A little this and that, bits and bobs/

I went to the mall to shop for Reddit Secret Santa, as most of my giftee's like can be found in places such as Hot Topic. Sweets you say?  See's Candy, most assuredly, as they have nice little gift boxes and presents.  One of the See's ladies, in her crisp white uniform with the black bows, remarked she had not seen me in a while.  Yeah, no, you have not.  Of course I had to tell the Sad News.  She came and hugged me, and told me how much he loved me, and that they;d been talking about him.  Of course they had, he always made quite the impression.  Weird to stand in a crowded candy shop getting a big warm hug from the candy lady.  So now See's is Sad Chocolate.

Not that I'll give it up.

Other bits and bobs include getting the 401K into a good IRA, one which will pay out nicely because it is indexed, with a variety of protections.  Another chunk of change went into a product I call a reverse life insurance policy.  I give them money, they put it in where it might or might not earn interest but cannot decrease, and pay me a monthly stipend.  When it is gone, it is gone.  If I die, they get it.  Another product is like and indexed CD/personal retirement fund.  It earns a bonus every year I do not touch it, and compounds on that.  This keeps it safe until I need it in a few years, and it grows.  Once I start taking payouts, it keeps paying out until I die, even if I exceed what originally went in.  Perfect at my age.  I still have money in savings and the money market, I have my three little incomes, and a nice normal CD.  I should be okay.  Mostly I wanted my money tucked away from scammers, leeches, and greedy buggers.

Went to the credit union and got an explanation why they're taking so long to remove Larry from the accounts.  He had an IRA, so they cannot take him off until the end of the tax year.  That would have been nice to know.

And in mundane boring news, I got the glass storage shelves arranged.  Larry kept glass jars, so out they went.  I have several flats of canning jars in assorted sizes.  Lots of glass vases and bottles and canisters.  A big glass cake dome, some stockpots, more wax, the china, the flatware, the holiday stuff up on the top shelf.  All nicely arranged.  Kinda sorta.  Now I can move on the laundry and more of the wretched excess.  This all included bringing up the Spode cookie jar and teapots and ornaments for the baker's rack.  I also have Spode teacups, and mugs, and plates, and bowls, and use them every winter.  Not this year.  It just doesn't feel merry and bright.  Not right. The dated plate and ornaments made me cry.  2011, he was alive.  2012.  2001 Our First Christmas in the house.  Except is was 2000.  Still.  I wanted the decorations up, but damn, this first holiday is Not a Happy Holiday.

I didn't get the stockings out either.  Merry Fucking Christmas, huh?

Have a Relatively Pleasant Continued Existence.

I began the day in tears.  Sleep had come and gone, dreams were strange.  The insurance on the truck is an iffy thing as I do not have a license, and the driver is not a resident of this household.  Larry's name is not off all accounts and I dread correspondence addressed to him.  I messaged a friend, and saw the last  conversation we had about prepping for Burning Man, Larry's neck pain and potential pneumonia.  That was mere days before I took him to the ER and they discovered the mass.  I went downstairs to get the Spode Christmas tree cookie jar and teapots, and discovered two printers which I thought had gone to the dumpster.  A box of Christmas glasses and mugs which Larry was going to make into candles.  The leaves outside always break my heart.  So many little paper cuts on my heart.

A dear friend lost her beloved cat in some sort of freak accident.  Devastating.  He was a lovely creature, loving and universally loved.  My heart aches for her.

But I got the norens up, and the garlands with them, and a few more bows.  Did the kitty litter and a red table cloth in the front room. Ate a hot lunch of chicken and a baked yam, yes, with my excellent cranberry sauce.  Received a lovely little Moon pendant as part of a gift exchange, a holiday card, and a commission for a leather tool roll.  Had a nice long phone conversation with another local widow who is only six weeks out.  I am calmer, if not happier.

Ordered an external hard drive.  Excellent deal, but I really shouldn't be buying things.  Ah well.

Three in the afternoon, I gave in to the call of a hot bath, and having a nice cuppa in my flannel nightgown.  Everything can wait.

How does one end a conversation with someone bereaved?  Have a nice day doesn't cut it.  I think I said "Have a relatively pleasant continued existence".  Hah.  I cannot even quote myself.

Blackout Holiday and the Missing Routine.

Widows do not get roof lights.  No one wants to climb on the roof, except for one person.  He lives at the other end of the valley, and is detoxing for alcohol.  He is in no shape to drive north and climb a ladder.  So.  I will try to get the ornaments and bells out for under the eaves, and the lights for inside the windows, but there will not be a net on the swamp cooler to make it look like a present, no LED strands along the roof ridges, not light up garland under the eaves, no great big sparking stars, no Bright Ball of Wow.  Nope. 

Today is Sunday.  We would have woke up, had coffee, turned on the TV to Sunday Morning.  He would have made breakfast in bed for us.  Then morning sex with the classic rock station on the TV.  Put on a meal in the crockpot.  Sort the newspaper ads, clip the coupons, read the funnies to each other.  Go to the commissary.  Maybe Michaels and Lowes.  Maybe lunch somewhere, then we'd come home and he'd putter around the yard.  The firepit would be going.  Maybe he'd be helping me put up the decorations indoors, maybe I'd be helping him put up the ones in front of the house.  He'd work outside for far too long, until after dark.  Maybe fix the roof to the Buddha house.  Wrap the trunks of the tiny Japanese maples.  Winterize the veggie garden.  Fill the twitter bird feeder.  I'd be putting clean sheets on the bed.  Maybe painting.  Fussing and futzing.

The leaves would all be up and mulched.  The gutters would be clear.  The Burning Man stuff  would not still be underfoot.  The fireplace would be warming the basement.

We would eat dinner in the recliners, he'd catch up on his shows while I dozed beside him. 

And that's what Sunday should be. 

It is not.  I got up at four in the morning, because why not? Fed the cats and started coffee.   I did bake some cornbread for breakfast because I am out of bread for toast.  Got the papers and found one worthwhile coupon.  It's in a pile with the others from last week.  Watched a little TV on the laptop, but did not turn on the bedroom set at all.  Looked at FB and Reddit.  Got showered and dressed.  Cried some.  Scooped the cat box.  Sat in the front room and stared out the picture window.  Cried some more.  Worked on the kitchen decor.  More crying.  Sorted some paperwork.  That annoyed me.  Then moe kitchen stuff.  Cried when I found our framed Christmas photo.  Zapped a bean and cheese burrito, ate it with homemade cranberry sauce.  No one to share the sauce with.  No one wants it.  No one wants me. 

I still have the high shelf and the baker's rack in the kitchen to go, as well as put away the pumpkin teapot and squash pictures, and get the Spode out. Then there's the tree.  Steam and mop the kitchen floor, and get out the Christmas rugs.  And the white lace noren and the garlands, and the shower curtain, and a tablecloth.  I will do it too.  May take two days.

This sucks so much.  So very, very much.

Falling like leaves around my ankles.

I do not think of myself as strong.  I saw the word "resilient" and that's the one.  I keep going.  I am sad and distraught and I want to scream and tears appear seemingly at random, brought on by the most trivial things, but I keep ticking.  Not quickly, slow and up and down, but onward.  There is nothing else.

I finally cooked a dinner for myself.  I mistimed it and ate the baked sweet potato while the chicken was cooking, but it was okay.  Taking out the foil to line the pan made me cry.  Larry used foil in the camp stove.  I wonder how much he has stashed away. 

The final DFAS check came in, the "arrears" one.  And that is that. 

The backyard is full of leaves again, now leaves which have an inch of snow on top.  Larry would not have let that happen.  The front gutter still drips.  I have half a useless freezer taking up space out back. 

Colby is coming to fix the furnace this afternoon.  I know he'll give me a fair price, but money scares me.  So much. 

America First is addressing everything to Howard. I thought we took care of that.  Damn. 

There's a couple charges on the Visa.  Trying to decide if I need to pay or screw them.  I am thinking screw them.  I'm screwed because I can't get that card in my name.  Thanks a fucking lot.

There may be roof lights tomorrow.  We shall see if promises are kept, if people show up.  I have doubts.  So many good intentions falling like the maple leaves out back, shriveled and yellowed.

Onward, because I have nowhere else to go.

The Friday After

Well, I survived.  Had Turkey Brunch with my brother's family at Chuckarama.  Yes, that was as bizarro as it sounds.  I am glad I went.  The roast beef with horseradish sauce was nice.  Everything else was passable except the Wretched Carrot Cake of Despair.  Two of my nieces took me and the kids to see Ralph Wrecks the Internet. A bit of fun.  I passed on the Turkey Dinner with friends.  Exhaustion and physical pain had had their way with me.  Besides,  I think I would have been crying in the bathroom far too much.  I should have just taken up the offer to go to SLC and soak in a hot tub.

I got a call from Larry's son.  I do not hear from him often, but he has a very good reason. He's in jail, and unless someone funds his account, he cannot call.  He wrote, but the letter never arrived.  I hope I get to see him sooner than later.

A friend who is having their own crisis called, and we have worked out a time for him to come and put up the Christmas lights.  It is something he can do for Larry.  I am happier, and he is happier too.  A nice meeting of unhappy souls. 

But I do feel forgotten and faded.  Just a little less.

Onward, because that is the only option.

Wodin's Day and The Deleted Rants of Facebook

I deleted the rants there, the last incarnation can dwell here.

A rant. Beware.

Beautiful Wodin's Day outdoors. In here it is the bitter taste of stale promises and fallen good intentions, the ashes of anger. Fuck cancer. Fuck my back pain. Fuck Autumn. This shit is hard. I lasted all of ten minutes in the backyard raking. I thought I was stronger. I am not. I'm entering my fucking pissed off at the world stage. I'm angry I cannot start the lawn mower, which is probably out of gas anyway. I'm angry the garden got so bad this summer. I'm angry I cannot wrangle the ladder. I'm angry Larry died. I'm angry at the asshats on Fb marketplace who asked for things then never fucking showed up. I'm angry Larry hauled so much crap home and burdened me with junk too big to go into the trash bin. I'm angry at just about everything this fine day, including being angry with myself for not being able to speak up until I am enraged. That's my hallmark, simmering then simultaneously imploding and exploding. So that pisses me off too, feeling awkward and guilty and passive aggressive.

I do not want to be The Centerpiece of Pity, but here I am.

Fortunately, I have someone coming this afternoon who can help a bit. Getting any of the chores done always helps cheer me up; knowing the raspberry canes will be trimmed is a huge relief. I know people care, I also know I cannot ask to be a first priority. It is hard being the second string after being the center of Larry's universe.

And fuck that dog next door.

Okay Google, find affordable lawn care.

Pity turkey

For the first time in years, my brother's family has invited me to the annual trip to the all you can eat buffet for Thanksgiving (the one which once gave me food poisoning bad enough I had to go to the ER, yay).  One niece is picking me up, and will pay my way.  I will go, I will be pleasant and appreciative.  But if Larry were alive, I'd not have heard from them.  Pity turkey.  I have a second invitation in the evening, but from someone who usually invites us, sometimes with Larry, sometimes without.  I will go there too.  But I know damn well it is pity turkey.  I imagine it tastes something like ashes.

I am not okay today.  I made the mistake of calling the bank about my main credit card.  It is in Larry's name, not mine.  Used for everything, I am screwed without it.  Fortunately, I do have one card in my name, and got almost everything swapped over to it, or to my checking account.  I will miss the Amazon points, and cannot go to Costco until or unless I get a Visa card.  I was going to let the membership go, I won't need it.  I was going to stock up on trash bags and paper towels though! I am worried about money.  I should be alright, but I don't know, not for sure.  As long as I don't lose the house, as long as the heat and lights and water stay on.  As long as I can care for the cats. 

Calling so many places, trying to get through the tangle of passwords onlines, site after site.  Not impossible, but wearing.  I am worried about the furnace, about the fireplace, although I may have found someone for that.  Worried about the damn leaves, the garden, the raspberry canes.  Worried about all the crap which need to go to the dump or just away.  Worried about the cats' medicines.  Worried that my house will never have Larry's Christmas lights on the roof again.  Ever.

What do you need?  Just call, we'll be there.  Let us come help.  We won't forget you. 

Riiight.  I do have people who come to help, I love and appreciate their time and muscle power, but it is going into the holiday.  They are busy, they have family, they have plans, they have stuff to do.  I understand.  But for all the others, the easy words have come and gone.  I don't expect anything like the gift cards and donations, that was clear in my mind it was an initial outpouring of sympathy and true care, true love for Larry.  Now?  If I needed food delivered, sure, maybe.  Not what I need.  I need hours of help with grubby tasks out in the cold and the dirt. No one wants to do anything so unglamorous. 

I am forgotten.