How appropriate for today

The ducks are flocking in to find new nesting sites (or refurbish old ones!). I was reminded as I was watching them, I often come back home in the spring. The first summer I came back to Alaska, it was April 29. That was just a few summers back. Everything has a season. Trees, ducks, lakes, people. It is comforting. 

I am sitting here waiting to ‘change’ mum. Her fitting is leaking and she is not wanting to have it taken care of yet. Probably because she wants to do it herself and it won’t last if she does. The longer she waits the messier it is. She has been doing a lot of sleeping, she insists she is ‘fine’ and will be well soon. Well, her Doctor says the same thing. I chose to be caught into the cycle of mum, but it is so long! I’ve been tidying up the basement in the hopes that I can leave and we can find a caregiver. I want them to feel comfortable amid the clutter. If that is even possible. At any rate, even if we don’t find anyone, I will feel more comfortable!!!!! Granted, there are places where I’ve stacked boxes taller than I am. It should be ok…we haven’t had a solid earthquake for more than a year on the Kenai! (solid is probably not the right word!)

I remember thinking how I wanted to spend a whole year up here. I suppose I can be glad there isn’t any sewage or yards being dug up. (so far that has been the theme for every summer! I do wonder where and how long this season will last. 

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Hidden Treasures!

20170427_013112 When it is time for mum to go to bed and I’m waiting for her, this is the most tempting place in the world! Boxes and drawers and containers of sparklies!!!!!! In one of the boxes there is a super awesome VERY shiny beaded necklace, in another some ulu earrings I’d wear in a second, and then inside the ‘shutters’ there is a string of pearl like beads which are soooo pretty. I don’t have much reason to wear necklaces (they sort of look odd with sweatshirts or a t when you are just hanging around a house). I do like to wear them if I dress nice (RARE occurrence!) and I almost always wear my amethyst stone on the cord. That goes against my skin. BUT, oh my…so many lovely things to peruse. They really need sorted  or organised. But, mum would notice and be a bit unhappy. Not being able to wear jewelry is a sort of sad thing and there are most likely a great many memories in those miscellaneous boxes. I can wait. 

It’s the barometric pressure, right?

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Mum, if she has a pain somewhere or her blood sugars do odder than usual things or if she is tired, blames it on the barometer. I sometimes wonder if she relates her cancers to this as well.

Today, I have a horrible (for me) headache 🤕. I think, personally, it is from the crazy sinus issues I have been having. However, it doesn’t matter. I cannot stay in a warm shower all day, I don’t have a humidifier, nor do I want to sleep with a cold pack on my neck. (Ok, that last one I might do later!) I also sometimes rest with a wet washcloth over my nose and eyes. I need water! I only write these because I do try different things to help me feel better. When I can. I did mention it to mum. She asked me what the barometric pressure was. I shook my head.

It is sort of thinking about rain outside. I don’t see it doing much more than a light sprinkle. A good day to do inside stuff. At the moment, I am cooking down a chicken carcass. I love ❤️ love tearing up the remnants of a chicken. A mindless and delicious chore. I pick those bones clean and then use the meat and broth for stellar meals. Chicken soup is comforting and I am pretty sure I can make it without checking the barometer!

finished this finally

This week has been pretty horrid. And then, tonight, it was like my insulin wasn’t working (I know it is, but for some damn reason my blood sugars are over the top). I have been thinking about my marriage and texted my husband this morning. He texted he’d call me tonight. At 11pm, he sent me a text saying he’d for sure call me tomorrow night.  I found this poem I started the day after our anniversary last year. It is rather filthy and isn’t quite as ‘cute’ in the ending, but I’m tired of everything. 

Once, if I’m lucky.                                                                                                                                       (by me)

He nibbled my nipples and palmed them both well,                                                             Then slipped off his clothes in less than a bell.

His body so strong was primed for the task,                                                                               Yet never a question of me did he ask.

Slipping inside and moving so quick,                                                                                                I knew in a heartbeat, I loved his big dick.

I liked the sensation of being so full,                                                                                             Yet it was just sex, nothing to thrill.

He withdrew for a moment and then went back to the job,                                                         Pushing and filling my cunt with his nob.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to work.                                                                         In moments he was done, with a thrust and a jerk.

He withdrew in haste, kissing my neck,                                                                           Thanking me kindly, What the heck????

If he’d only asked, I would have said,                                                                                              “Play with my clit, put ideas in my head.”

“Play with my body, I even have toys!”                                                                                           Sex is something for both to enjoy.

Yet, he won’t ask. Or even think.                                                                                                          He just assumes and I cringe and shrink.

A dishcloth is near to wipe himself clean,                                                                                         He hands one to me, it’s his routine.

A vigorous wipe and water to drink,                                                                                                  He’s relaxed and ready to drop off the brink.

In the darkness, I touch his wetness on me,                                                                                     It feels so good, virile seed in my ‘V’.

He is almost asleep! I tidily suck                                                                                               Small fingers clean of the one sided fuck.

He begins to snore, my body must wait.                                                                                           For my yearning touch, while next to my mate.

I quietly climax, trying hard not to shout.                                                                                       I do love to scream my ecstasy out!

I steady my breath, he’s not stirred.                                                                                                   I cannot believe he hasn’t heard.

But, he never does. He never knows.                                                                                                 I want more, but that’s how it goes.

I sigh in the night, I suppose I should sleep.                                                                                 To dream of cumming, after counting damn sheep.

 

Mum=Yoyo

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I visited a friend yesterday. I wasn’t going to, but realised I’d feel bad if I didn’t. Sometimes, you just need to make thought into action. I entered her house, got a hug, and burst into tears. I sat with my head on the arm of her chair near this fire, crying and telling her things only my teddy bear knows. And I felt better for that 15 minutes. And I felt bad, too. Her life long love died a few months ago from something similar to what mum has. He died and left her so alone. I felt I didn’t have a right to cry, but she let me.

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Today? Today has been horrible. Life with mum is a yoyo. We went to the dr this morning and she went on stage and was relatively ok. The doctor looked her over, gave her some instructions, and changed her insulin. When we got home, she was a different person entirely. She is so sick, she was curled up in her chair in pain. It appears the tortellini I made for dinner last night didn’t get chewed up enough and is stuck in her single intestine. Her leg aches and is hot (the dr told her to put ice on it, she doesn’t want to do that). And she hardly ate anything tonight. She went to bed early. She is twitching in her sleep. She does not feel good. Yet, she is ‘fine’. Ridiculous! 

I am a Rock

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Simon and Garfunkel sing a song wherein many of the lyrics seem to fit me. ‘I am a rock, I am an island.’ I do want to cry-sometimes. I do feel pain-sometimes. I know, however, I have to be that rock and island. I have to be the strong one. Alone and facing the storm. I am a cynic when it comes to relationships, anyway. Which makes it hard to accept real time caring. I do a great deal of reading and some of writing, creating worlds of my own. Yet, when it comes down to it, the rock and island are me.

I do have some good friends and a spouse and kids. Yet, they have their own lives, I’m not really a part of theirs. I am the tide waters on the edges of their personal lands. Splashing against their shores, playing on their banks, and slipping back into the harbor around my own island. I get it, I really do. It is just the way life works. I am grateful for the moments when I can be a part of those other lives, I selfishly crave them. I often hoard golden moments to slide through my fingers in the vault on my rock. Living vicariously through the past, being thankful when my present collides with another’s.  Knowing those moments are a part of me now and understanding when they shift with life tides.

I used to be more sheltered on my rock. I was so damn afraid to touch another’s shores. I was bound by convention, the way I was raised, and knew I was supposed to act a certain way. I sometimes escape, but it isn’t real. It can’t be. I need to remember to be the diamond stone which shines and stands firm. Giving my strength to others and not crumbling if part of my island moves a bit. Pulling myself up by my own bootstraps, putting on those big girl panties, and holding hard onto my teddy bear. Making the decisions for myself and my mum. Hoping they are the right ones. Hoping no one will blast my island if they are wrong. Because most rocks don’t float and I don’t have an escape plan.

The Rose

IMG_3389 - Copy One of the bloggers I follow writes up a post each Sunday on song lyrics. Today’s made me remember the song called ‘The Rose’. I enjoy learning background stories. I had no idea there was one for the song itself! As I read this piece about how the song became a part of Bette Midler’s line up, I laughed. One of the lines in the article reads, “I screeched into my drive way, ran into the house, past various bewildered dogs and cats and husbands, and sat down at the piano.” I wonder, just how many husbands were there!!!???!!!

This song was a theme for one of my HS proms. I read through the lyrics again, wondering. I don’t remember why, but the movie had been shown to us free of charge and then it was part of the prom. What a tragic story to use in high school! The song is lovely and heart wrenching. Granted, there is a promise at the end and it does haunt. OK, I guess the song does kind of resemble high school!!! 

Good morning!

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It is just after 7am. I let the dog out, Mum got up, and is feeling chipper. She had a blood sugar of 70, I fed her, got her most of her meds (still need to give her a shot), and she thinks she looks ‘not too bad’ and might go to church. I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck, I have a headache, and it stopped raining.

I did forget to tell you all the oddest thing from last night. I texted my sister to let her know mum was being taken to the ER. She responded by asking if I had mum’s dog or should she go out and get him. I was very confused. I mentioned that we were only going to the ER and if mum stayed,  I’d be going back to the house. In another text, she asked if I wanted her to bring popcorn. 

One of my FAVORITE things-

hipporain When I left Alaska to go to college, I ended up in Portland, Oregon. In later years, I lived about 17 years on the Oregon coast. This Alaskan girl grew to adore rain. A lot. I just got up (I just got up, I didn’t want to!!! I had just fallen to sleep an hour or so ago) to let mum’s dog out and see how she is doing. (she wanted another pain pill) When I opened the door, I was greeted by the next best thing to snow. RAIN!!! I love and adore rain. I think it is the Aquarius in me, but oh, it is so wonderful! And the best part? We actually need rain at this time! Hoping that ‘drip drip drop little April showers’ keeps on in the gentle tones! (one of my favorite tunes!)