This is one of the most difficult blogs I have ever posted. My husband died on Thursday, and I found him when I got home. I have always referred to him as Drummer, but his name is Greg. I guess that should read "was". It is so hard to type this in. He was only 56.
His memorial service is today at 11 am. He was a truly good guy, warm and caring and always telling me that I was the best thing that ever happened to him. I never felt like that was true. I only hope that he knew how much I loved him. We did the "I love you" bit with one another, usually several times a day. Little did I know how abruptly that would end.
Family is with me now and most will fly back to their homes in MN tomorrow. I am the 3rd (and final) female in our family to be widowed - my sister 6 years ago, my mother 4 years ago, and now I enter this "sorority" and didn't want to be inducted at all. Certainly not this early.
The support and warmth that I have felt from family, friends, neighbors, old high school classmates and co-workers has been overwhelming. Truly a blessing to know them and to get their hugs and even their stunned reaction at the news.
Anyway, I don't want to get maudlin, but wanted to post this. I have been awake since around 3 am, and finally slinked into here to write this.
Guess I will brew some decaf and try to steel myself for this day. I am told it is the hardest thing I will ever do. As they say, "Put on your big girl panties and take a deep breath." Oh - and probably grab lots of kleenex.
Best wishes to all who may read this.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Friday, May 9, 2008
Poor excuse - better than NO excuse?
I have turned into a poor excuse for a blogger. Never turning in my homework, so to speak. Why do today, what I can put off until tomorrow? Or as it is turning out, until next month... I had to use my web address in a contest today (love that PW!), so it sent me hurrying here to post something - ANYthing.
Inertia has grabbed hold and it ain't lettin' go. And to tell the truth, I wasn't trying to pry its little grubby fingers off my hands, either. So a good swift kick in the pants (this contest) did the trick.
Well, I don't want to waste this space by blogging about this total be-yotch that I had a run-in at work with, earlier this week. Although she certainly fits the name, I just hate devoting time to her. But here goes.
I betcha that a lot of you who tote your lunch to work in the interest of (1) eating healthier or (2) eating cheaper or (3) cleaning out your leftovers from home, have encountered a nasty 'fridge at work. Am I right or am I right? This building has several fridges and the one in this area is the oldest, smallest and nastiest. The seal around the door is shot, so now we have a nice case of mold growing on there, plus it drips condensation also because of poor seal. I wipe it off from time to time, but it keeps on a-growing back. I try to monitor the contents from time to time, and I sometimes throw out the science experiments (translation: food so old that it now is giving birth to something green/white/gray). So I did this the other day - blueberries so aged that wrinkle cream was not going to be able to help them at all. They needed collagen, I'm tellin' ya. One of the women from another dept. saw me toss 'em out. So she must have mentioned this to the previously mentioned be-yotch, who showed up in less than a minute, loudly complaining that I had no right to be going through people's lunches and throwing stuff out. I told her that these berries were sitting on the shelf in plain sight - not in someone's lunch. No matter how often I repeated this, she kept on a-bitchin'.
My blood pressure was rising, and I really didn't want to blow out an artery or anything. So I dug in the garbage can (which by now had something slimy dumped into it, over the spot where the berries were) and pulled out the container and waved it in her face. Gotta admit that my voice was beyond normal volume by now. Not to mention my hand was now slimed and I didn't want to get on my lime green suit jacket (don't criticize the color - it's a cool suit with a navy skirt). She stomped off, still complaining and now I had to really wash my hands off. Ugh. I swear, her picture must be next to the word "bitch" in the dictionary.
I know - leaves you hungrily anticipating my next blog, huh? Boy, just wait until I mention the condition of the communal microwave. I wonder if anyone looks at the insides of this thing before they nuke something? and why would someone put food in there to reheat without a cover, when the ceiling of the thing has so much crap on it that it could feed a homeless person? What does someone cook that explodes like that?
Oh, wait - I guess I blew it. That IS the condition of the microwave. Never mind.
Damn - anyone got any ideas for posting? We were always told (back in the school days when we were lucky to have access to electric typewriters and pc's were only a glimmer in Bill Gates' brain) to write about things we know best. Anyone want to read about (1) genealogy or (2) faux painting or (3) favorite recipes of mine? No? I didn't think so. Ideas, people!
Inertia has grabbed hold and it ain't lettin' go. And to tell the truth, I wasn't trying to pry its little grubby fingers off my hands, either. So a good swift kick in the pants (this contest) did the trick.
Well, I don't want to waste this space by blogging about this total be-yotch that I had a run-in at work with, earlier this week. Although she certainly fits the name, I just hate devoting time to her. But here goes.
I betcha that a lot of you who tote your lunch to work in the interest of (1) eating healthier or (2) eating cheaper or (3) cleaning out your leftovers from home, have encountered a nasty 'fridge at work. Am I right or am I right? This building has several fridges and the one in this area is the oldest, smallest and nastiest. The seal around the door is shot, so now we have a nice case of mold growing on there, plus it drips condensation also because of poor seal. I wipe it off from time to time, but it keeps on a-growing back. I try to monitor the contents from time to time, and I sometimes throw out the science experiments (translation: food so old that it now is giving birth to something green/white/gray). So I did this the other day - blueberries so aged that wrinkle cream was not going to be able to help them at all. They needed collagen, I'm tellin' ya. One of the women from another dept. saw me toss 'em out. So she must have mentioned this to the previously mentioned be-yotch, who showed up in less than a minute, loudly complaining that I had no right to be going through people's lunches and throwing stuff out. I told her that these berries were sitting on the shelf in plain sight - not in someone's lunch. No matter how often I repeated this, she kept on a-bitchin'.
My blood pressure was rising, and I really didn't want to blow out an artery or anything. So I dug in the garbage can (which by now had something slimy dumped into it, over the spot where the berries were) and pulled out the container and waved it in her face. Gotta admit that my voice was beyond normal volume by now. Not to mention my hand was now slimed and I didn't want to get on my lime green suit jacket (don't criticize the color - it's a cool suit with a navy skirt). She stomped off, still complaining and now I had to really wash my hands off. Ugh. I swear, her picture must be next to the word "bitch" in the dictionary.
I know - leaves you hungrily anticipating my next blog, huh? Boy, just wait until I mention the condition of the communal microwave. I wonder if anyone looks at the insides of this thing before they nuke something? and why would someone put food in there to reheat without a cover, when the ceiling of the thing has so much crap on it that it could feed a homeless person? What does someone cook that explodes like that?
Oh, wait - I guess I blew it. That IS the condition of the microwave. Never mind.
Damn - anyone got any ideas for posting? We were always told (back in the school days when we were lucky to have access to electric typewriters and pc's were only a glimmer in Bill Gates' brain) to write about things we know best. Anyone want to read about (1) genealogy or (2) faux painting or (3) favorite recipes of mine? No? I didn't think so. Ideas, people!
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