Thank you sir, may I have another...Brain, that is.

                My brain is overly full. Too full. I need to figure out a way to empty it.

                So here I am, in the living room, listening to “By Request…John Williams and the Boston Pops”. Actually, the theme to “Jaws” just came on. Appropriate for me writing, eh? But listening to music does help mellow out my over-filled grey cells. So, here I am, writing in my living room, with just the tree on for lights. Yes, I still have my Christmas tree up. Yes, it’s a fake, and yes, the tree brings me a bit of peace. I’ll take it down before the end of the week. But with the December that I had I need to enjoy it a bit more. I’m also thanking the Maker for the fact that I don’t have to be at the lab until Wednesday night as my brain is just so full. Overflowing full.

My parents came down this past weekend for my daughter’s birthday party. It was great that I was able to keep it quiet and they surprised the heck out of her. It was a fun afternoon, she had a few people over as she doesn’t like to have too many people around. We had cake and presents followed by her favorite; Chinese food. Okay, so we did things backwards. I think that’s how my family has always done things: backwards. Anyway, back to the little story. I finally sat down around eight p.m. or so and was playing on Facebook when I realized what day it was. January 9^th. It had been nine years ago that day that I had a chunk of my brain taken out. And I can literally say that I have had my brain flushed down the drain. I told Dr. Kanev that I so wanted to keep the chunk he would take out. I told him that I wanted to keep it in formaldehyde on my mantel so I could look at it and say “Ha! Brain I beat you!” But Dr. Kanev told me that it was so juicy that it wouldn’t work. It would have just been spatter floating around. So my brain literally went down to drain into the Springfield sewer system.

The time since my surgery seems more than nine years. It seems more like nineteen years. Hey, Jean VanJean and I are in the same boat! Not really, but it sounded cool. Anyhow, so much has happened to me in the last nine years. Found out my husband had been having an affair, got divorced, worked full time third shift for two and a half years, then had to deal with all the garbage that the kids were going through, court custody battle (which I lost by the way) and then dealing with my daughters hospitalization and recovery. She was so traumatized by the divorce and what my ex did. But that’s another blog. Now it’s just the two of us, the two psycho dogs and my job. My brain in many ways feels like it is overflowing. But there’s an empty hole. And I don’t know what to put in it.

I’m very trepidatious of moving forward with my life. The divorce between HWSNBN and I was quite traumatic for me. I’d experienced hurt before in my life, but nothing of that nature. Yes, I know that I made mistakes, but I tried to fix them. I gave it everything that I had. He just didn’t give back. And maybe that is one of the things that I am scared of. Giving again. Give, give, give. I gave so much then, I give so much to the kids. In going through all of this I have really been able to understand that which my mom went through being a Pastor’s wife and a mom to two wicked active kids. I’ve no idea how to go about the dating websites. Do I want to try that? I don’t know. Do I want to try this the old fashioned way by going to clubs or bars? I don’t know. There’s just so much in this head of mine that I don’t think I know much of anything anymore.

But I’ve got my friends. Ladies, you know who you are and I love you all. I’ve got my work. Bacteria, I love you, too! I love my kids, my family, my home, my psycho dogs. And I hope that there is another guy out there somewhere that I can love too. And who would love me back. No questions asked and take me the way I am. Maybe that’s what I need to empty my grey cells. Or just get another one.

Life as simple as a dog's.

     I'm sure that a few of you have heard about the unexpected new addition to our humble abode here in Westside. The night before Thanksgiving while I was at the lab at Whitney I got a call from Kianni while I was on dinner break.
     "Mama, don't be mad a me."
     "Why, what did you do now?"
     "Juan (her half-brother) gave me a puppy."
     "A puppy?" I had met the puppies. And they were wicked cute.
     "Can I please, please, please, please keep it?"
     "We will deal with it when I get home."

     Grrrrrrrrrrrrr......

     So, in comes Kobe. He's named after the NBA guy. Kobe is a Shit-zu, Pomerianian mix, so when I'm really mad at him I call him a "ShitzPom". He is really, really cute. No fur, all hair. He needs a hair cut. The vet says that he is in really good health, and has started getting all his shots and such. He totally does not like being potty-trained. In that aspect he is so not user-friendly. He doesn't like spending the night in his cage. And oh, does this dog have lungs. The only other puppy I've had was little Elphaba, and she was so much easier to train. She only whined about three or four nights, and trained very quickly. This guy on the other hand, no go. And the energy level is totally off the wall!
Peanut Butter is doing his best to stand his ground. Peanut turns seven this year and this poor little chihuahua is having a hard time dealing with another dog. Of course Peanut looks at Kobe when it's time for bed and I can see him saying "Hahahaha you little Newbie...I get to sleep downstairs with Mama. In her bed. Hahahahahaha!"

     So while my CRV Newberry has been getting his new shoes at the shop today I've been sitting here watching the doggies. Right now both are totally zonked her in the living room while I'm listening to the noon news and typing away. And I have found myself thinking about what it would really be like to be a dog. Sleep, pee, poop, eat, play and repeat. Over and over again. And get spoiled with baths, haircuts, you know the doggie spa treatment. People taking care of you. Wow. A simple life.

     I really wish that I could have some simplicity. Maybe when Kianni spends the night at a friends house that is as simple as my life will get right now. Like last night, She spent the night over at a friends house and they ride the same bus. And it was quiet here, save for the two psycho-dogs. So I putzed through the house, cleaning up a bit, doing dishes, sweeping floors, etc. And then bed. Once I get Newberry back it's back into Go-Mode, get ready for work, make sure the doggies have gone out and their dishes are full, remember my dinner for my night at the lab, etc, etc, etc. I've got a few more years before Kia has graduated and I can think about moving somewhere. I'd love to go back to Maine, but since I've gotten back into working at Baystate I really don't know if I want to leave Western Mass. I so love what I do. Besides, bacteria doesn't really talk to you You talk to it. But that's beside the point.

     I watch Kobe and Peanut and wonder what is going on in their little heads. What are the thinking? How do they see things? How do they understand things? What exactly do they hear when we speak to them? I wish that I knew more of how they operate. How do they see us? Are they thinking "Wow. That woman is totally off her rocker." I so wish that I could understand. And if things really are so simple for them than I wish I could be a little dog. For a day or two anyway.

   

The Spirit of Christmas

     "There's still meaning in the magic of Christmas, in the state where the Christmas trees grow. Where neighbors still drop by with cookies, breads and pies, and warm themselves beside the kitchen stove. It's the spirit of sharing, giving and caring, hanging wreaths upon your neighbors door. That's the Spirit of Maine at Christmas time, from her mountains to her great Atlantic shore."

     That song was released in 1987 and I remember the local radio stations and TV stations playing it a lot. The first time I heard it I fell in love with it. It would stay in the back of my head all year. I would love to get ready for Christmas. Growing up a PK (pastor's kid) getting ready would really start a bit before Thanksgiving. I was a total PK growing up, the good girl. I remember kids asking me if I carried a bible in my backpack. Now that I think back on it I should have: if I'd ever knocked one of those many bullies with that backpack I would have left a mark. Especially if it was a hardcover edition. Anyway, being a PK had it's good points. I would love to help my dad run off the bulletins down in the basement (pre-photocopier). I would fold them to get ready for services. During the holiday season I would help put together the Christmas dinner baskets in the food pantry, which was in the parsonage basement when we lived in Wilton, Maine. I remember the congregation doing carol rides through town on an old wagon. In the snow. I remember singing downtown by the statue near the old Bass factory.

     I remember how much I loved Christmas Eve with my Dad. We would always go to the early service as a family. Then afterwards we would come home, fold bulletins for the late service, open our Christmas Eve present, and then I would almost always go to the late communion service with Dad. I almost always sang at one of the services. I would sing "All is Well" by Michael W. Smith. Dad told me one year that the song reminded him of me so I learned it with the choir director. I liked doing that for Dad. One of my most favorite pictures of me and my dad was taken Christmas Eve one year in Wilton. I think I was in college at the time, and it was snowing. Mom took a picture of dad and I out in the snowy night. I love that picture.

     Winter and Christmas has always been my most favorite times of year. When HWSNBN and I were married he really didn't care much for the Holidays, but at least he let me delve into it. I love to bake for the holidays. Especially the Sterndale "Fruitcake" and all the cookies that I bake for Uncle Richard next door. I decorate like crazy, start playing Christmas tunes in October, the whole shebang. But this year was different. This year was the Christmas that Naissa and Jay would be in Colorado with their dad, and my brother and his wife would be in St. Louis. So it woudl have been just mom and dad and Kianni and me. The Sunday before Christmas I had gone over to the Delaney House for the Second Shift Microbe luncheon, and I admit, I had quite a few mimosas. I got home mid-afternoon, did some chores and then sat down to veg when my Dad called. My mom was on her way to the hospital; she was having a heart attack. Dad wouldn't let me come up to see her (and that's probably good because I was in no condition to drive three hours) but said that he would keep me posted. Mom ended up having an angioplasty done Monday morning, and Kianni and I drove up to spend the Holiday in Maine, Mom had a rough few days, and was back in the ER on Christmas Eve due to massive pain, but she was home for Christmas. We had a very mellow day, and a great dinner, but for some reason I just didn't feel it. I mean FEEL it. Understand. Revel in the birth of Christ. It just didn't seem right.

     I'm not sure why, I know that what happened to Mom had something to do with it. I know that all the uncertainties happening in my life right now has a hand in it. And the way my brain thinks and tends to blow things out of proportion doesn't help either. My head is just so full. Overflowing. Overburdened. I guess I just really need simplicity. While growing up in rural Maine I always said that I was going to get back to civilization. I would revel in that song by the BeeGee's "Massachusetts" I always said that when I got older that I was "going home". Well, now I'm older. And now I really want to go "home". I want to go back to the simplicity of Maine, I want to go back to the nature and the quietness of it. I want to go back to where neighbors are more friendly. I want to go back to where those neighbors do drop by with cookies, breads and pies and have a cup of coffee while standing around the kitchen stove. I remember doing that, most dearly when we would be in Lubec at the McCarthy's. But that's another blog. In essence, tonight I will simply be sitting here in my living room, with Christmas carols playing; hey, I've got two more full days until Epiphany, and will relish in every minute of it. And in my head I will dream of being back where "that's the Spirit of Maine at Christmas time, from her mountains to her great Atlantic shore."

   

I know that it has been a while...

     Alright, I admit that it has been a while since I have written. No wait, it's called "blogging", isn't it? I suppose that I need to modernize myself a bit and come to terms with the twenty-first century. Kianni is over at her BFF's house; she's been there since New Year's Eve. Her friends dad and Kianni are New Year's Eve babies, so they apparently know how to "party".

    So I find myself here at home, with the two dogs (yes, two, but that is another blog) and a stuffy nose, congested chest and a mild headache. I took a nice, hot shower, got in my jammies, and made myself a  nice, hot cup of chai tea, have a "Tudors" marathon on, and my laptop out. So I figured that I should write a bit, I haven't in quite a while.

     Lots has changed for me in the past few years. The year 2014 was not a great year for me. I'm sure that a few of you know what "He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named" concocted that year. To make a long story short, Naissa and Jayden now live in Colorado with HWSNBN, who is divorced for the second time, and Kianni and I are still here in Western Mass. I started work at Baystate Medical Center, at Baystate Reference Labs in the Microbiology department. Many of you know how much I love bacteria. Yes, I know. Don't say it. I am so happy to be back in a lab where I belong. Right now just part-time, but I pick up hours when I can. Being a single mom working second shift is tough enough. But I so love what I do and know that it helps doctors help patients. I guess it runs in the family blood; I found out my grandfather was a pathologist before WWII. So I'm back in the lab, doing what I do best and what I love so much.

     I guess that I have just been stuck in a rut for so long that I don't know how to get out. Yes, I do have a little bit of a social life, mostly through the Trauma Mama's and Western Mass MomProm. And Camp Mechuwana in the summer time. I can't wait for that to happen again. The third week in July can't get her soon enough for me! But back to what I was babbling about before. Ah yes, not much of a social life. I know that considering the circumstatnces that I have I shouldn't keep my fingers crossed to tightly for things to go the way I want. I need change, but in some ways I am afraid to welcome change. I desire instability, but yearn for what I went through before. I am afraid to love again.

     I so greatly admire my parents. This March will mark their 44th wedding anniversary. When they got married my dad was a salesman for Sears and my mom was a secretary. When my mom was pregnant with my little brother, dad answered his calling and went into the ministry. I grew up a PK (Pastors Kid) and turned out okay, moving all over the state of Maine while growing up. They stuck together through thick and thin and there are things that they went through that I know about and things that I don't know and don't want to know that they endured. It is now that I so admire how they stuck together while I grew up, in such a simple way. I really grew up once I got to college and then upon graduation and passing my boards started working at Baystate. Then I really grew up, once I had the job, got my own apartment, a new car, the whole kit and caboodle.

     But 44 years. That's a lot. I was married for a whopping 13 years. Thirteen, bad luck. I admit, that having the three Younglings was a bit of a strain. But isn't having children a thing that stresses and challenges every marriage? Yes, I admit that our three were a bit overwhelming. But there were many roads that were not taken during that time. And that's what I think broke it. Well, there were several things that aided in the downplay of that marriage. And that's yet another blog.

     I suppose that I have babbled enough for one night. I really think that I need to do this more often. I know that I need to do this more often. I hope that doing this really helps empty out some space in my head. It is rather full up there. Even though part of it is missing. I wish I could see what is filling up that once empty spot and cleanse it once more.

     But more on that. Later.