Ugh, My Favorite Word

It's time to renew my health insurance through NY State... and I make $4,000 dollars too much a year to qualify for free coverage. In order to keep my health insurance I have two choices. I can pay slightly reduced amount for insurance, or I can reduce my taxable income by $4,058/year. It comes out to be about the same either way. I could never figure this out on my own so I am grateful to both Pat, who brokers the health insurance, and Nick who takes care of my IRA, which is where the nearly $80/week will go. I am now left with creating a budget to insure all my expenses are covered, and finding ways to pay my current debts and reduce spending as well. (Having raised seven children I am somewhat familiar with this game...)

One sure fire way to reduce spending and save wear and tear on my car is to change jobs locations. If I were to secure employment within summer walking distance, say a mile or two away, I could save $180.00/month on gasoline and probably hundreds more on car repairs. I'd also save money on a gym membership, if I had one. Ha ha! I am currently looking into this option. I filled out an application. Another daycare center about a mile from home. Wish me luck or say a prayer.

The bedroom tunnel is looking longer but not as dark. It may never get finished, but it's finished enough to put back in some semblance of order. We can now access the attic and I can find my clothes and belongings. My bed remains downstairs and I am (mostly) okay with that. We're cooking up a downstairs plan too. For now the upstairs room will be a place for doing physical therapy exercises, sorting belongings, and finding alone time if needed. It looks bright and inviting and that makes me smile.

In other news, which isn't at all new or shocking, I went to the lake. It's been very calm recently so it was fun to see it kicking and screaming this afternoon. I came home with a ton of pictures, two slightly wet feet and a wet backside. So exhilarating!!!

Bits and Pieces

*  I like three day weekends...

*  I like short work weeks...

* I went to the doctor about my back (again). I went 4 years ago and the doctor was ready to send me for an MRI. This doctor was calmer, suggested it is perhaps sacroiliitis and prescribed an anti-inflammatory medication along with a bit of physical therapy. He also gave me some exercises to try. Bending and lifting all day is hard on the aging body.

*  May was a month of processing thoughts and emotions. I'm sure it will carry over into June and beyond. I'm learning about Emotional Phantoms. (Kind of like a phantom limb, which is something I thought about over the weekend...) 

*  No new room update. There is a light at the end of the tunnel, but the tunnel itself is long and dark.

*  A friend and I are planning to go on a little vacation in August. It involves sand and water and I think it will be fun. Stay tuned.

Progress

It was a productive day and I am relieved to see the progress we made on the attic bedroom today. I am ever so grateful to The Cabinetmaker for lending me his time and expertise. I took a personal day off work and together we put up a vapor barrier and hung several pieces of paneling on the ceiling.  It was a good day. My mind will be processing for days to come, and I am thankful.

My car was at the shop today for new rear brakes, a pricey repair, and while they were in possession of my vehicle I asked about the front passenger tire which has had a slow leak for the past few weeks. They discovered a nail in the tire and patched that up for me as well. I'm going to be slightly poorer for a little while. Ha ha!

Finally, to top off an already good day, I drove down to the lake and got my feet wet, not intentionally, of course. The lake is tricky and those waves just splash wherever they darn well please, usually on my feet when I'm not paying attention. It was a good reason to toss my sneakers (tennis shoes) into the wash when I returned home.

A Slow Pace

We're making progress... It's a three steps forward two steps back kind of thing, but after years of trying to figure things out on my own and being ignored by everyone I asked, I finally gave in and asked The Cabinetmaker for some advice on my room. He's offering suggestions and I trust that he won't steer me wrong. I appreciate his willingness to help, although I expected nothing less.

I skipped my pottery class this past Tuesday and didn't mind staying home at all. The class was feeling a bit more intense than I could handle this past week. Lots of researching pottery styles and artists, and smashing those together with our own mug designs. I'm supposed to have 12-13 mugs drawn but I don't have the brain capacity for that after getting up at 5 am every day and dealing with squalling babies for 8 hours. Honestly, I was already emotional and I'm still a bit of a puddle. I'll go back to class again, but I'm not sure what capacity of participation in detailed drawings I can muster.

"Puddle" would describe me well these past couple of weeks. Growing and healing are painful, and I'm finding once again that uncontrollable tears are cleansing. I don't always know what sets off the deep seated sadness. There are no words to describe the ache deep in my chest, I can only tell you that it's a feeling I've grappled with ever since I can remember. I always thought it was normal, but I'm finding instead a wound that needs to be tended, if only I can reach it...

My cousins and I are still meeting on Friday nights. Man Haters Club is going strong. I've been throwing bowls and building cups by hand and will probably stick to amassing a collection of functional pieces. Mugs, cups and bowls are not only easier to sell, but they make fabulous gifts.

Slow Goin'

It's slow going with the attic bedroom. We've run into a snag with condensation that likes to build up around the insulation. I've tried to keep the job simple, but simple jobs have a way of spiraling into complicated jobs and this one is no exception. (Ask me why I hesitated so long to do this...) I will likely have to take out a loan of some kind (when I find out how much the solution will cost) and raise the rent on my tenants. (I kid on the second one, kind of... I would sell my firstborn but he's not mine anymore.)

On a positive note, my dentist appointments are all accomplished and paid in full. I don't have to go back until Halloween. There's something to smile about. Ha ha!

Work has been stressful. Lots of changes, mostly in staff but also with children. Last year all four of my girls came five days a week. I had them from October through June when two left us for the summer. This year has not been so predictable. My twins come four days and they are the only two who've come consistently since September. I lost two of those who started in September. At present three friends come two days a week, one comes three, and yet another only on Friday. It's impossible to set a completely predictable schedule but we do the best we can. (That's just my baby room. We have another with a roster just as crazy.) I'm ready for a vacation but not at all sure how to fit that in with the rest of life's craziness.

The Little Orange Box With the Dog On Top

It's just a little box.  Slightly larger than a standard letter envelope and maybe an inch tall. I don't remember it's original purpose, only that I asked Mom if I could have it. It was the perfect box in which to keep my little collection of letters. In time I glued a magazine picture of a floppy dog on top to make it look more special. For a good portion of my childhood, and well into my teenage years, it was kept safe in my dresser, tucked into a corner of a drawer. I always knew exactly where it was.

Every so often during my school aged years, a new letter would turn up in the mail box hanging just outside our front door. Mom always seemed just as excited as me. If I happened to be down the street playing, she would call out that a letter had arrived and I would run home as fast as I possibly could. Once the letter had been open, read, and savored, it would be placed into the little box along with the others. By the time the collection was complete there would be a total of fourteen letters received over the course of 8 to 9 years. From 1973 to 1982.

The story started when a new family moved into our neighborhood. The brother and sister rode my bus and the boy was in my grade, but not in my class, The house they lived in with their cousins was down the street and around the corner in a place I often passed but never hung out. It was only when I took my dog for a walk around the block that the little boy's sister asked my name and said, "My brother loves you." Not long after that meeting my mom noticed a little boy walking back and forth, and hanging out in front of our house as if he was looking for someone. "Who's that out there?" she asked and I replied "Oh, that's Joey," and promptly decided to take the dog for another walk.

I've written about Joey a few other times. Our friendship ended abruptly. Almost violently abrupt. There was no chance for me to explain, no undoing what had transpired between letters, only the heartbreaking knowledge that my final letter would wound him deeply and I would never ever hear from him again. A piece of me died when I answered his letter in January of 1982. A piece of me still grieves.  I've let the memories go over and over again, yet our friendship was such an integral part of my childhood that those memories come back time and time again, usually when I least expect them. It's almost as though I am missing something important but don't know what I'm supposed to be finding.

Memories can be painful, even good memories. Every corner of this house holds memories, a whole lifetime of memories. The wall reverberate with them. When the house is still and quiet, and my present family is gone, voices from the past are speaking. Not only are Mom and Dad here, but my sisters, and others as well. I don't literally hear voices, of course, but the past is intensely vivid and I miss those days gone by...

Bits and Pieces

* Sorting. Today I was sorting. Sort of. It feels more like I was packing and moving, but what I moved will need to be sorted through again later. I only moved it from one house to another. He says he can't keep up with the house physically or financially, so he's fixing it up to sell...  I'm feeling numb today.

* I saw a few grandchildren and played "Stick People Wars" with the eldest. I lost. He obliterated every guy I drew.

* Kids ask questions I don't have the answers for... "Why don't you want to live here with Grandpa anymore?"  I can't even answer adults, much less children who love and adore their grandfather. I told him it was a long and complicated story. He's nine and confused. I'm confused sometimes and I know why. He'd never understand that there are moments when I desperately want to go home or that boundary issues create terribly complex problems. I don't have a good way to answer him. No way to tell him the truth without inflicting wounds. Instead he will continue to misunderstand my reasons. I pray one day he will trust I didn't do this maliciously or with ill intent.

*My attic bedroom, which was totally upended while we did the roof project and enlarged the back dormer, is slowly getting back to normal. My bed has been returned to its previous location, my dresser put back in its spot, and the wooden crates that hold and display my treasures have been hauled back out of the storage side of the attic.

*I hear funny things at work. Sometimes it is the children talking, and sometimes it's the teachers talking to the children. I laughed out loud in the kitchen on Friday but can't for the life of me remember what the teacher said to the little one. I remember who the child was, but that's about it. I'm going to need to write these things down.

* The weekend is half over. It was a productive day and that is good. Tomorrow my sister and I will go visit our brother. Maybe we will stop along the way for an ice cream. I want one with sprinkles. Please.