I’m tired today. Tonight. Whatever. It is 4 am and I just woke mum to empty her waste bag. I stared at the lake while she was in the bathroom.

The lake was a calm mirror. Mist was on the surface where ducks were swimming. Pink ribbons from the sky were flung across the still dark top. I wanted to go outside and follow them. I wanted to get in the kayak and slide along the strands til I reached a different tomorrow. A place where I couldn’t hear mum whimpering in pain. A place where mum wasn’t being too stubborn to ask for help. A place where mum wasn’t pushing herself to be perfectly well and going too far. A place where mum wasn’t. But, our lake is small and the infinity I want doesn’t exist. Resigned, I watch the ribbons float away. I’m left tied to reality by taut cords of responsibility.

I arrange mum’s pillows in her bed. She wants a pain pill, I can do that for her. I tuck her in and put the oxygen tubes back around her ears. She says she hurts from all the exercise she had yesterday and tells me this is good. I smile at her and turn off her light.  I stumble at the end of her bed  in the predawn darkness. The tethers around her grip me tight and I don’t fall. I’m not allowed to. The next alarm will go off in a couple of hours. I need to be ready.

Smart Cookie


I am very thankful for a friend who is a VERY smart cookie.  I’d lay odds he’s probably one full of a Ghirardelli chocolate chips. (OK, it probably isn’t amazing to everyone, but it was to me!) He’s a lot smarter than this chick about lots of things. Including bikes, so I was entirely impressed when his advice worked perfectly.

I have been trying to get mum’s Walmart brand mountain-like bike up and running. The Craftsman, when he was here, filled the tires (mum had two brand new pumps, one of which didn’t work and was one she preferred….). He didn’t do much else, I didn’t think he needed to. So, almost all by myself (aided by Google and cell phone photos  and calls to said Craftsman), I raised the seat. The front tire is still skewed, V.S.C. (Very Smart Cookie) and Craftsman attempted to assist me with that, to no avail.  It was awkward for me to use, growing up on a banana seat, with a 10 speed in college, made me unsure of what to do with this contraption. I whined to my dear V.S.C. friend and he told me what I needed to do. He managed to describe everything visually enough, I could remember days later and do it. AND  I DID!! It was a matter of gears and how they work. In spite of the fact I scraped the skin off my calf and was gasping for air at the end, I was pretty damn proud of myself! I think I need shoes with something more than linoleum soles (worn smooth surfaces you slide on), but I am going to ride this thing as often as possible. And be totally thankful mum lives out in the middle of nowhere with no rubberneckers!

Warm Fuzzies!


I was thinking about how much I have gained from blogging. I am sure one of the  absolute very first persons I ran into, and still have in my list of ‘friends’ today, was Becky. She, and others, follow my Blessings Blog. She also followed one I don’t write in anymore. She, and some others, followed me here. (or maybe I dragged them over!)

From my blessing blog, I’ve made friends who email me back and forth. Here, on this blog, I have ones who do this as well. (I owe JM an email….) I love communicating with people, in the comments and elsewhere. It is so much fun to see those in my email- Likes are lovely, but friendships are made of more than likes. I have other blogs (some of those friends are true stars in my pocket and I’ll never let them go!) and I do FB (like most everyone), but I so much enjoy this particular forum! I’m also amused how quickly followers have found me around this korner. My blessings blog has less and my newest one has even fewer than less. I don’t mind. I’m not in this for following. I’m in it for people. And people, let me tell you,


Thank you so much for the warm fuzzies. The encouragement and support you give me have helped me immensely. This year would be darker without your lights. I’ll leave you with one of my favorite renditions of  “Ode to Joy”




I had washed a basket of mum’s laundry today. I saw the jammies she had worn sitting on the floor in the bathroom, so decided I’d better fold her clean clothes and bring the basket back upstairs. As I passed her this evening, she was in the living room, she said brightly,, ‘Oh , now I have clean clothes again!’

I closed my eyes and was not nice. I told her, ‘Mum, you have clean clothes. A lot of clean clothes. They are in your drawers and piled on the floor in your room.’ I then proceeded to empty the basket and put the clean folded clothes on top of the stack on the floor at the end of her bed. She is wearing one of her favorite sweatshirts tonight, because she cannot find the bright red fleecy sleep shirt I bought her in February. She keeps going thru her things and finding ‘new’ clothes to wear. I noticed on top of her ‘jewelry’ dresser, she put the bag of tubing for her oxygen machine. Old habits cannot be changed…… Gods, I HATE clutter!!!!!!

Rocks and Poppies

Remembering fallen military is something which happens all over the world. Here, in the US, we honor these men and women on Memorial Day. I learned today many people, from their teens to about 40,  have no idea what the poppies for Memorial Day mean. I almost cried.

I shared a lesson with some kids using rocks. Rocks to remember. I asked them to tell me about their rocks when I first handed it to them. The kids said the rocks were cold-I told them to hold them in their fists while I talked.  I told them about Memorial Day. I told them about my son’s Staff Sgt who was killed in Iraq. I told about my FiL and his twin brother who joined the Coast Guard in December of 1942, days after they turned 18 and before they finished HS. I told them how important it is to remember these people who died in service or had served in our military. I asked them how they remembered things. I was told ‘mom tells me things over and over.’ I laughed and said, it helps, though, right? They agreed.

I told them that all those memories are like cold rocks when they sit around without being shared. Then, after a bit, I asked them what their rocks felt like now. They were warm!!! I reminded them how making them a part of you and giving them attention, warms the stories and makes them comfortable. I also told them these rocks were also hope. Holding them, feeling their shape, smelling their mineral scent reminds me of how those stories we now know can live again.

It was a bit over most of their heads, but they liked the rocks.

Thoughts on Dogs

IMG_5420 I posted most of this part on a different blog, but Mum’s dog is driving me nuts…..so, am also sharing it here!

More than a decade ago, mum got an expensive dog. This medium dachshund is NOT the miniature she expected.  I have been around dogs frequently. I have owned a couple, or helped own them. I absolutely admire dogs who work (I am angry with Wells Fargo for dropping their support of the Alaskan sled dog race called the Iditarod). I enjoy most dog books and movies (especially if the dog survives). However, as you may know, I am not a dog person. I realize the following list is general and the opinion of a cat person. Thus, it may not accurately portray most dogs. So, be it.

  1. Dogs will eat ANYTHING. They are particularly fond of accidentally dropped items. Where or not it is actually edible is negligible.
  2. Dogs like to roll. They are more apt to enjoy this exercise after being groomed The preferred sites include dead or decaying matter. Mud or dust will do in a pinch.
  3. Dogs chew. I am not fond of being around people who chew. Dogs who chew are almost as bad. Nasty habit for any species. Especially when they swallow what they are chewing. Vets appreciate dogs who chew and swallow.
  4. Dogs bark. A lot. At everything and nothing. The barking of dogs is incredibly irritating and startling, no matter the decibel. This dog barks at me all the time. When I enter the house, when I come upstairs from the basement, or when I walk in the living room unexpectedly.
  5. Dogs like to ride in cars. They will even sit in cars for a while, pretending it is going somewhere. A car ride of 15 feet is great fun.
  6. Dogs get underfoot. This isn’t as awful. Cats do this, too. Actually, so do kids and random kitchen stools. Having something get in the way must just be a part of life.
  7. I believe the dog is mentioned about 44 times in the Bible. Domestic cats are not mentioned at all. (I am sure this is an oversight encouraged by cats, who used to be worshiped as gods) The dogs are not often written up in a flattering aspect. (Also probably another cat thing!)

So, there you are. A few things I have learned about dogs in the last almost year I have been around mum’s dog. I much prefer the cat.


20170526_193954 This has been a week of slips and slides. Today was one of the last straws. Mum had an appointment that was changed. We got there and waited an hour in the room. I get this, the dr had an emergency operation today, so I figured things would be late. He came in and made me feel like I was two years old, ok…7. He was nice, but frustrating. He wanted to take off mum’s fitting and seemed put out I hadn’t brought extras. I had just changed it today!!! If I had known he wanted to remove it, I’d have left it all gicky and in place. Removing a newly placed fitting involves a lot of wiping with pads of unisol (a removing solution in the pad) and cleaning thoroughly. He then wanted us to go to ANC (about 180 plus away) for an appointment so he could see it then. Mum couldn’t sit in a car for a ride lasting that long. Oh, she’d do it, but she’d be sicker than the proverbial dog! He then informed me of what we should do for the next 28 days til we would be able to see him again. Because, he’s pretty sure this is the answer to mum’s problems. He wants her to take laxative solutions every day for the first week. If that doesn’t help, the next week use it twice a day.  So, we have a plan..kind of. If I leave, Mum is not going to take one or two ‘servings’ of miralax on her own. She has missed MANY medications because she didn’t feel like taking them at the time. I get this. I really do. I fudge on things often.

Anyway, I had a headache most of the afternoon. I didn’t get to go shopping today or do what I wanted. The frozen chicken mix mum had purchased last summer needed eaten and she didn’t like it, so i threw the rest in the garbage. I tossed out a chicken carcass and was so sad, I love cooking down a carcass (mum doesn’t want home made chicken soup). I ran out of Diet Pepsi. I don’t have any chocolate. So, I dashed down to the store for ice cream. I should have paid for the one I love, instead of this one. I got out to the car and dove into the pint and almost cried. It had peanuts in it! I’m not allergic to peanuts, but I’ve not been eating them. Peanuts and cashews and some of the other favored nuts have molds which encourage candida. Candida is BAD and for women who also have Diabetes, it is nasty awful. So, only almonds. Now, I have a tummy ache and a headache!!!

This is an Alexander Day. That kind where you want to run away to Australia and have Gary cook for you. :o)

Maid for a Monster


pic from somewhere on tumblr

I forgot to mention, this particular post was written because of a brief dialogue in my comments between JM and Chaos x-d.

The name of this post could be the title of a new book of Xanth by Piers Anthony. The land of Xanth has monsters and romance, but even with naked dryads, ogres, and sowing wild oats, the novels are just good plain fun. ‘Maid for a Monster’ could also be a listing found in the genre of monster erotica. Yes, it is a real thing. Men and women getting into sexual encounters with unusual creatures. I’d call them ‘other worldly’, but the stories span from raw sex with giants or dinosaurs to sasquatches and plants, and then there are the aliens. One of the authors of Bigfoot Erotica, I believe, scribbled her first story for fun. When it took off, she changed her whole writing style and starting bringing in cash. Hand over Bigfoot.

Shape shifters do not really count as monsters. Vampires, dragons, were-cats and the like are considered paranormal. ‘Para’ being above and beyond and ‘normal’ being equal to having science explain the world as well, normal! Monsters are sorted into beings of the ugly, large, and generally terrifying. Erotica is art and literature (isn’t literature art????) created to arouse sexually. It doesn’t matter. Paranormal or Monster, fucking appears to be the norm in any species and it sells.

I, personally, don’t find the monsters in the stories scary. The characters do, at first. Yet, eventually, they all succumb to the allure of being ravaged by large penises or phallic shaped objects which inject semen into their willing cumming bodies….Although, I did read a story about a giantess. The author had her using the tiny Miller’s son, Jakk, as a wee animated dildo. So, the stories are not all cocks and testosterone. I do know the writing arouses something, or I wouldn’t keep reading them! Some of my favorite stories are monster erotica. Probably because they are so bizarre. Several take place during modern times with ‘monsters’ appearing under the bed, in an altered NY Central Park, or in a spot of land time forgot. Some may take place with centaurs and creatures from mythology. Many of them are just plain silly and make me roll my eyes at the ridiculous antics the character goes through before getting thoroughly screwed.

I am not sure why these acts of outrageous sex amuse me. True bestiality disturbs and disgusts me as do some of the other darkest sides of the sexuality coin. Perhaps it is because these monsters, for the most part, exhibit some sort of humanity. Unlike the shape shifters, who are human most of the time, exhibit true human traits, and are my much preferred sort of fantasy reading! The threads of humanity in the creatures tie those bizarre characters and stories to their reader. A reader who might feel empathy with the lonely half human Minotaur, who can laugh at the hot alien who freaks out the human’s pet cat, or understand a smidge of why the adventuring hiker could want penetrated in the air by a pterodactyl. OK, maybe not the last one!

Monster erotica is definitely different and I am not a maid for a monster! Unless it is in Xanth. I can pun with the best of them!

First One-Harry

pio5pkEiEone With Father’s Day about 4 weeks away, I thought I’d share about my dad’s.  In my lifetime, I’ve had 4 different father figures. Each one of them gave to me something and helped to shape me into the woman I am today. For better or for worse. I am not bitter about my childhood. It was interesting and, as Judy says in one of my favorite books, ‘it gives me a different perspective on life others don’t have’. The little girl I was would have gone thru counseling and all sorts of stuff in today’s time frame. I had to grow up on my own and I enjoyed most of it.  A great deal I didn’t understand. Which is probably for the best. These thoughts are from my point of view, of course. My sister had the same background I did, but she is very different from me. Very. I was the oldest and therein, I think lies the difference. I was born all grown up and she wasn’t.

My real biological dad was only around for a few years. When I was born, his first words were reported to be, ‘But she’s so skinny!’ I remember bits and pieces of living near/with him. I recall a park and deer and throwing rocks in water. Actually, there may be photos of those memories!!! Some of the best stories my mum has told me were from her relationship with Harry. He loved fishing, he tanned to very dark every summer, and he loved dancing. He also had a cool sister, we still keep in contact with. I was told I resembled him, which made me wonder. I am almost a duplicate of my mum and sister! Though, this dad wasn’t a part of my life for very long, he will never be forgotten. Ever.

When he died, my sister and I got some kind of benefit checks, which mum used. Until my last dad got his hands on them and invested them for our future. I’ll never forget when mum found out Harry had died. She was on the phone in our overly crowded one bedroom apartment. She sat up straight, slammed her fist into her thigh, and shouted, ‘Hot, Damn! He’s dead!’ I remembered it seemed odd, but I went back to the story I was reading. Books were safe. That first dad, Harry, died not long before mum married my last dad. He had died from a Diabetic coma. Or at least, I think this is what I was told.

The one thing I will always remember Harry for is the disease known as Diabetes. I graduated from High School on May 23, 1983. (yeah, I’m old!) I was diagnosed with Juvenile Diabetes, as an 18 year old, around the end of June. I always reckoned my real dad wanted to give me some sort of graduation present….And since the genes he gave me were skewed towards Diabetes, well, that is what I got. I would have much preferred money. Although, to be fair, the Diabetes has lasted much longer than any of the cash I received.

I know not much more about Harry than these paragraphs. It seems sad to have  a  legacy in a disease and know little about the man it was inherited from. I do know, I didn’t get my math or directional skills from him! He was some sort of a surveyor or something.


20170520_105500 I don’t know what to do. Mum had carpal tunnel surgery last week. Her hand is swollen (this photo was on Sunday, but it is just as bad today) and she refuses to do anything. She hasn’t had any pain pills for more than 12 hours, she says she is fine. She is staggering like a drunken sailor (!! Song from Elementary school!!) , her blood sugars are ok, and I don’t know what to do with her. ok, am off to mom sit.