I am.

 This day has been one of the odder ones. 

I don't really know if I can explain
it. 

For over a year, I am often feeling like I am living in a kind of dream. It's not a developing dream. No stories are being forwarded. No messages are being received. No learning is occurring. 

I can't even really say that I feel as if I'm waiting. Because I don't. 

I just feel as if I'm here, and that's it.

I feel every bit the blob of jelly that I look like and often think I am becoming as my body gives out on me; one limb or one system at a time. I don't -- I can't repeat this enough-- i do NOT feel as if I'm waiting for a "system collapse." 

I'm just here.

I just am.

Yesterday, I was good. I even managed to do some active weeding and replanting in my flower beds. I didn't get it all done, but I got more done than just chopping the weeds (grass) out of the open spaces between plants.

Yesterday was my mother's birthday, but as a family we largely ignored that fact. Patrick Stewart got a lot of well-wishes, though. And Cheech Marin. Really, I was glad that I wasn't having any of those brain blip conversations with her. Until recalling her birthday I hadn't realized that those were happening less often. And that I was glad of that. 

And this morning I had to ice my knee before it would bend. 

And it hurts. A lot. About a 7 on their pain scale.

I had things to do. I needed a trip to the store, and a trip to the laundromat. 

Yeah, lugging stuff in and out of the car and shopping on a painful, reluctantly bending knee. Great start to the day.

My friend posted a notice about a sister-in-law going into hospice. It's barely been 10 days since they buried a brother. (Not the same one.)

I couldn't seem to catch my sisters online. They probably went somewhere and were doing something fun, that I wouldn't be able to participate in anyway. (And They were. I'm so glad they can do that, even when I can't. We've all earned all the fun we can find in life.)

Well, I got to the store, and the laundromat. I got all my freezer groceries brought in and put away, successfully playing either tetris or jenga in the freezer.

I even went out and brought the rest of the refrigerator stuff in and some pop. I stock up pop when I go shopping, because for some reason, multi-packs of Diet Pepsi is a rare commodity around Bethel. Especially at sale prices. (If there's a 4/$10 or 3/$9 sale, the store will have two in stock. If I'm lucky. No sale price that way.) 

I still have shelf stuff groceries and more pop in the car to be brought in.

As far as that goes, my clean laundry is still out in the car. After limping around the laundromat, moving clothes from machine to machine, I just didn't have it in me to drag them in.

But I did get them washed. Yay me. 

At the laundromat, I had to go in the bathroom to cry, because suddenly I was punched in the chest by Tammy nowhere. 

It takes my breath away.

I can't comprehend it. 

I am, and she is not. 

Tonight it's too hot to sleep, and I am still -- suffering, if that's even the right word. 

How can something that exists only as an existence have suffering? Why should it?

Now that the words have spilled and spewed out, perhaps now I can succumb to sleep. 

Perhaps I will just exist in darkness, listening to my tv and the sounds my head makes.

If I do that, I will, eventually, sleep.

Probably. 

Anyway, good night for now, and I'll be back, floating through existence as a miasma.

Blacker than Friday

is 'Black Thursday'
is the early Black Friday sales.

I don't know which I despise the most.
Yes, I said despise. As in disdainfully hate, loathe, and dislike. ALL.

Years and years ago, back in the last century, Black Friday sales used to be FUN! Hurtling through the dark early morning hours to go to stores never worth going to at other times. Hitting the 4 am openers, and then the 6 am early bird stores. Buying gifts that could not be afforded otherwise.

It wasn't even too bad when the "Black Friday" thing became part of the annual routine. The sales weren't as spectacular -- usually they are ordinary mark-downs of last year's leftovers -- and the fun wasn't there because too much traffic was taking its place. Everybody that wasn't working was hitting the sales.

Even the hysteria of  'limited number of items' (because they are selling last year's no-sells) was somewhat tolerable from a distance. Stupid, but tolerable. No one should be assaulted over a toy.

Now however, the whole thing has morphed into blatant money-grubbing. The stores started opening late on Thanksgiving Day, then they started being open "All Day" on Thanksgiving Day.

This year the Black Friday sales all were 'leaked' early, and have been underway for at least a week. There's still a week before Thanksgiving.
I haven't shopped any of them, and there are stores I won't shop, even when it is actually time to do so.

These stores -- Target is one of them -- are making it mandatory for their workers to come in on the holiday day. Yeah, they'll pay time-and-a-half (maybe) but that isn't the point. To many people, especially minimum wage workers, time spent with family is more important than all the money in the world. At least for that one day that is supposed to be about appreciating who and what you have.

I have no problem with the stores being open -- if the people working there want to be there. I always wished I could go to work, maybe, after the meal and the dishes and the guests went home, and the only thing on tv is football games. I'd have volunteered.

There are people to whom Thanksgiving is yet another lonely day, and they'd work or not, however it works out.

And if a store doesn't have the staff to work that day -- that special, family holiday -- then they shouldn't open, or should perhaps only have some areas open (no coffee shop, no fresh-sliced deli, etc.) They should respect the employees who want to respect their families -- not drag them out and demand they deal kindly and patiently with rude and demanding people.

Yes, I categorize the precious customers that way, because for the most part it is going to be the greedy people out grabbing goodies. The "real" people will be at home with their families, especially during the early part of the day.

And if you do go out, after your family's festivities, please remember to thank those who serve you in any capacity. A heck of a lot of them are there because they have to be, not because they want to be, and that's just not fair.

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!."

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.

Black Friday

Watching the craziness on the news last night reminded me, as it often does, of the early days of the event. Back when only a few stores had early bird sales -- my mom and my sister and I hurtling through the dark night down miles of highway and into unknown areas of the relatively unknown city. One favorite was the Gold Circle store. (Do they still have those anywhere?) I don't remember which location we went to. Somewhere in Cincinnati. And it seems, not unreasonably, that the store was up on a hill. I could be wrong about that. It was cold, it was dark, it was fun. The secrets of Christmas seemed to ooze through the air, out of all that hurrying darkness.

Another tradition, swallowed up by the malls and the push to grab the sales, was the Day after Thanksgiving at McAlpins. We went to the one at Cherry Grove Plaza. (It was called a shopping center then; nowadays it would be a strip mall. The only thing new is the words.) There were early bird sales there, too, but they were later -- at least for us! We would have had to go home and get the rest of the family. The big deal at McAlpins that day was the parade and FREE Santa Claus pictures. Not free until noon, not free for the first two hundred customers -- FREE. All day long.

I'm not sure when the McAlpins thing started, but it continued until my own children were old enough to be taken for the free pictures. By then we were into the 90s and malls were taking over the shopping world. They weren't a new idea -- Beechmont Mall had already been around for ages, or so it seemed. But it was an idea that was taking over, and the shopping centers (strip malls of the day) were hurting. McAlpins decided to move into the newly built Eastgate Mall as one of the anchor stores. Eastgate Mall was on different roads and in a different part of the county, and a long way to go for many of the Cherry Grove people.
The first Christmas there, they did have the parade and the free pictures. One of my cherished memories is that of Santa Claus saying to my girls, "I'm glad to see you. You're here every year."
But that was to be the last year. The parade was too difficult for traffic flow, and my god, they couldn't give away free pictures! The mall's Santa would lose business, god forbid!

Now, Santa comes out of hiding before the Halloween costumes are marked down and hidden away. The malls are suffering and closing and losing their anchor stores -- the cost is too high. The sales are too low.
Shopping Centers have returned in their new guise with their new name, and they seem to be thriving. Or at least surviving.

I can't help but wonder if there isn't a connection between the sales troubles and the Santa Clauses. No mall Santa that I know of ever recognized the families that come year after year. Can it be that in troubled times, people would rather shop where they are seen as people instead of so many dollars worth of sales?