I wrote my way out ...

So, I've not written in a while and I'm not even going to try to catch up.

I had to take Michael in to the ER on Tuesday night. We got home at 4 in the morning.
He has gallstones and is in pain. Loads of pain, to be honest.

Wednesday, I ran about on three hours of sleep. Got his prescriptions from the ER doctor. Got him to his primary doctor. Got an appointment with the surgeon for a consult ... got Bruise to soccer (socially-distanced) practice... got Mom to her first physical therapy appointment (since her hip surgery went great).

Thursday had my eye appointment (still no prescription), the big kids' dental cleaning, I ran into the next town (our clinic) for a urine lab (I STILL have a UTI. Joy. At least it's MOSTLY asymptomatic. I mean I have to pee a lot. And there's some blood in there, but it's not that painful or anything ...). Got Michael to his surgeon's consult. We're looking at laparoscopic gallbladder removal in the near future. But not near enough. I hate seeing him in pain.

Yesterday, he ran out of the ER painkillers, so I made sure that his doctor had sent in a new prescription. Ran some errands with various kids ... Got Mom to her other PT appointment (she's made great progress in just two days!!).

Today, I'm washing sheets and Michael's pillows, since he's been sweating so much. 

Bubbles isn't feeling great (sore throat) and started a fever. Bucket is peeved that we cut computer time (since the kids weren't responding to our needings of help (headphones, man ... I don't know that I love them).

Mostly, I just want to sit in the shower and cry. Or nap all day. And I haven't found a way to do either.

I need to finish making the bed, get Bubbles into a bath, ... and about a million other things. But I know that they won't get done.

I hate feeling helpless. I hate feeling useless. I hate feeling powerless. 
I hate feeling like no matter what I'm doing, I'm letting my kids down. I hate that they are worried about their dad. I hate that I can't fix this. 

I'm grateful for the amounts of prayers and help that people have extended. 
One of Bruise and Bucket's elementary teachers facebooked that she's moved back into town and would be happy to help ferry the kids about for soccer and dance. Hopefully, at Mom's next appointment on Thursday, she'll be given permission to drive again ... then we're back up to having two drivers in the home again.
A friend is bringing over dinner tonight. (And, even if she weren't, we have lots of leftovers ... which is great, too.)

Okay. Time to get moving again. Let's get my littlest baby to feel better.

So, I've started a new blog for Nana's and Grandma Darlene's recipes.

If you care to look at it (there's not a whole lot there right now ... it's going to be a pretty big endeavor), it's at https://cookingwithnanandgram.blogspot.com/

There's two actual posts of recipes ... so ... yeah.

I haven't been sleeping well.

Last night, I remember dreaming that the van (my car) was starting to break down. And I maybe got a ticket for having sparks from under the car.
THEN, when Michael and I were driving a load of ... some stuff ... from Washington, we were going through a town and got pulled over by a deputy-guy-in-training. And he wrote a ticket for, like, $542 for something under the truck ... and when we were proving that we DIDN'T have sparks or whatever under the truck, he refused to take it away, since it would reflect badly on his homework or something.
BUT! He WOULD lower it to $537.
Yeah, thanks.

Thankfully that was just a dream.
And the only money woes we really have are because the other house still hasn't sold at all.
Good times.

We're feeding the missionaries today.
Bruise got (mostly) caught up on homework ... so he's at a friend's house (after we cranked the last two answers out this morning.
I did let him know that when he neglects or chooses not to turn in work or to not give a full effort, it reflects poorly on Michael and me, since that's a lot of how his teachers know about our family.

I will also let Bucket know that, too.

I know that things need to get done. And I'm doing some of them. But I'm not motivated.
My head and neck and shoulders hurt. I just wish that I didn't have to THINK for a while ... and I'm such the type that's always in my head. I just want a mental vacation.

I could gripe about how I do all the mother-stuff: make sure the kids are off to school/drive them to school or their bus stop, morning devotional, make sure they're eating, attempt to cook something healthy, pick them up from school or their bus stop (unless the big kids are walking home), drive the girls to their dance classes, drive Bruise and Bubbles to soccer practices, attempt to be social and happy ... or at least act like I am ..., ...

I almost wish that I had a day or a week or a month where I could just curl up in bed and hibernate. Maybe, then, when I woke up, I wouldn't be sad or overwhelmed.

I'm reading scriptures. I'm saying prayers. We're reading and praying as a family. I have a testimony. I'm going through the motions. I don't have any desire to NOT go to church or to not pray or to not read scriptures. I still really suck at the whole pondering or studying or meditating on things ... I know that I'll be blessed -- that I AM blessed -- from just TRYING. That Heavenly Father appreciates my efforts.

I don't feel like the best Ministering Sister. I get that it's a higher law. And I love that we're getting to that level as a Church and a society ... but, I kinda suck as a friend. I check in and ask them if they want a visit or could use anything ... I just know that I should be doing more. That I SHOULD be being inspired. And ... I'm ... I'm just treading water, keeping afloat just enough.

I want to be ... oh, ... confident in my spirituality. Does that even make sense?
I want to FEEL the Holy Ghost. I do okay as I'm getting a blessing. I know that my Heavenly Father is aware of me and loves me and all that. I get that. I have a testimony of that. I have knowledge of that.

I just am not feeling as inspired. And I'm sure that it's me. I've done something or NOT done something. And I'm trying to figure out what exactly I need to repent of and change (probably the  going-through-the-motions ... but I'm not sure what else to do).

And this has been happening for a few weeks. Several weeks. It's not just since Nana died.
But that's made it harder. Not going to lie about or sugarcoat that fact.

I mean, with dealing with my emotions from Nana's dementia (and then her death), I do understand why people drink.
Heck, I'm tempted to take a Percocet. But I don't.
Mostly because I know that doing that isn't going to fix anything. Escapist reading hasn't fixed anything. Not that I've done a whole lot of that the last week.

What have I done a lot of? Mindless games on my phone.
Not quite what I'm sure President Nelson had in mind when he told us to go on that 10-day social media fast.
That first day, I actually was pretty productive. Then I kinda slipped into games. Then Nana went into an unresponsive state. Then she passed. ... And, a couple days later, I emerged from avoiding Facebook and Instagram. Those are my big social-media time-sucks.

I followed the prophet. Was I ecstatic about it? Not really.
Of course ... at the same point, I don't feel ecstatic about ... anything right now, tbh.

I shaved my legs yesterday. It was past time, for sure.
I also bought blue lipstick. It would look better on a face that had foundation and sleep.

I've been trying to do some self-care. I'll eat. At some point. I try to drink water or juice ... mostly to combat crying-induced headaches. I'll do a face mask, so I don't look quite as haggard. I'll take a shower, so I don't disgust myself. I do some housework, so that something in my life looks nice and somewhat organized. I talk aloud to Nana, since I know the veil is thin. She might be here, who knows? I can't feel her. But I can't totally feel much right now.

I'm easily irritated and prefer to be mostly alone. This way no one has to be aware of how much I cry or anything. Honestly, I'm not that much fun to be around. I'm cranky or despondent. I just want some mindless task that I can do, where I don't have to think or react to anything.

More than anything, I just want Nana and Pop-pop's old house. Even just the living room. How the light would slant through the curtains on a summer's afternoon. The smells of living and traces Pop-pop's cigarette smoke interwoven into the carpet, curtains, and furniture.
I think, that in Heaven, that will be one room in my house. Or a bottle of scent, at the least.

Maybe I should steam some broccoli. That was one of the smells that would waft through from the kitchen at their house.

Christmas hasn't ever been the same since Grandma Darlene passed ... and that was 22 years ago. Mom's stepdad passed a couple years afterwards ... that had no effect. Then Pop-pop passed. And then Nana moved ... and then had to move in with my uncle and aunt ... and then was in memory care. The major memories of Christmas in my rather idyllic, for the most part, childhood centered around being at my grandparents' houses. And that .... isn't ever happening again. And, really, hasn't happened for a while.

I know that it's up to me to start making some of these memories better and all. But ... I don't really know how to start yet.
Don't get me wrong. I love Christmas. I love being with my family. But ... there was something just magical about Christmas as a child. And I've not been able to fully replicate it for myself since Grandma Darlene passed. And, then after not having Nana and Pop-pop's house in the Christmas equation, it's been paler and sadder .... bittersweet, maybe. Maybe that's the better way to term it.

I should get a shower. My hair hurts as I've been crying off and on as I type this all.

Wow. I'm so fun to be around, aren't I? You used to come and read this blog for my witty bon mots and refusal to take life too seriously ... and now it's all mopey and bleak and guilt-ridden. Good times indeed.

Hopefully, I'll be out of this grief-induced funk soon. I can hardly stand to be around myself ... I can't imagine that you're having a great time, either.

How do you grieve for someone who's still alive?

So, my Nana has dementia. She's been in a memory care facility for a while. My aunt was taking care of her for a few years before that.

My for-all-purposes-stepmom called today to let me know that Nana isn't doing so well. Nana is pretty old, true. She's been missing my Pop-pop for over a decade (when she's aware that he's passed on. Sometimes, she just wonders why he doesn't come to see her). Her kidneys are failing. She's been put into hospice care.

I tried calling her today. She couldn't hear me over the phone (She wears hearing aids). She sounds healthy and in good spirits.

My stepdad has dementia. My mom is his primary caregiver. She puts up with a lot of verbal and emotional abuse. Gaslighting is a regular thing. It would be easier if we knew HOW accountable he was and when he was really lucid. He's not the same person he was. He told my mom that he loves her (he's sad that she's going to be moving up here soon. His children are stepping in to help take care of him. He's rather burned some bridges with two of them ... if he's not happy about a situation, it's like he goes out of his way --wittingly or no -- to ensure that NO ONE is happy). ... she responded that, with how he's treated her the last couple years, it's rather hard to believe that.

I don't like dementia.

I don't like any of its forms.

I don't like mourning people even before they've passed.

My Nana is still really sweet ... maybe even sweeter than she was when I was little. She (last we visited) still knew who Michael was, I was, and the kids are. That's pretty good. She doesn't recognize one of my cousins, which is sad.

I try to write Nana letters. I hope that she stays with us long enough to get this one.
I find it hard to write Nana letters ... not because I don't like to write or because I don't love her ... but because I find it hard not to write some of the things that I'd want to say ... because I don't want to take a chance of hurting her or confusing her.
"I miss who you were."
"I wish that you remembered [S] when you saw her."
"I love seeing you, but I hate crying afterwards."
"I wish that you were closer and could come visit our new house. I think you'd love it. I wish I could ask you about some of the features, since you might have an idea of what they were intended for."
"I wish that you knew that Pop-pop isn't avoiding you and that he hasn't abandoned you."
"I wish that I could take you to the temple while you're alive ... but I am planning, as soon as I can, to do your work and get you sealed to Pop-pop. I miss him, too."
"Thank you for always asking after my mom when we visit you. It makes me feel better to know that you really do love her -- even though things were REALLY ROUGH (especially for her) after the divorce. I wish that my dad had told you that they were separating before you found out from someone else in town."
"I miss going to your house when I was little. I miss you serving me fresh strawberries with cream and sugar. I miss your clam chowder. I miss how your house smelled. I miss dressing up with [S] in your nightgowns. I miss how you would buy us matching Christmas presents and she and I would go and have a fashion show after we opened presents."
"I miss how you'd tell me stories of when I was little." "I miss how when I'd call you and as soon as I'd say, 'Hi, Nana!' and you KNEW it was me, since I'm the only one who calls you that -- or you'd call up and ask to speak to 'Princess Budderfwy,' since that was your favorite mispronunciation of mine when I was learning to speak. No one else calls me Princess Budderfwy ... just like no one else calls me an 'onery little critter' like Pop-pop would. And, really, I did deserve that."
"I miss playing Megan and Sundance when I was little, even though you weren't wild about giving me horsie rides on your back when I was 5 and you were fifty-seven (or so)."
"I miss how you were ALWAYS 57 whenever I asked how old you were. You will always be 57 to me. I am constantly getting closer and closer to getting as old ... and older ... than you." "I miss going to musicals at the Hult Center with you."
"I miss going shopping with you."
"I miss walking to your house."
"Do you remember that silver patent-leather pair of Sketchers you bought me when I was, what, fifteen? And how you told me about the looks people gave you -- an old lady trying on silver sneakers -- since you and I had the same shoe size? I kept those sneakers until they were falling apart because they made me smile every time I saw them and remembered your story. I might just go buy another pair of silver Sketchers for that reason."

I don't know about you ... but I think I'm going to go sit in the shower and cry.
I hate it when people go where I can't follow. I hate it when dementia changes people.

I need to get control of my emotions before the kids get home.

As my stepmom said, Nana's gone into hospice care. We don't know how long she has. It could be soon. Or it could be months down the line. We don't know.

Honestly, it would be a bit easier to have more of an idea.
We had been planning on going down for a visit on what was the weekend AFTER Pop-pop passed.
The kids are in school. There's soccer and General Conference. I have meetings and activities that are a bit harder to work around ... but ... I could just pull the kids out of school and take one day off if we need to.

Once I can talk without sounding stuffed up and weepy, I think I'll call my aunt and ask for their plans. Once I can get to that point.  (Oh, why can't everyone just text. It's easier to conceal my emotional nature that way.)

In which I am maudlin ... let's hope blogging this gets it out of my system.

So, last night I was feeling pitiful (gastronomically ... sorry, TMI) ... and, apparently my brain thought that I should feel pitiful mentally, too!

Misery loves company, right? *overly bright smile*

So, I'm lying in bed, next to Michael and ask ... "Do you think she misses me as much as I miss her?"
He is intuitive and knows that I'm asking about that bestie that ... well, she didn't give me the Cut Direct, since that would involve seeing me. But, yeah, she took herself out of my life without warning.

And ... even though one of the gals I Visit Teach told me, 'Why would you want to keep suffering? Even if she came back and asked to be friends again, why would you take her back?"

It's not that I'm masochistic (well, HOPEFULLY not) ... but, when her and my friendship started out, it was good. It was fun. I miss that.

I don't like that I don't feel as self-assured. I don't like that I lost someone who was so much fun to laugh with.

I mean, it'd be one thing if she had left my life, but I still had my friend K, who passed away, who was fun to laugh and bake with ... even though she and her family were going to move away at some point. I can keep a friendship going cross-country ... I had done it before. Heck, I manage to keep a friendship going across the planet. ... It's just a little harder to do it through the veil (They never call, they never write ...).

But, even though it's been a long while ... nearly a year ... I still feel that ... I ... I just don't feel right.
I feel lost. I feel full of doubt that I'm even a decent friend.

STUDIES SAY, so they say, that if a friendship lasts seven years, it'll be able to weather anything.
...
WELL MAYBE SOME FRICKIN' STUDY IS DEAD WRONG.

And I kind of hate that, too.

Because ... I feel like a crap person.
What kind of crappy person does a girl have to be that her bestie cuts all ties with her without a word? That moves back to the same town and never even texts?

... Going with that, I am a REALLY CRAPPY person.

And ... I don't want to be a really crappy person. I want to know how to have fun, how to not be filled with self-doubt.

And, as friends have pointed out, this now-gone-friend has changed.
And it was harder to be supportive for her ... so ... maybe she's done me a favor?

I don't know.

They say that time heals all wounds.
How do I stop picking at this scab?

Ocean of Emotion

What have you missed since I last blogged?

Not a whole bunch. Me being lazy and reading a lot.
My mom getting the munchkin brigade to CLEAN THEIR ROOM.
Michael and I applied for our passports ... not that we have a trip planned yet or anything.
I cut my hair (it needed it. Now, instead of being between my shoulderblades, it's jaw-length. And, overall, it feels healthier).

Michael and I went to Chef's Night Out in Eugene.
I, of course, FREAKED OUT before heading down ...

• What do I wear?
• It's a stinking CHARITY EVENT (Don't get me wrong, I love philanthropy)!
  There will be men with their TROPHY WIVES there!
  I will bring shame upon Michael!Shame on his company! Shame on his cow!
  (He doesn't have a cow, you say? WELL, THERE'S THE ONE THAT I'M HAVING NOW!!)
• What if I'm overdressed? What if I'm underdressed?
• What if I have to TALK to people and I say something declasse? 
• What if I spill my drink or food?!?
• Do I look like I'm trying to hard?
• ... Oh, hell. Fix the undereye makeup. Add some damn green liquid liner. It'll distract from the waves of fear and desperation you're giving off.

You think I'm kidding ... the plethora of rabidly-begging-for-input texts that I sent Michael and the tear-stains on our coverlet prove otherwise.

By the time I got down there (after wonderful C [who I Visit Teach] came to watch the kidlets came over, Bruise and Bucket arrived home from school, and I kissed everyone good-bye), after some en-route car karaoke, I was better-prepared mentally to deal with ... people.

I should say that I DO like people. Dealt with in small groups, I'm FIIIIINE.
But, well, when I don't know them and I'm not performing as someone else and when I feel fat and I'm on my period and there are angry bees that hate me in my head ... I'm ... vulnerable and more than a little sick-in-the-head.

Just keeping it real for you all.

I mean, usually, I can accept that, yes, there's more of me to love than average. I've got curves that won't quit. I love food ... and don't love to exercise. Or sweat, actually. Give me a book, a BLT, a rainy day, and a cuppa rooibos chai ... I'm a happy camper.

Put me into a social situation that involves dressing up more than in a jersey knit ... with strangers ... who have money (our tickets were given to Michael's company since they worked on an awesome project to combat hunger) ... and, well, I go into crisis-social-mode, obvs.

Good times, good times.
Once we GOT there ... and the pre-event schmoozing was over (so I didn't have to pretend like I knew what I was doing there), I could be proactive and go on the hunt for sampling bazillions of yummy things (I'm not that into chicken livers or pork pate. Good to know. But, DANG SON, I found some Ginger Lemonade that I can buy over at Market of Choice ... now I have TWO go-to drinks there [The other is the Rose Lemonade that you can pry from my COLD. DEAD. HANDS. ... though I also like the Dry Sodas -- esp. Lavender, Rhubarb, and Blood Orange.]).

Michael and I practically ate ourselves sick ... but there were SO many things to try ... and we hadn't even tried them all. And we didn't have seconds of anything!
(The Wild Duck cafe's Beer-Cheese soup? Yum. And there was a cantaloupe salsa with avocado. And a roasted-carrot chicken curry. And a rosewater panna cotta. And a sweet potato cobbler with lavender-caramel sauce ... and more ... and it was all really good).

See ... social events = STRESSFUL.
Food events = GOOD.
So, once it changed to a FOOD EVENT, I was good. No more stressful than getting lunch at the county fair, right?
(OH gosh, I sound like some antisocial bumpkin ... probably because I am rather a somewhat-antisocial bumpkin.)


Also, my Nana has been moved into an assisted-care home. With her dementia, it had to happen.
But, still ... I ...

I'm supposed to write her a letter every couple of weeks ... because I know that I want to keep in touch with her. And she can't hear well enough over the phone. And she doesn't have a computer, let alone know how to email or anything.  ... But ... it's tough. I don't always say how I feel. Because I don't want to be all "Hey, Nana. Your dementia makes me mad. I love you. But dementia sucks. And I know that it has to be worse for you. But it's sad. And it makes me feel like I've lost you and am mourning you before you have died. Because it's like part of your IS dying NOW. And I hate that. And it makes me feel selfish that I'm griping about the fact that I still HAVE you and I CAN visit you ... and it's not the same. ... Even if I could visit, which I try to when we can ... there's a part of me that wants to break down and cry about your state of being you-but-not and I just want to go back about 18 years to when I could walk with my dad down to your house and you'd feed Sarah, David, and me strawberries-fresh-from-the-garden with a splash of cream and a heaping spoonful of sugar. And Sarah and I would dress up in your costume jewelry and nightgowns and feel so grown up and we'd go and "help" Pop-pop mow Mrs. Weatherbee's field and tramp about in the garden and everything. I miss the smell of the attic at your old house back home. I miss riding in the backseat of your peach-colored Chrysler. I buy Freedent gum to keep in my purse because that's what you always had. And coffee candy. Even though it makes me feel like the most rebellious Mormon girl. Because these things remind me of being a little girl at your house during summer afternoons. And I was so very content then, without grown-up responsibilities ... and I really miss that. I really miss you. And I HATE that dementia has taken you away from us ... from me ... before death has. Because it makes me mad. And it makes me sad. And it makes me feel powerless and vulnerable and ineffective. Because I have NO IDEA how to fix this or what to do... I mean, I GET that I need to rely on the Lord and all. But it's not the easiest thing to do all the time. And I'll be walking in a store or in the library and I'll be hit by this WAVE of GRIEF, hard enough that I find myself breathless, reeling in its wake ... and I ... I ... I just don't know what to do.  And I don't like that. And I don't know if it will be any easier when you're fully gone or if I'll just feel more guilty for not knowing how to appreciate you more while you are here. I love our visits, even if you are more and more childlike each time I see you ... I'll admit, though, that after I get into the car to go, I mostly just want to curl up into a ball in a corner somewhere or lose myself in a story ... because I don't know how to handle losing you more and more. And that makes me feel selfish. And guilty. ... But I'm glad that you ARE around. That Bruise, Bucket, and Bubbles get this chance to know you here, as their great-grandmother. That they are able to witness your love for and fondness of them. That they're able to catch some time with you. I barely knew any of my great-grandparents ... so I know how lucky they are. I think I'm mostly just mad that, even though I've got my heels dug and and am shrieking for you not to go, that the dementia keeps dragging you away, piece by piece, until I'm grasping at the grains of sand running through my fingers as those grief-waves wash over me, leaving me soaked and chilled and frustrated-to-tears by my ineffectiveness. But I love you. And I want you to know that one fact. If you know nothing else, I just want you to remember, to KNOW, that we love you."

...

I mean, I could write that to her. It'd be honest. And one reason I don't like the letters/cards that I send to her is because they seem disingenuous ... all prattling on about how we love her (true) and what the kids are doing (true) and that we're fine (true) and we miss her (all too true) ... but that elephant is in the room and I am averting my eyes from its presence. And that feels dishonest. But it doesn't feel proper/kind/whatever to bring it up -- "I hate dementia. Dementia sucks. Dementia is ... I don't know what it is, but I don't like it." ... even if I did say those (true) things ... it might upset Nana more than it'd change anything else. So ... well, I don't see the point of doing it. 

I don't really know of anything else I ... strike that. I can report that Michael and I have now been married 15 years and ... some-odd days. I'm refusing to math right now.
And we went to the coast and ate good food and bought clothes.
I now have a rainjacket that fits me. And has a hood.
Michael got some new slacks, shirts, and ties.
We ate Monte Cristos at Gracie's Sea Hag ... and they were worth the wait and the effort!
We also went to Ripley's Believe it or Not ... just like on our honeymoon (but it was MUCH better weather this time).

And, I had signed up to sub for a Relief Society Lesson.
I figured that, hey, I'm teaching Sunday School ... why not just add on another lesson, right?
Originally, it was for March 6 - Joseph Smith.
Then it was bumped to March 13 - The Atonement and Resurrection of Jesus Christ. Okay.
THEN it was rescheduled to be the Teaching for Our Times Lesson - "Strengthened Through His Atonement" by Dallin H. Oaks.
And, did I mention that it was Easter Sunday? The Sunday that our Ward choir was performing in Sacrament meeting?
Yeah, no biggie, right?

Well, I crammed. A LOT. I'd been studying multiple talks by apostles and people (all the ones that Elder Oaks referred to in his talk. And a few more. Because WHY NOT?) ... including an excerpt from Lighten Up by Chieko Okazaki.

Well, I referred to the outline I wrote. The classroom clock wasn't working. My phone (with its clock) was in my purse. Along with the tissues that I really needed.
But the sisters all participated in the discussion.
People said that it was good.
I survived.
And I'm glad that it's over.
But it felt like it went well.

And I was VERY tired that evening.

And THAT's really, as far as I can tell, all I really have to report. 

Now, I should write that letter to my Nana.

Missing ... the point

So, I had a thought strike me (not literally. That'd be painful.) that I should ask a mutual friend about my someone-that-I-used-to-be-besties situation.

Yeah, it's nice when you follow inspiration.

Not only was she patient with the near-novella I sent her, but she also responded IMMEDIATELY.

She confirms with Mom and Michael that this other friend has changed a lot. And she's also sad about it, too.

But she assured me that it's 100% not my fault (which means that I HAVE to stop moping about what I might have done/not done ... since it's not me) and that our past-friend is nuts for not keeping me around.

Which, again, was what I needed to know.

And I saw this tweet from a different Facebook friend

And, you know ... I think I'm going to be all right after all.

Even though I hate missing people.
It's one of the reasons I so don't deal well with people/pets dying. Because I'm going to miss them. And that's hard.

But, like Mom and Michael have pointed out, maybe past-friend is doing me a favor.

I still hope that she is doing okay, that she finds happiness, that everything works out for her.
But, yeah, it's going to have to work out without me. And that's okay. Or it will be, anyways. Which isn't always the same thing ... but it'll do.

I mean, except for a handful of friends from mostly pre-email days, I've kept in contact with most of my friends.

(In case you're wondering, here's a list of the friends I still need to track down:

• Sabrina from my first-grade class. Her family moved after she got chicken pox REALLY bad. It was in her lungs and we weren't sure she'd get well. She has red hair and wore glasses. I named a red-haired doll of mine after her.
• Katrina and Shaneeka - These were my two best friends in fifth-grade. We were in Ms. Sommers' class at Thorndyke Elementary in Seattle. They were really, really fun. I haven't been able to track them down. And I was a horrible letter-writer. So it's my fault.
• Amy Brown - from WOU. We were in the Ed Program together. And her email stopped working after we graduated. She always was so very, very nice. She called me her Phoebe-friend, since I reminded her of Lisa Kudrow's character on friends. She also gave me a teeny book with useful French phrases.

(But, see? I do my best to keep track of most people that I know. Some people collect china figurines ... I do my best to stalk everyone on Facebook.)

But, yes, following inspiration is a good thing. Glad I followed it.

MOAR crazy Dream Chronicles! Lucky you!

Yeah, I'm only remembering bits and pieces of my dreams ... but they're sure ... special.

The other night, in my dream, I started out with Bubbles and I driving around a college campus (could have been my alma mater, but it was MUCH larger). And they'd moved the mailboxes OUTSIDE the building. And I had a key that fit ... so I was all, "Hey, I could always have stuff shipped here and pick it up for free!" (Must have been a holdover from reading Ready Player One with Michael.)

THEN, the other part of my dream had me as, like, idk, an adjunct professor ... but I had finished up my term, so I was going to be leaving.
And the building we were in was haunted. By this TALL, strapping, red-headed Viking of a ghost. And he got one of the other professors to jump off the building (her red tartan-print dressed, broken body was still on the pavement below). And I was leaving the building and he took this goodbye-present handleless mug of mine and BROKE it. (Not that it was a huge deal. Since we have a BAZILLION mugs [who doesn't?] AND it wasn't my style anyways.) But I was irked by the PRINCIPLE of the thing. Ill-mannered, murdering ghost.

LAST night's dream was ... odd ... because, OF COURSE it was.

So, here's the deal. IRL, I have written a skit for my son's Cub Scout group. And, since last meeting was passing out flyers for a food drive (they ended up collecting over 100lbs of food!), there was NOT time to even have the boys read the script.

SO, TOMORROW, his den is meeting early so I can (1) pass out scripts, (2) assign roles, (3) have the boys run through it a couple times, and (4) go soak my head.
Mostly kidding on that last one. But I haven't had much practice directing things. I usually just act or sing. Or help with props/makeup/costuming (but not so much on that LAST one in THAT list).

I'm just hoping that it'll go well and that we'll HAVE five boys to play all the parts ... if not, well, It could end up being a Bruise production with starring roles from his Scout leaders, parents, and twin sister. We'll see ... But, apparently, I'm a little worried about the whole thing ...

So, in my dream, one of our past sister missionaries was throwing a huge dramatic spectacle. And, last minute, I was given a script. I didn't have my lines down at all ... and I hadn't really even had time to read over my part(s). And there was some serious swear words ... so I'm taking liberties and editing them out ... because (1) swearing is something that I've worked VERY HARD to not do nearly so much (Srsly, y'all -- my sophomore year of high school, I was SUCH a potty-mouth. Sailors and truckers would have blanched. So my use of "craps," "damns," and "hells" is a TOTAL improvement. Just so you know.) and (2) IT WAS AT CHURCH. You can't say scatalogical terms of THAT kind at church. Because that's Jesus's house.

And then, the other scene I was in, I dropped my script and LOST MY PLACE and couldn't find it ... and so I was having to make up lyrics to some rock song that I'd only caught a wee glimpse of ... so I'm writhing on the floor, turning in horizontal circles on my back, mic in hand, as I try to channel Freddie Mercury at his glammest and maybe a soupçon of Stevie Nicks, as I'm MAKING UP LYRICS and hoping that the returned sister missionary won't be too put out that I'm ruining her script.

Okay, so I can get that maybe that rock-star element of my dream is because on Facebook folks were complimenting my Jem! costume from around six years ago. My wig and makeup were awesome, if I do say so myself ... the rest of the costume could have gone better.
If I make it again, I know a lot of things to improve.
But it's not going to be this year, since there's only a few days until Halloween. And I don't have a costume at all. *sigh* I don't even know what to attempt to dress as.

In other non-dream-related news, I've passed sixth-grade math on Khan Academy. I did a load of dishes. We had soup for dinner last night. We went to the library's Halloween shindig (and ran into Michael's cousin and his family there ^_^). And I sent a Facebook message to the (ex?) friend who had unfriended me.
I let her know that I noticed we weren't Facebook friends anymore. And that I understood that it could be a glitch (not terribly likely) or that it could have not. But that I wished the best for her, even if that meant that I wasn't friends with her anymore. And that if there had been anything that I had done or said that had hurt or offended her, that it wasn't done purposefully ... and that I was sorry if I had hurt or offended her.

As my mom said, either she'll respond to it or not. And, if she writes back, there's an answer. If she doesn't, there's another answer.

The ball is in her court. And that's ... a little ... nerve-wracking. But, well, it felt insincere to pretend that I didn't notice the change in our friendship. I get that people grow apart ... but, well, when you've been really tight friends, it seems more direct to let the other person know that you're choosing to unfriend them. It'd be kind to let them know why ... even a "we've grown apart" or something.
I've unfriended some folks on facebook ... but they were (pretty much) strangers who we had friended each other for facebook games that I wasn't playing anymore. That's a bit different, right?

I've almost got Bruise's shirt done for Halloween. It's the main part of his costume (the rest is a certain pair of jeans (I should make sure those are in the wash) and trainers). I should make a clasp for Bucket's cloak. Bubbles's costume is all storebought ... and, well, we did pick up about the perfect pair of Crocs for her to wear with it (SPARKLY TEAL, Y'ALL. TEAL. AND SPARKLES. Can you tell that I'm a little jealous?), so her's is all taken care of.

So, yeah. I should check on Bruise's shirt ... do the last bits of paint on it. Get a shower. Do more laundry. Drink a buttload of water (doing this week-long water challenge. Michael's doing it, too. We're only drinking water as our beverage this week. And we're SUPPOSED to be drinking (bodyweight/2) in ounces. ... This is the third day in ... and man I suck at drinking enough water. Sunday, got nearly 3/4 of the suggested amount. Yesterday, I didn't even get one-third. *sigh*).

And I'm working at getting through library books ... physical AND online (Overdrive is a great app. you can use it to read books [e-books or audiobooks] on your phone or tablet, borrowed through your library ... well, if your library is part of it. Or, you could do the free ones that are available to everyone and don't count against how many books you can check out. You're limited to six holds at a time ... and TWO hold came in within a day of each other. And you only get them for 14 days. *sigh* I mean, you can check them out again, if there's not a hold on them, of course .....)

But, yeah. Busy girl.
Who also needs to read her scriptures and plan her lesson (which HOPEFULLY won't be observed by the STAKE PRESIDENT next week. Don't get me wrong, I love our Stake President ... but, well, that's a little stressful to be observed. Especially when I COULD AND SHOULD have been a bit better prepared ... and, bless them, but my class was VERY excitable. So it was interesting making sure that we focused and refocused their attention on the topic of showing Christlike love to others. But I was able to tell them about how the Young Women Theme, this month's Relief Society lesson, and the overall goal of "The Power of Everyday Missionaries" all integrate that theme ... and they had some great insights. And we discussed sharing our beliefs with others and HOW to do it best and HOW to show others, through our actions and words, how much Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ love them ... and President C did say that I did a great job, so it was a good lesson ... but a little stressful. ^_^) ... among another billion things that I should get done.

..... ..

I've not been very productive ... but that'll be changing here shortly.

I HAVE gotten the kids' laundry through the wash (one more load to dry) ... now to have them fold and put it away when they get home, right?

I'll be doing another load of dishes, since that's a NEED. And I'm going to get the front rooms cleaned up a bit more (since they're really not at all right yet. Ha ha...)

So, a few months ago, I did the "see less from" for a friend of mine on Facebook, knowing that we'd still be Facebook friends and that, when I was ready to see more of her posts, I could just go to her page.

I realized today, since I was feeling braver and readier, that somehow we've been unfriended.

I had to call Michael anyway, so he looked too. (An engineer-ish trait is confirming information, just to be sure that things are really things.) He also had been unfriended.

I can hope that this is a Facebook glitch, though there are more than a dozen friends that we still have in common.

I'm not feeling brave enough, though, to send a message, to throw out a "hey! I saw that Facebook says we're not friends anymore! Whoops! I hope that I didn't do that ... or that you didn't do that. Because I still care. And I hope that you do, too. ... Not hearing from you when you were in town was sad, but I figured that you were busy and all. And I didn't want to be that needy friend when you're busy. ... Or it could be that, as close friends as we were, you do just need your space and all ... and maybe I'm not quite as fun/cool/supportive/helpful to you as I hoped I was. ... And, well, that's cool, too. Because I just want you to be happy. ... Even though I miss you. ... But I hope that you and your family are all doing well. And that you're happy. Because I want you to be happy and healed and whole..."

But, really, how do you say all that in a not-at-all-pathetic, no-pressure way?
I'm not coming up with anything.

So, yeah.

I mean it's great that Michael's my best friend and I have him and get to see him and have sleepovers with him just about every single day. And my mom's an awesome bestie, too.
I have other friends-that-are-girls, too ... just not always as close as I'd like or within a 30-minute drive, you know?

And I know that 99%+ is all on me for that. It's easier, with kids, to NOT leave the house and just replace calling people (and dealing with kids in the background/ambient noise/non-complimentary schedules/etc) with emailing, facebook, and blogging. ... Or not even doing those, but striving to achieve a cleaner house and/or making progress in getting through my TBR pile.

I mean, I know that this friendship was on the rocks and all ... we weren't talking or emailing (though, when I'd reach out, she'd respond and it'd be very much like old times ... though with her being far away and having kids and going through school and ... a lot of ands ...) ... I know she's busy. But I miss hanging out with her. And it hurts to have this ... raw space.

And I get that them's the breaks sometimes. And it'll suck for a while.
And I'll need to pray and read my scriptures more. And things will get easier.
And I'll clean my house and invite some friends over to watch movies together.
And, eventually, Bubbles will be in school and I'll start volunteering at the library or spend more time volunteering at the kids' school(s).
And maybe PTC will choose a day/time that isn't the same date/time so that I can work to be more social with the sisters in my ward ...


...

.....

...

So, I obviously need to be more proactive in being social.
And, in order to do THAT, I should clean my house so that I can have people over without them being in danger of bodily harm (from tripping over the mess) AND so they'll have a place to sit (as comfortable as my piles and piles and piles of laundry are ...).

I'm not totally, completely okay yet ... but it's nice to be able to type all this out in some attempt to work out HOW my jumble of feelings can be translated into actual thoughts.

Though, I'll be honest ... I do rather wish that I was back in high school where/when all my good friends lived pretty close. That was handy. If one moves away/starts being homeschooled/whatever, I could still keep in contact a bit ... but there were other friends to hang out with at lunch or before school or at rehearsal. I miss that. I miss it a lot.

Your "What's-Gone-On-In-the-Last-Two-Weeks-If-You-Really-Care" Update

So, yeah, it's been two weeks since I last blogged.
(Way to go, me ... sounds like I'm starting with a confession. I'm not Catholic, but I do have some friends who are ... and it's not like I haven't seen movies where a character is in Confession ... I digress. Like I always do.)

Okay, since June 9th ...

Well, I WANTED this to be a fun, chatty post, since I got back in touch with my high-school Theater teacher (also taught Writing for College, which was a great class, too). (No, I'm NOT trying to suck up, okay? I really did enjoy those classes AND having him as a teacher/friend. Geez, you guys.) ... where was I? Oh yes ... AND I would have really preferred, since I told him that I have a blog and he said that he'd be glad to read it, to have something witty and funny and well-drafted ... but, well, it is what it is (didn't Vonnegut say that? I find myself saying it a lot. And I think it's a quote ... Whatever. I've just gotten up and I can't brain yet).

Sorry, Mr. A. I really did want to be clever and awesome. But, well, at least you know that I didn't hire a ghostwriter or anything, right?

SO ... the kids are out of school for the summer. Bruise and Bucket had their well-child check-up. They're current on their shots (Bucket had pumped herself up to be prepared for a vaccination, though I was pretty sure she didn't need one, so she was bummed NOT to get a shot. ... Yup, that's my girl).
That's how we started Summer Vacation -- go to the doctor's, then take the kids' to Grandma's house (while Mom and Dad go to a meeting [read that: get to a meeting rather late because the guy in charge of getting information only told us the [City] Stake Center, not an address. So we went to the church building in [City], then had to call our sister-in-law to figure out where we (and another ten cars) SHOULD be ... which meant that we were BARELY on time. Which meant that Michael had to listen to me grouse about how I HATE being late. Poor guy. At least we got to eat at the Pita Pit for dinner, so it wasn't terrible. And the meeting was good [about missionary work]).

Backtracking -- the kids had a fun time at their class trip to OMSI. I was feeling guilty about not going with (but then I'd have to run Bubbles up to Mom C's, run the kids and myself BACK into town, drive up to OMSI -- most likely carpooling, so then I'd have to drop off everyone BACK at the school and run BACK UP to Mom C's, AND THEN go back home) ... however, since I found myself being VERY GOOD FRIENDS with Mr. Toilet that day, I didn't feel so guilty.
(I would have said that I didn't feel so bad, but that would have been a lie. Since I was NOT feeling good by any means. Not for a while.)

I've agreed to be PTC (Parent-Teacher Club) Secretary for the 2015-2016 school year.
Sounds like the meetings will be moved to Tuesday evenings, which mostly work better for me. Michael can pick up the kids (and take Bucket to her Activity Days twice a month) ... I'd better prepare a metric crapton of slow cooker meals.
It also sounds like there'll be a morning meeting once a month. I'm sure they'll get used to me in pajamas, schlepping my brood in. (I jest, I jest. But I WILL be rocking a ponytail with my I-threw-this-on-right-before-running-to-the-car ensemble.)

Before the kids went down to stay a week with grandfolks (they stayed with my dad and L Monday; then, until Friday, they were with my mom and stepdad), we did the kick-off for the city summer activity/scavenger hunt/passport program/thing. It's actually really fun. You get a little passport and go around (mostly downtown) and collect stamps from participating businesses. At some places, you need to do something to earn your stamp. At others, you get to make something (like at the paint-you-own pottery, you paint a little trinket [which you'll come back later to pick up, after it's been put into the kiln and cooled. Or, at a coffee shop/deli, (at least last year) kids made their own, free, Italian soda. Or you had to shoot so many baskets on the court at the YMCA. Stuff like that]). Some are out a little ways -- in one, you go to a historic mill, which makes a nice day trip. it's fun to go on the tour and into the little interpretive center -- grind some flour by hand. Maybe feed the chickens and turkeys ...

But, yeah, Bruise, Bucket, and Bubbles had fun spending the week with grandfolks. They all came back happy, tired, and sunburned (I know they did put on sunscreen. They were JUST in the sun that much).

While they were gone, I had high hopes of laying in bed and reading all day (like I could do pre-kids). Instead I did small bursts of cleaning ... and got my hair colored.
Tuesday, I went through the kids' outgrown clothing and got that sorted. Then I went to the salon for my appointment. I'm now even blonder (working towards platinum, since that's one of the [few] colors I haven't done) and sporting some fun streaks. We tried to do teal, purple, and pink ... but the pink didn't take at all. So I have fun teal and purple streaks (hadn't done purple streaks before. I've done teal, but only on the bottom-most layer of hair. And that was years ago) happening.
Then Michael and I went to see Jurassic World (which was good despite not starring Dr. Ian Malcom. Though, trivia says (and I missed it), that Jeff Goldblum's picture IS featured on a couple books held by two characters in the film).

Wednesday, I cleaned up the house a bit and organized a freezer (which NEEDED to happen, because I was sick and tired of foisting off an impeding avalanche EVERY time I opened that stinkin' freezer), since we were feeding the missionaries. One of the elders is going to be going home soon. Which is a bummer (for us) since he's really fun. But we know that his family misses him, so we'll deal.
After dinner, we went to Home Depot to go pick up supplies for Thursday evening ...

Thursday, I spent around four hours cleaning up the kids' room. Two bags of stuff to donate. Another FULL bag of trash, countless passes with the vacuum on every bit of floor that I could reach, cleaning off the BIG shelves ... and their room was clean. BUT ONLY HALF OF THEIR ROOM.
(We worked on the other half of the floor and the closet on Sunday. Happy Father's Day, Honey!)

Then I went shoe shopping. I ended up with a pair of sneakers (goal), a pair of dress shoes (secondary goal), a pair of nice flip-flops, and a new shirt (bonus!) And some new socks. And a swim cap to protect my dye job (which sort of worked).

Thursday night, we spent building Bubbles's new bed, since she bent the frame of her (used) toddler bed by jumping on it. Whoops. Michael cut the boards, I sanded the boards. We ran to Home Depot again (another board and more sandpaper). We bolted the thing together and screwed down the plywood ... If a bomb should happen, that bed might burn to the ground. But it'll burn to the ground as a thing SOLIDLY BOLTED TOGETHER. Doesn't even shake or shiver when I sit on it.

Friday, I went to work with Michael. I helped Paige (the office manager) by collapsing cardboard boxes (which brought back memories as I used the boxcutter. Even though it's been around 20 years, I still know how to employ boxcutter safety. Thank you Shop Smart and your [kinda boring] safety videos). Then we took out the recycling ... which, being Paige and me, was filled with giggling and nearly dropping bags of precariously-piled bags of magazines and newspapers. She's totally fun to hang with. And I got to meet her son in the survey department (Lest you misunderstand, this is NOT a large company. I think they have about 15-20 employees. But I hadn't met everyone ... usually since, if we come with the kids, I work to take the kids out to the stores in the complex or the park, so that Michael can actually get some work done. That and we never can turn down a trip to Trader Jo's. :P).

After work, we got lunch (even though Cafe Yumm did mess up our order a little. It was still delicious.) and headed down to my hometown. We collected the kids so we could check into the hotel (and give my mom a chance to rest -- between taking care of the kids AND my stepdad [who has dementia], she was exhausted. Poor girl).

We checked in, got settled, waited for my aunt and my cousin's daughter (who Aunt J is taking care of this summer) to come, then we went swimming.
Since I mentioned that my swim cap mostly worked, instead of having nice delineated technicolor streaks, they turned into more ... mermaid hair. Which isn't BAD by any means. Just a little different.

After that, we got dressed and ready and headed back to Mom's for dinner.
After eating and the kids (Cousin + my munchkin brigade) playing, we headed back to the hotel, took a small tour of the casino, and went to bed.

Michael joked that, "Hey, maybe this is the room that Mike Rowe stayed in a few weeks back." But I had to break it to him that, no, THAT hotel is the one across the highway.
(Though, it WOULD have been awesome to be able to make that claim. Heck, I think that THAT hotel should get a little brass historical event plaque for the door: "On ___, 2015, Mike Rowe slept in this room." We could use the added tourism, I'm sure.)

Saturday, we started back fro home, making a stop at Wildlife Safari (If you have a membership at the Oregon Zoo [Ours is almost ready to expire], you can get your admission for 1/2 price. #TheMoreYouKnow) So we made it worth our while. Then we scouted some stores for another LEGO set that's all sold out up here. No dice. And we got some fast food for the drive home.

We got the sad news that Michael did not pass his HUGE engineering test that he took back in April.
He'll be taking it again, next April.
Please send prayers, good thoughts, happy muju, whatever.
Passing this test (next year) will make him a full-fledged Civil Engineer.
Which is what he's been working for.
(I'm just irritated that OSBEELS is dumb in not letting you know your actual score or what you missed or anything. Just a Pass/Fail. Which isn't very helpful. How can you gauge how much you need to improve? Bah.)

Bubbles loves her new bed. The kids are enjoying their clean room (still need to go through three dressers -- hoping to get Bucket's clothes into ONE dresser, so that the other dresser can START housing Bubbles's clothes -- getting THOSE out of OUR room -- AND one set of shelves. THEN they will have a CLEAN-clean room.
And they'll just have to do maintenance on it ... or face the wrath of a frustrated mommy. (A fate worse than death!)

We wished everyone (Michael's dad, my stepdad, my dad, and my Grampy) a happy Father's Day on Sunday. The little craft that the kids in Nursery did for the dads was well-received (the kids did a handprint on a page that said "Daddy, I'm hooked on you." We added a googly eye and orange lips to make the handprints into fish. I made it about as simple and easy as possible. just had to ink up the kids' hands, make the prints, wipe off the hands, let dry, draw on lips with an orange marker, glue on the googly eye, and let dry. Most of them were even done last week. Even better).

Yesterday, we did some chores while Michael was at work. Then we went to a Health Fair, to the library, and back home. The big kids worked on Duolingo (Spanish) and khanacademy (math) and read a bit. And played outside with a neighbor.
Then we went to their swim lesson, where they had fun with Bob.

Today (and the rest of this week) will be more of the same -- housework, not forgetting everything they learned last year, playing ... and doing some of the town passport program.

As I type all this out, I realize that I have a vaguely boring life. But ... well, I like it.

Because, unfortunately, there are much worse alternatives.
Like what happened in my hometown Saturday night.

I don't know how much it's been on the news, but there was a shooting.
In my small hometown.
Which left my cousin's best friend's husband dead.
By his nephew (who was one of my classmates since Kindergarten).

Both the victim, JP, and BF, who shot him are family members of a couple that are in my home Ward (church congregation, if you're not LDS) family.
J is the son of this couple. B is their grandson.

And we're just left reeling. Because ... how could this have happened?
My cousin's BFF went from having a perfect, happy family to being a widow in seconds. And she witnessed the whole thing. I can't imagine how she's feeling.
And poor N (the mom/grandma) ... because she and her husband are some of the nicest, kindest people around ... nobody deserves for this to happen, least of all them.

I keep hoping that this is just some crap nightmare. But it's not.

And I can't wrap my head around this.
BF was a nice guy.
When we were in Kindergarten together, after school, we'd walk the block north from the school, then part ways (he towards his grandma's house about a block away to the west, me further north to my house).
"See you in a million years!" he'd call as he crossed the street.
"No, see you tomorrow," literal-minded little me would call back.

And, in middle school, when he was in the popular group and I was not ... One time, in P.E., he came up to me after another less-than-pleasant bout of existence with some of the in-crowd kids.
"You know," he told me, "you could be popular."
"What?" I replied. As quick on the uptake as ever. Typical Allanna.
"You could be popular, too. If you drop [friend's name] as a friend."
(I mean, I didn't make that choice. But I knew that BF didn't have to tell me that. And that he did because he saw what was going on. And I was sure that he remembered how we were friends in elementary school ... and that ... well, it's not the type of thing someone without empathy and caring would do.)

Even on Facebook, now, people are all commenting that they can't believe that BF would ever do something like that. He was So-and-so's friend. He was always a good guy. ...

... what happened?

And I keep wondering if there was something that I could have done.
I mean, after middle school, we weren't close or anything. We were in the same school and we'd say "hi" to each other when we saw each other. But we didn't move in the same circles, really.
But I always thought of him as a friend.

I mean, I was DOWN in our hometown that day.
If I knew then what I do now, I'd have worked to track him down and talked to him.

But, I mean, what could I have said ... "Hey, later tonight, don't shoot your uncle. AT ALL. Not even once, let alone a bunch. M'kay? That'd be great. So, how's it been going for the last decade or so? You doing okay?"

Not very realistic, I know. But ... could I have been a better friend to him? Was he even on Facebook? I could have sent him a friend request ... let him know that I always remember him fondly, since we were friends a long time ago. That I appreciated that he offered me that chance at being in the in-crowd when nobody else really seemed to care (except jumping at the chance to make my friend's life pretty awful).

Michael tells me there's really nothing that I could have done differently.
Which is true. Unless I had a time-machine or something ...

Which then makes me wonder WHY this happened? HOW could this happen?
This is the kind of thing you read about.
It's not something that you can prepare yourself for in advance (well, not and remain mentally healthy).

And I find myself, squatting to find refried beans or tomato sauce in the pantry cupboard and wondering, "What am I doing with my life??? Why am I even here ... what's the significance of my existence right now? I should be doing something ... and ..."
And then I have to get on with my life because I have three kids who need to be fed and a husband to assist and a cat to snuggle (so she won't get all anxious and pee in the laundry pile or over-groom herself. Seriously, I cannot believe that out of all of us, it's the CAT that has a prescription for Prozac. Obviously, this is the perfect cat for me. Obviously.)

However, I think that it's time to escape into a book sometime today.
I have a pile of library books that need to be read ... but I'm feeling the need to jump into a tested-and-true old friend. Something familiar. Something safe. Something that will be good to read while Bubbles is napping.

I mean, I have faith that there's an overall plan. And that we all are going to learn and grow from this ... horrible ... happenstance.

But, still, I really wish it hadn't happened at all.

When I am benevolent dictator of the world, all conflicts will be dealt with hugging-it-out. Or maybe pie-eating contests. Or staring contests whilst eating dark chocolate (unless one is allergic. To chocolate. I've not yet heard of anyone being allergic to staring ... but what do I know?).

It's make-up-your-own-title day! (No, not REALLY)

I know, I know, it's been a few days. But not SO terribly many as it COULD have been ...

Let's see.
Michael's done with his CRAZYHUGEEXPENSIVELONG test. In a couple months, we should learn if he's passed it. (Just FYI, this test only has a 42% pass rate. Yowch, right?)

Bubbles is in the middle of potty-training. She's doing pretty well ... Mistakes are still happening, but nothing horrendous.

Last week, one of my "baby" cousins turned 22. And she's THISCLOSE to graduating college.
I also got to have a lunch date with one of my friends that I hadn't seen (in person) for what feels like ages and ages. We had a great time. I've missed her bunches.

We cleaned the church (we had traded our assignment last week to this week).
I have to say that cleaning WITH kids takes a LOT longer ... but Bruise and Bucket are learning (bit by bit) how to clean the church bathrooms decently.
Yes, we opt for cleaning the bathrooms and the drinking fountains instead of the kitchen and vacuuming classrooms.
(Now, July-December, we'll have the other jobs to choose from -- washing the windows, vacuuming/sweeping the chapel, cultural hall, hallways ... and some other things. But, as for me and my house, we prefer the bathrooms.)

SO ... Michael can actually clean the bathrooms, kitchen, vacuum the classrooms assigned, AND clean the drinking fountains (that's the BEST one, really) in around an hour by himself, so he says ...
It took me, coaching Bruise and Bucket, on the wiping down the sinks and toilets (Michael was in charge of refilling toilet paper and paper towel dispensers and, for the most part, mopping), it took us almost EXACTLY one hour.

On Sunday, when we were walking into church, we ran into Brother D--. He made such a point of thanking us for COMING and CLEANING at the church (it's a nearly random assignment given to at least two families each week. Our family might be assigned to help clean maybe four times a year?) ... but it was pretty apparent that folks aren't showing up or doing their work.

I could rather tell that, since in the Nursery, we have PILES of sawdust where ants burrowed through earlier this month. (I should just take Michael's key and give that room a DECENT vacuuming sometime during the week) And, when I was scrubbing the toilets, they were hosting quite a pink ring of mineral-sediment in each and every one of them.
(When you have someone in the other ward remark on how good the toilets look ... I mean it's flattering, but it's also rather irritating. This is the Lord's HOUSE ... it SHOULD be taken care of.)

So ... yeah. And Michael got home from a meeting last night feeling frustrated.

Pretty much all of it really boils down to the fact that a good majority of folk in the ward (and don't get me wrong, I love my church. I love my ward. But we're none of us perfect. Apparently, here's an area in which a LOT of us can aspire to show HUUUUUUUUGE improvements. Just sayin'.) are not taking their responsibilities/duties seriously.

I mean, yes, sometimes there are times when a teacher just WON'T SHOW UP for church, leaving either the Sunday School presidency or the Primary Presidency skedaddling to find someone to take his/her place OR squeezing two classes together.
It's understandable when it's an emergency ... but just NOT showing up for a calling that you agreed to do (and it's not like there's NO ONE who could pitch in and sub. Heck, I just typed up the list of Primary substitutes into a pdf for my Nursery co-leaders.), it's not responsible.
(And I say this as a woman who LOVES to sleep in.)

I see Michael busting his butt to TRY and be a good steward (as called for, being an Elders Quorum president) to all the families assigned to his care (Not all the families come under the stewardship of EQ. Some are assigned to the High Priests' group in the ward). And ... well, he can't do it. Even when I'm at my most supportive, there simply aren't enough hours in the day/week/month/year/century for him to administer to each family on his own.

And, well, he tells me that there are three brethren in Elders Quorum who are consistently doing their Home Teaching.

Yes, you heard me.
THREE.
A SINGLE DIGIT ... yeah.

I've offered that, if I'm asked to speak in church in the near future, to issue a call to repentance.
(I can do that, since I do strive to do my Visiting Teaching. I feel intense guilt if I haven't reached out to my Visiting Teachees each month. Because, dang it, they DESERVE to know that Heavenly Father loves them, Jesus loves them, and they have at LEAST two sisters in the ward who know and love them and are willing to help out. Besides, Home/Visiting Teaching also is a great act of service to the High Priest Group Leader/EQ President/ Relief Society President, since THEY need to be able to know how we can best serve those in our ward's boundaries ... and, if they don't have the time/ability to visit each and every family/sister, how can they have ANY chance of knowing about those needs?

It just irks me.
And maybe it's got something to do with the fact that we haven't been home taught since before my friend Kim died (her husband, who's since moved out of the ward, was one of our home teachers. Our other home teacher is ... in legal trouble/having a crisis of faith. So, yeah, it's been a few months since we've had a visit. I GET that people are busy. But, when you're putting other priorities before serving the Lord, I have a bit of a problem with that.

Right now, I don't really know who my Visiting Teachers are.
And I get that whoever I've been assigned to are probably just really busy ladies ... but, at the same time, it's sad that they feel that I don't even rate a call/text/email/Facebook message/whatever.
I mean, sure, I'm doing okay. For the most part.
But, well, what if I weren't? Who would I call?
(Okay, I'd call my mom. But, when my mom passes, I'm going to be UP. A. CREEK.)
And I do have some friends in the ward, too. Like our RS president ... she'd make sure that I was taken care of.

But what of the families/sisters who DON'T have a friendship established with the RS President or someone, anyone else? That's RIGHT THERE what Visiting Teaching is all about (and Home Teaching, too). It's helping the good shepherd by going after and checking on all His wandering (and not-so-wandering) lambs.

And, from my experience of Visiting Teaching, I KNOW that it's not always easy. There will be sisters who don't WANT visits (or even ANY contact from the church). When that happens, you just write letters or send texts (if they're cool with that) and let them know that you're there for them, that you care, that they're not alone or forgotten.

One gal (who I met by being assigned as her Visiting Teacher) was rather flabberghasted when I visited, Michael in tow as my VT companion, since I couldn't get hold of my assigned companion. We had a lovely visit, which started a friendship. ... She was flabberghasted because, when she asked if we had any fun plans for the coming weekend/spring break (in a couple days), I told her that Michael and I were getting married the next day. (It was true. And it was a HUGE reason why I wanted to be SURE to visit her before we went on our honeymoon. Because VT is a priority to me. Not just because of numbers ... but because I'd feel AWFUL if any sister assigned to me felt lonely, forgotten, or neglected. That's NOT how Heavenly Father would want her to feel.)

So, yeah, I can't really wrap my head around why so many folks in the ward aren't reaching out to those they've been assigned stewardship over. Even if you're only able to make contact once every couple months, it's SOMETHING.
If I had more time, I'd be about ready to just print out cards saying "If you need anything, please give your Home Teachers ________ & ________ a call at, respectively ___-___-____ or ___-___-____. Or contact your Visiting Teachers ________ & ________  at ___-___-____ or ___-___-____. They'd love an opportunity to get to know, love, and serve you! ... And if they don't, give me a call at ___-___-____ or email me at ____@_____.___ and I'll set them straight at what a wonderful opportunity they're selfishly neglecting. Because you're awesome! And they should know that!"

But that might be a little, oh, passive-aggressive and overly forward, I suppose.

But, yeah. It's irritating that things like this happen.
(Since, in regards to the cleaning the Stake Center, Brother D-- is no spring chicken. Nor is he in the best of help. He shouldn't have to pick up the slack for all the people who aren't pitching in their share. *SIGH*)

But, well, it's sucky. Because I love these people ... but I also, at the same time, want to give them a GIANT kick in the bedonk-a-donk to get them into gear.

Yeah, I shouldn't talk about this aloud. Or else you're going to hear me bellow that "If we'd just GET IN GEAR and DO STUFF, we'd get blessings, y'all! And I FREAKING NEED blessings! If we'd just DO our CRAP, we'd receive more! THIS is the reason why we DON'T HAVE the SEALED SECTION of the GOLDEN PLATES! I'M TRYING to get my CRAP DONE! I'VE STARTED READING MY SCRIPTURES DAILY! NOW YOU GUYS NEED TO STEP IT UP!!!!!"

And, well, that's not the most Christlike way to address people.
Regardless of whether or not it might be true.

But, yeah ... that's about where it stands.

So ... besides that, I am toning my hair with my awesome purple shampoo. I left it in for, like, 25 minutes the other day. And Michael was impressed at how much blonder/more-platinum my hair looked. So I'm leaving it in longer today. Worst case scenario -- my hair will be a little on the lavender side. Oh, boo. (Honestly? I'd be kinda thrilled.) And I FINALLY got around to giving myself a manicure. Most of my nails (fingers and toes) are a deep nude. But my big toes and my ring fingers are sporting nail strips. Mint green with a cream/dusty rose floral print. The nude ties in with the shadows on the pinkest parts. If you care. Which you might not.

Oh, I've been talking to Bruise and Bucket about puberty.
The other day (Friday morning, before school), I was telling them about their (soon-to-develop) secondary sex characteristics [e.g., body hair, Adam's apple, breasts ...] but I also mentioned menarche and (Bruise was HORRIFIED at this) nocturnal emissions.

But, hey, at least they're aware of what fresh hell their bodies have in store for them.
I did tell them that they really didn't need to discuss this with their school chums or anything ... since it's really something that families should discuss. BUT, with all the fun-fun-fun of upcoming Sex-Ed classes, I figure that I should cover my bases as to human development and gospel doctrines and morality and expectations NOW, while they still listen to me, right?

So, that's most of our week in a nutshell.

And, from discussing with the kids this morning (about accepting God's will, even when we DO have righteous desires ... we have to learn that He does know more and will give us all what's best for us to learn. And I mentioned how we prayed [and fasted] that Kim would get better and come home to her family and us ... and that it ... ... didn't happen.
Bucket crawled into my lap and gave me a big hug. Which was nice, even though she's solid for her size (that girl, I swear, is all bones and muscle. Good for her, right?).

But, yeah. It's not fun when I drive by the road that Kim's family's old apartment is on. Or I watch some clip from Jimmy Kimmel and think that I should share that with her ... and I .... can't. But I'll deal.

I just, you know, I thought I'd be older. A LOT older. ... when I started losing friends this way.

I know it makes me sound all petulant and childish, but I don't LIKE it. Not at all.

Well, I'm going to go load the dishwasher or something. And wash this application of purple shampoo out of my hair.

THEN maybe I'll enlist Bruise and Bubbles to help me build a blanket fort where we'll eat ice cream until it's time to go pick up Bucket.
Though I'll probably be DONE with effort after I load the dishwasher and do some laundry. Or something. They house will wait another day for cleaning, I guess.

In which I am ... something

So, I'm in a little funk.
Which might be a bit of an understatement, really.
But, regardless, ...

So, I don't know if I've mentioned it before, but my Nana (my dad's mom) has dementia.
I used to be able to say that "She's been diagnosed with dementia." But now, really, it's not just a diagnosis. It's not something that I can just wave away ... as much as I wish that I could.

She's not able to live alone anymore. She lives with one of my uncles and his wife (She really didn't ever have to worry about where to live. If she had rather lived with my dad and his girlfriend, they [or, what really counts, my "stepmom"] were more than willing to have her come live with them, too).

Part of this is just sad ... and life ...

Of course, I'm a rather sentimental idiot person. And it hits me a bit harder at times.

My kids have no memory at all of Nana and Pop-pop's house by the creek and one of the parks in my hometown. Because they've never been there. Ever.
(By the time Bruise and Bucket were even conceived, Nana had sold that [lonely, to her, after Pop-pop's death] place and had moved into her own place in the main city. Bubbles will barely ever even remember THAT house.)

Whereas, so MANY of my childhood memories (especially Christmas Eve memories) revolve around that house.
I mean, it could be worse. Nana promised my cousin, S, that she'd get the house ... and, well, that's obviously not going to be a reality. But I think that S is able to deal with that ... at least, a lot better than I would.

I can be honest that, as much as I LOVE Christmas, since Grandma Darlene passed, it's been different. THEN, after Pop-pop passed (and Nana sold that house), it was even more different. I still love it ... but ... it's just not the same. And I miss that sameness, that consistency of opening presents on the burnt-orange carpeting with a fire in the fireplace, with my dad's-side cousins FINALLY getting there. And racing to the bathroom with Cousin S to try on our new clothes ... and the old green corded telephone ... and ... all these little things.

And it reduces me to tears, missing these times that I took for granted far too much.
I wish that I had thought to take (and develop) pictures of each room, of the outside of the house, of Pop-pop's garden ... and I am so disappointed that I never did.

Though, in my mom's shop/garage, I do have the original kitchen door to Nana's old kitchen (before the remodel). Someday (and Michael is aware of this), I will have a house around it again.
I love that door. It's one of those Dutch-style ones ... where you can open just the top half.
Everyone thought that I was silly/crazy for asking for that door ... but, well, I do love it. ... If it would fit in our house here, I'd have installed it ages ago. ... But it takes me back, just thinking of that door. Nana would open it and check the laundry running on the (enclosed) porch. Or go put the bowls of custard out to cool, sprinkling nutmeg on the tops ...

So, even though my family was quite amused/bemused by my request/demand, I have no regrets at all about it.

But there are things that I wish that I could have done differently or could just have the chance to do again because I miss those times ...

• When my parents separated, I wish that I had visited Nana and Pop-pop more. Especially when my dad wasn't in town. I avoided him when he visited for a bit, telling him that I had plans or was busy (when it wasn't really true. But, when you're eleven/twelve, how else do you really punish someone who's made it apparent that the effort to be a family with you and your mom isn't worth it? ... So, yeah. But I should have visited Nana and Pop-pop more when he wasn't at their place).
• I miss going out shopping with Nana. Even just browsing at The Emporium or The Bon Marche or Sears or J.C. Penney ... and most of those stores are getting to the point where they no longer even exist. 
• I miss being able to talk to Nana and knowing that she'd recall that we even had a conversation the next day/week/month.
• I miss being able to talk to Nana on the phone and that she'd be able to hear me/recognize my voice. Now, even though my kids and I are the only folks who call her "Nana," she can't hear me well enough. But she does love to get a phone call. So I call my Aunt I, talk to HER and give her any pertinent information, and then chat at Nana ... who can't really hear me at all. So now I work hard to send her cards and letters ... so that she can KNOW who's sending her things and what all IS happening.
• I miss going to the movies or musicals with Nana.
• I miss going over to play at Nana and Pop-pop's. Riding the tractor/riding lawnmower and helping Pop-pop "drive" (then actually mowing Mrs. Weatherbee's property for Pop-pop) [True story: When I was little, I wanted to get a riding lawnmower so that I could ride it to school. This was before I saw "Can't Buy Me Love." I just really loved driving the riding lawnmower. Way cooler than a bike.], having dinner (always at 6:00pm) with Nana and Pop-pop. Sitting down at their kitchen table on a summer afternoon when Nana would put out a bowl of strawberries, fresh from the garden, sprinkled with sugar, and then pour some cream on top and hand me a spoon.
• I miss Nana being such a lady so often (dressing up to go out shopping. Getting a wet set every Saturday. Touching up her lipstick) and yet using phrases like, "I've got to use THE POT!" when she needed to answer the call of nature. 

I wore my pair of silver patent-leather Sketchers to bits, really, because my Nana loved me enough to buy them for me. Mostly because, when I unwrapped them (either for my birthday or Christmas), she told me how she'd gone up to Eugene to buy them ... and, since she and I wore the same size shoes, everyone watched as "this old lady tried on all the crazy sneakers."

So, even though they got old and scuffed-up and dirty, I wore them and smile whenever I looked at my feet. Even when one of the girls I considered a friend mocked them. (My answer to her less-than-favorable opinion of my shoes? "My Nana gave them to me.")

Because those shoes were total physical proof of how much my Nana loves me.

Yesterday, while out with Mom, I bought an earring display ... thing. But now I can display both my dangling AND post earrings (I wear a lot of stud-type earrings) ... and I spent around an hour or so putting my earrings on it. At first, I worried that I'd lost one of a favorite pair from Nana ... but, thankfully, I found it in a baggie that I'd had to sweep a lot of the-disaster-that-is-my-make-up-counter into.

Maybe one reason that I'm taking this hard is that, as I've realized, dementia is horrible in the fact that it makes you mourn the person who has it BEFORE they've died. And I don't like that.

Another reason could be that, even though I was sealed to my parents when I was little, my dad left the church totally. Had his records removed and all. And my mom's sealed to my stepdad now. I don't know exactly how things will end up working out. I mean, I have faith that they WILL ... but I'm not so concrete as to the HOW of things ... but, when I sing, as in the Primary song, that "Families can be together forever" and "I always want to be with my own family," I've never considered NOT being sealed to my Nana and Pop-pop. But with my dad having removed himself from the situation ... well, things will work out. I know, I KNOW, that Heavenly Father wants me to be happy. And I can't see a way that I would be happy without maintaining those family links. So I KNOW that something will work out. And that's a definite reason to keep on working on my family history and making sure that all the other temple work gets done ... so that, when the time comes that there IS an answer, I'll be ready. And I can be sealed to Nana and Pop-pop and their families.

So ... yeah. I'm ... yeah.

I'm just living by faith in this. Having the answers NOW (or years ago) would be nice. But, well, it's an opportunity to live by faith, right?

In which I kvetch ...

First off, I'll admit that I'm in the middle of a certain lunar-monthly event, so you can take that with the grain of salt you should.

But, yesterday, Michael and I had a date-afternoon activity set up. We were going to a mutual friend's place so she could analyze our eyeballs (take a REALLYUPCLOSE picture, then look at variances in different areas of the iris and the white part [whatever it's called. I'm too lazy/irritated to look it up] and tell us what parts of our bodies are showing signs of issues) ... pretty cool, right?
And, since we signed up for it at a health expo a few months back at a good deal.

So, yeah, I was looking forward to it for the last couple months.

She emailed me paperwork to fill out (Michael and me seperately). Nearly ten pages of questions.
Which we did.

Here's the text of the email that she sent:

HI Allanna and Mike
I am reminding you of your Iris Analysis appointment for Jan 16 at 2pm.
I have attached the intake form for you to fill out prior to your appointment.  Please print one out for each of you.   It is important for you to fill it out as completely as possible to better help you gain control over your health.
If you have questions, please let me know. 

I'll admit that I had a bit of a busy time the last few weeks. Between recuperating from the plague, trying to get caught up on housework, Bruise and Bucket's concert rehearsal, reading books, painting in the bathroom, and all the other minutiae of my life, I did not send a reply ... mostly because I didn't have any questions to contact her with.

So... Friday comes, we've finished answering a bunch of questions and printed out all the paperwork to do so. We go over to the address listed on the email (even showing up five minutes early) ... we knock on the door ... we ring the doorbell ... we repeat. We call her cell (no answer) and I leave a message ... we wait until about a quarter after two.

At this point, I'm more than a little disappointed. I'd been looking forward to this appointment for a while. And ... we got stood up.

I emailed her after we got home (and Bubbles went down for a nap and Michael left to go shooting with Dad C and C, his brother).

I wrote:

[Name],
We went to your place, but nobody was there. I also tried calling.
Sorry that we missed you. Hope that everything is okay. We were looking forward to seeing you.

And, a bit later, I got this reply:

Hi Allanna
I apologize for not being there. I never heard back from you so I didnt know you could make it.
When would you like to reschedule?
I am doing well.  Had a rough week though, so my husband and I went to the coast for the weekend.

Well, nowhere in the email that I originally received did it say that I needed to confirm. Or else I WOULD have sent confirmation. She never called either Michael or my phone (or the home phone) ... CallerID would have shown us that we missed a call from her. And we'd have called back (or answered the phone in the first place).

When I make an appointment with any other professional (or even just for Visiting Teaching or something social), I might send a reminder email or text or call ... and, unless I/they hear anything to the contrary, you are there for that appointment.

Michael's taking this a lot more easily than I am. "It's not professional behavior."
Whereas ... I'm blogging about this so that I can finally process it through my head so that I can let it freaking GO and figure out how to be happy and crap.

I mean, when my kids' dentist's office has an appointment scheduled, they'll leave a message on my answering machine if I'm not here to confirm in person. Then they are THERE at their office, even if they haven't heard back. (Now, I know that if they can't reach the person, they can and do schedule emergency appointments over that time. When we had to take Bucket in to repair her tooth, that's what happened. Turns out the non-confirming family DID show up ... so we waited around a little more, sure. But, still, EVERYONE was served.)

If you don't confirm with your Visiting Teacher, more often than not, she'll still come by. If the sister that YOU visit teach doesn't respond after you set up an appointment in person (to an email that doesn't say, "Hey, just checking ... we're still on for this appointment, right?"), you don't just blow it off.

I was thinking that, with [Name] not being there and not answering her phone, perhaps there was some serious family emergency. And that is understandable. It'd have been better if she shot off a text or something ... "Sorry I won't be there! Family emergency. Can we reschedule soon?" or the like.

Maybe I'm just so irritated because I know that she's running her own business. And I know that if stuff like this is happening with other customers (ones that might not love her so much), that she's really shooting herself in the foot.

And I really dislike her pushing the blame solely onto me about this. Yes, I could have responded. And I probably should have ... but sometimes I get a little literal. She did not request a confirmation. If she had, I most definitely would have sent her one. She just said to contact her with any questions. And I didn't have any ... because one usually doesn't think to ask "Will you even BE there when we show up?"

If she was in doubt about it, as a businessperson, she could have easily emailed again ("Just checking in since I haven't heard back from you. Are we still on?") or called Michael or me. Or sent either of us a message on Facebook, even. Instead, she made the decision to completely blow us off without any warning. (Even an email of, "Hey there. Since I haven't heard back from you and I've been having a crazy week, I've got another commitment [regardless of the fact that we planned this months ago ... and this makes me seem really flighty and undependable]" OR "I haven't heard back from you, so maybe I don't have the correct email. Let me know if you get this. If I don't hear back from you by tonight, I'll give a call to confirm plans" OR even "I've had a really awful week. Can we reschedule?" ... ANY of those would be okay. ... Note that I do not say that it's FINE. But, it'd be a darn sight better than waiting around, trying to keep our toddler from constantly banging on their door or ringing their doorbell).

If we knew that this wasn't happening, we would have cut our losses (menstrual-related-hormonal-craziness or not) and come up with something that we could have enjoyed just as much. I could have put Bubbles down for an earlier nap, let Michael head out earlier, and curled up with a new library book and Netflix. Or worked to finish painting another cabinet door. Or had Michael take Bubbles up to Mom and Dad's (to hang with Mom and Grandma) and I could run over and get my hair done ... we had tons of options. ... that couldn't happen, since we were honoring OUR commitment to this appointment.

And it just feels like it wasn't nearly as important to our friend to do the same.
And, well, it feels rather like a slap in the face that your business/money/presence/society is not worth even taking a chance that your customers are honoring their appointment.

Yes, I could have replied. But she didn't ASK for one in the first place. I figured that if she was in need of a confirmation, she'd have ASKED. Or called.

... And, though I was really looking forward to this and for so long, I really am torn. Because after receiving treatment like this from anyone, I don't really want to do business with that person. And it makes it a bit harder because we do know her and have that relationship.

But the hard fact is that I wouldn't choose to do business with a stranger/less-close friend who treated me/us with such disrespect. Why should I submit myself to this with someone who I thought was more professional/a friend?

I need to forgive her, YES. And I will.
But I'm rather SAD. And MAD. SMAD about the situation.

I'm mad at myself for not having the foresight to put myself into a situation where I could end up so disappointed/disillusioned. (And, golly, does anyone wonder why I've tended to go antisocial? Because, apparently, I can't handle relationships or living or anything ... It's reasons like this why restaurant menus can fill me with a mixture of joy and dread. "What do I order? Do I go with my usual? Do I try something new? But, if I try something new, what if I don't like it? What if I hate it? What if they stop carrying my favorite things???" ... And there's the fact that I had PLANNED on this. I am not great with change all the time. I TRY to roll with the punches, but I'm not always thrilled [at ALL] about it ...)

So, yeah. I'm smad that I tried something new. And that I was counting on it to happen. And it fell through. I'm smad that I feel that our friend shifted all responsibility onto us, when she shares in it ... and that it seems that she's got a bit of a flippant attitude about it. I'm smad that I'd consider putting myself through this a second time ... especially since I have no idea if we'd get the special price that we were going to get by signing up so fat in advance before. And I'm smad that I let this get to me. It shouldn't matter. It was just a maybe-scientific thing that could have been cool. ... It could have been a waste of money.

But, well, at least I've got this (hopefully all of it) out of my system. And I'm sure that, reflecting on this, there's some great lesson to learn (hopefully not "don't do business with friends" since I have some friends with great businesses/skills) ... and, since I've poured all this out, maybe I'll have gained the distance to look at this situation and learn from it.

I mean, if we choose to try this again, I think that I might find myself being a bit passive-aggressive about it. (After rescheduling, email: "Okay, just checking that you'll even be in town when our appointment is?" A couple days later: "Hey, just wanted to touch bases. We're still on for that eyeball-thing, right? You'll be there?" Repeat every few days. Ten minutes prior: "Oh, hey, something's come up. Gotta bail. Catch you some other time?" Five minutes later: "Crisis averted. On our way!" ... you know, something like that. ... But that'd be REALLY mean and unprofessional and, on the whole, a total jerk move. So I wouldn't do it. ... I might be quite tempted ... but I know better than to treat people like that.)

... Why is it that coming up with impossible scenarios makes me feel a little better?
Maybe it's because I'd really LIKE to be a criminal mastermind, but I can't due to my moral code? ... but that it's good to know that I have the capacity to do it, but that I can remind myself that I CHOOSE not to do it? (I do promise that if I ever DO decide to achieve that destiny, I will do my best to be a benevolent dictator. Pinkie-swears!)

Yeah, I do feel a bit better (in full disclosure, I originally mistyped that as "I feel a but better." Which would be a misspelling ... But admitting that I feel a "butt" better, knowing my current physique, would be saying that I feel LOTS better. And, since it involves the word "butt," my inner-ten-year-old is cracking up about that. Butts.

Yup, I'm Allanna. And I still appreciate potty-humor.
Some things never change.

However, I do feel like I can dissect this situation and analyze it ... and get over this stupid thing so that I don't walk about being all pissy about everything.

If our friend had said something more like, "Oh my gosh! I thought that since I didn't hear from you at all that this wasn't happening. I thought that I asked for you to confirm in the email I sent a week ago? Didn't I? I should have called, though, to get a definite answer. I'm so sorry! Can we reschedule? And I'll make sure to be more professional in the future!"
You know, something that made it sound like she cared a bit.

I'm sure that she does care. And not just about what we'd pay her for the analysis. Maybe it just didn't come through on that last email that she did send. Don't know.

But I think that I'll have Michael respond to her. He knows how to write professionally. And he can state that I'm rather disappointed about the whole situation. He might even affirm that he had expected her to act in a more professional manner ... he might not. Up to him.

Fifteen Days Later ...

Yeah, yeah, I know. I know. It's been a while since I blogged.

I was actually going to blog YESTERDAY ... but there was a short in our phone line. Which meant that I had to spend about 24 hours with NO internet (besides the taste that I got with my data plan on my phone). Poor me, right?

What else has gone on ...

First and foremost, my friend Kim M (the friend I mentioned being on life support?) passed away last week. She had been moved to the ICU and was doing better for a bit. She was a bit responsive. She fought off a case of pneumonia and a staph infection. She got to see her girls and visit with them. ... but she really couldn't breathe. They had to make the hard decision to let her go.
And ... I understand it. I don't have to like the fact that I don't get to see her. That, like a lot of other people, she's gone somewhere that I can't follow yet. That I can't just text or call her. That I'm aware of how much her girls and husband are going to miss her.

A friend of the family started a support group  on Facebook. Its original purpose was to help pass along information and updates about her status. They organized a fast. There's a link to a GoFundMe fundraiser. The new Compassionate Service Leader in our ward (congregation) posted an opportunity to help clean up their apartment here in town and stock the freezer with some meals (Which is why I'm currently doing a few loads of their laundry. It's really the least I can do ... and it all still smells of Kim. She always smelled really nice. Even when I last saw her and she looked so sick, she still smelled so nice.) ... I took over a meatloaf for the freezer. I wrote the girls letters expressing my sympathy and that we love their mom, their family ... that we love them very much. And that their mom loves them so very, very much.

I cry a bit. When I cook (especially when I bake), I start to miss Kim a LOT. I still owe her a baking day. We were going to do it ... but I got busy, then she was in the hospital, then she was REALLY sick ... I had every hope and expectation that she'd kick this thing in the teeth, what with being up at OHSU with the best doctors around. I mean, if that young man in our ward pulled through hypothermia so bad that his heart stopped, what, six times? If he could pull through it, OF COURSE Kim could, too. I mean, I was praying, her family was praying, our wards were praying, friends of other faiths were praying ...

But, well, sometimes prayers aren't answered in the way(s) we'd like. And you have to accept that there's something bigger (and better) planned. And that, yes, it sucks ... but there's some reason behind it. Even though I just wish that I could know that reason right now. But... well... I don't.

Today was Kim's funeral. I didn't go. I kind of wanted to. But I couldn't.
Michael did. He's representing our family and our ward (along with some other members of our ward family).
But I have things here that I need to do. (Freezer meal and laundry for the family, taking the kids to their music lesson, watching T and L [friends and school chums of Bruise and Bucket]) ... things that prevent me from being in two places at the same time.

Besides, I keep crying. And I don't want people to think that I'm trying to say that this whole situation is MY grief ... Kim was loved by lots of people. LOTS. Because she's awesome. And, even though I really wasn't able to say goodbye in any REAL fashion, going to the viewing wouldn't be the same. She wouldn't smile or joke. She'd smell different. I couldn't give her a good, decent hug. It'd just be her body, not HER.
I figure that I'd rather cry by myself. This way no one thinks I'm trying to insinuate that I was closer to her than I was (friend and past Visiting Teacher) or trying to steal attention away from her family and closer friends. I know. I have issues.

.... I really wish that I'd been a better friend. For most of the summer, I wasn't aware that she'd be in the hospital. And, when she got out, I didn't know/realize that she was still so sick and could have really used a lot of help. I wish that the school schedules for her girls' school and my kids' school had been just a little more different, so I COULD have easily made pick-ups/drop-offs for both schools.  Because that would have been one less thing for her to fret about.

But ... well ... there's really no use griping about that now. It's not doing anyone any good.

But, yes, that's been a forefront thing on my mind.
And I realize that I need to get life insurance. Just in case.

Okay, okay ... other news. You don't come here to "listen" to me be all dour and melancholy. You come for the laughs, the sarcasm, the stories ... and I should get to all those kinds of things. Because writing about them is nice and light and fluffy.

This last payday, we've spent restocking our pantry and freezer. We've done so well at that, we hardly have room for all the good stuff. And I put together some freezer meals. We ate "Cafe Rio Chicken" last night (with a side of scalloped potatoes ... out of a box). It was good. Next time, I need to cut down on the cumin. There was quite a bit of heat to it. Good times. But I also have a few other meats-in-marinades in the freezers -- a pork roast with pepperoncinis, Italian-marinated beef roast, Chicken Tikka, French Chicken, Italian Chicken, Teriyaki Chicken ... stuff like that. (Gosh, I'm boring.)

These last few weeks have been pretty hard on our ward. One sister's father was in an accident. He barely survived. She and her sister are taking care of him. It's pretty stressful.
Our RS president's mother passed (she was of an age ... and was having end-of-life care at the home she was in. Still tough, but not entirely unexpected. Sister P is taking it rather well. But it's still not easy by any long shot). That funeral is Friday. ... One of the elders (guys) at church was canning tomatoes with his wife. There was a leak in the propane hose. His sons calculate there was a 30-foot fireball -- part of it got the house. This brother is sporting 2nd- and 3rd-degree burns. But he's in very good spirits ... and for how bad those burns could be, he's looking quite well (small miracles everywhere, you know?). He has a VERY strong testimony of the power of priesthood blessings and of the protection that wearing the garment can give (Seriously, I saw him shirtless. You can totally see where his garment was and was not. It's quite uncanny).

There's been a PTC (Parent Teacher Club) meeting. I chatted with our Principal a bit. And with the teacher that's the PTC-Site Committee liaison.

The kids had fun at the latest Kids' Club at the mall -- there was a magician. And origami. And painting. Bucket and I went to Claire's and I bought some peacock-feather earrings. Ended up being only a dollar (Clearance purchases for the win, right?).

Taught my nursery lessons. Those last three went SO much better than the first one. Oy.
I'm a little worried about one of the older kids in Nursery.
Seems like the child could REALLY use early intervention ... but, well, apparently that's not happening. I'm rather worried for this kid.

We fed the missionaries (sisters) dinner last week. Per Sister P's request, I made clam chowder. And cheddar biscuits and a salad to go along with it. Apparently, it's her favorite dinner ... but until lately, she'd been paired with companions who don't care for fish at all. Poor kid.

Grandma I and Aunt S (Michael's mom's mom and one of her sisters) have come out for a visit. We went over on Friday evening and spent some time visiting with them. Bubbles, not having had a nap, was a little stand-off-ish. Good thing they'll be staying for a couple weeks. That'll give us the opportunity to visit some more.
... And I've been charged to write letters to Grandma I more often. With requests for physical photographs. ... I'm given another opportunity for growth, see?

Like I mentioned earlier, Bruise and Bucket started music lessons this morning. He'll learn the cello. She's opted for violin. (Once we get a bigger house, I should practice the piano again. It's a nice outlet. Not as easy as singing, though. ... I should sing more. Just for practice and fun.)

I'm officially no longer ANY bit of the Compassionate Service Leader for our ward. I have a replacement. And she's amazing. Took off right away with everything. She and I even had a meeting where I passed on what I had ... and we talked about what I did. And she brought LOTS of GREAT ideas to the table. Sister P is very lucky to have Sister R as CS Leader. (Sister R ALSO brought over fresh apple crisp to our little meeting. Did I mention that I adore her?)

I'm about half-way through the laundry. It still smells like Kim.

(I wonder ... how do I smell to other people? ... I mean, I'd HOPE that I smell okay. But Kim always smelled REALLY GOOD. Her whole house smelled like her. Heck, I stepped into their apartment today and started welling up.)

Bucket and I went to the General Women's Meeting last Saturday. It was nice. I'm glad that they lowered the age to attend right in time for her to make it to the first one (in April). We continued what's now our tradition -- dinner out (at Applebee's so far) before the Meeting. Then she takes some cookies/treats home for Bruise and Bubbles. Sister R sat with us this time. (Last meeting, it was just Bucket and me on our regular pew ... creatures of habit. This time, we sat in a different pew.)

As I mentioned above, I had issues with the phone line this week.
I called, via my cell, yesterday morning as soon as the kids were off to school.
Talked to THREE different CSR (customer service reps).
The first one, Ashton, was nice -- personable and professional. "Hey, I'm going to butcher your name. Um ... Ah-LANN-ah?"

Me: "Actually, it's 'uh-LAW-nuh."
And he got it right from that point on. Friendly, kind ... good employee, you know?

He had to transfer me to another gal. (From all the scammer calls, it does not help that she has a bit of an accent) ... who called me "Allie-ah-na." REPEATEDLY. And had me doing contortions to unplug/replug lines from/into the wall socket (couldn't she just say, "Hey, if that's not really doable, just unplug/replug from the modem or phone itself"???? I mean, I haven't gone to modem-tech school or whatever ... but it's not rocket surgery, now is it?).

THEN I was transferred to ANOTHER GUY (also strong accent). He would talk over me and, even though I corrected him MULTIPLE TIMES (seriously, at least three. Maybe as many as five times), KEPT calling me Allie-ah-na.
"No, it's Uh-LAW-nuh."
"All right, Allie-ah-nah."
"*sigh*"

THEN, after we scheduled a repair tech to come out (because as I could have told them, nothing I do plugging and unplugging my modem will fix NOT GETTING A FREAKING DIAL TONE, y'all), he's all, "And before I let you go, do you have any questions?"
"Yes, I --"
"So, you have no questions?"
"But, I have a que--"
"If there's nothing else that you need ..."
"IF YOU'D STOP INTERRUPTING ME, I'D TELL YOU THAT, YES, I DO HAVE A QUESTION! IT'S VERY RUDE TO INTERRUPT AND TALK OVER YOUR CUSTOMER. IT'S NOT RESPECTFUL AT ALL, SIR. SO, ARE YOU ACTUALLY GOING TO BE QUIET FOR JUST ONE SECOND SO THAT I CAN ASK MY FREAKING QUESTION?!???"
"... yes."
"OKAY. *breath* If I need to cancel the appointment that MIGHT end up costing a minimum of $80 if the error is on our end, what phone number do I call?"
" ... ###-###-####."
"Thank you. *mutters to self* 'Was that really so hard? Really?'"
(Mom's right. I should ask to speak to a supervisor after a telephone conversation that irritating. And I should take names, for sure.)

I called Michael and vented/appraised him of the situation.
I had to repeat myself a lot, since I was VERY FRUSTRATED (i.e., crying).
He ended up bringing me flowers and chocolates when he came home.
(Also can you tell that someone just might, possibly, be having the painters in? [e.g., "I'm in a glass case of emotion!!!"])

This morning, I got the kids up earlier than usual (so we could be on time to music lessons). They got dressed, made their lunches, packed their backpacks, got teeth brushed, shoes on. We had our morning devotional-thing (Sing a hymn. Read the scriptures from the references at the bottom of the page. Read the history of the hymn. Have a prayer. Read a bit about etiquette). I packed up all the library books to return. We headed out for the car (the kids almost didn't grab their backpacks), took them to music lessons (at their school). Once they were settled, Bubbles and I ran by the library to return the books, then to the store to get WIC stuff (better last second than never). By the time we got back home, it was still about a half-hour before the window for the repair tech.

But he was there! Working on the phone box! We chatted. He came in and checked the jack (and had trouble reaching that. Went back outside to check things. Got a dial tone inside. Checked one more thing. Power-cycled the modem. HUZZAH! We're back in business.

Oh, I could have hugged him.
He was supernice. Very professional. Quite wonderful.
I did get his card and his supervisor's number. Called and left a message praising his work and manner.

He also told me that if it gets to the point where we need to power-cycle our modem often (like once a day), then replacing the modem is in the near future. Which is really good to know.

Then I fixed a freezer meal (a meatloaf, since Kim said that her husband is a real meat-and-potatoes kind of guy), chatted with Sister R via IM, talked to my mom ... headed over and picked up laundry to wash/dry/fold, vacuumed our front room (since Bruise and Bucket's friends will be over today).

Bubbles hasn't had a nap ... I say that, then look over to where she's on the couch. Asleep. She crashed while watching Wall-E. (It's a very soothing soundtrack.)

I should go make something yummy for the kids as a snack.
Or I'll just give them popsicles. Either or.

I'm about ready for a nap, myself. Not going to happen.

I should figure out dinner.

I don't know when Michael's getting back tonight.
Kim's funeral was at 10 AM in Hermiston. I don't know how long it lasts. I just know that he'll be home tonight ... and working tomorrow morning.


Is it just me ... or is it a common thing ... when things get bad, I just want to curl up in someone's lap. Maybe cry, maybe not.
But I'm far too ... um ... zaftig, per se, to be able to fold myself up decently, let alone fit in most laps.

Well, I have laundry to fold and dinner to figure out. And ... something ... something to bake.

I really like having working phone and internet. Even though I did get some reading done, I really like having wi-fi. It's just rather comforting knowing that I can look up things on my computer and my tablet without having to type it all on my phone or chance using up all our data for the month.