It’s Naturally Humorous But I Don’t Get It

Can someone please explain to me how, or why to be more exact, that the weather knows when I’ve just cleaned my windows?  Without fail, the minute I’ve managed to get my windows clean and free of steaks s huge wind will come up to out dirt back on my windows.  And of course that isn’t really enough so it rains, just enough to make a mess all over my windows again.

Beloved watches, and I mean watches, the weather to ensure it will be dry, sunshine filled before he tackles with windows.  And the minute he does, it’s as if the forecast changes.  Pretty sure nature does this as some form of a joke.  Only I’m not laughing. Yeah I know, that’s my issue.

Of course the same thing happens when I rake leaves.  No sooner than do I get them all raked up and in the bag for a moment to admire the green grass which had been lost under the leaves and the wind comes along and gives me more.  More that aren’t even from my trees.  Because my trees don’t have leaves that shed.

Now I know into every life a little rain, dirty windows and leaves must come.  But why, oh why I ask you, does this always have to be a fight with me and nature.  With me always on the shorter end of the stick.  Anyone?  Anyone at all know?


Memories are a strange thing.  You think in the moment that they will remain crystal clear and sharp always.  But the mind slowly makes things fuzzy and blurry, especially when it comes to people and animals that you’ve loved and lost.  Maybe it’s a good thing.

Some memories are easy to recall, taking back to a time and place.  Others take me to a feeling. I can’t imagine not being able to recall my memories, they are a part of my very being.  They are my history, my experience and basically help to form the person I am today.

And yet there are diseases that rob you of your memories, leaving you with an empty slate.  A part of you not there any more, not like you were.  And sadly for those who love people who have lost their memory the memory that is left is of their loved one lost in some other place.  So in a way the memory loss affects two or more people even though only one has the disease.

I can’t imagine life without my memories, and a part of me lives in fear of the what if.  What if I lose my memory?  Beloved once jokingly told me that I wouldn’t know that I had lost my memory, once it was lost.  If only that were the case, if only there was some easy way of managing this, but alas that doesn’t seem to be the case.

We joke, Beloved and I, about losing our memory when we forget where we placed the phone or the keys.  We joke because these are small things, typical things people forget all the time.  Innocent moments.  But are they the hint of something more?  You see here is the rub, we could get tested, but we are afraid.  Afraid of a potential outcome, allowing fear to paralyze us and hold us in some strange dance.  A dance that maybe has us waltzing with faded memories while listening to unfamiliar music no thinking we’ve always known this tune.

Cold, Empty Arms After A Last Ride or Why My Dog Is Better Than I ever Will Be

It’s funny how empty your arms feel, after you know you will never hold a particular loved one again.  All the times you’ve taken that warm, sweet, comforting weight against your body and just took it for granted that it would always be there.  And then one day, one hard day, it isn’t any more.

I don’t think I will be able to erase the cold empty feeling in my arms grinds.  I’ve tried, oh how I’ve tried.  But I’m cold and empty and I don’t think my heart can be fixed any more.  You see today we noticed one of our beloved four-footed friends struggling with walking on and off.  And then it was breathing became a problem which resulted in the last ride together.  The last set of cuddles and kisses, hugs and a struggled tail wag.

Holding my Sweetums for the last time while the medication took hold.  The medication that put my faith companion, the one full of unconditional love, to sleep for the last time.  And while I had my friend, while the medication went to work I thought I’d never lose the feeling. And yet I did.

The house is empty, too still and too lonely in some way.  And my arms are ever so dreadfully empty, a strange feeling settling in that may never go away.  And yet I’m blessed for this darling animal provided me unconditional love, support and a truth about filling life with all that you can in the moment.  And now I’m empty from that.

The sweet weight of that warm body, the louder than normal snoring noises at night, the little barks in sleep and the demand to be included on every trip out the door…those are gone.  But they live on, painfully right now in my heart.  I know that as time goes by it will be easier and I also know I’m a better person for having been loved by my sweet friend.  But it now, right now there is a void I can’t seem to fill and an emptiness that makes my very being shake.

did I hold on long enough?  Did I hold on too long?  Is it okay to let them take the loved one shortly after the procedure or are you supposed to hold on longer?  To each their own, and yet we all go through this.  Even though mentally I knew we were starting the long goodbye a few months back. Always I held out hope.  And maybe hats why after a few moments I was willing to let the body go, for the life and the spirit of the animal I knew and loved was already gone.

This is why love sucks, this is why loving a dog is so hard.  Because at some point we have to say good-bye, and I wasn’t done learning all the lessons yet.  But the schedule wasn’t mine to make and now I can only try to recapture that feeling and hold a sweet bundle of tail wagging, unconditional love in my heart and memories.

Tabled Memories

We need a new table.  Ours broke today.  It’s a lovely wooden table, nice and practical.  Today it decided it had enough, it groaned under the weight of the pies and cakes, tarts and bars.  Not to mention an assortment of sandwiches, salads and other delights.  She groaned under the load, cracked and a leg starts to give way.  Hasty fixes were out in place, after all we couldn’t lose all that wonderful food!

The thing is,  love this table.  It’s where I struggled to get the words right in my paper. It’s where I let my tears pool thought heart aches and health scars.  This table saw me roll out short crusts, pizza dough and welsh cakes.  I’Ve chopped, diced, cut and sliced at this table.  And oh the meals we’ve eaten at this table!   H the laughter that has been shared as bread has been broken as we sat around this table!

No table will ever really replace this one.  Not really because there are too many memories with this one.  And they aren’t all my memories either.  This is where Beloved came to terms with cancer, marked a million papers and penned lectures. It’s where he has his tea, scones and bagels.  He’s made pasta on this table and coloured in books with the kids.

This table is more than a table, its memories and events.  And the fact that it gave up when loaded with food for a party is both sad and good.  Sad because well I love this table,  good in that it gave up when we had friends here, friends who know how to fix things, unlike the two of us.  I’m crossing my fingers that one of our friends can fix this so it can serve us in a new way, a smaller burden to carry on it going forward I dare say.

To be honest, prior to this event, I never gave the table much of a thought.  I took it for granted, assuming it would always be there for us.  And then when I realized it might need to be removed I started thinking all the things I’ve been through with this table.  I guess that seems silly, some might say it’s just some furniture, but to me, it’s a part of my life.

Tents, Beavers and Magic

I have a tent city in my living room.  I didn’t plan on having a tent city any where on my property, not my living room or my lawn.  But I’m okay with this tent city.  It’s not a typical tent city.  For starters the tent city is filled with small people, a total of four little people.  Each child demanded his/her own tent.

Beloved  was on tent making duty, well it started  with pillow forts and somehow became tents.  Not the most outdoors of people, Beloved simply tossed blankets over the pillow creations.  The children were thrilled with this.  Each claiming one as individual property, where toys and books were promptly stored.

You’d think the kids were staying over for more than half a day.  I mean forts and tents and stuff stored away.  Oh and a living room I didn’t recognize, a refrigerator that was suddenly more empty than full because apparently food in forts and tents tastes a million times better than when it’s served at the table! 😉

Somewhere in the midst  of the tents was Beloved.  I could hear his voice, racing from the sounds of it, about Paddy The Beaver.  Now and then tiny wiggles could me noticed in the tents.  Tiny ones though so as not collapse the walls.  After all Beloved is not an architect! 😉

A small part of me was jealous, has never made a pillow fort for me.  Nor has he built me a tent in the living room.  Granted it’s not exactly what I’d want, but I was jealous of how quickly he found his inner child.  How easily he slipped down the hole and into the world of pillows being walls, sheets forming tents and the magic of Paddy The Beaver.  Maybe later on he’d share the magic with me! 😉

Favorites, Food and Friends

My favourite ethnic restaurant in town closed its doors.  I’m not sure if this is a permanent thing or the owners are in a vacation back home.  I haven’t been to the restaurant in a few weeks.  A friend sent me a text after deciding to follow my recommendation to try the place, and then discovered it was closed.  As in lights off, doors locked, chairs on the tables.  As in closed and not open for food any time in the next few hours.

Closed as in suddenly I want their delicious rice pilaf.  I need to have the delicious dips, fresh pitas and stuffed vine/grape leaves.  My taste-buds demand the spiced meat which has been cooked to perfection served with a zingy garlic sauce.  My mouth waters at the thought of refreshing salads, cool cucumber dips and herbs too many to mention.  My mouth literally began altering at the thoughts of this.

Beloved mourned the loss of flaky pattern with sweet honey,  it’s and spices.  He yearned for the declines version of fruit salad which is served with a bit of slushy fruit juice and roasted nuts.  Sometimes he also has the special creamy topping with the fruit.

It’s funny how the minute you know you can’t have something, you suddenly desire it with a burning passion that can be consuming.  Well okay, to be honest, it’s not funny when you are faced with the hunger and no way to end it with exactly what you want.  Now you can either yearn for what you can’t have, which sometimes is the best option.  Or you can try to recreate it yourself, this can be a good thing or a disaster.

Beloved and my friends decided to try and recreate some of my favourite foods.  Mostly because I’ve been struggling with pain and energy levels.  And because I decided to not pretend to be better than I really feel anymore.  Because I can’t.  It’s too much.  Just like finding out my favourite foods aren’t just around the corner and up the hill from us.

And these lovely people made their version of my favourite dips, bought pitas, tried to recreate the fruit salad and son on.  Did it taste the same?  No of course not.  But it did taste full of love and that makes it taste special in its own way!  And to be honest, it may have a different flavor, but it’s still great!


Who Does That? Love Does That

Who wakes someone up out of a nice, deep sleep?  Especially around two in the morning?  Who does that I ask.  Or I should say who does that used to be the question because I found out today who does that.

It wasn’t someone on the phone, which happens now and then.  But let’s be honest people phoning you can’t see that you are in a nice, deep and peaceful sleep.  Unless you have some unusual arrangement.  Either that or you have some hidden cameras you didn’t know about! 😕

Nope it wasn’t the phone, just as it wasn’t someone stumbling to our door and ringing the bell.  Again that’s somewhat understandable because someone outside your house surely isn’t going to be aware that you are sleeping peacefully.

But who is guilty of this ummm crime is Beloved.  Not Beloved who just stumbled home and accidentally woke me up either.  This is Beloved who woke up with a strange feeling and came to share it with me.  He actually stopped and observed that I was sleeping peacefully.  He knew the need my body had for that deep sleep since lupus demands such a huge cut of my energy each day.  And still he woke me up.  Him not the dogs mind you.

In order to wake me up he had to decide that what he wanted to share was worthy of waking me up.  Check.  He then had to go about waking me up, more than one attempt may be required.  Check.  And finally he had to share that lopsided grin of his with me as he asked if I was awake.  Check.  And duck.  Because I threw a pillow at his way.  And missed because I was suddenly awake from a deep sleep.

So in case you wonder, it’s the people you love and who claim to love you back that will do this to you.  And yes you will still live them because who does that?  Love does that!