Month: January 2009

  • Well, Boots is diabetic.

    My options are to either chase and catch her once or twice a day to give her insulin shots - and haul her into the vet regularly for glucose tests - or have her put to sleep.

    I don't like either option.

    Let's see....need to decide this, plus get hold of the police report for the insurance people, plus go down and find out what's wrong with my driver's license, plus decide what to do about the damage (slight) to the Mariner,

    So far 2009 is a continuation of 2008, and I didn't like 2008 at ALL.

  • Today I went down and bought myself that twin adjustable bed I'd wanted, hoping that'll help me sleep. It gets delivered on Wednesday! Could have had it tomorrow only Don's and my king bed is still there, so there wouldn't be room.

    Tomorrow after church I'm going to go rent a U-Haul truck (the small one) and Charles and Dmitry (and perhaps Dan and Joe, but I haven't brought it up to them yet, anyway Charles insists he and Dmitry can manage by themselves) will take the chair Don liked so much (heaven knows why...I've never cared for it particularly) from the bedroom and the king bed over to Jessica's, pick up one of hers, then continue on to Charles' apartment so he can have that bed and the chair.

    Plus tomorrow will be my first time to sing in the Christ Chapel choir, poor things. Whatever key it is they favor is not a key favorable to me, that's for sure. It's either too high or too low.

    I'll try to sing quietly or else lip-synch.

  • It took awhile but yesterday I finally thought to use my phone to take photos.


    Trouble is, the Mariner has a long front or hood, at least compared to the Venture, causing me to have to ooch out aways into the street to be able to see past those stupid bushes.  One can see the middle and inside lanes's the outside lane that is badly obscured.

    I think the city ought to make that restaurant cut those dumb bushes down.

  • It has been well and truly said, if it's not one thing, it's another.

    This morning I headed off to Women in the Word, the women's bible study at Christ Chapel, and profited quite a bit from it. The study is entitled "Facing the Future with Confidence" and is basically an exposition of Deuteronomy.

    Shortly after that I went for my first grief counseling session and found it helpful as well.

    Then I drove to SuperTarget, and next to the new post office building between University and Bailey to drop some mail in the box. Was actually feeling pretty cheerful, singing "For All the Saints" as I drove. Much, much better than yesterday, which was a dismal, crying day!

    Until I tried to turn onto University. There's a restaurant called J&J's (or something like that) that has a bunch of bushes in front of it just to the north. There weren't any cars coming that I could see so I cautiously pulled out, keeping a sharp eye out which was good, as suddenly a small light blue sports car came zooming toward me in the outer lane, having been obscured by the bushes. I hit my brakes to stop then, to my horror, heard and felt the distinctive crunch that comes from being rear-ended.

    What really made it horrible was I was driving Don's Mariner. First time I've driven it since Alex returned the van, but the van's low on gas and it's so cold, I figured I'd just drive the Mariner instead.

    And got into an accident.

    Believe me when I tell you, my reaction wasn't pretty. Total, complete meltdown. Hysterical sobbing, to the point the people in the other car wanted to call 9-1-1. I made quite the scene, sad to say. A dear woman named Robin - who wasn't involved in the accident - rushed up and stayed with me, ushering me first back into the Mariner, then thinking better of it and taking me into the post office to wait, as the man who hit me wanted the police called.

    So there's the Mariner, partially blocking the outside lane of University. One of the men found a cone or other sort of neon orange barrier and set it up.

    Robin wanted me to call someone so I called Jonathan, but she spoke with him, telling him what had happened. She refused to leave until he arrived, bless her heart. What a kind woman she is!

    After a few minutes Jonathan arrived, and a bit after that the police did. The man driving the other car was depressed to hear since he rear-ended me, the accident's his fault.

    However, imagine my shock when the police officer asked me if I had any idea why my license isn't clear! "No!" I stammered. I haven't been in an accident or had a ticket or anything, much less been arrested. He said the system didn't show why it wasn't clear, just that it didn't come up as clear, which normally it does.

    So I got a ticket for driving with an invalid license, and have to go to the DMV to figure out what the heck is wrong with my license, and then to the court house, hopefully to get it dismissed.

    Didn't see THAT coming.

    The Mariner's not damaged too badly, as it's high enough the other car - a Cavalier - pretty much slid under it. Mostly just scrapes on the bumper.

    Been the deuce of a day, that's for sure.

  • It's astounding - and a bit unnerving - how I can be having a dreary afternoon, then perk up some and have a pretty good evening, only to suddenly take note of the empty computer desk chair and be swamped again by Don's absence.

    Up and down. Up and down. Sometimes it makes my stomach upset, i.e sort of an emotional motion sickness.

    Late evening like this is often hard as I remember I need to go put the van in the garage. At least I thought of it at 11:15 p.m., which is earlier than I often do. Many times since Don's death I've had to throw a coat over my nightgown and go do it around midnight.

    Every night about 10 p.m. Don would find me and ask "Do you need anything before I put the cars up?"

    And that wasn't an idle offer. If he caught the slightest hesitation on my part he'd push a bit. "What? You need something. What is it?" Usually I'd assure him I'd fetch whatever it was at the store the next day, but every now and again I actually did need something, and bless his heart, he'd unhestitatingly and cheerfully head out into the night to get it for me. This normally didn't happen more than once or twice a year, but without fail he made the offer prior to putting the cars away for the day.

    How many thousands of times over the years did I hear "Do you need anything before I put the cars up?"

    Glory, but I miss him. He was a wonderful husband.

  • You know, the truth is I've still got more blessings than most people can shake a stick at.

    Both parents alive. Six beautiful children (and beloved in-laws). Eight gorgeous grandchildren. Siblings and nieces and nephews aplenty. Dan and Joe living with me. Friends, both IRL and online. A house that isn't a mansion but isn't a hovel, either. And the heating works. And the internet connection is both fast and working. Food in the fridge. Living a few blocks from church. Nice cars.

    Life is good.

    Thank you, Abba! Forgive your weak, wayward daughter for behaving as if she's been hideously mistreated when it's no such thing.

    Romans 8:28 is a bountiful promise, and is true even though it means I no longer have my Donald with me.

    Looking forward to worshipping with the saints tomorrow morning....

  • Even in the midst of gloom my eye is caught by inanity.

    Which doubtless says something not terribly positive about me, but there it is.  Facts are facts.

    I've been playing Word Twist (beat Doug by ONE point, which will frost him mightily, hehehe) and over to the right was, as usual, one of the pesky ads that drive most all FB'ers mad, but do keep the site free.  Here's the one that garnered my unwilling attention:


    What possible difference does it make that this stuff, whatever it may be, was "discovered by a mom?"   I'm a mom and believe me, smart people wouldn't go slathering anything I "discovered" on their faces in a footling effort to eliminate wrinkles.   e-afdbsmiley

    Can you imagine an advertisement for some new whatzit being puffed off as having been "discovered by a dad?"  e-rolleyes2

    Good grief, if trumpeting the parental status of the originator of a whatzit's the best its marketers can manage in the way of enticing the public to try it, they may as well give up. 

  • From the "Nothing's easy" file...

    Came home from running errands and found a message from the man at the Social Security office, saying he'd heard from their Russian translator and the trouble is, the adoption certificate isn't actually in Russian but another language similar to it.  

    Would I have any idea what that language might be?   e-headscratch

    Called back and left a message....yes, if it's not Russian then it's Chuvashian, as the adoption took place in Cheboksary, which is the capital of the state or province of Chuvashia.

    Great.  I wonder if they're going to be able to track down an acceptable translator who knows Chuvashian? 

    Sometimes I just feel like e-surrender , y'know?

  • A couple of days ago I read an article at, I think it was, regarding Jett Travolta's tragic death. It was an interview with a psychologist or psychiatrist who pointed out something I'd never heard or thought of before, but can see where it'd be true, and that's that while it's always hideously painful to lose a child, having one die when in their upper teens through early twenties is especially hard. It's the most difficult time for someone's child to die.

    The reason is that one has almost finished one's job as a parent, at least for the most part. The child is almost an adult, almost ready to leave the nest and set out on his own. Not necessarily right that minute, of course, but the child's adulthood is in sight in a way it isn't when he or she is three or ten years old.

    And right then is when he dies, meaning the parents - after investing all those years in their child and looking forward to seeing what he will become as an adult - never see the fruit of their efforts. Their job as parents will never be completed, but they were so close.

    When reading that it occurred to me it's highly analogous to Don dying at 57. We'd been married 37 years. Just one child left at home. What with the economy we'd realized Don would not be retiring anytime really soon, but still, the end of the working/child-rearing years was in sight, and we'd enjoy ourselves discussing what we'd do when he retired. Buy an RV and be nomads was high on our list of possibilities. We loved to travel and particularly liked road trips, pulling off to see the highway markers, etc.

    Now he's dead and that halcyon period, which was almost within our grasp, has been yanked away. In a sense our marriage will never be complete, as we won't finish this loooong stage and enter the last one, when the working and child-rearing is finished. Though we were close. So close.

  • A bit of good news from the Ivy household, which is that Dmitry took the TAKS benchmark tests awhile back and found that he got a 79 on the English test and a 74 on the Social Studies test.  

    We will, however, draw a veil over the results of the Science test and, most especially, the Math test. 

    He is determined to improve, bless his heart, outlining the steps he intends to take to ensure that he passes those when the real deals come up in a few months.