My apologies. This post is destined to be all over the place. Hence the title.
Variety is the spice of life…
It has been a few days since my last post (okay, it has been two full weeks, but who’s counting?) and, as you might have guessed, a few things have happened. Life has a funny way of letting it think it has gotten away from you. If only to properly motivate you and realign your perspective. It all comes back around. Really. I have learned that you just have to make sure you stick it out. To see it through. It is life. There are no short-cuts. And those corners you do snip, will come back to haunt you. Maybe not now. Maybe not here. But they will.
A Surprise in the Pipe: Revisited
Back in May, I shared a post. Regarding home repairs. Those foreseen and not. They ripped our little house from basement to roof. But with good reason. The stink pipe needed replacing. Not doing so would lead to a terrible fate. For the house. And us. A lovely man broke that terrible news. But we were grateful for it. That news turned knowledge better equipped us.
Anyways. A giant hole was created in our bathroom. We had a lovely view of the house’s innards for a few days. Then our neighbour kindly came over and assisted with the installation of some drywall (not something dear hubby is comfortable doing…because he didn’t want to fuck up the show, which I respect and appreciate) in exchange for some mural work in his daughter’s room. I did the texturizing with drywall compound to match it all up to the existing walls.
Next came the guy who installed our new insert. It was a heck of a job and took the better part of two full days, but what a beautiful outcome. The shower/tub looked amazing. Gorgeous. But the walls were a mess. A mix of new drywall slathered in compound and the nicotine pink paint job of the previous owner. They even painted the ceiling in the same smoky shade. Lovely. NOT. Anyways, the ceiling is now white. The walls are a vibrant green. There is a new sink and faucet. And an abundance of space with didn’t have before. Not bad for a couple days of hard work…after letting it sit for a couple months.
I happily concluded my Brothers Gruff posts with my last post.
Some might say I am troubled by the state of things between me and them. Those people are what I like to call wrong. I shared all of that, yes, in part to get a few things off my proverbial chest, to shed light in the dark corners for a few people. And, perhaps, to let others know that the fucked up relationships we have with our families are not all that different. Sure the actual issues may differ person to person, but we all share a common fucked-up-ness.
My youngest brother is the only one who visits my folks with any kind of regularity. Mind you, he did take a brief hiatus only reinstituting that regularity recently. The last time he was there Dad inquired (as Dad does when he gets the chance) if there was any hope for a discussion between Brother Three and I. Brother Three told him he might be open to a discussion with him about it in the summer. Gee. Isn’t that awful big of him. After all this time (nearly two years of reconnection between my folks and I) and after injecting his emotions into a situation that had positively nothing to do with him, he may be open to talking to my folks about me. Hopefully, he can express something other than his typical, I hate her and I’m not talking about her and I don’t want anything to do with her or her family. Maybe I do not want a discussion. I am not spitting in his eye, however, what if I am passed it all? What if me and my family do not want anything to do with him? Maybe after a decade of varied unanswered correspondence and cruel remarks are enough for me to consider that ship sailed.
I care for my brothers in a way I know is not reciprocated. Should any of them call me right now, I would literally drop my laptop to the ground and answer. I would help them if that is what they wanted. Or needed. Whatever it might be. I know that I would do what I could. And, as much as I know that, I know that were the tables turned and it was me calling any plea for help would fall on selectively deaf ears.
Clap along if you feel like that’s what you wanna do…
Several weeks ago a gal I knew from high school posted something on Facebook. It was a challenge. Not one of those quizzes to find out what kind of animal you are or what you might have been in a past life, but a life challenge. To be happy for 100 days. To challenge yourself to find a bit of happy in each and every day. For 100 days. And you have to post something, a Facebook status or photo with #100happydays somewhere.
I popped over to the website for a proper look. To dig a little deeper. Turns out something like 70% of people were unable to complete the challenge. Most attributed their lack of happy posts to a lack of time. Really? Huh.
So right then and there I signed myself up! In general, and do to a variety of illnesses and traumas, I try to be positive. But this was different. This was being happy. Something I have struggled with, as have the various medical professionals I have encountered over the years. I’m in the grey zone. Neither happy (white) nor sad (black). Just sort of hovering in the middle. I was okay with that for a while. At least it was something. A name. Dysthymia.
I have been to counselling. On and off various pills. Nothing worked. I never felt any happier. Nothing really changed (inside) for me. Now I have learned that there is a large percentage of Type 1s who struggle with depression. Maybe that is my trouble. My diabetes. Diabetes aside I have great days, good days and bad days. With a whole bunch of whatever days mixed in there too. But isn’t that pretty normal? Isn’t that what we all go through?
So. Given my nature (I love a challenge – like the edible, hand painted Batman I just did for a cake) I was game for the 100 day challenge. Set and ready. Today is Day 23 for me. I have posted each and every day for over three weeks now. Am I happier? Not as a result of what I am doing but for the appreciation it has caused me to gain. As you may now know, I am all about the perspective (*wink wink*).
Maybe I will create another page, here on the old blog. And share my 100 happy days.
Condiments in the Sky
The other night hubby and I let the wee one stay up. Late. He has been desperate to see the fireflies and we finally had a scheduling opportunity that was going to work beautifully. After a long stroll through the neighbourhood, we noshed a bit then suited up and headed out back.
The sun was slowly snuggling down below the horizon. The evening sky was moving in. The moon was ready to take center stage…
And the sky is full of stars and condiments! Isn’t that awesome, Mommy and Daddy?
Obviously this gave us a good giggle. And then we explained that the pictures painted by the stars are called constellations. Condiments go on a hot dog.
Oh, right right. I knew that. Silly me. There are no hot dogs in space! Are there?
Another giggle. A couple of books by light of the lantern. And the wee one fell asleep in his Daddy’s arms. It was so tender.
Just the kind of picture you would want to see as a condiment in the sky.