I’m a pretty simple kind of person, in some ways. While I don’t handle stress well at all, a simple nap does wonders.
So, I’m trying to catch some sleep now. Isn’t that an easy way to solve life’s problems?
And when, oh when, will this rain stop ?
I seem to be sick. It might be a cold or it might simply be a case of burn-out from all of that running about in Henny-Penny mode that I’ve been doing the last few weeks. Whatever, I have the energy level of a comatose slug.
Unfortunately, The Father has a meeting with their biggest client today and so couldn’t stay home and take over the domestic duties . Needless to say, I did not take The Baby to school today : I grow faint at the very thought of walking 4 kms, in the rain, in my poor, fragile state. Yes, I can feel very, very sorry for myself when I get sick mid-week. Poor, wee me.
I finally talked ( well, as far as the two of us are able ) to Tut yesterday. Laura’s funeral is today. I have to admire him, you see, Laura didn’t have a will and he managed to find a lawyer- on a Saturday- for her so that her property went to her two daughters and he managed to liquidate all of her other assets for them as well.
I asked him to come with us to Italy, or to come to Alabama when we were there. He broke down, and said that he couldn’t bear to pass by the places that he had passed by before, with Laura.
And I complain because I’m tired.
Wicked Step-Mother just called, Daddy made it fine through the surgery.
I don’t have a rutabaga as my remaining parent.
Just as a note, while it is all fine and swell, even handy at times, to have highly trained medical personnel in one’s family, it also means that one is so very aware of how often things just go wrong. For no good reason.
And today was one of those, oh, rather superstitious days. Many things in my life have occurred on May 20. Including, 20 years ago, my Mother’s death.
In the past, I’ve mentioned my rather superstitious belief that some people are just lucky, some are unlucky and yet others are not affected by luck in any way at all. I have always considered myself a very lucky person and I do believe that The Boy is as well, for no matter how dire things seem for him, something always turns up to ‘save the day’.
No, the Priest didn’t pass out VIP tickets to Ajax at The Boy’s First Communion last Sunday, but The Boy did have the luck of the draw : assigned by drawing lots, The Boy’s family had the first pew in the church. The Boy loved it, he didn’t have to search the crowd, crane his neck to see us, he could just glance over ( which he did, many, many times) and there we were. Because we ( the four us …in that long, long pew…) were in the first row, The Father was asked to help collect the money, which he did with enormous dignity. In fact, I rather thought that he looked like a doorman at an expensive hotel. But The Boy loved that as well.
I had a brief moment of panic, though. At first, I had the end seat on the aisle, which meant that I would have to be the first person in the whole church to go to communion ( one of those ‘do it for The Boy’ things). I quickly traded seats with The Father, and then I realized how much I had always depended upon following the lead of the people in front of me re: when to stand and sit.
But I have fine peripheral vision and so all went well.
I am very involved in escapist activities right now.
I shall feel much better when Daddy has come through his surgery, for you see, I believe that bad things come in threes as well.
I simply can’t seem to categorize things very well at the moment.
Laura died just minutes ago. On the way to the hospital, my brother received the call and in turn called my Dad. Who called me.
Modern technology.
We are all a bit stunned. She was only diagnosed last Thursday…
I came that close to closing this page down today. I lost my wallet today, at the end of a long morning of shopping and when I realized that it was gone, I said ‘ That’s it. I’m not going to write one more moan and groan, pain in the ass episode of life in Brabant. I’ll start again when I have something good to say.’
I left this morning at 9.30 am, heading off with a stuffed wallet and two hours to shop in the big city ahead of me. I spent the time buying the kids new clothes, wandering through the big market, picking up gifts for The Boy’s big day ( ?) tomorrow.
The Father picked me up and we drove to the pet store. With my last euros ( and I mean last : when last seen, my wallet contained a one euro coin, a two euro coin and a half a pound of they-all-look-alike-copper coins) I bought litter box liners, fish food and ( yes! But I’ll figure that out tomorrow) a 15 kilo sack of puppy chow. I paid the bill and that was the last time I saw my wallet.
Once we realized that it was missing, we drove back to the store and then began all of those calls, to banks , to the Efteling. The Father had just finished arranging things when the phone rang : it was the hardware store, next to the pet store and they had my wallet.
I was mighty glad to get it back although now we have to un-block all of my cards and it is strange knowing that someone was fumbling through my stuff. But still, it was nice of them to turn it in.
But the nasty part of me wonders, if there had been a few hundred euro in it, not my measly 5 or 6, would I have ever seen it again ?
Maybe so. Maybe there are still nice people walking around this planet.
I’m not in particular fond of dramatic weblogs, you know, the ones which leap from one catastrophe to another. And yet lately, I have felt that that is exactly what is happening here. I have felt this so much that I didn’t mention the letter I received last week from my Dad.
It was rather heavy. He is having a total knee-cap replacement done on Monday and while the risks are minimal, there is- after all- always a risk involved. And so he sent me a letter filled with all of those things that one should say, upon one’s deathbed.
And, of course, I had to respond. But, I’ve never had a problem with telling those chosen few that I do love that I do, and so my ‘heavy letter’ was dispatched without too much agonizing.
But still, it was a rather dreary letter, forcing me to peer into a future that will one day come, one without him.
He called me tonight. In his rather blunt way, he told me that my brother Tut’s partner of at least 15 years , the one we spent that wonderful weekend with last year in NYC,was dying. That I should call them now, not tomorrow.
Just days ago they learned that she had a very aggressive form of cancer. There is nothing that can be done.
Do you know how bad I am on the phone ? ( Have I ever called you ?) And my little brother is worse.
I called. I sounded like an idiot. I said that this seemed to be a bad year. He told me that his cat had died in January.
I asked him if I should come over. He didn’t see why I should.
But it seems the thing to do.
I find myself shaking my head in disbelief : have so many sad things occurred in so short a span of time ?
It must be in the stars…
Last winter The Girl had a fine old time feeding the birds. She bought bags and bags of seed, fat-balls, bird feeders, as well as made fat balls and bird feeders. It kept her busy.
What is happening now is that stray bits of bird seed have begun sprouting in the yard. While I’ve yanked most of it out, I have left some plants in, curious as to whether or not they would flower or because I found their leaves intriguing.
Last week, I spared one that had oddly familiar looking leaves. I noticed that it was about to bloom, and so left it, curious to see what sort of flowers it would have.
I was just in the yard and yanked a few more out and now there is no doubt in my mind and I have no idea how it got there.
