusband volunteered to take The Bug to the Zoo so I could crawl into bed and sleep ... but the guys that help me turn on my sprinkler system (um, yeah, not so good at that) decided that today would be a great time to show up "sometime between, well, now and whenever, not sure", I was up waiting for the doorbell to ring to let them in. Meh.

The Bug, though, was beatdown after last night's festivities. And thanks to all who were there reading this for playing along with him. He enjoys having people over, if you couldn't tell.

I'm hopefully going to be headed to bed very soon. I believe I need to check for holes in my eyelids ...

* Kath also will fold your laundry. And this should never be turned down. That is all.

PS There are pictures for Friends Only up on Flickr if you are interested. I'll be putting more up as time goes on!

Labels: clizbiz, comic of the day turns 40, kath b, pirate party, shmeder kicks ass and kickballs

I'm going to preface this by telling you I am NOT making this shit up, and I am welcoming any and all opinions. If you believe in it, tell me. If you don't, give me another reason for what's going on.

We have a 'new' house. It's a new build, anyway. It's a home built on top of an old Air Force base. There were barracks here to begin with. We are also not that far from a cemetery, like, a stone's throw.

And this is important to note because our city moved their first cemetery from 'in town' to this which was considered 'in the country'. They hired some shady dudes to move the bodies, and they weren't always moving them correctly. Some heads and legs would end up in a coffin, maybe, but certainly not all body parts of said dead person, or even OF the same dead person. (Sidenote: this is why a certain park where the first cemetery was has a lot of spooky sightings, but I digress ... )

We have been living in this house for 5 1/2 years. No one has lived here before us. And almost immediately, there was something going on in the upstairs bathroom.

I've mentioned it before on the blog, actually. The jets in the master bathroom would come on by themselves, all hours of the day or night. There was really no pattern to them coming on, but they'd turn on and not turn off unless you did so yourself. So, me being the good girl who didn't believe in ghosts, I figured it was a quirky short in the electrical circuits, or maybe it was the design of the tub (the jets might need to blow out now and then).

Last year sometime, I was standing in the shower with the lights OFF. I look over and the light switch by my shower goes UP and the light comes ON. I reached out, turned off the light, and yelled, "Knock it off!!" to whatever the hell was in my bathroom. It quit.

And lights are always doing funny things in that bathroom. The lights above the vanity will come on when you are in the other room. I've not paid much attention to see any switches go up; I just know they are going on BY THEMSELVES.

With all of that said, I've been pretty good humored about these incidents. I haven't felt that anything bad is going on. I don't get the impression that if it is a spirit, that it's a bad one. Kind of feels a bit like a prankster, you know?

But - this brings me to the last few weeks. After a dry spell, something's up again. My husband was giving my son a bath down the hall, and I was in our room, laying on the bed, resting for a minute (you know, a self-imposed Mommy TimeOut). It's quiet. I'm relaxing and the damn MUSIC BOX starts playing.

Say what??

I sat up and looked around. I see nothing, but it's playing real slow - like it's at the end of the wind-up. No one has been playing that music box.

Also, my son was in our bath last week. I'm sitting at the edge of the bath with a glass of wine, watching him take his bath. And again, those blasted jets turn on without either of us touching it, and my little boy jumped three feet into the air, out of the tub, and is now scared of 'water bubbles'.

I'd say this has been limited to only the upstairs bathroom and bedroom, except for one incident that happened roughly three months ago. We had our friend over for dinner and a movie. He brought his dog. We all went into the basement to watch this movie. And you must know, his dog never leaves his side. Ever.

I went upstairs to get something from the kitchen, and my kitchen is jacked. up. The vent from behind the stove is up and on at full blast, and pretty much everything on my kitchen island was on the floor. I yelled for HDHusband, who then went room to room in the house thinking we had someone who had busted in.

Honestly.

There are many thoughts that are going through my mind ...

My husband wondered if it could be my dad or his mom. I can tell you my dad wouldn't be flipping on a music box and trying to scare my kid out of the bath. His mom wouldn't be cranking on the stove vent and knocking my flowers over.

I have no other explanation for any of these occurances, but seriously, if you HAVE ONE I haven't thought of, I'll welcome the ideas and suggestions on what to do.

Labels: around the house, ghosts

Ah, the simple life ...




We worry about what a child will become tomorrow, yet we forget that he is someone today. ~Stacia Tauscher

Labels: a bug's life, HDToddler

Honestly, I've never seen such beautiful sunsets as the ones you'll see in Colorado as evidenced by this picture I took the other night:

Labels: 2007, denver colorado, sunset