Brown Thursday? Are you kidding me?

I mean, what makes it brown? The shadiness of forcing minimum wage part timers away fro their families so the rich can get richer? That is shady, to say the least.

It's been a big item in the news and on social media this last week.
Boycott Walmart -- after you start a riot over a tv.
Don't shop K-mart, Target, Big Buy, Best Guy, etc --make sure you bundle up while you wait in line even before Thanksgiving.
Other news stories about how more people than ever will be eating out. Well, they wouldn't/couldn't if the damn restaurants were closed, could they?
Unless they want to line up two frigid nights ahead of time.
Oh, gee, if I want to wait for a meal I can just go "Home" for the holiday and spend it with family!
Silly me.


I would love to blame the media.  Heaven knows they feed the frenzy. Out interviewing the idiots waiting in line on Wednesday. In the stores , with cameras and publicity and regalia and rigmarole on Thursday.
But, in this case, they are doing their job, somewhat. They are reporting on the news.
Not that there is anything "NEW" going on -- this is the fourth or fifth year for this nonsense.

I think they could help.
They don't need to report their precise location when they are broadcasting the Idiot's Lineup.
They don't need to tell everyone which mall they are covering.
They don't need to reveal sale items.

People want to be on tv (and You Tube) and they want to be known for getting good deals.
The stores want all the free publicity they get, and the News Outlets give them that in spades. They don't have to pay a penny.
It's all profit for them.

And that's all you are, if you are foolish enough, or maybe desperate enough (if you happen to be one of the slave wage laborers.)
You are profit.
You are dollar signs.
You are dollars.

You are not a person.
You are not a parent.
You are not a valued ... (customer, consumer, member of the team, part of the staff-- you choose.)

You are profit.

So -- how do you see yourself?

And did you spend your Thanksgiving stuffing your face or stuffing their already bulging wallets?

Hopeless; Helpless; this cannot be me

I have been making my way through the world for a very long time. Sometimes successfully, sometimes not so much. But every day led me into a tomorrow and any time there were changes, I was there, doing my best to make the changes be the ones I wanted.
Or at least to go in a direction that somehow resembled something I wanted or could hope t turn into what I wanted.

It didn't bother me too much when I didn't find work right away when I first lost my job, three years ago this month. Oh, I still put in applications on a regular basis, even had a couple of interviews. No job.

No job, but I had plenty of work to do at home. Rex was getting sicker, and needed me there. The truth of this was borne out when he ended up in the hospital in February. When he came out, Tammy had moved out, Tracy was gone, and it was just the two of us, and we began the journey of returning him to reasonable health, and we had enough for the two of us.

With his medicines and all the changes, it was not enough for a while, and then I got a handle on it again.
And we were good.

Time and more changes, and Rex would get a little more sick and recover to a point of a little less well.
But he was here for me and I for him.

My computer crashed, was replaced, the newer one crashed. And was replaced. We lost Internet service and re-established a connection.

Tracy came back , left again, returned again. Tammy did well, had troubles, recovered and slipped again, but maintained her home. Tammy had another baby.

And the baby was born, and Tracy was here, and once every couple of weeks I would fill out job applications, and no one was interested in hiring me. That was okay, because we were getting by and spending time together.
It was all we could do and we did it.

And then he died, and the whole world stopped.
The income stopped, but the bills did not.
The presence stopped, but life didn't.

I have filled out job applications  at least twice a week. Most places do not take paper in person applications anymore, which works out well when you can't afford to buy gas to go from place to place.

I've never had so much trouble trying to get a job.

And I don't know what else to do.
I just don't.
What else is there? If you have any ideas, please let me know.

I am not helpless. I CAN work; I WILL work.
But someone needs to hire me.

I'm not helpless, but hope is dwindling fast.
Nothing in my life is as it should be.
Nothing.

And I don't know what to do.
Or how to do more.

This cannot be me.
I do not give in to circumstance.
I learn to work with it.

I CAN learn to work with it; I WILL learn to work with it.

Hopeless; helpless; This cannot be me. This will not be me.

Little Guy's Handle on Handling

Our little guy has been slow to hold his own bottle. Here he is, eight months old (as good as) and trying to stand and walk on his own -- actually able to do both while holding on -- but not yet holding his own bottler. Doctor suggested getting him a sippy cup, which I did.

Some of this, I think, is from basic gender differences. Boys seem to learn gross motor skills before the fine ones. My children were both girls, and they did the holding on thing first and early, as far as I can remember. Hailey -- well, someone once gave her a pen or a crayon, and she hasn't put it down except to eat and sleep.
Now, I know that not all boys do it this way, and that some girls may very well ride a bicycle before they can feed themselves. I've been talking to experienced mothers and this is the conclusion I've reached.

Anyway.
Thanksgiving dinner at Tammy's house. (Yes, we shared the meal early. It's an ongoing difficult holiday for us this time around.)

We were waiting to eat, everybody moving around, doing things. I was playing with Warren, sitting him on the table and drinking from a can of pop. At one point, I out down the can of pop, and he made a beeline for that bright shiny can.
He got a hold on it.
And he picked it up, out it to his mouth and tilted it back!.

I called Tammy to come see, and she called the rest of the family, and they tried switching it out with the bottle. The bottle was a little heavier -- probably a lot heavier to the fifteen-pounder -- but he tried.
He really tried.

The best solution he could come up with was to anchor the bottle between his knees and put his mouth on the nipple. He didn't get much milk that way, but by golly, you sure could see the wheels turning behind his eyes.

He already knows how to go after someone -- he even goes down the hall in the trailer looking for his

mommy when she isn't in the room.

Yes, it's a big ol' world out here, Warren baby. It's a good thing to see you getting a handle on handling the "things" of this world.

Someday we may all learn how to handle the intangibles.

Until we do, we can usually find a baby to hug.

Weather Winter

What a crazy few days it has been with the weather.
Temps were near or at 70 over the weekend.  Today I don't think we got out of the forties.

Terrible storms Sunday night, just terrible.
Not as bad, here, as it was west of us. Here, we had a few doppler-indicated tornadoes, and there were a few hysterics who saw funnel clouds in the pitch dark and through pouring rain.
In Illinois and Indiana, there were real, visible, man-eating home-wrecking horrific tornadoes. The destruction is -- there are no words.
One air view of the path, you can see that there were several lottle twisters from one storm cloud/ base, whatever you call it. Like massaging fingers from a massive hand, reaching, seeking, pinching, squashing.

Here we had lots of strong winds and heavy rain.

And Tammy and her babies live in a trailer in a trailer park. I had taken Hailey home not many hours earlier.
I was worried about them, as always, but it seemed there was even less than usual to do. I turned the tvs on weather channels and local channels, and kept an eye on the approaching storm, by going in and out on the porch.
But I was afraid in the Old Way, of the storms that I can't stop and can't do anything about.
Who knew Rex sitting in his chair telling me to stay inside was such a fear diffuser? I missed him so, when I wasn't being a quaking coward.
And sometimes even when I was.

Now it is cold, and getting colder. True winter temperatures are supposed to arrive over the next few days, with snow on or by the weekend. We've already had one ground covering snowfall, and a brief cold snap.

And in between these winter weather advance-and-retreat maneuvers, my precious rosebush is sporting a bud from a died-back limb. A perfect teardrop of a rosebud, where there was no green or no growth, and where the very weather itself was against anything growing, let alone blooming.

Even as  winter comes, there can be a flowering.
Even then.

The Job Search

Who ever knew that finding a job, any job, would be so difficult? I may as well be hunting for unicorns or the Loch Ness Monster. If I were doing the latter, I could probably get sponsors and a budget.

I never completely dropped out of the job search. I regularly would put in applications, and there are a few online places that, if they used paper, could paper a room with my monthly re-apps. But while Rex was alive, he was my priority. Although he was not, until the last few months, so bad he couldn't be left, he was edgy and fitful about any work I might find -- not wanting irregular hours and preferring no driving at night, and all sorts of impossible conditions in a tight job market. Plus having to work around his Dr appointments and the days when he couldn't be left. (Of course, he thought he could; he'd be all right. He'd just not eat or drink until someone came home again.)

Anyway, I never completely quit looking, but I wasn't aggressive about it, either.

Well for not quite three weeks, I have been aggressive.
The result has been the same -- I remain unemployed..

I am surprised. I don't want any executive type position.
I don't want a specialist position.
I don't want a licensed position.
I don't want a certified position.
I just want a job, any job. I will be there, on time if not early. Any time, day, night, or in between. Overnight. Back when I was working, that would have been a bonus. Someone to be depended on. They were treasures, the Old Reliables.

I want to be an Old Reliable.

There have been a few -- very few -- interviews.
I believe the "Old" may be the problem. No on wants Old.
Combine it with fat, and youthful hirers see only Losers.
Darned kids don't know anything, do they? Every company family needs a Mom (or Gramma). Every company family needs an anchor, someone that can be called and can be counted on to be there.

It's winter now. I think there may be some learning this hard lesson as weather keeps the inexperienced at home.

But will it be in time for them to hire me?
They can only hope so.

No Neighborhood? Not Nowadays.

I have to admit, I'm surprised. Even disappointed. There has been no outreach from my neighborhood after the death of my husband. And we live and have lived in this small rural town (Winchester Ohio in Adams County) for several years.

I'm not complaining, just observing. I have plenty of support and assistance from my personal (not physical) neighborhood. Not complaining, but surprised.
Not complaining, except about one issue.

The local newspapers did not run my husband's obituary. One paper didn't run the obit at all; the other county paper ran an abbreviated version. I don't complain that they didn't make a big deal, or didn't make him the headline, or anything like that. That would be unrealistic, considering that we are not lifetimers in the town (or even the county.)
But we have lived here, quietly enough, for several years. My husband offended no one, was in no trouble these years, was a quiet man living a quiet life.
Wouldn't you think an inoffensive man could, on the occasion of his death, have all his credentials (or relatives) credited to him in the place wherein he lived?
Is that so much to ask?
Is it too much to ask?

Another surprising observation is that I received no communications from any of the local churches. It sure was different a few years ago! The churches then (more than ten, less than fifteen years ago) would send out a condolence card of some sort. Some sent full sized cards; others would send post cards; still others would enclose a small card, along with a comforting tract or two.
Some churches would have visitors who made condolence calls, unsolicited.I have to admit,  I am glad that practice has (apparently) stopped. It's no time for strangers to visit.

I am surprised that there was no outreach from the churches.
One of the churches hosts a bereavement group -- but the only way I know that is because I looked it up online, following advice from a friend. This church is pretty active in the community, so it was no surprise that they have this group. It was a surprise that no one had let me know that it was available.

And there have been no solicitations for memorials and plaques and headstones. No one offering to take the nonexistent insurance money. Did get one card about monuments, but it was from two counties and many miles away; nothing local.

Just surprising.

And, if this is true for someone like us, who have been here, what support is there for relative strangers? How can they cope or find help, or anything? How many in our neighborhoods have died and left behind loved ones truly bereft because there is no help or no heart in our neighborhoods anymore?

Someone should recognize each life in the community, long term or on a short visit. A life lost in a community is a life lost to the community. 

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.

It's a TREAT!

Not a right.
or, in the language of today -- not an entitlement.

I am talking about trick-or-treating, or Beggar's Night as the older people still call it.

Communities set up times for kiddies to don costumes and take up plastic, pillowcases, or whatever and go door-to-door saying "trick or treat" and getting candy, pencils, pennies or other treats.

This year, Mother Nature stepped in with big winds and her own twist to the spirits roaming the night. (Hey, there's a reason our ancestors chose the dates they chose for these things.)

Communities and parents were instantly up in arms, as much as two days before the scheduled event.

Now, in some cases, cancelling turned out to be a wise thing. One town 'found' children in a tornado shelter after a tornado.

HOWEVER:

1) Cancelling a non-essential activity because of a weather forecast.
Are you kidding me? Even the best scientific weather predicting is around 60% accurate. Bunions and bones and migraines are a little bit better -- possibly up to 80%. But how in the world will any of us ever get anything done if we reschedule every time the weather forecast is bad. Even at its best, a weather forecast is still a "best guess."

2) "But it's for the safety of the children." Sorry. That is the primary responsibility of the parents. Whether there's weather or not (and there will be) it is up to the parents if the child goes out to participate in any community event. The established times are the community attempt to provide safe limits for the children.
Those children found, it was their parents decision to allow them out. The town said "this is when we will permit this activity" The town did not say "This is when we guarantee the safety of the children doing this activity."

3) Cancel or not cancel,  All this did was cause confusion. It also allowed avarice and encouraged greed. Children can go to trick-or-treat any number of nights, if they have that kind of parent.
The good side of this is that it allows more extended family to enjoy the fun with the little children. My grandbabies got a night with one grandparent, one with parents, and then another with another grandparent. We all enjoy the kids and their fun.
But that's not everyone's motivation, is it?

I'm sorry.I see all this fuss about trick-or-treat as an extension of the entitlements everyone is screaming, fussing, whining and fighting about.

One woman even referred to trick-or-treat as a "right" of passage for her children.
 No, it's not a right.
It's a rite, which is by definition optional.

My opinion is that it would be better to schedule a follow up if there is a poor turn-out due to weather, and then only if the community asks for it. If there are weather warnings, or even watches, AT THE TIME of the event, then clear the children off the street. If parents can't be found, take the children to a designated bad-weather shelter.

I'd like to see more enforcement of bad weather advisory stuff. Tornado warnings mean get to shelter, not hurry to McDonald's. Winter storm warnings are for getting bread and milk and kerosine, not buy new clothes and shoes.

But, this is another topic for another time.

Trick or treating is a TREAT.
Not a Right.

Please, parents, save your energy and outrage for important stuff, like the right to eat healthy and to stay healthy.

I don't know...

It's ten days now since he died.

image found on Google search.

Ten days of things to do and things to take care of, and all the life goes on stuff.
Still much to do, a lot to figure out, and everything is hinging (hingeing?)on everything  else. Tried to call Social Security, but no one on the phone would talk to me. Couldn't give me any information related to Rex because of not having his permission. Never mind that he has deceased, died, is unavailable. They can't talk to me without his current consent.

Good luck with that.

Will have to go to office, which has to wait until I have the death certificate. I'm going to have to go in person, so I can go to Batavia. If  try to make an appointment from home, they will send me to the Portsmouth office. I barely know where Portsmouth is (on SR 125 East). I sure don't know where to find anywhere in Portsmouth.
I do know where Batavia is and the places in Batavia.
If we still lived in Mt Orab, or even Decatur, we would automatically go to Batavia. Seems the Social Security Administration does NOT consider Adams County as part of the Greater Cincinnati area, while Brown County is. This has made it interesting before. I just truck myself and my paperwork to Batavia at my convenience. If I get in early enough, I don't have to wait too long.

But first, I got notice from Adams County Jobs & Family Services. I am to report Monday to their jobs program (which has no jobs, but they are required by law to do the sign-ups, etc.) Didn't take them long to remove me from being a care-giver, although they have yet to acknowledge the prospective change in income.

Also got a medical card for Rex in the mail. We've never had one of those for him before. I kind of thought a little late, but as I have yet to be billed for anything, it's probably not too late. I think it's one of the changes for the disabled that has come with the Affordable Care Act.
At least I will have something to send when the bills come.
The brief letter with the card (sheet of paper) said nothing about the spendown, so I wonder if that's still in play or not.

I guess I'll find that out, too.

I do wonder what I will do when all this busyness is done. When there is nothing more to hurry up and wait for.

Something else to be found out.

Good Bye, my Love. Farewell

Yesterday, we said formal good-byes to my Rex.
I won't say final good-bye, because, for me, there is no finality. There's always a qualifier.
Until we meet again
In this lifetime

For others, who did not live with him daily or minute by minute, the farewell is more final. That's okay. Good-bye is not Gone Forever. They will have their own memories and cherished moments. There will be times when something reminds them of the time "Rex and I" did such-and-such . There will be times when they think I must call Rex, and then remember that they can't.
Over and over they may have heart-stopping moments like that.

I had thought at first to have a viewing, a visitation. I had found out that I could, and decided to do so.
But I woke in the night with Rex's thoughts in mine, and what he was saying was that he didn't want people staring at him.
That is so exactly what Rex would say, how he would feel, that I could not ignore it. There would be no staring at the empty body.

The service was another problem. Rex was rampantly anti-preacher. He'd want no part of a preaching.
How does one have a funeral without a preacher, or perhaps some trained motivational speaker or something?

One returns to the traditions of funeral speaking -- those who loved; those who knew the deceased. The fond farewell from loved ones.

My sisters spoke, for him, and our daughter's spouse.Together we worked on things to be said -- a brief bio of the man Rex was, and a speaking of how he lived.

There were two things important to me. Rex was not religious. As I said, he was against anything that smacked of preaching. But the way he lived his life was so Godly, in many ways ; so very Christian.
"Whatsoever you do to the least of my brothers, that you have done unto me."

Rex lived that.
It wasn't easy.
He agonized over issues; over should he or shouldn't he; over is it best.
Sometimes he shouldn't.
Sometimes it isn't best.

But it was the right thing to do.
So, however reluctantly, however unwisely, he would choose the right way of doing things.
Just because.

Already one daughter is following that example. (The other hasn't had much chance.)

Rex was no Christian as the world and the organized churches see Christian.
But he led a Christian life.
He had a Christ-like soul.

and there's nothing more to say.