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.

A New Page of the Calendar

Well, October the Horrible is over.
It's November now.
Cold.
The first snow flying.
Thanksgiving.
November 2013. The first November in 27 years that I won't have my chosen companion to spend it with.
There's a germ of acceptance in the turning of the page.
A grimness.

But the calendar is only doing what a calendar does. Marking time passed.

I know that this year, it will be different finding things to be thankful for.
I hope one of the things will be a job.
Another would be a place for independent living.
But even if those don't happen, I will still have my wonderful sisters to be thankful for, my friends (and don't  let anyone tell you Facebook friends aren't 'real'. They are more real than the next door neighbors.), my daughters, my grandbabies. For November, I have a roof over my head and enough to eat.

Maybe December will change that or maybe it won't.

I won't know until it is once again time to turn a new page on the calendar.

Thanks Giving

We all have a lot to be thankful for. What's "a lot" to me may be only a little to you, but it's the size of the thankfulness that counts more than what the thankfulness is for.

I bring this up for several reasons.
1)A Facebook friend posted a 'month of gratitude' status.
2)We have, mostly, survived a natural disaster. It could have been so much worse. Those where it hit the hardest and are still being hit -- one horror after another -- are a reminder to those of us not afflicted.
3)It's November. Halloween is over. It's time for Thanksgiving here in the US.

Do you hear that, people? Media? Advertisers?

Halloween is over. It's time for Thanksgiving.
Not Christmas.
Not "the Holidays"

Thanks Giving.

Yesterday, a commercial for a local station's news had a cheery voiced woman announcing "Halloween is over. Time to gear up for the next holiday. This years must have-toys for Christmas. See our story at five."

I don't watch that station's news and very little of their programming anyway, but really? How many stories will they be doing four weeks from now on "Thanksgiving, the forgotten holiday?"
Hypocrites.

I tried to post a protest on their Facebook page -- it wouldn't take. Tried several times. Tried liking/friending to be able to post, still couldn't post. I undid that pretty quick, you can bet.

The media will all do/make/have big stories about the "rush to Christmas." I've already seen a few. The problem is -- they are a large part of the problem. If they didn't do stories on the top ten must-have toys. If they didn't preface miracle/ goodwill stories as early Christmas.

Imagine if the news (local, national, or its own private network) didn't run ANY Christmas stories until after Thanksgiving. The holidays wouldn't be so rushed in and pushed into our consciousness, and the stories themselves would be more special, more effective. They would have their own place to sparkle and shine and move people if they were treated as the seasonal treats that they are meant to be.
To help explain -- candy corn is available year-round, but it doesn't taste the same in April as it does in October. Jelly beans aren't the same in October. Because that is the time and the place for them.

Oh advertisers are more obviously guilty, but how would it benefit the advertisers if the media ignored their pre-emptive extravaganzas, such as top-ten lists? If those news people weren't attending these events, the advertisers would lose money and maybe even actually have to pay out for their ads.
Isn't that what they are supposed to do?

And the fourth item on my list has to be
4) Us. People.
We need to take this time, to make this accounting of our lives, our families, our things. We gripe and complain, true, but what effect can there be when we watch and buy anyway?

It is OUR power to change things. Let's stop talking and start thanking before we shop.

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.

Fear of Phobia

I'm becoming, I'm afraid, a borderline agoraphobic.
No, I have become a borderline agoraphobic.
The becoming I'm worried about is the full blown phobia.

I don't think that will ever happen. I have too many chores and a granddaughter. That should be enough to keep me getting out on a fairly regular basis. And there are doctor's visits for my husband, and going to the pharmacy, and grocery shopping.

Those things should all keep me going, keep me out and about. I'm not so sure they will. Even if they do, I'm not sure that some of those things count. I don't enjoy them. I don't relish going to Walmart after prescriptions. I don't stop at this store or that and peek and poke and just enjoy myself, just enjoy getting out, even though God knows I rarely get alone time except in the car. Maybe alone time isn't really that important, anyway. I can always be alone inside myself. Inside my computer, or lost in a book. (That's not really alone, though. There are people in those books, and some of them are stupider than the ones in real life. Who'd've ever thought that was possible?)

In some ways, I feel I've been heading that way -- this way -- for all my life. I've never been able to easily or naturally speak to other people, sometimes not even those I know well. I have had my electricity and my water shut off because I was unable to make the telephone calls to make arrangements to pay. (Many years ago; not recently.)

But now I leave reluctantly. Not even my writers group holds the same interest for me, because my life has so changed. For a year I had limited contact with the real world.
I had no telephone and no internet. Because of Rex's hospitalization, and his doctor's and medicines, and having to pay other people gas money, the bills got way behind. So there was little talking with anyone, except when I needed something. That doesn't encourage socializing from either party involved. At least I didn't feel that it did. .

No car -- I had to get rides, or arrange rides, everywhere and anywhere. Few trips were worth the trouble. My writer friends were the ones with the most available help, but my sisters were always there also. The writers happen to live and work closer.
But even with their help, I was isolated and alone, and there's too much to handle alone, but I did it.



I did it all, from the safety net of my home.

I'm afraid, often. I'm afraid to leave because I worry about Rex getting sick or falling when I'm gone. Some nights I can't sleep, because I'm afraid I'll wake up and he won't be breathing. I'm afraid to drive anywhere, because what if I'm involved in an accident and get hurt? What will happen to Rex when someone else brings him that kind of news? Who will take care of him while I can't?
My God, what if I get crippled?
What will happen to Rex if I get killed?

Rex, bless his heart, encourages me to go to my group, and to go to family events, if he knows about them. I usually don't tell him, because he won't /can't go. And I don't want to leave him alone for hours at a time. All the what-ifs come alive when that happens.

I can't let this progress. It must not be allowed to get any worse. Even I cannot live that self-contained. There are chores that must be done, errands that must be run. And what kind of example am I setting for Hailey if I turn myself into the Hermit Grandmother? It's bad enough that Pappaw is already that way.

Thank goodness for summer, for the season of picnics and reunions and weddings. Thank God for sisters and friends and other family who will coax me or bully me out of my little blue hole. They, more than anything I can do, are what keeps me straight, keeps me trying. Keeps me on the sane side of the line,

I can thank none of them enough. Ever.

As I lay dying (or so I thought)

Yesterday I thought I was entering my final illness, persistent cramping diarrhea. The pain was worse than childbirth (except for the actual birthing). The effects of dehydration were debilitating, as you can imagine. My sister and my nephew had both commented on bellyaches, so I thought there's probably just something going around, and it was nothing major.

As the day wore on, I changed my mind about that. If there had been gas in our car I would have had my husband take me to the hospital, even though I have no insurance and every test, every procedure, every help would have to be paid for by us. At that point (about 3 in the afternoon) even the IV for dehydration would have been worth the cost. Because I was afraid to drink anything, even warm water.

Instead, I went to bed.
While in the bed, I reviewed my life. It's the first time I ever did that when I wasn't contemplating suicide, so it was a novel experience in its way. The results of the review were more satisfactory this way, I have to admit, but there were some things not so satisfactory.
Of course.

I wished I had played more with my girls when they were young. More walks, more pushing on swings, more silly talk, more books read together, more time. Just more time to enjoy them. But pushing swings is boring after the first couple of shoves to get them going, and neither of my daughters had any great interest in books when they were young. We did walk, from time to time, and the walks nearly always had that 'special' air. I suppose that's a good thing. The regret over not taking enough walks is partly because it indicates a lack of special times, so if the times it happened were special -- well, there's just a balance there, so that one is probably okay.
I hope.

I wish I'd had more patience at some times in some of my jobs, but I have no big regrets over any of those. I gave every job I ever did everything I could, everything I had. Sometimes I didn't have much, and sometimes I hated the work, but I gave it my all. Sometimes my all was more, often less, but it was what I had and I put it into the work.

My writing? I have four completed novel manuscripts on top of the bookcases. I have three of those novels on floppies, which do me  no earthly good these days, but maybe somewhere, someday... someone. I have various writings here and there. It would be nice for my family if I could become posthumously famous, so that I'm not leaving my family nothing but a hole in their hearts.
I hope.

The good-bye letters I wrote a few months ago worried me a bit. I thought about tearing them up before I died, but decided I'd just leave a note with them. Don't remember if I dated them or not. Probably not. I wanted them to be generic, any time. I have letters written to Tracy and to Rex and, I think, to Jean. I haven't been able to bring myself to pout anything in writing for Tammy-and-Hailey. No good excuses for saddling her with my responsibilities, which she would be the one carrying the brunt of the load after the dust settles. No good excuse, no reason.
Anyway, I decided to just write a note, or maybe I'd get a chance to tell Jean before I expire in the hospital. "Hey, never mind those. I wrote them for Christmas last year, or maybe the year before."

It was a different thing to look back at my life this way, from this new angle. I didn't have no instant conversion to wanting to continue living in spite of all its pain, which I have seen happen. I wanted the pain to stop. I wished that I had done some things differently, but feel that I did the best I could at the time.

That's what we should all be doing. The best we can, with what we have. The what we have can be time, or energy, or even interest. Money of the lack thereof is a partial excuse, not a good one.

Be the best you that you can be.

Do the best you can with what you have.

Watch and work and learn and live.

Then,  you can contemplate death with equanimity. Is there any better way to live?

Food

A discussion last night on Facebook about food got me thinking about -- you guessed it, food. The discussion started with an innocent (I assume) question: Do you have any family food stories?
The answers came slowly at first, and were about a word here a misunderstanding there, and then one person's memory sparked something that happened in another family, and the conversation was up and running.

I think everyone has food memories. That's why there is such a thing as comfort food. Every family has food memories, and possibly even food fights. Somebody changed a recipe. To an aunt this change is a delightful discovery; to a sibling it's an act of sacrilege; to an in-law it's a who-cares issue.

Food mobilizes us in a way other things don't. The only other thing as stirring (hee hee) is, in fact, family. Oh, we can get upset over our love life -- or someone else's. We can worry about a roof overhead and room mate issues, even money matters can make us crazy. But not even money has the emotional impact of food and family.

Our first urge is to find food. After the ordeal of being born, we start sucking. We want fed.
And so we go through life. We want our bodies fed, we want our minds fed, we want our sould fed, we want our spirit fed.

While we are feeding our minds we ate milk and cookies, or thought about them. Most churches have communion service on a regular basis. While this is admittedly no great feast for the body, it shows the importance of food. Primitive rituals like breaking bread or sharing salt are important.

As important now, in the land of too much and the time of too many, as when they meant friend or foe.

Nowadays our emphasis is on not eating too much, or too much of the wrong things. It's important to keep in mind, though, that eating is an imperative we are born with. We can't change that.

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?

Snow and ice/ not so nice

well, we had another 'winter storm' last night. This one was mostly ice, making everything slick and slippery. (Yes, both.) It was a Friday night, no big sports events. If we have to have a winter storm, that's the time to have one.
With no sunshine this morning after, the aftermath hasn't looked too impressive. That makes it more dangerous in many instances.
But it could have been so much worse.

Chicago and points not-so-far north measured snow in feet. Winds and temperatures didn't melt anything, to say the least. Traffic pictures were horrible. Seemed to be miles of cars going nowhere on the freeways. I hope there were plenty of blankets, plenty of juice, lots of blankets. I hope there was enough to share for the few and the fools who set out unprepared.

There were accidents here, too, of course, but no national station is broadcasting our stopped traffic.

This winter has been cold, but not too wintry -- as yet. It always makes me uneasy when the forecasters call for big storms that turn out to be little ones. It's not unusual for winter to not 'hit' until after Groundhog's Day. The cold usually makes an earlier appearance.

I don't want to see winter storms, but I really hate it when they are predicted to the point of hysteria, and then the reality is fractional.

I should be as thankful for that as I think people should be that they aren't more northern. But, like them, I am only annoyed that we are all inconvenienced by whatever has come our way.

And I hope everyone on that horrible roadway is safely tucked in at home tonight.