My heart is breaking.

Joe went into the hospital yesterday morning. Heart attack. He's 46 years old. I don't think I can stand to lose anyone else from my life right now.

He and my oldest work for the same company. They argued yesterday morning, really hot and heavy and Kenny ended up not going to work because of it. Now he's unemployed.

First I got the call from Joe, "Call and get Kenny straightened out or kick him out, either way! He's 22 and he acts like a kid!" So, I'm on the phone, trying to work this quagmire out (while trying to do my job mind you).

My boss is there, listening to my conversation and I end up having to just hang up-I can't afford to be unemployed. Kenny will have to wait till I get home-that was my immediate thought.

Not an hour goes by and another phone call-from my middle son Jordan-who (really not making this up) also works for the same company, "Mom, Dad's had a heart attack. The paramedics are taking him to Desert Valley."

So, Joe and Jordan and another employee were lifting something heavy up onto a platform and afterward he couldn't catch his breath. Then he had chest pains, then numbness in his left arm, profuse sweating-all atypical signs and symptoms of a classic heart attack.

Paramedics administer Nitro and the pain subsides, they transport and he's admitted.

Me?

I'm making the quick walk over to my boss and choke out incoherently that I need to leave, husband....heart attack, no, I can get myself home safely, yes, I'll call. Grab my keys, my jacket, my cell phone, I think I even grabbed my lunch bag-I wasn't hungry. I left all the load paperwork there on my desk, my pens and note pads, left the computer open, at least it's password protected, left my sanity behind in that cubicle...

So, the drive home is usually about an hour, I took an hour and a half because tears kept me blind. Does my boss believe me? Does he think I'm just flaking out on him? Is Joe ok? How can I get Kenny straightened out? Who should I call first? His mom and dad? My mom and dad?

Jordan calls my cell, he's upset, wants to blame Kenny and he's not rational enough to listen to reason. "I'm not leaving Dad's side till you get here, Mom," he says. His voice is soft, trembling. He's 18, too young to lose his hero.

I call Kenny, he's still upset and says idiotic things like "Good, he deserves to go to the hospital" obviously not rational either.

My youngest, my sane child, is home sick with the flu, I call, the phone rings, no answer, no answer, no answer. I'm panicked now-go home and check on the boy (He's 15) or go to the hospital and be with Joe?

Decisions.

I went home. Corey was knocked-out on his medicine, gently (tap, tap, tap) woke him and told him about his dad in the hospital. He quite reasonably says, "Stupid Jordan, Kenny didn't cause Dad's heart attack. God!"

He want's to come with me to the hospital, but I tell him no, they won't let him into the cardiac unit because he's sick. I hug him (very tightly) and tell him I love him, then head the last eight miles to the hospital.

Joe.

He's sitting on the gurney, one breast exposed and a silly grin on his face. I want to cry, but I muster a tease up instead and ask, "Hey, are you trying to seduce a nurse or something?" Wires and tubing surround him. I know all this equipment. I'm familiar with the machines and beeps, monitors and the noise. Fifteen years in the medical field, you pick up a few things...

Jordan.

He's sitting next to his dad, looking relieved I'm there, and envelopes me in a bear hug. I tell him I love him too, and he grins his little lopsided grin which shows off his dimple, the grin he uses to get his way, the one which melts my heart.

"Dad's ok. They're running tests, nothing's come back yet."

I look at Joe, notice the healthy pink of his skin, the sharp, alert eyes, the rhythmic breathing movement of his chest..."It's too soon to get any results back yet, it's not even been two hours."

They both roll their eyes at me.

That was yesterday.

Today. Still not sure what happened. Still classifying it as a heart attack but as little an attack as someone can have and still call it a heart attack.

I don't care, as long as it doesn't happen again. But my training tells me it will. My boss called last night and has my shift covered. "Stay home, take care of things there and come in on Monday" he said. He also mentioned something about my needing a day off because I've only missed 3 days since I started with the company (a year ago). At this point, I'm thinking, "WHATEVER" but I say thanks and thanks again.

Kenny went with me this morning to see his dad in the hospital. They're going to have to work things out, somehow. They're both adults-I think.

Kenny's going to have to find another job, he can't pay rent, Joe will kick him to the curb.

Jordan will have to talk to his brother sometime and work things out, too.

Corey, well, he's back in school today and it's almost time for me to run back up to the hospital, not sure if he's coming home tonight or not, but I'm not eating alone and neither is my husband.

Family-gotta love it.

--worn out me.
 

What is it about little tots that make everyone go bananas? I know I love my grandkids, they're wonderful babies, but I watch the other grandparents and they aren't affectionate or fun or anything like that with the kids.

Drives me nuts. If a 1 year old and a 3 year old want to hug and kiss you, you enjoy it! Not them, they make them wash their hands and faces first. Weird.

--messy me
 

I came home from work today just completely wiped out. I sat down for just a second and way off through the fog in my brain, my ears register a sound.

Hmmm.

I get up, trepidatious at what it might be. I start at one end of the house and work my way through to the bottom of the stairway and victory! Found it. Corey is practicing his electric guitar in his room.

Now, mind you, he doesn't know I'm home so I stand a moment longer, trying to decide if I should call up to him and let him know I'm home but just as I'm about to....

He starts singing. Loudly! On pitch, too! Now, this kid is my shy one, the introvert, the quiet computer geek who does well in school. He would never sing out if he knew I could hear him.

So, I sit on the bottom step and remove my shoes as I listen to my youngest son (he's fifteen, by the way) sing to his own guitar accompaniment. I don't recognize the words or the tune, but in that moment, I realized how much he's growing up and just how soon it will be time for him to leave the nest.

He stopped several times, tweaking a note now and again, trying to get it just so...and I just enjoyed the moment.

Eventually, the phone rang and I lost my son's seranade to a closed door and a "What's for dinner?" question tossed out at me, but I'll always remember this special moment in time.

--Proud Mom --me

"The Image Shop" 
 

Well, this is a fine how do you do! I honestly thought this was FRIDAY! Oooof! It's only Thursday. Where in the Sam Hill did I lose a day?

I remember Monday very distinctly, Tuesday was kind of a blurrrrrr so I guess it must have been there that I clumped Wednesday right into it, too!

I thought yesterday was Thursday and well, so much for what I thought.

Ahhhhh, back to the grindstone for one more day.....


-wishfull me
 

January 25th, 2006 marks my one year anniversary at my job. I think I'm getting a whole .35 cent raise.

Joe thinks I should get more, but I know what the standard is. It's substandard.

Oh, and the author I reviewed yesterday? Wrote back and apologized in a fashion so I guess it's a good thing I didn't go off like I wanted to. It worked out for the best this way.

I think.

Yep, it did.


--erm, me
 

Well. Hmm. I want to say I'm dissappointed, but maybe that's not the right word.

I reviewed a poem the other day, (and I shall not say who the author was, nor the poem) and found it rather nice. It wasn't spectacular or amazing, it wasn't awe-inspiring or wonderful, but it was clever. It was thought-provoking. I liked it and thought this writer did well.

I rated the piece above average. 3 1/2 stars. Average is 3, the piece was better than average. I thought to myself, hmm, get this author some more reviews and/or exposure and gladly placed the rate/review on the public reviewing page.

I should have run and hid under a bridge.

I received an email back from this author-upset that I had given such a lowly 3 1/2 star rating on the public page! The author further mentioned how if I had rated the piece thusly 3 1/2 years ago when first joing W.Com that it would not have been welcome then, either!

Can someone set me straight, PLEASE? I save those 4 and 5 stars for what I feel in my opinion to be exceptionally brilliant, fantastically creative and intrinsically thought provoking work.

This just did not meet that standard for me. I wrote the author back, trying to explain my position and promised I would no longer publically review any works by that author, then I decided I would let the author know I would just not rate/review anything-period, maybe that would unruffle the feathers.

Probably not. Did I over-react? Should I re-rate because the author complained, to a higher point? Deep inside I'm saying "NO!" Because I read something else in that port, and it WAS at least a 4-4 1/2 star piece, and the author CAN do better! I will stick to my promise and I will spend my few free minutes a day on someone else, hopefully someone who appreciates an honest opinion of a "Gentle Reader" and someone who doesn't feel that years on this site as a member automatically insures nothing but 4 or 5 stars-no matter how good or bad the writing is!

--Ranting Me
 

The art of abstension is really no art. I think it is more along the lines of laziness or procrastination, maybe even abhorance.

I didn't intentionally abstain from blogging, just ran into a hellish week at work, long hours, little sleep, and really no time to pop on and just blog about my day, life, feelings, whatever.

That made me think- why do people hold themselves back? You know, like abstaining from church-don't like to be preached to maybe?

No sex-saving themselves for that special someone?

No booze/drugs/partying-recovering abuser/alcoholic/player?

Or is it truly something else? I suppose the only ones who can answer those questions would be those persons...I never really partied, even as a teen.

Never did the drug thing, wasn't my cup of tea so to speak.

I did save myself for that special someone and then he walked away from me. I grew up real quick after that, I had to, I became a Mommy at age 18.

I can literally count the men in my life on less than one hand-the ones I've "known" in the biblical sense. My oldest son's natural father (Now deceased) and my husband. That's it.

I'd like to say it was because I was a good girl, but really, I just didn't care about relationships back then.

I've just recently celebrated my nineteenth wedding anniversary and I'm just now starting to realize the special relationship I share with my husband.

It was a hard week for him, too.


--me
 

Well, I'm still here, hubby wouldn't allow me to spend my gift money on the bills, so I have three more months of writing to myself!

I think he must realize how much I need to spend time here on W.Com, after all, it is my home within my home, even when I'm at work!

I do need to concentrate on writing some new stuff, the last few things have been rather short, even wrote some poetry which I haven't been able to do lately.

Mostly I just need to sit and kick some words around, get things moving again...it's just hard to find the imaginative flow once again...it's not exactly like riding a bike-either you're inspired to write or you're not.

I haven't been, not much anyway, inspired that is. Eww, what a nasty sentance that is/was!

So, I need to go get some housework done and start dinner, Corey should be calling for a ride home soon and I need to have everything done.

Until next time...

-me
 

I got to thinking about Journals and Blogs, it's pretty much a voyeuristic plethera of lives to peep at, isn't it? I mean, the person writes down their thoughts and feelings, wishes, hopes, anything and everything. Sexual fantasies, worst fears and the like.

Only, this is actually allowed because if we didn't want to share, we could make things private and then viola! Privacy.

That train of thought made me wonder why I put things out here for others to read...maybe Jerry Springer-like, but I guess ultimately, I want to know if I'm normal or on the other hand, am I the "strange one"?

--me
 

I don't have much of the superstitious balony flowing through me like Mom, she probably stayed home today, not me-had to work, knew I would...only consolation: good day to be at work...drivers were relaxed and happy today for a change.

I notice with them all it takes usally is a smile and they can be such great assets to me and vice versa, but give them a sour dispatcher and WATCH OUT!~

Today was actually a good day, I'm still breathing and even though it's due to rain tonight, I've made up my mind to be as cheery as I can to make up for the glummy person I've been these last months.

I love myself today.

-me
 

Once in a while, I think they're needed. Breathers, vacations, time out, whatever label you attach to it doesn't matter. I need one of those, maybe a couple of them back to back; yeah, that would work just fine.

Well, we've finished the remodel of the house, four months of craziness and it's beautiful, but I've found myself maudlin about the whole thing...so----materialistic. Don't get me wrong, I did't do it to show anyone up, God knows I haven't got that kind of money, just needed carpet and paint and a furnace to get through the winter. The house looks nice, almost pretty.

I didn't go crazy and buy all new furniture or anything, just some rearranging of what I already had. It's nice to come home and know the faucet doesn't leak anymore, the roof is firmly tacked on, the windows seal properly and locks on the doors are good. Amazing luxeries.

I've got $50.00 cash left from Christmas gift money-I'm arguing with myself right now-3 more months paid membership here or get a few extra groceries? Pay or lose 90% of my work verses dinner through the next weekend? I have a little left in my checking, but not enough to cover the bills.

I know I'll do the responsible thing and lose my account here. Maybe in a few months I can afford to join again...at least I can log in and read a few things, but I won't be able to keep up the blog, or most of my images, or my books-I wonder if I have any disk space to download everything onto?

**sigh**


--me
 

Well, I made it through another day. I find myself easily moved from anger to furious to melting-point seething lately, then emotionally drained. I know it's because I don't have Juanita to bounce things off of anymore and I know depression plays a big role. I suppose it's the ability to sensibly work through the anger and rage which elevates us from the animals. I don't know, some days I wonder if the animals have it any better.

Get angry, let it out, move on...

Probably not near as simple as that, but eh, it'll work as far as analogies go.

Work was what it was though the owner of the company did grace us with a visit (But not for any good reason). He's a good boss, but man, I hate seeing him out here under such circumstances-driver ran into a pick-up and a car and then ran over a fire hydrant...this may or may not have indirectly caused a store to close for two weeks losing over seven million in sales and repairs...lawyers are going to have to fight this one out, I find myself wondering if I should be job hunting?

I'm forty and can't afford to go job searching for a new home, but I'll have no choice in the matter if this doesn't get cleared up, I don't know...could take years to figure out in court, who knows?

I feel for the driver though-he lost his job, may lose his Class A and has no way of supporting himself. I've at least still got my job. I'm still breathing. More than that I'll have to work on.

-me
 

Ooooof! I so want to strangle this she-&*%$@ at work right now! She's not even past her probation period and she thinks SHE knows the easier way! Yes, little dumpling, there will always be an easier way, but in this instance it is not the RIGHT way!

There's reasons for the programs written the way they are! There are steps which must be taken, every step-every time to insure NOTHING gets missed!!!!

Little half-brained, self-absorbed, psycho-wanna-be! Argh, team player my ass! GGGRRRRRR!

*


*


*


*sigh*


I had to get it out of my system tonight so that I can go in and fix all the problems tomorrow that she's created for me today. I swear I still want to smack her a good one!

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10...I don't think this is going to work, crap, I'll probably have to write her up and send an email to HR, this so totally blows the big one, so much for taking off on Friday, HR will take one look at today's numbers and deny my petition for the day off siting-no qualified personnell to cover. damn, Damn, DAMN!

-me
 

Changes at work, changes at home, changes within the family. Lots of changes going on around in my life.

I know the world never remains the same, else people wouldn't die, relationships wouldn't fail and life would never move forward. I just wonder how plausible it is to effect the changes which affect my every day life.

Work. A co-worker quit just before the holidays and this pushed me up into the senior position with no current trained personnel (other than myself) to do the job. This, I know, I had no control over. Not being able to take the time off for the holidays was a direct result of that change...could I have pushed the issue with my boss? Should I have pushed the issue?

Sometimes, after working these long-ass fourteen hour days, I'm too exhausted to think much when I do get home. I'm so tired I don't even wait to eat dinner on some occasions-I go straight to bed. No together time for me and Joe, no intimate time to talk about our day and commune in each other's bodies, no "OUR" time.

It's very frustrating. I could leave work after ten hours, but then I'd just have to clean up the mess the next day, causing more crap to fall on myself for each successive day. I sometimes think, "What the hell am I doing here?" I'm paying the bills, that's what I'm doing. Barely, really. But they are being paid and that keeps a roof over our heads.

Personally, I'd love to quit, but I'm not a quitter and so I don't. I just keep being the dependable one, always showing up early and staying late. I hate my work ethic at times-it can be a real wedge in my relationship with the hubby, but it's so hard to make all the parts of my life fit together smoothly.

It's even made me wonder if I shouldn't sell the horses-God knows I haven't had time to ride in the last six months, how pathetic is that? One of my greatest passions my entire life and I haven't been in the saddle in half a year.

I so suck at life today.

-me
 

My dad called me not long ago, he had bad news; "Steph, love, Aunt Inara has cancer, she's not doing so well, you better come say goodbye."

My throat closed up. Aunt Inar. The image of her flashed into my mind's eye, a golden beauty constantly in high spirits and always wearing a smile. Golden hair, golden skin, trim and fit, the epitome of a classy woman. She loved everyone.

When I was a small child visiting the ranch where my grandparents lived, she always made time to come visit my two brothers and me. She had two kids of her own, a son and a daughter but she still came and made us feel welcome. The step-children of her sister, my dad's new wife. We all felt a little lost and so that very first summer, she made us feel as though we had always been part of the family.

She would come over each morning and sit with us at breakfast, tell silly jokes and make our sad faces light up. Then she would take us somewhere outrageous-like to Ghiradelli Square just to take pictures of the tourists, wacky and fun, sweet and caring. Nothing fake about Aunt Inar.

Inara. Even her name is exotic. Pop called on Thursday and she died on Saturday, just as my plane landed. I miss her so and cry when I think about not saying goodbye. But I know she understands and I know she is one of God's brightest of souls-if anyone deserves to sit with God it is she.

That was November. It was a very hard month. December blew in here on gusty wings, throwing sand over the roadways. I was on my way to work when my husband called, "Come home, honey, just turn around and come home." My imagination went wild, what was wrong? Not another 9-11? Nothing came accross the radio waves. If there was something wrong with one of the kids, surely he would have said something...right?

When I got home, storm clouds hung low in the air, I know there was heavy fog in the Pass, I'd just gone through it-twice! Joe stood at the doorway and waited for me.

Juanita, the sister of my soul, just died in her sleep. She was an older woman than me by twenty years, but she knew how to live and helped others along the way while she did it. Complications from diabetes.

She never even told us she was diabetic. Her husband tearfully retold how her right leg had turned black and how he'd begged her to go to the hospital, but she refused, wouldn't hear of it. She wanted to die at home-that's what she always told me, surrounded by loved ones and family. What a huge hole in my heart she left.

I wonder if I could have talked her into going to the doctor's? That's one of those dangerous avenues to walk down-the what if's and shoulda, coulda, woulda's-you know? So, another one of the bright lights has gone out and I feel I'm just coming out of a dark tunnel.

It's a new year. Same life, well, almost. Not quite so bright now, but new candles are lit every day and I hope I can keep my light shining for a while yet.

So, go away fog! My path is straightening out some, I pray there are no rocks ahead, I wonder if I could weather much more right now.

-me