The Sixth of May

Every year on the sixth of May, at some point I remember and it hits me all over again...

My father died on the 6th of May.  Years later, Hubs' best friend's funeral was on the 6th of May.  Needless to say, it's not a good day for me.  

Dad's been gone for 20+ years now.  It wasn't a shock.  We knew he was going.  He chose to go, in his own way, and he let us know his decision ahead of time, so we were prepared.  He didn't kill himself.  He simply chose to refuse dialysis after over a decade of dialyzing.  We understood and supported his decision.  He was tired and he had earned a rest.  He missed one dialysis and he was gone that night.  

Cancer got Phil.  It wasn't expected, but it wasn't a shock either.  We'd hoped he would beat it.  He didn't. Damn him. He was the best friend Hubs had and a good friend of mine, too. When things got bad for Hubs at work, I'd drop into Phil's office and talk it out with him - something I couldn't do with anyone else.  Phil understood.  Phil would be just as pissed as I was and we'd commiserate.  Then he was gone.  I don't remember the exact date he died, but I remember the date of his funeral because it was the anniversary of Dad's death.  I swear Phil did that on purpose so I would cry at his funeral.  He was that kind of guy.  A real troublemaker and a hoot to be around.  He was such a card.  

Anyway, the pain of their passing has boiled down so it only really hurts when I poke at it.  Like now.  

I expect Dad and Phil are somewhere today, drowning worms and drinking beer, and spinning yarns.  They'd both tell me to get over myself and get on with life.

So that's what I'm going to do.

Thursday This n That

Remember that Jon Lovitz character from SNL who always had a story about how he did whatever the other characters were talking about?  I think I've reached the point in my life where I am that character.  I mean, I'm 52 and I've been all over, doing all sorts of things, so yeah, I pretty much have a story for loads of situations.  And I'm my father's daughter, so I tell the stories.  The difference between me and Lovitz?  My stories are true.  :shrug:  

Yep, Dad was a talker.  He had a story for any situation and they were true.  And if he didn't have a story, he told a joke.  Dad's jokes... totally NSFW.  

So, I'm working full time and I'm still doing spreadsheets for the office.  This was busy spreadsheet week.  Eight spreadsheets.  Well, 7 spreadsheets came in Mon-Wed and those were worked into 15 other spreadsheets.  So, another 4-5 hrs worth of work.  Plus another single spreadsheet came in with 3 tabs that need to be worked into 6 total sheets.  I gave up last night and sent my time sheet in.  I'll do that last bunch tonight.  Woohoo.  No seriously.  It's good to be busy.  

Speaking of busy, Hubs has been deep cleaning the house and rearranging to make things tidy.  Not furniture.  Like closets and junk.  Well, he's moving furniture to clean under it, but he's putting it back where it was.  It's all good.  He moved all the extra pillows and blankets out of the closets, put them in their own bags, squeezed all the air out, and slapped labels on them.  Then he took a shelving unit and put all the bags on it in the storage closet.  It's genius.  And we now have scads of room in the closets.  I tell ya, Hubs is better at this than I ever was.  LOL

I've been searching for clothes online.  Shirts are easy.  I found some nice breathable polo shirts for like $15.50  each.  Huzzah.  And I raided Hubs' closet, so I'm good until I get new shirts.  Trying to find pants that I can wear to work that will be comfortable enough to wear all day, that won't cost both my legs to buy, isn't easy.  Between day-job and pay-job, I have the money.  I just hate spending more money on something than I think is necessary.  I may have to suck it up and spend more for pants.  Blerg.  The tightwad in me is squealing like a wee piglet.  

I'm wondering if I should change the name of this blog.  I'm not really writing much anymore.  Eh, that may change, so I'll leave it for now.

Okay, I got a late start today, so I guess I'd better get my buns a-movin'.  Have a great day wherever you are.  And drink plenty of fluids.  It's a scorcher out there.  Yuck.

Happy Birthday, Dad

My dad would've been 85 today.  He missed his 66th birthday by just under a month, so he's been gone for 19 years now.  

Dad didn't have the easiest of lives.  He own father died when he was ten, and his mom had him fairly late in her own life, so he was left to his own devices on the mean streets of a low-rent suburb of Detroit.  Oh, the tales he would tell of those days.

Dad was a patriotic man.  He joined the Air Force at 17, if I remember right, and stayed until he was 28 I think.  He got in at the end of the Korean War and out at the beginning of Vietnam.  (Because by then, he had four kids and Mom was worried she'd be a widow raising all those little ones alone if he stayed in.  Thank goodness, because if he had, then I wouldn't be here.)

Heh, Dad was skinny as a rail when he was young.  That uniform hangs on him.

Dad spent most of his after-military life in sales.  That man could sell ice cubes to Eskimos.  And what a teller of tales, he was.  He definitely had the gift of gab.  (I come by it honestly.)  

He spent his last years as a very ill man, but he lived long enough to see all 9 of his grandchildren into the world and long enough to see the oldest of them graduate high school.  I think that last part was very important to him - seeing his first grandson graduate - because Dad himself didn't.  He doted on his grandkids.  All of them.  But the first was always the favorite.  And Owl had a special place in his heart - because we lived with them when she was small.  

While I would've wished for him to live forever, I'm glad he didn't make it to this time.  What's happening to this country would've broken his heart.  Had he been around and still a healthy man, he would've fought hard against the tide and been right in the thick of the battle for this nation he loved so much.

All in all, he was a good dad.  He wasn't perfect... who is?... but he was a good man and I miss him.  I hope you're up there fishing with your own father, Dad.  :hugs:

Thursday This n That

I've said it before... Enough with the weather already.  I'm writing this on Wednesday because we're supposed to get storms again and I want this scheduled in case we lose power.

I have a wild rose bush in one of my gardens.  I bought a trellis and trained the damn thing onto it.  Except now it's so huge that the wind keeps dragging on it and pulling the trellis over.  (And the moles keep undermining the base, which doesn't help.)  So I have to go out and right it.  She's kind of a bitch, that rosebush.  She likes to bite.  Thus, I get little scratches and puncture marks on my hands and arms.  But she's pretty, so I haven't resorted to cutting her back to the ground.  Yet.  If I do, it'll be okay.  Wild roses are notoriously hard to kill.

My cultured roses exploded with blooms this year.  Well, they were all cultured.  Two of them went feral.  The blooms are still pretty and they're still more domesticated than the wild rose, but the flowers are smaller and one of them is getting out of control.  It's all like 'BAM, here I am, taking over your porch'.  I should've taken pics.

It's almost the end of the month.  How'd that happen?  Ugh.  Time is flying by this year.

My Dad's birthday is Sunday.  He would've been 83.  I totally can't think of him as 83.  He died just short of his 66th birthday.  Even then, though, I can't think of him in his 60s.  In my head, he'll always be younger.  The 'before he got sick' version of Dad - pre-Wegener's Disease, pre-kidney failure, pre-dialysis.  I'd say pre-heart problems, but those started when I was 10, and I don't have a lot of memories of my childhood, so more like an '80s version of Dad.  Like this:

Out fishing in like 1985.  I come by the fishing thing honestly.

Right now, I'm reading a SF anthology from the 1950s.  The first story was more like a novella and very good.  The next two... Meh.  I don't often read anthologies for this very reason.  It's hard to rate them as a book when the stories vary so widely.  :shrug:  Still, it's interesting and the shorter stories are what I need right now.

Okay, well, that's about all I can think of this morning and I'm sure you're heard quite enough out of me.  If you're in the stormy areas, hang onto your asses.  If I don't approve your comments in a timely fashion, we dark over here.  If I do, we made it through fine.

What kinds of this-n-thats do you have going on right now?

Thursday morning add-on:  We didn't get the storms they were predicting.  Again.