Kitty kitty

Dad's little girl cats, Trixie and Punkin, live in my basement guest room. They are sweet and loving little cats, and they were dad's constant companions. The problem is, I can't get Oide to be anything but aggressive with them unless I have my hands directly on his scruff. He has attacked Trixie a couple times, he's drawn blood. I thought I got them doing well, but only if I am there ad they are ignoring each other. Punkin won't even come out of the room now. This breaks my heart.

They're safe, well fed, they have a clean litter box, a scratch post, toys which they do play with, a window to look out, and I spend time down there several times a day. Trixie loves me. I simply feel very guilty as they want to be near people all the time and that can't happen. They don't even like each other much. Ounkin should be an only cat, and Trixie would get along if Oide would. LOL, Harry gets a glimpse and runs upstairs and hides under the bed! I can't imagine them trying to get along with dogs, never going to happen.

This isn't a huge deal in the grand scheme of things, but it is a little piece of sadness in my world.

Mountains of Crap

Long time, no see.

Burning Man happened. It was okay, we had rain and whiteouts and didn't get out of camp much. Just a weird year, and not in the most interesting ways. My camera died a dusty death.

Still dealing with dad's house. I finally have the nieces off their asses, some of them, to retrieve their treasures. You want your inheritance? Come and get it.

Marvin is still in the basement but he's hiding from me. Only a couple weeks left on his 30 days to vacate. I don't think he has the money, but I don't care now. I cared when I thought he was a human being, not a filthy pig. Ford and I were emptying the cupboards so the kids could see the dishes and such and take them. We're talking a lot of nice things from Japan. Anyway, I opened the drawer and there's not a fork or spoon to be seen. WTF? And then I got looking at the "daily" dishes. Almost all of them are AWOL. So I went downstairs to see if I could spot any. I never have gone into Marvin's room, I don't go into people's bedrooms if their doors are closed. Never. But I had decided to push the door open to see if I could see any dishes. DAMN. I could only open the door a few inches. The room is chest high is GARBAGE. What. The. Hell? He can't be sleeping in there, he must be using the recliner upstairs. No wonder he was upset when we took all the old mattresses away. I think he'd been sleeping on the mattress dad died on.

I thought I was giving the man privacy, not license to make the basement into a toxic dump. I had thought of some money to help him move, but now? Not a dime.

I will wait the 30 days to avoid the legal hassle of evicting a resident. He could become a squatter then and have rights. No fucking way. In two weeks, his time is up and I can legally throw him out. If I have to call the cops, I will. The health department too if that's what it takes.

I hate it when I trust people and they turn out to be a waste if my faith in humanity.

No news is not good news

I didn't have much to post about in June, and July was just bumbling along.

Dad died the 21st of July, in his own bed, in his sleep, his cats by his side. He was 87 and resisted any suggestion of assisted living or an aide or housekeeper coming in. He went on his own terms.

I feel terribly guilty, did I not do enough? Of course not, but we each do what we can and beat ourselves up over the slightest things, and the not so slight.

Trixie and Punkin are living in the basement. Harry runs from them, Oide is curious but hissy, and I don't know how to make the peace. I love the cats in shifts.

Dad's house is so full of stuff. There is a lot to sort out and the nieces and nephews want mundane crap like the TV. So many treasures. I cannot keep but a fraction, I have no room. I am dragging my feet because how can I dispose of a lifetime of wonder and love?

David is cheerful and easygoing. The SILs are being laid back. There isn't much in the way of money, the car can't be retitled for a month (stupid DMV), and the house is a wreck.

I'm going to Burning Man without half the art I usually make. I have no heart for creation, but the event won't wait.

Home Again.

John is home. Miracle is not a word I use lightly, I don't believe in miracles in the slightest. But he bounced back, healed rapidly and is good to go. Still healing his trachy hole, needs to rebuild strength, but overall, an amazing recovery. He calls Larry about once a week, kinda cute to listen to the two of them chat in parallel.

Element 11 was four days of rain and mud. I had a tremendous time, but mobility was an issue. The NoCostco was great, but I need to run it a bit tighter. Most folks were gracious about what they took, but some people went whole hog, and others took things for gifts for people not even attending. I don't know how I feel about that. I mean, one gal took necklaces for folks in camp, lovely burners I know, but others took items to give to kids.family who would never attend a burn. There is no right or wrong here, but somehow the second set of "gifts" felt off-kilter. But I am glad we made people happy.

I developed a deep hacking asthma cough; Larry wouldn't let me near the fuels or smoke of the big burns. Came home exhausted and am still struggling with energy. My upper lip is completely broken out in cold sores. Ouchie. Love my Denevir.

The art isn't going well, nor the sewing, or planning. Even the housework and bills/paperwork move like molasses. I need to weed. I need to move. I need to be something other than a sad fossilized gnat encased in unforgiving amber. Dull amber at that.

Been a While.

I have no news of my nephew John since Jeremy went back to New York. One would think Sarah would answer her phone or return an email, but no, not so much. Unless I'm phoning into limbo? I must make an concerted effort, I guess.

We went to Cabo with Larry, free stay, free rental car, tons of free food. It was fun, beautiful resort, tons of love, but I didn't enjoy myself like I normally do. I will post pictures eventually.

I haven't got much in the way of art started. The NoCostCo project is simple, otherwise I'd not get it done. Feels like an obligation, not fun.

I do not feel like sewing or painting or making collages. My housework and gardening aren't up to my usual sub-par standards. My exercise and eating plan derailed; I gained back what I'd lost last month while in Cabo. People annoy me. I don't even want to watch TV. I want to play mindless video games and daydream.

Yep, I suspected I was depressed, now I'm pretty darn sure. I know what to do to shake it, just gotta get moving. Change the physical, the mental will follow. Plus do things like acknowledge my feelings, blog is a good place to start. I have been keeping my mouth shut a lot lately; mostly because I know I'm irritable and easily set off. Yes, this is different than my usual trigger points.

No docs, thanks, they prescribe meds which make me cotton-headed. I know what a therapist would say; I did begin graduate classes to be a family counselor. I found it too depressing. Seriously.

No worries, this isn't a huge deal, just another bump in the road. I still want to know what's around the bend, I ain't getting out of the car!

I'd call it Improvement, but we saw what happened last time.

My nephew is doing better, responding to treatment. he is out of the medically induced coma, but is still on a breathing tube (trachy-style) and so heavily sedated he may as well still be in the coma. I wouldn't call it "getting better", but it is positive progress. I'm just pessimistic lately.

My sailor nephew has three weeks at home. This is good, his mom needs him. After all, this is the son who lost his father, my brother, in 2008. Tough times, but he is a tough kid. Loves the Navy, loves being a nuke, he'll be alright in the long run. However he's going so far in the hole on his leave days that we won't see him for at least a year after prototype. Meh, he'll be busy on the boat no doubt. He did come over and we had a great visit. Beer and pizza and trash TV and talk, talk, talk, get three sailors in a room....

Nothing else of note, doing the garden, gearing up for Element 11, trying to get back to working out after that tumble down the stairs. I still have deep bruises on the sides of my knees. Doing okay on the eating plan, although I have had two meals out in the last week: Chinese at Golden Dynasty and Mexican (chicken mole burrito) at Javier's. Nummy, but I can tell they're bad for me. Ah well.

What? No, no more.

My nephew John is in ICU. Massive infection, renal failure, pneumonia. They have him in a medically induced coma. We will lose him, and we will lose him soon. He is only 23, disabled, lives in a group home. He probably has been ill for some time and didn't say anything. No one noticed? His brother is in NY, at Navy nuke prototype. I hope he can come home. But it may be too late.

Dammmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm.