Footsteps to Follow

The footsteps of great men have lead the way and we are left alone to follow them. Some have left prints so deep in the sand that they look like mini lakes to those of us standing on the shore and looking forward. How can anyone possibly fill the shoes that left steps imprinted so deep?

The answer is, no one can. Great men never intended for someone to walk directly in their footsteps. They merely hoped that by leaving a mark behind, others may head in the same direction and forge their own paths somewhat parallel.

This does not mean great men never had faults, doubts, or struggles. It just means even when they were brought to their knees they still moved forward. Grief can be strong enough, even for a stranger, that it may feel as if your feet were cut from underneath you. Keep moving forward anyway. It is what those we grieve for did, and what we must do if we want our paths to remain parallel.

Leonard Nimoy, you will be missed.

“I am not left handed…”

Earlier this year I remarked that this looked like it was going to be a year of change. So far, it looks like I was right. I am still adapting to my new work partner but we get along pretty well. I still have a moment or to where I think of something to tell Jessi only to remember she isn’t there. We still keep in touch through phones and Facebook but it is different than meeting face to face seven nights a week.

I had to get a new phone recently as well. Last week the old one decided it wasn’t going to let me answer calls any more. It would ring and show me who was calling but it absolutely refused to let me answer calls. (I am typing this on the new one.)

My right hand is wrapped to the forearm in ace bandage right now and that makes fine movements diffcult. I am not certain what I did to it but it hurts to lay it flat and it really hurts it I try to open anything. My left hand is handling most of the heavy tasks but it is lazy because it doesn’t usually have to work this hard. I am just glad I can use both hands. I know people who are so positively right or left handed it is impossible for them to do anything with their non- dominant hand.

The thing that annoys me is not that I have to use my left hand, it is that I can’t use both hands at the same time with the easy I am used to.

Gaelic Storm

My Sister-in-law’s birthday was in January. For her birthday my brother and I surprised her by taking her to a Gaelic Storm concert. She was unfamiliar with them but loved the show and berated me for holding out on her. I have listened to their music for years but this was the first live concert I’ve seen. It was absolutely fantastic.

The building they preformed in was over 105 years old and I believe used to be an opera house. The setting combined with the music came together to form some wonderful memories of a night we won’t soon forget. (Wooden floors are perfect for when you really want to stomp your feet in time with the music.)

 

 

A word from Ursula K. Le Guin

This is worth a listen.

http://blog.theliteracysite.com/ursula-leguin/?utm_source=social&utm_medium=twc&utm_campaign=ursula-leguin&utm_term=20150210

Unburden

I know you are supposed to be careful what you post online because it will be there forever and possibly the whole world can see it. If you wouldn’t say it in a crowd of strangers then you shouldn’t say it online. However, at the moment I feel a little heart sick.  I think that if I were standing in a crowd of strangers that if they would listen I would talk.

It isn’t exactly one thing that is weighing on me. In fact things should be looking good in my life right now. Tonight is the last night at my, to pay the bills, job for a week and the kids have a long weekend. I am up to date on the bills and while I do still have to buy groceries, I should have a little left over to do something fun with the kids while they are out of school.

So why do I feel like crawling under my bed, building a blanket fort, and staying there?  Well, I a sure part of it is the anxiety depression talking. I know that and yet I can’t just make it go away by simply knowing that it is causing problems.

Another part of it is that I got into an argument at work and thoroughly lost my temper. It has been a stressful week. The boss was on vacation, the pharmacy practically imploded, and there has just been one minor crisis after another. Then one of my co-workers decided to confront me because another co-worker told him I got upset because he left an hour early the day before. It was true. I did get upset. Instead of sticking around for his assigned hours, I felt like he pushed the whole mess into my lap and left me to deal with it alone. There was a ton of work to be done and from what I could see he hadn’t even attempted it.

From his point of view, it had been the day from hell and he just wanted out. I do understand that. It has been that kind of week. However, I still do not think it was wise to pull me to the side the next day and attempt to give me a lecture over why I should not have been upset.

People are entitled to feelings. Yes, I was upset. But I continued to do my job, had a good rant while in the office, and then tucked it away because there were more important things to do. By the next day I was over it…until the lecture began. Then it was all new and fresh, no sleep with a side of pissed off.

The fact that he tried to justify himself by bringing up my own faults was just gasoline to the fire. Shaking and teary-eyed I had to turn and walk away before I did something that my boss would have had to fire me for. (The fact that the co-worker in question is over a decade younger than me and over a foot taller didn’t help matters.)

The boss was back the next morning and took care of matters but she had a sudden death in the family so she is off again on bereavement. The death happened around the same time as the argument with my co-worker.

I talk to customers at work, turn on the t.v. at home, or pick up a paper, and all I see is a world gone mad with too many people hurting themselves and others. I hate it. I want to fix it but I don’t know how. All I can do is write about it. I can write out my hurts, that are so insignificant to the larger ones like losing a loved one. I can unburden my heart with words on paper.

It doesn’t really help the world, but it does help me deal with it and keep moving. Maybe if more people could unburden themselves in a similar fashion the world wouldn’t be as tied in knots as it is.

Sibling Rivalry?

My ex-husband and his wife are moving west. In preparation of their move they are condensing their worldly belongings and looking for homes for the pets they can’t take with them. That is how I ended up with a teacup Chihuahua. To be honest I am not really a dog person.

I isn’t that I don’t like dogs. I do. I love to play with other people’s dogs. I just don’t really see myself as a dog parent. Especially when I have seen guinea pigs bigger that the dog in question.

In my experience little dogs tend to be yappy needy things I don’t have the patience for. Yet, when my son looked up at me with those big blue eyes; I caved and agreed that it would be best for the dog to go to someone he was already familiar with. (Yes I am a sucker. That is how I ended up with three cats rather than just the one I planned on.)

So far Duke Tiberus, a.k.a the dog, hasn’t been too much trouble. He likes to sit close to whomever is home and he shivers a lot but he doesn’t argue when I give him a bath and he allowed me to attach a bow tie to his collar. (Because bow ties are cool.) He lets me know when he needs to go out and he eats very little.

However, all is not peaceful in my house. I have three cats. They were not happy about the

Panda

introduction of a dog into their household, especially my son’s cat Casper.

I expected more trouble from Panda, the eldest of the three and self appointed queen of all she surveys. She responds to Duke more along the lines of “What the heck is that?! Keep it away from me!”

Max

 

 

 

 

Max, our blind kitten and youngest, just keeps his distance and sneaks up for a sniff when the dog is asleep. Casper on the other hand is not happy. My son is his person and now his place on the bed and in cuddles has been taken by this tiny thing that isn’t even as long as his tail. He hisses and spits and chases the poor dog up and down the hall. Whenever he notices Duke attempting to get close to me, he quickly claims my lap.

Casper

(Neither one ask for my opinion.)

Duke Tiberus has only been living with us for a little while. I am hoping things will settle down and they all learn to get along. Since he lived with a cat before, Duke is fine with his feline brothers and sister. He used to sleep and cuddle with the cat he lived with. I am sure he would do the same here if they give him the chance.

You’re Not My Friend

When my son was around three or four, I took him and his sister to McDonald’s for lunch. Some friends of mine were meeting us and we agreed to sit at a table in the play place to let the kids play while we talked. Lunch was quickly consumed.

My daughter, being more out going, disappeared into the maze of tunnels that wound above our heads. My son on the other hand, crawled through the plastic lion’s head to play with metal keyboard on the wall. Soon, my daughter had made friends with some of the other kids, while my son happily plunked out tunes by himself.

After a while another little boy wandered through the lion’s head and over to where my son was playing. He also began pushing buttons playing the toddler version of music. With a frown on his little face my son looked up at the new boy and very clearly stated, “You aren’t my friend.”

From the tone in his voice it was obvious he wasn’t trying to be mean. He sounded a little confused and as if he were trying to clarify something for someone. It was like the preschool version of I think you have mistaken me for someone else.

My friends all heard him too since we were sitting at the table closest to the plastic lion’s mouth. Since then there have been quite a few times when those words have echoed through my mind. My friend Jessi has said she has experience the same thing.

When faced with a cheerful stranger who insists on speaking to me as if we are best friends, or when someone speaks to me while we are standing in a silent line. Often I will be pulled from wherever I was inside my own head. During that moment of confusion while I am still trying to adjust to the regular world, my brain offers up the words “You’re not my friend.”   I never say it of course, but for that small bit of time I  completely empathize with that puzzled blonde haired little boy playing music to himself in the McDonald’s play place.