It's Free. Isn't That Enough?

I am a member of several Facebook groups that are buy-sell-trade, and a couple that are free stuff only. Not just because I like finding and getting free stuff, but because I like to give away stuff. I have had so much given to me over the years, usually appropriately to my needs. Even when not, the intention has always been . to somehow help, so it's all good, and I want to return that favor. (Those favors?)

I usually don't have decent stuff to give away. I tend to use things until they fall apart. So, when I do have something to give, it's a big deal to me. And a special joy.


I have posted a few items with what I think are accurate descriptions. And have learned to note : No pictures.
The first thing SOMEONE always asks is "Pictures?"
Well, no. (That would be why it says no pictures.)
I have a family, a job, a life. I am not going to spend my time taking pictures of stuff I am giving away. (Selling, yes. Giving, no.) I don't have an adequate camera, I don't have adequate technical skills, and I don't have time.

You are either in need of a couch or want the bag of shoes, or you don't.

I don't mind questions about the offer. Are there holes? What color? Can I choose which ones I do or don't want?

But the requests for pictures drive me insane. (This may be a personal quirk. I'm fine with that.)

I've seen similar responses on other threads. "Pickup only, mornings, in Mt. Orab. And the other party says "Can you bring this to Batavia at 5 pm?"

Greedy lazy and that almost always adds up to ungrateful. (Not always. Sometimes it's just a matter of not being able to make arrangements. Stay at home single moms with very young, no car, vs third shift worker who also has no car, for example.)

Anyway, either you want or need the item offered or you don't. Don't waste my time, or yours.

It's free.
That should be good enough.

Sick and Sad

I finally got a job, started it, was doing well enough to be offered extra hours and -- after I accepted the etra hours, I got sick. I went to the Emergency Room and got medicines and went back to work for those extra hour days.
Not the best plan, but I had said I would do it, so I did it.
But by the time the time was done, I was dragging, and went to the doctor.
Who put me off work for the next five days.

Who gets sick like that? Babies? Old people?
I am neither, although I often feel very, very old.
Being widowed, losing my caretaker role, being unemployed (maybe unemployable) are all aging factors.

Being free of caretaking, being employed, I hope will be freeing. Will restore some youth, some joy, some energy.

So, I got sick.
Boo!

Seems to be a family thing going on. A curse upon our house, or something bad written in the heavens. A  curse upon us!

One sister had bleeding issues back at Thanksgiving and ended up with a hysterectomy in April.
She is doing much better these days -- even has energy to take walks for fun.

Another sister, more recently, fell and hurt her back. It has just come to light that she actually broke a bone in her back. She's still walking and stuff, although it's been painful for her -- but the broken bone isn't even the cause of her pain and discomfort!
She is, ever so slowly getting better.

Bronchitis, even the ever-lasting kind, looks like a walk in the park (for fun) after those experiences.

I'll get better, too.

After all, it's in the stars.

What Am I?

I wonder.

When I lost my Rex, it seems that I lost a large part of my identity.

This wouldn't be so bad, if it wasn't for the huge chunk of me that I lost when I lost my job and couldn't get another one.

Since then, life itself seems to be chipping away at the essential "me."

I got a job and couldn't do it.
I write but have no way to share.
Shared writing has become more difficult and less frequent.
When I do write by hand, my fingers and thumb go numb, and I have muscle spasms all the way up my arm.

I am no longer a wife.
I'm still a mother, but my children are grown. (One is something of a big baby, but she's becoming an adult at a greatly decelerated rate.)
I'm a grandmother, but I can rarely see or take care of the babies, due to economics  (I'm usually literally out of gas.)When I do have them, they frazzle me, and it's not so easy to just take them home. I don't really want to, anyway.

I'm a writer, but losing the physical ability to write.

I'm a friend, but I have little to offer or share with my friends, when I can even keep in touch with them.

So, I am wondering, what am I?

The Working World: adapted from Facebook post.

I hate the job.
I hate the hours.
I hate the work.
I have to see straight lines and color variations. I can do neither of those things under the best of circumstances. And they make me wear safety glasses over my glasses -- y'all can maybe guess how exactly helpful it is to have an extra lens over your lenses when already your vision cannot be corrected to 20/20.

Plus my feet hurt, and my back twists (not as part of the job) I have muscle spasms in my back, in my butt, in my fingers. Comfy shoes are against the rules. We must wear steel toed shoes. They aren't too uncomfortable, but 12 hours and concrete floors are hard, even if I were walking on air.
My hips feel as if they are going to just pop out of their sockets, and that scares me.
I spend my breaks in the bathroom so I can just take off my shoes.




I really wish I didn't have to wear the safety glasses. That extra lens has my vision all discombobulated. But they don't have the side pieces to slip onto glasses, and it's unacceptable to buy my own and wear them. I asked.

Of course, two days doesn't equal a fair chance, so I will be going back tomorrow as I'm scheduled to, but I have to tell you -- it's really really hard, and really really painful. I hope/wish they would find me another job. there's too much waiting on the next person or the last person on the job I am doing. It would be much easier if I could stay steady busy.

But I'll keep trying. Who will come and roll me to the car when mu legs won't support me as I roll out of bed one fine morning? I wish we were having the blizzard. But too much rest may be just as bad, so maybe I'll just roll out in the morning and roll on in

Sui-sides: My side

When I decide to die, it's not your fault. You are in no way responsible for my decision. It's MY decision.

When I choose to die, it won't be about you. I acknowledge that there will be a feeling that I didn't love you enough to live, and there will be a lot of wondering how could I do that to you. I say again, I can't say  often enough -- it's not about you.

I didn't love you enough?

First off, it is my great, great, overwhelming love for each and every one of you that has kept me going this long. Because I have loved you, I got up from my bed and cooked, and advised,  and even drove all over the countryside  because YOU NEEDED ME.
It is my love for you that keeps me trying.

My love for you has kept me going beyond all reason, beyond all sanity.

Sometimes, in the bad times, I resent that. I don't want held. I want free. Free to live my life  -- or NOT!

How could I do what, exactly, to you? End my life? Lay myself down to  a sleep where I won't have to go to the bathroom, or answer  the telephone, or do any of the many, many things that rob me of my rest, that steal peace from me?
How is that doing something to you? What makes you the star of my death?

I'm tired.
I'm sick.
I'm sick and tired.

I am also in pain. Mental, physical, emotional. Doesn't matter. I hurt.
I hurt, and you can't make that better, although  I know you want to.
I hurt, and healing is too hard. Another chore, another job, another effort.

It's not that you aren't worth  the effort -- you ARE.
It's just too hard, and it hurts too badly.

Finally.
I can't.
I just can't.

Not even you can make it worthwhile.

Give me rest.
Let me rest.

Yard Sellin'

As you may guess, I'm having a yard sale. It's a time when I have to do something, and this is what I can think of. I never do well holding these sales, but I do well enough.

According to guidelines and how-to articles, I do everything wrong.

I don't buy advertisement in every local publication. Why not? Because the reason I'm holding the sale is because I need money. Not a lot, just enough to get by.

I also don't wash, dry, sand, dust, paint and in general pretty up stuff. The reason for that isn't because I'm lazy. It really isn't. The reason depends on what types of item it is that I'm selling.

I have a box of miscellaneous saucers, bowls, and plates. I just put that type of discard into that box, and when I do a yard sale, I haul the box out to the yard. Besides, even if they were sparkling clean and shiny, anyone buying them is going to wash them anyway before using. (I have to admit, that does sound lazy. So I guess that is a factor.) I don't see the use in unpacking, washing, drying, waiting, repacking (god forbid a speck of water get in the box.) I'm probably not going to sell any mismatched dishes or serving sets of one. Those seldom sell. So I'd end up  hauling them in and out and back again, over  and over, until I can donate them somewhere.

I have some power tools. I could sand off the metal, I can wash off the gas tanks, I can put in a new spark plug. But I can't start the darned things -- part of the reason I'm selling them. I can't tell anyone how they run. Since I can't start them, I don't know if they run, let alone how well.
Also, I've been burned buying prettied-up gear at yard sales. The seller will tell me, "I just replaced the spark plug." He won't say, "but that wasn't causing the problem." But, because it looks good -- and possibly because of the amount of time and work that went into the prettying-up -- he asks for good money for the item.
My stuff may look old and used -- that's because it is. Unapologetically and unabashedly. But no one has to pay me for sanding and scrubbing.

I have some secondhand bicycles. They were secondhand when I got them. I don't know their pedigree or any event history. I do know that no one in my home is riding bicycles. It's been so long since anyone has ridden that the tires have all gone flat. You fix that with air.

My prices are lower for these reasons.I don't ask pretty prices (although I myself would call them nice-looking.) I ask what would I pay for this at a yard sale. Since I'm a frugal buyer, I add a little more. I know normal people will probably pay more than I would.  I'm always open to offers, too, and expect that. Older-looking stuff brings out the haggler in people.

Heck, I'll even barter if you have the right stuff. That's what I'm going to do with any money made -- trade it in for different goods. Your goods even have an added benefit  -- you came to me. No gas/driving expense or time.

So bring me a sack of taters or a box of eggs -- I'll give you a box of saucers and a rusty Weed-Eater if that's what you want.

We'll both be satisfied that we got the "best deal EVER!."

Soothing Saturday.

What a day this should be. It's cooled off outside -- I'm actually wearing a sweater. The sun is shining, the sky is blue, with fluffy white clouds. There's food in the fridge and the cabinets, and there's a busy little girl with her colors sprawled on my living room floor. She's the sunshine inside the house.

It's been a busy week, and a fairly normal one, I'd guess. A mixture of good and bad, a look at some beginnings and some endings. Scary stuff sometimes, those glimpses into the future.

The most fabulous and the most  frightening was Hailey's birthday party. She turned 4, and such a big girl. She had an "Urel' (Ariel) cake, with Sponge Bob and 'Packrit' added to it -- don't tell Disney, they'll sue us. She had a lot of grown up family there, and the one cousin that we can provide her. He's nearly twice her age at this point. She has another cousin, on the other side, but she's too little as yet for celebrating at a party. Hailey would have been glad to see her, though. She fell in love with that baby while they stayed at Hailey's house.Hailey is definitely wishing for a sibling. (What does a 4 year old know?)

Tam had thoughtfully had the party at a facility so her dad could attend. The August weather, in a good year, is hard for him to take. This year, with all the heat and humidity, it's been impossible.


And it very nearly killed him. Not from attending the party, but by leaving. We opened the door to the parking lot, and the parking lot had been baking in the sun all day and especially all evening while we were inside. It took his breath away.

I am being very literal, and I am not exaggerating. Sheer willpower kept that man on his feet to the car and once in the car, barking like a seal, he used his rescue inhaler and gestured for me to just DRIVE! I wanted to drive to the closest hospital, but he just kept waving for me to drive -- get the air moving, that's what he wanted.

It worked. After a couple miles, we pulled over and I hooked him up to his portable oxygen tank and he made it home and hasn't had too much trouble since, but it was a frightening portent of things to come.


A sad commentary on things that are, as well. We had been talking a bit about taking a trip in September or October. A weekend trip, one day going, one day coming back. We had discussed who might go with us (as alternate drivers), how he could use his nebulizer on the road, costs, etc. The nebulizer, we thought, would be the big issue.

It's not. He may have saved his travels "Later" until they've become "Too late." But that's okay.

I'll enjoy him as he is -- that's the best way to love anyone. I'll enjoy him, and our daughters, and our granddaughter and any siblings-for-her that will someday make an appearance.


To everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose... .
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance...
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;


For now we choose to laugh, and dance (metaphorically speaking), and we both speak and keep silence together. The time will come for the other stuff, but for now --


For now,  we DANCE.

Who's Hungry Now?

I am getting sick and tired -- and mad -- over the defamatory snide comments and patches and things about food stamps. That includes, big time, the media slanders.


First, some facts.
There are more people than ever needing help,.

These are people who have been working for 25, 30, 50 years and they have never -- NEVER -- had to ask or look for any help whatsoever for daily living. They have been paying into the system for years, even decades, and taking nothing out of it.

They have been living on savings and retirement funds and are 'just now' running out of money.

Or they are just now entering the work force and the unemployment line -- returning soldiers come to mind.


The 'advertisements' for food assistance is NOT advertising. They are Public Service Announcements, meant to inform those who don't know where to begin of a place to start. If it's your son returning to his wife and children from overseas, should they go hungry out of ignorance? If it's your grandparent forced into early unrecompensed retirement, must they starve because they bought things when they were working? Your gramma should stand on the street corner selling her Ipod you gave her for Christmas last year because you don't think a person getting assistance should have 'things'?

I thought not.


These newly broke bought and paid for their stuff when they were working, just like the SuperSnobs have done. When you lose your job or get sick for a year, will you be selling your car? Your house? Your electronics that depreciate faster than an automobile?
I think not.

So quit dumping on people for having things. You don't know where or how they got them, or why. Could have been gifts, for all you know.Things could even not work properly but it's all they have.
You may see they have something. It may be something that you don't. You probably have something that they don't.


Big effing deal. That's life.

Too many people are going hungry, are letting their children go hungry, because of ignorance.
The ignorance of the self-important self-approving.

Dark Shadows. (No, not mine.)

Spent the weekend browsing the old show. YouTube has quite a bit, if you have the patience to weed out the Johnny Depp- Tim Burton overwhelming publicity. YouTube has quite a few clips from the old show, including one with the very beginning. Fan club events and interviews, from then and a few from now.

I saw a few clips that might have been from the short run evening version with Ben Cross as Barnabas. I didn't look at those.

What I did not see anything of, is the two movies they made from the show: Dark Shadows and House of Dark Shadows. Not surprising. The movies were pretty bad. By the time the movies were made, the show had lost focus and was campy. Blood and guts and 'boos' and very little story. An adventure into variations of time travel and ghosts and vampires and werewolfs and anything else 'not normal'.  It created a lifelong interest in these things for me, led me to some good reading that led to better research that led to more reading that leads to more research.

Interesting the bizarre storylines were, and even educational. Entertaining they often were not.

Over time, everyone seems to have lost sight of the fact that Dark Shadows didn't start out as a vampire-and-werewolf chiller and thriller.

It started out as a Gothic Romance.

"My name is Victoria Winters.My journey is beginning. A journey that I hope will open the doors of life to me.and link my past to my future."

Victoria Winters, you see, is an orphan. She has been pulled out of her orphanage to be a governess in a big old house by the sea. The residents of the house consist of an angry young boy, an angsty teenaged girl (and could anyone be more angsty than a teen in the late 60s?), the boy's drunken irresponsible father and the girl's mother who hasn't left the house for nearly twenty years.

Pure Gothic as far as genre goes. Nowadays cliched, but back then the genre was undergoing a revival. (Maybe as an outlet for all that built-up angst?)

It took Barnabas almost a year to appear. The first few months were dedicated to straight out mysterious events that had logical explanations. Then the supernatural began creeping in -- ghosts and premonitions and dreams.

Oh my lord, the Dream! I don't remember the details of the dream, but the storyline was that each person would have the dream, but each person added something to it. And when the next person had the dream, the last person who'd had it died. It was one of the most intricate and well developed plot arcs I have ever watched grow daily. Just seeing bits of it, and sometimes the actors, can give me thrill-chills because it was such a creepy story. (It was also a good way to kill off a bunch of characters that no longer fit, which as an author, I appreciate today and didn't realize then.)

The Barnabas-Josette- Jeremiah- Angelique story was well done as well. The ghost stepping out of her picture and opening her music box and waltzing through the big empty room. WOW! This story would be reworked over and over again throughout the show, but the first incarnation was damned good storytelling. So were a few of the others as Barnabas keeps going back to try and change the past, and Angelique or/and her cohorts follow to prevent him from doing so.

This is pretty much where the evening television remake started, and they didn't do a bad job with it. I would have continued watching. But too many people turned it off or turned away from it when it wasn't played for thrills or laughs. A common complaint was that there was too much sex.

Really? It was a soap opera. Or a Gothic Romance. Romance IS usually about sex, is it not? And exactly why was Angelique so obsessed with Barnabas? If it had just been for his money or his standing, his brother would have fit the bill just as well. No, she wanted Barnabas, and it wasn't so she'd have someone to talk to during meals.

So much good drama in there. Good plotlines, good story arcs.

It's a shame that it is being remembered as camp and memorialized for new generations as a comedy. although I don't mind the laughs. From what I've seen, they are mostly clever, if campy, laughs.

But I sure do wish they'd revive the "it was a dark and stormy night" genre of serials. The endings are so much more satisfactory than the endings to the current reality spooky shows.

Badly made by today's standards (and even their own) but entertaining and mysterious and fun.
I guess that's what most people remember -- the fun. 

Flow of Family Fun

My brother's wedding Saturday made me think of how we, as a family, handle the ebb and flow of these get-togethers. Summer means there will be a few, and maybe a few more.

I opted out of many family events because I wanted to avoid conflict with my dad, who is gone now. He and I were on opposite ends of the ideological spectrum, and he was always outspoken about his beliefs. I don't think he ever meant to start any fuss and bother, he just wanted to convince everyone of how he believed.

Add to his firmness, the fact that he was deaf, and whether one agreed or disagreed, one had to shout and make prolonged eye contact to converse. I don't know how it works for others, but shouting, even over innocuous topics, ends up with me becoming angry. Shouting as a physical function, raises the blood pressure, which causes a flood of other reactions.

Anyway, because of the situation, I avoided. Didn't stop my girls from knowing their grandfather, did prevent them from seeing me act like a shrewish lunatic with him.

Now, I see my own daughter mirroring this behavior. Because of work and also because of some personal issues with family members, she has avoided the family get-togethers. No one wants to be involved in a fight, or to be the person everyone in the family fights with or becomes angry over the fighting.
Anyway, she has chosen to abstain from the possibility of conflict.

But she worries about her child not getting to know this side of her family, and the solution Tam reached was the same one I did. To allow the child to attend in the care of another family member. (In her case. me.)

Maybe it's wrong, but it seems to me the best solution. Not in every situation, not for every event, but in general it's a good thing. It acknowledges the importance of family, it keeps up traditions. even starts a new one -- tradition by proxy.

Like all families, we disagree. Sometimes we take sides against one another, and we'll talk to a third member about how stupid so-and-so is about whatever. We can be vicious or angry, or vicious and angry.
But when we get together as a group, we try to enjoy one another's company without conflict. We aren't perfect, sometimes a forbidden topic slips in and someone feels attacked.

We respect one another. We know we are available to each-and-every in at least some way. Making an effort to keep the young ones connected even when we can't teaches them, by example, that family IS important. The events that Family is Fun. No matter if it's you or they who are the stupid or wrong ones. Family IS.

As the worldly world whirls by, as weather wreaks havoc, as all our institutions are besieged, there can be no stronger message to leave our children.

Shower: A Blessing

One of the many, many things we take for granted these days is the ability to take a shower. Or a daily bath. Try to imagine your life without these amenities.

No big deal, you may think. One can wash in the sink, do a sponge bath, use plenty of deodorant and change clothes several times a day.
Yes, but how long will that be effective for the personal hygienic standards we have for ourselves?  How long before you just feel that these makeshift measures are overwhelmingly inadequate?
Because they are indeed inadequate in the long run.

My bathroom is being remodeled. Actually, the floor is being replaced. Everything had to be taken out, and new floor joists put in, which means the foundation had to be adjusted or braced in a couple of places. Nothing is being done quickly, all is being done thoroughly. In the meantime, the only source of water to eash with is the kitchen sink.

To make it worse, I live in town, with house to the right of me, house to the left of me, houses behind me. There is really little expectation of privacy, even with blankets covering the windows and all the doors locked. One doesn't linger over ablutions in those circumstances.
Can't even put up a camp shower because of too-close neighbors and too many out of school children. They like to inspect and question and look.

I never thought I was a person overly concerned with bathing. All the years I worked in fast food ingrained some things more deeply than I knew. One of those things was bathing regularly.

I'm embarrassed.
I don't want to go out.

My baby-est brother (they are all younger than me) is getting married this weekend. One of the reasons I'm not going is because I don't want to embarrass him (them) by being the most malodorous guest, These days I not only look like an elephant, I feel that I am beginning to smell like one.
I picture myself as Pigpen, with clouds of body-stink emanating from me, instead of good clean dirt.

Now, I know some of this may be exaggerated, but I've had persistent body-odor issues in my life. And I just plain don't, can't,  feel clean.

So, don't take your shower for granted. Hug it, kiss it, thank god for it. Add it to your list of things third world people would like to have, like broccoli. Microwaveable broccoli. Bathe with indulgence, just that you have water and soap, and more water to remove the soap, all the soap.

And, oh yeah, if you encounter someone smelly, spend some time conversing with them. It may not be their fault, and you shouldn't be a snob.

Serpent's Tooth

How sharper than a serpent's tooth it is
To have a thankless child!

That's the proverb, originating, much to my surprise, from Shakespeare. Like many of his quotes, it's become muddled in my head with Biblical shibboleths, probably because both employ the same language.

A serpent's tooth? Really? Is that the worst most piercing pain Shakespeare could think of, or his contemporaries imagine? I've never been snake bit, so I really shouldn't comment, but I really think there are or were worse pains.

And a thankless child? Does one expect gratitude from one's children? Is that the epitome of parenting? That your child be thankful?

Truly, that's a good start. A gratitude attitude is usually a good thing, and something a parent wants to instill in the psyche of the little mind and heart entrusted to them.

There are things more important than gratitude. A selflessness. Consideration of others. Work ethic, or perhaps any ethics at all. Cleanliness. Independence.

Thankfulness is nice, and if the other things fall into place, it will be there. But Gratitude is not high on my list of priorities.


Many a parent would be glad to forgo the thanks to have their child returned whole and healthy.

Many a parent would forgo the thanks to have their child free and functioning.

Many a parent would forgo the thanks to have their child not shame and embarrass them in front of friends, family, and the world in general.

How did it ever get started that ingratitude is the hallmark of a dysfunctional parent/child symbiosis?