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Name: Justine
Location: Annapolis, Maryland, United States

Justine, is a little bit more than you'd expect. This is where you are supposed to put your "elevator speech". What you'd say if you were in the elevator with somebody you wanted to connect with. I don't have an "elevator speech". If I ran smack-dab into one of my "heroes" I'd just have to smile and be polite and keep my yipper shut and that's probably for the best anyway!

Tuesday, March 31, 2009
A tank of gas, a sheet of plywood, and thou
Can we take it to the drive in?


Wonder if I tied a sheet of strand board to the roof of the Cadillac it could get airborne? Maybe even make it midwest?

Probably not. But the thought is worth a ponder or two.

Last night, after work, my possie and I went to look at another nursing home in the area. We found a keeper. The place was bright and clean and only 20 minutes from my house. The place she's in now is 10 minutes from the house but it's a dump.

I'm hoping we can get her transferred tomorrow.

Meanwhile I have to get the assets freed up so I can start paying bills. We transferred out of our collapsing bank to another and the checks haven't arrived yet.

Some day I'm going to get a chance to take another vacation. I'm going someplace with a white sand beach outside my hotel room door and a vast blue liquid horizon. I shall slather on sunscreen, slither out to a chair under an umbrella and stare at the fine line where the sea meets the sky for a very long time. I may stare straight through the day and into the night.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Mom has joined the Jamaican dope smoking team.
One toke over the line.


Fear and loathing in Maryland.

Mom went to a rehab nursing home on Saturday. She was as fragile as wet tissue paper. The Medicare 5 star nursing home was a filthy, dirty, pit staffed by the remanents of of the Jamaican bobsled team.

I looked at the absolute dispair in mom's eyes and promised her it was only for 5 days.

She has been there almost 48 hours. Tonight I go and look at another nursing home. If it passes muster she will be transferred there tomorrow morning via ambulance.

The doctors are saying six months or so. Right now she's too fragile to treat for cancer. One week ago today she was up, walking, talking, and functioning independently. Today she can't walk to the bathroom.

Sunrise threatened me with a fine if I didn't bring her back there because we hadnt' given 30 days notice. We had a small discussion about the possibility of a family of someone so dehydrated suing a care facility. In such an event the news would pick it up. Also even in the family lost the lawsuit, the facility would loose valuable community good will. The land they are located on is rented to them by a community church that could bring in another assisted living provider to the building.

Oh yeah, when it comes to ripping off testicles I can give a honey badger a run for its money.

As "W" said, "The last thing anybody wants to do is f**k with Justine's mother."

He's known me for several decades. He's seen me dig a stranded car out of a snowbank with a dog and a serving spoon. He's seen me put a work boot through the side of a house. And he's seen me get truly mad.

Getting mom out of danger is first order of business.

We cleaned out her room at Sunrise yesterday. A lot of things went to charity. My house has received five trash bags of clothes and jazz. I now have thirty more counted cross stitch pictures from mom's room. Her television is on the breakfast bar. I'll take that to her new room whichever place she goes.

After I get her in a clean, safe place I'll start on whatever is next.
Friday, March 27, 2009
Not Quite Myself?
Two tokes over the line.


There is a saying that women are like tea bags because you never know how strong they are until they wind up in hot water.

I have been run through the knot hole backwards in the last few days.

I think perhaps as we get worn to the point of breaking what comes out is not how strong we are but who we are. The veneer of civility, manners, and confidence falls away. We discover how brutal we can be, we find how soft our hearts are, we see how spirit moves through us, and we learn what we truly know. I've seen where my pressure points are, what my defenses are, and that my soul is still intact. I had feared that all the dings, dents, traumas, and savageries of life had damaged me beyond repair. I see now that I'm intact and glowing. I may be driven to maddness tomorrow, but today I am whole. I've stayed on the camel through the desert, we're coming into an oasis. Thank God.

Oh suck me insurance company.


In the last three days I have had to decide on feeding tubes, hydration, the meaning of advanced directives, chemotherapy, and how to pull a quarter of a million dollars out of my ass.

Tickle me elmo.


Baby Logan arrived this morning. I ate brekkie with him laying on my shoulder. I may stop on the way home from work and get him a receiving blanket and a few things. He's entirely too cute. But then again, you always think that when the kid's yours.

Mom goes to a nursing home tomorrow. I have no freaking idea how to pay for it all. I can send her to the Veteran's home and all will be paid for when she runs out of cash. however that place is 60 miles away one way. I have to give them an answer next week and I have no idea what I'm going to do.

God has got this in his hands now. Time for me to let him work it and to take some rest.

Got Rubber?
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Incense, Peppermints,.Color of Thyme, Dead Kings, Many Things I Can Define. ..
Who cares what games we play? Nothing to win. Little to loose. . . . . .

You are here.


I had to make the decisiion today whether or not to let my mother die of thirst.

I have spent the last two days reading and re-reading her advanced medical directive.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
A mighty whiff of ozone. . .
I was standing by the staff fridges cracking ice out of a glad snap container. I could hear the whir of the tape elevators trucking up to the fifth floor. I smelled a fat whiff of ozone and grease that smokes out of every moving component of this building.

This joint was build when the Bee Gees were going strong for the second time. The floors are black granite, the walls are silver metal pannels, the cantalevered floors poke out around each other in the lobby. Only the ceiling is painted colors. The section of celing is colored based on which floor it's under. Our floor is blue. We are on the top.

The tape elevators don't haul carts of tapes up and down anymore. The haul pairs of people from floor to floor. There are other elevators strewn around. Some of them could hold two mini-coopers parked front in. Some of the elevators are missing the cars, pieces have been canabalized to keep others working.

A budget item has gone out to buy land to build a new office. This building has hit the end of its lifespan. The water pipes used for the chillers are silted half full and don't keep the equipment cool enough. People and equipment are shoved in places that aren't healthy for either.

If we ever have a fire, half of us will probably get stuck in the wrong stairwells and be trapped in the core of the building.

In the name of security, half the stairs won't exit to the outside anymore. Whoever hits the first floor first better kick the doors open in a hurry or there will be stampeeding deaths.

I got stuck in a stairwell like that in the last place I worked. The guys in front of me kicked the door and we rode out on a bow wave of people. When we looked back, the hardware on the door was still locked closed. The wooden door had come apart at the joints and we'd come through.

The fire department put out the vent fire without major damange to the building. They also wrote a citation for bad fire exits. From then on I made sure I went out a different way when the alarm went off. Management baulked about changing the door set up. Signs reading "Triangle Shirt Factory" appeared around the building. A safety release appeared on the door.


Today Logan is in the mail and mom is in an ambulance.

She has stopped eating and won't drink unless someone stands by and makes her drink.

I think at some level she has made a decision. Her spirit is fading out and her body is failing rapidly. It will all do what it will do.

When I get off from work tonight I'll go sit with her in the emergency room and see if they admit her or if I'm going to take her back to assisted living.

Suddenly I'm very tired.
Monday, March 23, 2009
I'm A New Old Mommy!
Baby Logan has been completed and is in the "Stork Van" aka "UPS Truck" on his way home.

These are first pics of my new little bundle. The color is out of whack a bit so he looks a little pinker than he really is.


Logan!
Baby Logan



Logan!
Logan without Binky
Rockin' the James May hairstyle!


Ok, indulge me. This is as close as I'm ever going to get to passing out baby announcements. Let me have a little fun with it!

I've never wanted "real" kids. But I do like to play with toys. Until I find a play pal who'll teach me how to rebuild an engine, dolls and teddy bears are my current specialty.

Tonight on the way home I'll be making a little stop at "Babies R' Us" to pick up a few goodies. A frilly christening gown is in the cards. Expect the digital camera to fire up and come into action. Disturbing baby photos are on the way.

Do not expect me to buy a pram, stroller, or car seat. Expect that I will carry him, like all little girls carry doll babies, by one ankle. He will be photographed perched peeking off the porch roof, sitting on the kitchen counter with a chef's knife in his hand, and resting comfortably in the bathroom sink surrounded by medicine bottles.

Oh yes, Logan is my little boy and he'll probably have his mother's off kilter sense of humor.

Somebody asked me what his middle name is. I had considered "Stig" but I couldn't find a tiny crash helmet. So I decided on "James" without the "Has More Fun Than I Do" part of course!
Saturday, March 21, 2009
Smile A Little Smile For Me Rosemarie Or "Is that a Farfisa?"
Smile a little smile for me Rosemarie
Where's the use in cryin'
In a little while you'll see, Rose Marie
You must keep on tryin'
- Song by "The Flying Machine"


I had a little smile today. I'm starting to thaw from the horror and the sorrow. Yesterday I helped my mom onto the exam table at the oncologist. She is suddenly frail. She is suddenly farther away. Each few days she is exponentially more miles down the road of Alzheimer's. Each moment, she gets farther and farther away.

She gave me hell about going to the doctors. She pitched a henny fit in the waiting room and railed on about how stupid doctors are. I don't think I'm going to be able to take her to appointments by myself anymore. For strangers she will behave nicely. For me the fear and frustration bubble up and she has a fit. D & S will help me get her to the biopsy and appointments next week.

Today I am sitting at work. We started at 10 p.m. and we're slated to go home at 8 a.m. I'm hoping we can get done earlier than that. I don't know if I can hang on for an all nighter.

Laying in the living room in front of the fireplace swilling wine and making love with a honey makes it a lot easier to stay awake until dawn. Sitting under a gajiabig watt of fluorescent lighting and banging on a computer keyboard is no way to spend a Saturday night.

But back to the issue of feeling a little smile start to creep back in.

"Logan Truitt", the new edition to my doll collection, has been finished. I'll get approval pictuers of him tomorrow.

It's been a fantastic experience to hire a favorite artist to do a custom doll for me. I started fiddlign with dolls well into adult hood. I worked for a while in a store that sold limited edition china dolls. I couldn't afford any of them. Years later, when I picked up a good job, I bought those same dolls for 1/4 their original price on Ebay. I have my collection of lovely lace ladies in the guest room.

When I wanted a Bru or a Jummeau doll I had to make do with taking a cermanics class and making my own. I've usually had to see what I liked and make my own copy.

It was a treat to have Logan done by another artist. This way I don't have to go through two or three ruined sculpts whilst I'm learning the paint techniques.

One of the ladies at work has offered to teach me to crochet. I want to do a receiving blanket and some booties for Logan.

FARFISA!

That's the word that got me started tonight. FARFISA! it popped into my head when I sat down to the desk. The came the the solo from "Smile A Little Smile For Me Rosemarie." Is that a Farfisa?

For the longest time I had the Farfisa confused with something else. (A little plastic/melamine contraption with keyboard keys played by blowing through a mouthpiece.) Well if a Farfisa is an electronic keyboard, what is the other thing? I remember the other gadget used in some of Elton John's early stuff.

MELLOTRON!

Do you realize that one of the current Visa commercials uses mellotron music? Oh yeah it does! Last night as I thrashed about the bed being lashed by a brain that wouldn't wind down, I heard the new Visa commercial blast forth from the TV.

"Tuesday Afternoon", the Moody Blues song,murmered up in mellotron magnificence accompanying some leaf like animation.

Tuesday whatsits you say! "Tuesday Afternoon" is from the same album as "Nights in White Satin". (NIWS is the most overplayed song in the universe. It beats out Stairway to Heaven by 2 plays.)

That whole shebang came out when Mike Pinder was with the Moody's and lugging his mellotron along.

Oh yeah I've mis-spent a lot of hot summer nights in the audience at Moody Blue's concerts.Oh yes, deep way back in my closet is a blue tye dyed concert shirt and a stack of concert programs. Yep, I've slid my back up against a steel beam and let John Lodge wrack my lungs right out of my ribs with the into to "Steppin' In A Slide Zone". Oh yeah, mama knows when to wear an underwire bra.

I'm even one of the loonies who thought Ray Thomas has the best voice of all the guys.

I've lost count of the number of Moody's concerts I've been to.

I know I haven't been to one since '99 or '00. That's the last time they played locally. Ray Thomas left the group a few years ago. John, Justin,and Graeme look like they're fading out to invisible. It's rumored that The Stig's favorite song is Justin Hayward's "Forever Autumn".

There's a full sized autographed "Red Rocks Concert" poster in my guest room keeping my dolls company.

I do have to admit I don't listen to the music much anymore. It makes me cry too much. All that frakin' optimism and belief in true love. My heart is too broken these days. I'm way too disillusioned to get dipsy tipsy.

I will still put "Vetran Cosmic Rocker" on the MP3 player though. I love the arabesque and the cymbal cruashing. More and more, every time I come in for a late night work session I feel exactly what the song is saying.

Veteran Cosmic Rocker
- By Ray Thomas

The lights go down
The stage is set
The man in the wings breaks out in sweat
A backstage joker spiked his coke
While the dressing room was full of smoke
A crowd of fools got him high
He's afraid he's gonna die
He's the apple of their eye

He steps into the remaining light
The crowd go wild
He's outa sight
Arms held high in the sign of peace
His manager signed the one night lease
The house is full getting high
He's afraid he's gonna die
He's the apple of their eye
(He struts, he strolls)
(His love is rock 'n' roll)
He's the VETERAN COSMIC ROCKER

He steps into the remaining light
The crowd go wild
Arms held high in the sign of peace
His manager signed the one night lease
The house is full getting high
He's afraid he's gonna die
He's the apple of their eye
(He struts, he strolls)
(His life is rock 'n' roll)
He's the VETERAN COSMIC ROCKER
He's afraid that he will die


...Ray Thomas!
Ray Thomas of The Moody Blues
Rockin' That James May Hairstyle!
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Stehphen Fry & James May
On the "Tweets" portion of Stephen Fry's website today he mentions that since he's been on a diet people think he looks like James May.

That's a thought.

It's also my Top Gear reference for today.

Yesterday I was strong armed into coming in at 6 a.m. today. Since I don't normally arrive until 9:30 that makes a big difference. I said I would arrive as close to 6 as possible. That turned out to be 9. I slept right through the alarm.

Next Saturday night we are supposed to be here from 11 p.m. until 8 a.m. on Sunday morning. This afternoon I was told they want me to work the rest of Sunday as well. I informed them that mental health help was available for them. Since I am over my college years I don't stay awake 24 hours in a stretch for work anymore. It doesn't work that way.

I've been in a walking daze. I went to sleep early last night but it didn't seem to help. I wanted to work some more in the stuido tonight but I think I'm going straight home and right to bed. I'm already staying 1/2 hour extra so I can time to use on Friday.

Good night all.
Tuesday, March 17, 2009
Top Gear Has Lost Its Joy
Things have reached a disgusting state. Not even Top Gear brings me joy.

Last night I spent the evening in the art studio finishing up an assemblage, digging out inks, starting some tag art, and looking at where to put things so I can get the place working well again. I even fixed my Scooby Doo singing night light. Now if I can find the transformer for it, Scooby will take his place in the hallway. After he does his little song his lantern stays on for a few moments, or he can be set to keep the hall lit all night.

"W" had a telephone melt down last night. I was working on dealing with my adventures with the oncologists and the income tax folks and he was dead set on giving a full tilt sermon on the end of the world. When I said I didn't want to talk about the end of the world and asked him to lighten up, I caught a bite right to the neck. Well, "W" had to go. I can usually handle his tendancy to blow up in order to stave off anyone saying anything that's going to upset him. It worked when he was a kid but it doesn't do him any favors now. He doesn't cope with anything, he just goes bonkers and it's wearing him out. He's going to have a stroke if he doesn't back down from DEF CON MAX all the time.

As best I can figure, each time I talk about the situation with my mom, he realizes that he's out on thin ice with all the old ladies he takes care of. Instead of deal with what he feels or thinks about his situation he has to find something else to rave on about. He must be pretty upset if it takes the end of the world to get his mind off what's happening now.

"W" has always said he was staying where he was and doing what he was doing so he could take care of his kin. At some point that runs out. It will run out for me soon. When I look at what little I've done with my life for the last 3 years, it's terrifying how much like a potted plant I am.

But that's just another tricky day for me. The studio is open again. I spoke to the pinball guy today and he's on the lookout for a "Triple Action" machine for me at the next big sale. Voice lessons continue this Sunday. I hooked my organizers up with some vintage pattern and clothing dealers today so that should help them out.

If I have a nice machine coming in for restoration I'm going to ask if I can come in and learn to do some of the work myself.

Come to think of it, I need to order some playfield wax.

I fought my way through oncologists yesterday until I found one who was serious about his business. Mom is going Friday for a consult and a PET scan. The doc she saw last week wouldn't bother with a scan and told me mom didn't know if she was in pain. I've seen her, she knows if she's in pain.

All this happy shit is making me a bit snippy.

I hope James May is off somewhere having fabulous fun, much more fun than I am.
Friday, March 13, 2009
Cousin Tuesday O Where Art Thou?
Cousin Tuesday! Where have you gone?

Since I haven't heard from you in weeks I'm concerned that you have left the mortal plane.

Where you be?
Thursday, March 12, 2009
One down. . . .
The first oncologist's appointment is over with. Blood was drawn, charts perused, and cat scans were human scanned.

A needle biopsy is going to be scheduled to confirm the diagnosis. Right now it looks like a slow growing lymphoma on the lymph nodes in the abdomen. It's possible that this can be treated with oral meds that will reduce her discomfort.

I just spoke to the doctor and completed her medical history. She doesn't remember anything about it anymore.

We'll see after that. It looks as though there is a gentle middle ground in pallative treatment for this.

I found out today that she's showing kidney failure as well.

Information now. Decisions later.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Good Company?
"When you are 48 you just don’t have the stamina to push the outside of the envelope. And your moral compass is sufficiently well developed to keep you, and your car, out of the hotel swimming pool."

--Jeremy Clarkson, 3/8/2009 Column "Times Online"


I'd like to say that last night I spent the time between gloaming and dawn under several members of my autocross club. (Particularly the ginger haired one.) I'd like to say that cognac flowed like tap water and that my house windows rattled with the bass bound joy that is contemporary music. I'd like to add that my bedroom celing now has a hastily installed trapeeze and my mighty mahogany bed is in need of a furniture maker.

I'd like to say all that. In fact I just did. But it's a bold faced lie. As I sit here at work with my eyes spinning widdershins in my head, desperately trying to look busy, I am suffering from a dusk to dawn session of grief.

I spent some time with mom yesterday evening. She was just like old times from about 20 minutes, then the confusion set in again. Each time I looked at here I wondered how much longer we'd have together this time around.

At this stage I have no idea why but I know she and I have been through the world together before. This time around I agreed to bring up the end of the familiar parade. The other day out of the blue mom told me that she had me because she knew me and she thought we'd work well together. It was an odd thing to say, but it made perfect sense and she said it with absolute sincerity. Despite being Christians mom pops out some Hindu philosophy once and a while.

Before anyone gets the idea to write in and argue with me about religion or reincarnation. Don't. I'm not arguing about it here.

One night last week my house was full of family spirits. I could feel them around me I just couldn't see them. If they came to comfort or to advise me, I do not know. I felt like I should be able to sit down, open my third eye wide, and see them. I was frustrated when I couldn't. With all the pain and distress going on with me, I'm sure it made a clarion call to family and guardian angels.

I spent last Saturday night with an Austrailian computer contractor nigh on sitting in my lap. I had to supress the urge to ask him if he'd ever studied with the Aborigine healers and what he knew of the concept of the "Dreamtime".

I still have a thought in my head to see when he goes down to lunch and then chat him up in the cafe. I want to know about Australia. For years I've had some inklling that I would wind up there one day. My friend "S" has been there to study with the native healers. I don't know if I have the stamina to do that at this point, but the idea interests me.

Whatever I think about it, the shamanic/healing practices keep calling me. I have been chosen, but for what excatly I don't know. I think I'll find out about 3 days after everyone else does. :)

The indiginous healing practices are akin to the ancient Christian practices of laying on hands. It is the asking God and being willing to open to his power and being a conduit for it. It is part of being connected to spiritual practice. I've attended an Episcopal church with a wonderful healing serivce. In that church I've felt the enormous and warm presence of God in the serivce. I've also been blessed with healing there.

That's the wonder of it, the steady feeling of connection and spirit. God makes house calls, car calls, desk calls, and everywhere calls. When someone says "You better get back to God and get back in the church." I think "I've never been away. He is with me always."

Especially in grief.
Monday, March 09, 2009
Leave Time to the Time Lords!
...Masters of Time & Space
Doctor Who & The Stig
The Only two who should be messing with time!


Please leave time alone!!!

Do you hear me government bigwigs??? Leave the fraking clock alone!

Pick forward or backward and stick with it!!!!!

You are not Time Lords and you are not The Stig. You do not have a sonic screwdriver nor a fine tuned understanding of acceleration and curve apex. You are messing up the finely tuned mechanism of everybody’s Circadian rhythms!

Worse than that, you are dorking up what’s left of my sense of time! I’m already working nights and weekends in a windowless cube farm. There’s only so much a daylite lite can accomplish!


Just when I was getting into the groove of arriving ½ hour earlier every day to earn some comp time. . . . We go through this goofy daylight savings time dance.

It will take me until October to get straightened out again. Then we’ll do the swap again.

At least they have finally started doing it the weekend “after” Halloween. In the past the switch was carefully timed for Halloween week so that as we staggered home we had toddlers out on the streets in costume. With the push back we get home before dark and before the kids come out. I hate driving through some of the neighborhoods without sidewalks when the kids are out.

By the way “no” the two pictured above are not in my auto cross club. If they were, baby Logan would arrive with two simulated hearts and a crash helmet. :)

Logan’s head went to the post office on Saturday and headed for the artist in a priority mail box. I’ve heard rumors that FedEx does the priority mail handling. So Logan should be under construction by the end of the week.

I spent last Saturday here at work slogging through a monitor problem with a contactor from Australia. I’m very seriously inclined to pick his brains for info on emigrating. I’ve always had this feeling that I’d end up retiring to Australia. Now I’ve got a wild hair to look into moving there before retirement.

When I no longer have to take care of mom, there won’t be a thing holding me here. I want to go back to living near the sea.

Overall I want to start my life.

For the past 34 years I’ve been building my career, establishing a home, and doing all that you do to become self-sufficient. I’ve got 20+ years in the computer biz. It’s time to make the career work for me instead of me dying for it.

Yeah, I know, the economy is going to hell in a plastic bag. I’m currently working for one of the most recession proof companies in the world. It will take a revolution to wipe us out. So what? The economy has been in the sin bin most of my career. Everybody points to the last 15 years as a hot time. But they forget while salaries were gaining, the real estate market was jumping 15 to 25% a year around here. It took the start of a recession, a major job change, and a government program to get me into my own home.

If I don’t keep swinging through the trees in my BVD’s I won’t be able to retire ever.

Things are difficult these days. I'm not even able to write about the experience. It is the grief that knows no words. It is change elemental. Many things are happening at once. Techtonic plate shift in the landscape of my life.

Time to be somebody else. Again
Thursday, March 05, 2009
There's this room. . .
There's this room on the back of my house. It's 17 X 20 feet. Oddly enough it's full of art supplies, half finished projects, books, work tables, stored art work, an Ott light, and a pinball machine.

Yes, the pinball machine works. It's a beauty. Fully restored, from low in the production run, it has painted cabinet artwork instead of decals. It's the first commercial machine made with a hologram in the playfield. It talks and has a dot-matrix screen. I turn it on most evenings and play it for a bit almost every night.

Yes, I have the key. I can set the machine parameters for difficulty. Right now I need to order some playfield wax and give it a dusting.

Yes, you do replace the balls in a pinball machine. If you keep the steels clean and unscratched, then they don't dig up the playfield as much.

It's a hard machine to play. I've got it set to midlevel and it drives me bonkers sometimes.

It sits on a concrete floor. I want to get a beauticians mat to go in front of it so it's easier to stand there and play. I've had a few different kitchen mats there but they haven't held up.

But back to the mysterious area full of dusty art supplies.

When I bought the house, I specifically wanted an art studio. I drug all my supplies together and started setting up a studio. I even made it 3/4 of the way through making an index for my collection of 100's of stamps. My book binding tools are in neatly labeled cases. The clay and clay tools are all together. My collection of papers is in a paper stand so I can find what I want.

But something is very wrong. There's a dusty project on the work table somewhere under a pile of laundry. Nothing seems to work in the area. My "daily" chapbook hasn't had an entry in almost a year. If I sit down to work at one corner of the work table, none of my favorite tools are close at hand. Things are just slightly off kilter. A large scale book I was working on fell off the shelf the other night and popped open to the last page I finished.

Sometime, somebody stopped with the artwork. The paints are all dried up in the bottles. The acrylic mediums have gone gloopy.

I haven't been to an art class in several months.

Something got lost. Me.

My plot is to take this weekend and go out into the studio and clean off just one shelf. If I'm feeling froggy I'll finish the project on the table. Perhaps I'll even give the set up the eyeball and see what needs to change.

Of course I'm going to take supplies to mom and try and take her out for a ride in the sunshine.

But I also need time for me or I'm going to come apart.
Wednesday, March 04, 2009
I'm going to be a "mom".
It's been big week here at the Tuxedo Inn.

Yesterday I got confirmation that I'm going to be a "mom".

I'm expecting the arrival of a boy. I've picked the name "Logan".

Actually, his head is on the coffee table right now. It's just not connected to his body.

I've ordered a custom "reborn doll" from "Precious Imprints Nursery". They have a web gallery of work here.

I picked out hair color yesterday and eye color this morning. All that's left is to send the head sculpt to the artist and let her work her magic.

"Logan" will arive with a soft weighted body, full arms and legs, and a "tummy plate" that will have his chest, tummy, and "boy bits".

I've wanted a doll from this artist for months. I've saved change and cashed it in for a splurge. I had been going to get a subscription to "Top Gear" magazine, but my doll collection bug won out.

I'll post pictures when I get them. Perhaps I'll post some pics of other dolls in my collection too.

Note to "R": Thanks for your comments and encouragement. My condolences on your loss. My father passed in '83 so it's been a while.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Will anything ever be good again?
Friday afternoon my mom went to this hospital by ambulance again. They thought she was having a heart attack. It turns out she has cancer.

We won't have much more information until she's had a "PET" scan and seen the oncologist.

I'm still very much in shock.

Her alzheimer's has been progressing on an almost daily basis.

This is endstage one way or the other. This is where I learn the last lesson she has to teach me.

This is where I show if I've been paying attention to the big things I've been taught all my life.

This is where there is one set of footprints in the sand.

This is where God has to take it all because I can't carry it anymore.