Schmoopy Me.

Today's been a semi-rough day. I mean...it's that space after a death where you are sort of contemplating life as you know it, where you are absorbing the reality of the fact that the person you love is no longer here, and for me its where I rationalize in my brain that death is a reality, and damn it, I should be a tidbit more calloused to it than I am after all I've witnessed, done and been through.

I mean...it's not like I'm a stranger to the whole death scene. I see it every day. I counsel the families I work with every single day on bereavement, and the great unknown. I know that I too someday will join the ranks of they who have crossed over, and yet...it feels so uneasy and un-understood.

Mom's death was the end all - be all of me. I am a completely different person today than I am the day before she died. I actually remember feeling the old me slip away during the three and a half hour drive that it took me to get from my house to hers. I felt the transformation.

Uncle Russ's death is different. Not worse, not better...just different. We knew it was coming. 6 days ago, he asked us to remove him from the morphine drip so that he could be coherent enough to talk with us and to say his goodbyes. He's been sick for a couple of months.

But...with mom's, hers was unexpected. Hers was not a shock, but THE shock of my life. And, despite the fact that they are two separate people, his death brings back hers. I mean, I deal with that a lot with the victims I work with too. Their deaths always have something similar, or something that ties me to their cases that I can relate to, which allows me to better serve the families I work with. But, I guess I didn't realize how calloused I had become with death lately. I mean, I feel for my families. I feel for their loss. I do my best to help them through it and to work from my experience with mom's death and the deaths of the other victims I've helped. But, with Uncle Russ...it was coming. Some would say it was a relief (I actually heard that said today) but, for me, it's not really a relief. It's a loss, no matter what way you slice it, or how much you candy coat it. He's gone, he's not coming back, and unlike a lot of the families I work with, I knew him before he got sick. I knew him before he withered away down to nothing. I knew him before the pain.

He used to give me piggy back rides on a dead run around his house. His house had a whole wall that was a waterfall in his livingroom. He used to come pick me up, and then we'd go pick up my cousin Chip, and we'd hang out all weekend at his house. He'd make us popcorn and rent the movies our parents wouldn't let us watch. The good scary ones. And, when we got all freaked out in the middle of the night, he'd be the one hiding around corners to scare the bejesus out of us, laugh like a madman and then tuck us back into our beds with extra stuffed animals for protection. He always had weiner dogs. Little tiny weiner dogs that were so horrifyingly irritating that you just wanted to kick them like a field goal to the next county, but instead got down on their level and played with them because it made Uncle Russ happy.

One Halloween, we all went out to my grandparents place. They own a house on a lake. Behind the house, just in front of the lake is a great big willow tree. All day long, Uncle Russ and Grandpa laid the groundwork for this ghost story that they would tell us after it got dark and we had started the bonfire.

The story was that there was an old Indian war-painted guy that wandered the properties of the people who lived on the lake because they had taken over his tribe's land. They told us that he had started to dress like a farmer to lure the property owners into believing that he was one of them so that he could get close enough to kill them and take back the property. The indian was dead, but didn't KNOW he was dead.

To me, at the age of 11, I was petrified. I was looking around corners before actually physically moving around them...it was scary stuff, man. Well...that night, we get the bonfire going under the old Willow, and Grandpa starts telling the story. He stops short in the middle of the story to ask where Uncle Russ is. None of us know. He makes a big deal about not getting separated from the rest of the family in case the old Indian guy was out there and already had Uncle Russ. Just as he finished that statement, we hear a whooping Indian war-cry. From up above we hear a scream, and a dummy, tied to a long bungy cord falls right into the center of the circle where Grandpa is telling the story and scares the living hell out of all of us. My little brother, LITERALLY peed his pants. Looking back, it was freakin' hillarious. At the time...not so much.

Anyway...I don't know. I'm just in that schmoopy mood where I know I'm gonna miss him. I'm sorry he's gone. I know he's out of pain now, which of course is awesome, but...it still leaves a big fat void in the lives of we who love him.

Hug yours tonight...

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Yet another heartache.

My uncle died tonight. He lost his battle with cancer at around 6pm. 10 minutes before I was supposed to leave for work the phone rang and it was my little brother. He said that Uncle Russell had died two hours prior to his calling me. I made all the necessary phone calls and then headed for work. I do better being slammed with busy stuff during tragedy.

Since I'm not really in the mood (or the emotional condition) to lay all my feelings on that bare just yet...I'll just leave you with that piece of information for tonight and go to bed. I have the next two days off from the bar, and when I have some peace and quiet time, maybe I'll share some stories about him. He was the Rock of fucking Gibralter for this family.

Goodnight.

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Huh-Huh-Huh-Harry!

Well, I carried through with the promise that we've been making for the last seven months and took the two older boys to see HarryPotter and The Goblet of Fire last night. They're still talking about it.

My review is that it was much like reading the book, except instead of reading it straight through, you skipped several chapters, skipped several pages within chapters, and read it in fast forward mode. All in all, it was great. The World Quidditch Cup part was pretty sweet. It wasn't quite how I imagined it, it was better than I imagined it when reading it. And Voldemort...Ralph Fiennes played a great Voldemort. But...(you knew there was a but...) for a character that's just coming back into a physical form, he sure had a lot of energy to be jumping about and fighting. And Hermione...they're gonna have a hard time not making her into a full fledge hottie in the next movie. She's growing up pretty quick. I heard that for this movie they had to tape her breasts and attempt to make her look younger. Next movie, they're going to have no choice but to embrace the maturity that she's gaining (or that's gaining on her) and just work with it instead of against it.

All in all, it was everything we've come to expect out of the Potter series, and maybe just a little more. If I had the choice, I'd have liked to see them break up the movie (it's the longest book) into two movies and get everything instead of chopping so much out of the book.

Ok...what else?

Oh...Roselly...we can't have Marshall. Another girl had put a deposit (of a whopping 65 bucks) on him about six months ago. I told them that I wanted him and they finally got ahold of the girl who put the deposit on him and she said she's picking him up next week. However...if she renigs on that agreement, THEN he'll be mine-all-mine. He's such a sweet heart!!! I just adore his little green butt!

I'm expecting to get Rio home sometime in the next few weeks. I'm trying to put as much as I can every week on him so that I can get him home. I went down today and figured out what toys and perches I'm going to get for him to bring home and put them aside, though one of them, I put right in his cage now. It's a MASSIVE freakin' toy. There's wood blocks all over it with a lot of different little textures on it. He loved it, so I bought that one and put it in his cage now. The cage he's in now is the one that I bought for him, so everything that I put in it will come home with him. The only thing really I need to be doing now before he gets here is stockpiling his pellets and nuts. He's a walnut fanatic. I've never met a bird who can go through walnuts like he can. They aren't good for training though because he likes them still in the shell (it takes him a few minutes to get them out of the shell) and it takes too long to treat him while we're working on training. I've got to find a morsel food that he likes for training.

Today, I was teaching him to kiss. For him a kiss is him putting his beak up to my lips so that I can kiss him. Or, so I was trying to teach him. He did it the way I wanted him to for the first 6 or so times, and we applauded him and cheered. Then on time 7, he opens his beak way up and tried to slip me the tongue. LOL Little pervert...did I really expect anything else out of him? LOL Whatever...so long as he's not trying to rip my face off with that beak, we're good!

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The Princess of Darkness (aka Satan's Daughter) found a home!

Yep. You read it right. Ruby, Rio's cagemate has found a home. I'm being nice when I say that I fuckin' hate that bird. Emphasis on hate.

Toward the end of her reign over the dark cage, she started to get really bad. Like, for instance there are two large perches in the cage. There are 4 food dishes, and various assorted toys. The door swings out, and it's a relatively big door, that is practically the whole front of the cage.

So, when I'd open it to get Rio out, Ruby would beak her way over so that in order to get to me, or for me to get to him, we'd have to get past Ruby first. If he managed to get past her to the side of the cage where he could step up, she'd be right there waiting to mangle his tail feathers. If I reached in, or got on eye level with the cage, she'd literally dive at my face with her beak. I am fairly certain she was going for my eyes, but since didn't SAY that she was going for my eyes, I'm giving her the benefit of the doubt with my whole face. The cackling laugh that she gave after she dove for my (eye) face though...that was a pretty good indicator.

The other thing I hated about her was the mouth that little bitch had on her. I can't even count how many parents I saw slam their hands over their children's ears whilst trying to stifle a giggle as they shuffled their youngsters away as Ruby screamed "Oh YEAH Mothafucker!?! I hate you MORE!" or "ShutUP you little bastard!"

Don't get me wrong, I'm well aware that it was her previous owner that gave her these lovely qualities. But...she was causing Rio to be PMS ridden 99.9% of the time, and I was the one suffering from the deal.

About three weeks ago, I'm sitting on the bench next to Marshall (the Eclectus that I can't have)'s cage. Rio is on my lap and we're talking and hugging and petting, and scratching. Then, I asked him to step onto my arm. For no reason, without warning, without any startling noises or scary objects, Rio lunges and clamps onto my arm. He nailed me good. He must have gotten ahold of a tendon when he bit me because it sent a shock through my arm. For the first two days, you could just see the perfect imprints of top and bottom beaks about two inches apart. The bottom part of the wound took on an immediate purple glow. By day 3, the bruise was the size of a medium size orange. By day 6, it had spread out to look like my brother had given me several indian burns and snake bites all over my forearm.

Now...now that the the bitch is gone, he can't get enough of any human. He even lets Chuck the person he hates (cause Chuck doesn't take his shit) the most hold him and pet him. He's back to being a laid back, loveable creature. He's such a good boy. I went down to hand some money over to the "Bring Rio Home Fund" a little bit ago, and when I walked in he climbed out of his cage (now that the Princess of Darkness isn't in there, we don't have to worry so much about the safety of any innocent onlookers so we can leave his cage open) and climbed onto the floor and came running up the aisle where he heard me talking to Kelly. He stood there at the corner of the aisle that his cage is on and the front of the store where I was and screamed "Here's Ri-Ri! Hi! Hello! Hey Mama!" LOL

I love that little bastard!

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Things Are Looking Up...

Well, at least in a work sense, they are.

Tonight I sat down with my boss at the bar and discussed some stuff. I know that another employee has been not only drinking on the job, but ripping off some high end liquor as well. I know because I marked the bottles myself, I haven't sold any, there isn't any expensive shots on the detail tape, but the booze is gone. I brought this to her attention a while back. I found out tonight that another employee has been giving away booze to his friends.

On the other hand...I hate working Friday and Saturday nights. I don't hate that it's slammed, what I hate is that those nights I end up waitressing and not bartending, and anyone who's seen me waitress will tell you that I am just not meant to be a waitress. I get bored, I think it tedious, and well...there's nothing cute about putting me in any proximity to the customers where they actually have access to attempt to touch my ass. It usually ends up with some drunk bastard getting tossed out of the bar.

So...we hired a new girl last week, and I'm done training her. I like her, she's thorough, albeit slower than molasses in January, but all in all, she's good. She'll make a good bartender after she gets comfortable and loosens up a bit. She's what we refer to as our "fill in" girl. So, I talked to my boss about letting me work Sunday-Thursday nights. The bartender who's ripping off the booze generally bartends on Friday and Saturday, but I'm always waitressing and able to babysit him a little. I've trained our new girl to look out for stealing. I mean, it's just good common sense to know who's doing what, who's drinking what and to make sure you don't get nailed for it when the shit goes down. So, the point is...she'll waitress on Friday and Saturday, I won't have to waitress at all (I'll only bartend) and I'll have two complete days off every week --the same ones my husband has off. So, should we want to go out and do something together, there will actually be something to do because as we all know...Monday and Tuesdays...there isn't shit to do besides Monday's Las Vegas and Medium and Tuesday's House and SVU.

I won't get to watch my shows anymore...but...hell. Isn't that why Man invented Tivo? I'm gonna need to get Tivo.

So...that's that.

As for Gram...we had a long talk today. She understands my position, and I understand hers. And, we're just going to spend as much time together as we can until it's her time to go. I'm not happy about the lost time, but I at least get where she was coming from now.

It's almost 4:30 am, and my kidlets are gonna be up in a few hours...and that hubby of mine left me a cute little pornographic note in size 48 font on my computer screen for me to find when I got home...so I'm gonna go collect on that! LOL

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A Heavy Heart

I've just finished for the night with cleaning this freakin' house. And, well...it's still not done. Nor do I expect that it will be in the near future. Most people if they're not home a lot, they get to come home to a nice clean abode, nothing out of place that they themselves didn't put out of place. Not me. No, no...I have three kids, a dog, a cat and a husband to make damn sure that the little scenario I just painted for you never, ever happens to me.

This house is a hole. Plain and simple. I don't have time to clean it, and God forbid anyone else should get off their duff and do anything about it. There's toys strung from hell to breakfast, clothes in spots clothes just shouldn't be, dust an inch thick (well...maybe not an inch but you know what I'm talking about) and...it's just yucky. Yesterday, I scoured the kitchen, mopped, washed the windows etc. Today, I worked on the dining room and den, and tonight, I conquered the livingroom.

I'm bringing home my cherry desk from the office, and taking this desk and selling it with the rest of the office equipment. I'm making my bedroom into an office-slash-slumber room. It's the only room big enough in my house to accomodate that desk that I can trust my files won't be colored on with multi-colored crayolas. Plus...with the type of case sensitive stuff I work on, it's the only room that I know no one else plays in or anything and I can lock it up and know that it won't be bothered. That little project happens Saturday morning. Yahoo. That desk weighs more than probably all of my readers and me combined. Mr. DK and Charlie (my neighbor) are delighted with being assigned the task of not only moving it, but moving it all the way upstairs and around a bend of the stairs. Ha-ha-ha. That's what they get for going out drinking for two consecutive weekends in a row. Nener-nener-nener!

So, I titled this post a heavy heart. There's a few things on my mind I'm going to write about tonight.

The first is my Gram. My Gram is a pain in the ass from way back. I love her with all my heart and soul, but MAN can that woman piss me off. I call there the night before last and Grandpa answers. He tells me that Gram has been holding back a little information from me. I ask what sort of information he was talking about and he tells me that she's sick. Really sick. For the past 10 years, she's had a heart disease. 10 years ago, they gave her 5 years to live. 5 years ago, she had a triple bypass, and has had several surgeries after that. She seemed to be doing really well. I mean...not like let's go for a 10 mile hike good, but good for what she's been through. Know what I mean? Well...Apparently about 4 months ago, the doctors told her that she's going to go through 4 stages before she actually dies.

Grandpa enlightened me in on what's going on right now. She's in the last part of the third stage. The last stage is total organ shut down. Thursday, they put her on oxygen for good. She's carrying around one of those little oxygen tanks with her all the time, and she's now wheel chair bound.

I'm pissed. Why couldn't she have told me this 4 months ago when she found out about it? Is it just me, or is that completely selfish?! I have three kids who need to know her the way I know her. I need the secret recipes for some of the stuff she makes like peanut brittle and that damn potato salad. I want to go through all of the pictures and hear the stories from her. I have so many things I want to do, and now, she's too tired and too sick to do all of it. We could have gotten a head start on all of this.

I'm further pissed because instead of letting the rest of us in on the little secret that she's about to die, she had full intentions of letting it be sudden. As if we haven't had enough of sudden death in our family. My mother was murdered 8 freakin' years ago, and Gram picked up the slack. Now, she has been planning to just go - just like that.

That, in my world is more than a little bit of bullshit. I'm not complaining about the fact that she has to go. I know how it works. But...her little bit of being noble and suffering quietly makes me want to just kick her decrepit ass.

The next thing I'm schmoopy about I don't think I'm going to go and get all detailed about. What I will say is that I've been lied to by a friend who I truly never thought would lie to me. Hell, there was no reason for this person to lie to me. But it happened, and now just like that, the friend in question is out of my life for good.

How do you deal with that? How are you so close one day, and the next you find out that everyting you've ever known to be true about someone isn't and you have no choice but to pull back and part ways? Has that ever happened to you?

I've known some great people in my life. I cherish my friends and try to give as much as I take in every relationship. But...sometimes it's just not what you thought. And...it hurts.

David: I have 3 steelcase L shaped desks with overhead storage, plus one cherry U shaped desk with two large size file systems in it (I am keeping the matching one). Everything else I've either designated to volunteers or are keeping in the home office. And...thanks! E-mail me an update on what's going on in your world!

Cheryl: The week before New Years is when I'm scheduled to have the surgery. I can't wait to get it over with!!! Thanks for thinking about me!

To everyone who's written to welcome me back...thank you so much for caring enough to come back every day! I'm sorry about the lag in posts, and I'm going to try to be better about it. I love the release I get from emptying my head, and yet it's the thing I've been neglecting the most the last few weeks!

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I'm SOOOOOO Sorry.

So, I'm alive. Yep. Pulse is still pulsing, there's still air entering and exiting my lungs...it's official. I'm alive.

I'm sorry to just leave y'all hangin' like that. I wish I could come up with some great excuse for why I've been absent, but the only one I can fish out of the bowl is that I've just been really busy. At least it's not a bullshit excuse. There really is some merit to the argument.

For example...I picked up a third job. At the pet store, of course. (You didn't see that coming or anything...did you?) I have decided to not continue that job (have given my 2 week) because, well...that was the only me time I had and then I turned it into work, and that's not ok. So, I'll be finished at the pet store on Saturday, and then my visits will go back to me hanging out with my birds (yes, you DID see a plural on that...it's not your imagination) and not fishing mice out of an aquarium to meet their demise with their new owners whom are usually long and scaly. Ick. The crickets were icky too. I'm just sayin'...

And, one of the girls at the bar quit. She was the dayshift girl, and had some nervous breakdown or something so I've been covering her shifts as well as my own. I put in 78 hours last week at the bar. I only put in 6 at the pet store. Between the two, places, I was on the verge of my own nervous breakdown. The pet store was very cool about me saying that enough was enough.

And...I have in 3 new cases that I've been working heartily on. One went missing from a known cop bar. Interestingly enough, her case file is missing from the precinct handling her case. That's going to be a really tough case. One is a missing woman from over by Detroit. Another toughy. And one is a man that's been missing for several years. None of these people have received help from any other sources before they contacted me...and that's not from lack of trying. It makes me mad.

Plus, I'm still working on that website that I've been bitching about for the past 4 months (at least). I'm hoping to get that live in the next few days.

And, drumroll please...I'm closing down my commercial office for my org. We're paying out almost 2 grand a month for the space and the expenses. And, all of our work, believe it or not, is primarily done from our homes. We forward the phones to wherever we are (or to cell's), we work from our home computers because the connections are faster on broadband, the only thing we really need at the office is the fax and the commercial printer. So...the printer is now sitting right here next to me.

We've decided if we need commercial space, we will get a teensy little cubicle somewhere and pay that rent payment instead of the mortgage we're paying now.

If anyone needs office equipment...we've got some great stuff for sale.

So...that's that.

How the heck is everyone?

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