Cons: Why must I start with the cons? Probably because I always want the bad first, so that things can end on a good note. I’d rather not end with a bad taste in my mouth, even if the cons end up outweighing the pros, at least you hear the good stuff last. Okay – on with the cons.

Cons:
1 – Hubby and I were supposed to be squishing grapes between our toes in a grape stomping competition at the vineyard this weekend. This is the biggest con of all – I’ve been looking forward to this for months – but he decided to crush my dreams and go hunting instead. But I’m not supposed to let this turn into a “bitching at hubby” post, so I’ll get back to the list. He’d better at least bring home some meat.
2 – I’ll be lonely, especially at night.
3 – I’m a paranoid freak who jumps at the sound of the icemaker working when alone at the house at night.
4 – I’ll inevitably find a way to waste this time doing something that I’ll decide later that I should have put off in lieu of something that clearly should have been my priority.
5 – I’ll probably drink too much wine and spend one day with a headache.

Pros:
1 – I don’t have to do ANYTHING that I don’t want to do.
2 – I don’t have to feed anyone but me. I can eat Totinos Pizza Rolls for breakfast, lunch and dinner – or I can spend all day long making a crazy gourmet meal that I won’t have to share.
3 – I won’t have to touch anyone elses poop. BONUS!
4 – I can bask in the sun in my skivvies on the deck and no one has to see me.
5 – I CAN SLEEP LATE – OH MY GOSH, this one must count for at least 5 pros. And 2 mornings in a row!!!
6 – I can shop if I want, for as long as I want – if only I could spend as much money as I want……….
7 – I don’t have to shave my legs. 
8 – I can drink too much wine (did I list that one as a con as well? I think I’ve changed my mind on that one)

Okay – so there are probably more things to go on both lists, but I’m beginning to get excited about the list of pros. It must be because I listed them last.

For my first evening of what I’m going to try and make into alone time bliss, I think I’ll make my own pizza, buy an expensive bottle of wine, and watch a couple of pay per view chick flicks.  I’m liking the sound of this.

What would you do with a whole weekend entirely to yourself?

Second thing, I’m so sorry that I’m not there with you. I feel as if I should be, even though you don’t NEED me, and maybe you are more comfortable without your baby there, so that you don’t worry about me as I sit there. Still, I wish that I could just be close to you, to wrap my arms around your neck a time or two. All of that said, my heart is with you, every moment of every day.

I let the grind of work take my worry away – I float along on my day, when I feel as if I could break down, I sink myself into the most complicated issues at hand in the mill, and I manage to escape. I hope that you have found ways to escape as well. I wish that I could take it all away, make it disappear.

The only thing that really brings me peace is knowing that the two other people who love you as much as I do are there with you, even just if they are in the room sitting by you. I hope that you know that I am with you in spirit also.

We will all get through this, and we will all be okay – better even.

Please remember how much I love you, and that I think of you every moment of every day.

I love you Daddy. I’m so sorry that all of this is happening.

My heart and yours, forever………..

I love you so much.

XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOX

While in tough times, it is hard to remember to be thankful for the blessings in life. I try to focus on that in my prayers – to ask God to continue to remind me how lucky I really am; because I am lucky.

My Daddy is sick – but I’ve had so many good years to love him – and he isn’t gone yet! There is more of him to be enjoyed!

The economy and the state of our nation is critical – but BJ and I still have jobs, and nothing catastrophic has happened. There is hope.

Our house is small and needs a monumental amount of work – but we are comfortable (if tight), and can afford our mortgage, and have made it a home. We have a roof over our heads, and places to sleep, and eachother.

My family is so far away – but technology allows me to reach out to them and to communicate with them in so many ways, and we take advantage of that. And my husband’s family is here, and I love them as if they were my own.

My daughter can make me want to pull my hair out, and my husband can tork me almost to the breaking point – but I love them both with all of my heart and soul, and I wouldn’t trade them for the entire world.

And what it all comes down to, and that I pray every night for continued recognition of, is that we have our health, eachother, and the means to continue to pursue happiness. That’s what life is all about.

So I will look forward to this next year, and will hope that I can be a better person, and can love even more than I ever have.

I am ready.

I talked to my mom several times today, and I hear the tremble in her voice, she hangs on to each word of conversation as blessed distraction from the undeniable pain and loss of control that is her life right now. And I just ache for her. I wish that I could be there sitting with her; but maybe I’m able to give her something not being there that I wouldn’t be able to give if I were there immersed in the hurt? Or maybe that is wishful thinking on my part; my way to justify being here, and so able to busy myself and (with effort, admittedly) not think about how much thinking about my Daddy hurts my heart.

I was washing dishes, listening to Jordan talking to her Daddy, who had Scott Joplin and Jelly Roll Morton playing (nostalgia – these are a few of my father’s musical delicacies). She says “Mommy, look at me!” and I turn to find her holding Daddy’s hands, standing on his feet, and dancing, with a grin the width of her entire head plastered onto her face. I just melted into the moment – for a minute, she was me, and BJ was my very own Daddy – and then I realized that Jordan was getting from her Daddy the same kinds of delectible memories that I will always have of mine. And my heart purred…

I made Christmas “go bye-bye” today. I was done with the tree, done with the lights and the gems, and the beads and the crystals. I thought I would have to sacrifice the smiling santa to the fish pond – as I get none of the “spirit” that those things would typically bring. It is all gone – no further sign of it. I was the dutiful mother who tried to give the baby every Christmas thing that she deserved – but now it is over, and I could make it go away – so I did. And I feel better already.

I find myself thinking that perhaps being away from my mother and father right now has made me mentally distant from all of it. I still feel the pain from thoughts of the inevitable, but I don’t cry as much anymore. Am I so far away that I’ve forgotten? I can never forget. Am I simply so able to distract myself that I don’t think about it? Impossible, really. Am I numb? This must be the case, although I know in my heart that if I were there with him, with mom, that I would be as broken as I’ve every been. So is this awayness (is that a word? it feels right) really a curse – or is it a blessing? Or am I damned for saying so? I wish that I just knew how to feel….

Talking to my mom today, she relayed to me a brief conversation she had with dad, and I found it eerie, given my post from last night. She said that he felt as if he were “in a fog – and it is hard to come out of the fog to participate”. Isn’t this what I wished for him? My memory of a white out of fog? If it is a wonderful, calming, cooling place for him, than I want him to have it. If it is a place to hide, and to fear, and to not LIVE, than I want him to find his way out. Eventually, the fog always clears, right? I suppose its just a matter of whether it is for better or for worse. I want it to be better for him. Please Lord, please bring some peace to my Daddy, in some form.

I actually hope that no one is reading this blog right now, I’ve certainly not told anyone that I’ve started again. Now I’m just writing for me.

My Daddy is sick. My rock, the man of logic and wisdom and strength, on whom I have always been able to depend. There is no cure. We don’t know how long we have with him. And I am 3500 miles away, and I feel like my heart is crumbling.

I think back to my closet of memories… and I have so many.

I remember a day on the beach of Pawley’s Island. It was deserted. I was young, and strong, and lean, and FAST; or so I thought. I decided to race my Daddy, who was big, and lumbering, and OLD; or so I thought. We hunkered down, dug our heels in, and took off running – and he wooped my butt. Absolutely shamed me. I remember the awe that I felt, and the respect that I should have given him before the race. He was FAST.

I remember going out to put honey buns in the minnow trap off of the dock across the street from the beach house.

I remember flounder gigging – and falling asleep in the john boat every single time. I always wondered why he kept taking me, when I was such poor company – but I loved going.

I remember going to see the mallards he had shot, and him asking me if I would like to take home the wing of a hen. I really wanted the head of the drake, the emerald green sheen had me mesmerized. But he convinced me to settle for the wing, with a shiny saphire hue’d trapezoid tucked behind some feathers (certain to be less stinky than a head, at least within a day or two). And I loved it. And I was proud that he had let me have the little trophy.

I remember the silence as he drove me from Pawley’s Island to Clemson – in an effort to salvage the future of a misguided, rebellious, and stubborn headed teenager who was more like her daddy than he would probably ever admit to her. I remember knowing that he loved me, and that he was doing something great for me; even through the cloud of pissed-offedness that was so common for me in those days.

I remember the day that we went to North Inlet fishing, and as we came back through the jetties, the waves came crashing into the boat, literally slapping us in the sides of the face, first one way, and then the other. We were soaking, sopping wet, and the waves were relentless. At first it was frustrating, then it was a bit scary, and then it was just downright funny. I looked at him, and we just burst out laughing, just dissolved. No words needed. Our next fishing trip, he had put curtains on around the console of the boat.

And now that he is sick, and I can’t be there with him, or talk to him, or just sit next to him and hold his hand, I crave my day in the fog. The day on the beach when the fog rolled in and sucked me into white-out status. I couldn’t see 3 feet away from myself. I held my arms out to my sides and rolled my head back aimed to the sky, and just spun around in circles. I could feel the mist on my skin, and the salt in my breath – not a sound but the waves. I was in my own little heaven. And I crave that now. Or maybe I crave that for him…

Instead, there are nightmares. Last night, tornadoes. 3 tornadoes that seperate me from my mother and sister, so that I am running barefoot through a muddy swamp, with the mighty cyclones right on my heels, roaring and sucking in everything in their path.

I’m not sure how to feel better. I think that I have to go to him again. I just need to be close to him; and I need him to know that I’m there. I have a family here in Oregon to take care of – but is my family too. I’ve got to get there. Praying isn’t enough for now. Not that I can stop…

Something about Daddies – especially mine.

I love you so much Daddy.