Life is But a Dream—or Maybe Just a Big Bowl of Soup
Nothing like the holidays to bring back memories of holidays past. Former lives within this life haunt me—so many moments and people that are now gone forever. They are real in my mind but elusive as a dream.
Life is so much more fluid than I ever knew. My mind keeps bumping into the people of the past as I cherish time spent with people of the present.
“Their souls are in the halls of my mind,” says Flash of his dearly departed. I know what he means. (more…)
A Flash of Anger
So Flash and I got in our first fight.
Well, kind of. Sometime back in the spring he told me he couldn’t picture us ever arguing. “Quaint and sweet and totally unrealistic,” I thought while smiling coyly at him.
But he’s probably right. Even if I tried my best to raise his dander, I don’t think Flash would ever get in a yelling match with me.
He’s more of an “internalize it” kind of guy. Maybe that’s why I picked him.
In our 17-year relationship, Mike and I had a rich history of verbal battles that were mostly unproductive and emotionally draining. That man LOVED verbal duals, and they could become less than diplomatic in short order. Even though we agreed on almost every subject, we managed to fight often and loudly. One of Mike’s favorite things was to call talk radio hosts and argue with them on the air.
Fast-forward about seven months from Flash’s sweet comment. It’s holiday time. Add to that baseline stress, so far this December: (more…)
Slow Food and Fast Food, Love and Pain
Avery eats his first turkey leg. Photo by Flash
Flash, CC, Marley, Avery and I celebrated Thanksgiving early this year—a potluck with friends. Somehow, I ended up cooking my very first turkey for the shindig. After two short years of cooking regular meals and 10 years of vegetarianism only recently ended, it seemed a daunting task. (Mike was such a fantastic cook, I was truly handicapped in the kitchen by the time he died in 2007. I rarely cooked a meal in the 17 years we were together.)
Since returning to my omnivorous roots back in February, I’ve been purchasing local, free range, antibiotic-free meat from a farmer that I met while on a photo assignment years ago. Vegetarian at the time, I made a mental note that if I ever were to purchase meat again, it would be from Charles Ritch of Goose Pond Farm.
And I’ve made good on that promise. (more…)
No whining, Mr. Crabbedy
Call it blending of the minds, the synergy of creative forces, or just plain bad hearing, but Flash and I came up with a nearly perfect way to describe Avery’s less-than-charming side.
In a word: “crabbedy.”
As I was getting breakfast ready under a fog of Benadryl and lack of sleep, Avery asked me one of his standard morning questions: “Am I staying for nap today at school?” Unfortunately for him, the answer was “yes.” So I cringed, waiting for the whining, pleading, and stomping onslaught to begin.
“I HATE NAP!!!!!” Avery screamed, only the preamble to a verbal tirade that I endure on a daily basis. Why he does this, I’m not sure. It is rare, if ever, that I give into this type of behavior.
To be fair, I know nap time is hard for Avery. He rarely falls asleep anymore and is forced to lay on his cot for at least an hour while much of the rest of the class sleeps. This is very difficult for a boy of Avery’s energy level, and I feel for him. I’m amazed that they can even get him to lie down, really. (more…)
Patterns
So much has happened at The Okey Dokey Ranch in the past month, it is hard to know where to begin.
Suffice it to say, the long-awaited arrival of Flash has more or less taken place. He keeps saying things like “when I get here,” as if he hasn’t moved in yet. (I don’t think he considers himself “here” until the house is arranged to his liking; we’re not there quite yet, I am told.) Yet it seems like he’s here to me. Much of his stuff is here. And he’s rearranged so much of our living space, I feel disoriented in my own home. Yet grateful. Things had gotten pretty chaotic around here. And this guy has the perfect combination of obsession and organizational skills to tackle things like building shelving and rearranging furniture and CDs until things make more sense. (more…)
Spirit phones and homegrown tomatoes
Sometimes malaise sneaks up on me, and other times it follows a more predictable path. As cliché as it might sound, today’s bout of blues definitely seems related to the fast-approaching 2nd anniversary of Mike’s death (Sept 13).
I’ve found no good way defend myself against the pain. It comes uninvited.
I am haunted by a past that is gone and a future that no longer exists. It began in the relative quiet of Labor Day after Flash, CC, and her kitten Casey departed from The Okey Dokey Ranch after spending a raucous and rainy but fun Saturday and Sunday here.
This afternoon, Marley went to Tannehill State Park with her friend Bella, which left me alone with Avery. The boy has been quite wild all weekend—a draining surprise after he acted disarmingly docile and charming Friday afternoon after school. By Monday afternoon I was, shall we say, finding it difficult to appreciate Avery being anywhere near me. I really just wanted to be alone with my thoughts. (more…)
Down under The Okey Dokey Ranch
If you want to fail miserably, try raising two children by yourself. It doesn’t take long to realize that no one is capable of succeeding at this endeavor. I somehow allow myself to forget this from time to time. Indeed, it’s probably how I remain sane.
But reality always returns, and it stings. Rediscovering life as a single parent is a trying and lonely affair–especially after a travel-induced period of giddy denial filled with grandparents and cousins who gladly watch your children while you chum with old friends.
But now we are home and it is back to reality again. Manning The Okey Dokey Ranch with the help of only a seven year old (no matter how precocious) and a five year old can get downright depressing in short order.
Although Marley started school two days after our return from Minnesota, Avery did not. So I had to bring him on all of my home renovating errands–a major drag for both of us.
Combine that with absolutely no freedom to exercise or adults to talk to and, voila! You have the perfect ingredients for a mental breakdown. I spend most of a sunny Saturday in bed crying.
But miraculously, Sunday was a glorious day, despite heavy rains.
Marley and I made a batch of muscadine jelly. I made a chicken dinner. And Flash stayed overnight, tipping the household vibe into positive territory.
The boys joust in the man cave.
He set up a “painting zone” in the basement, now under heavy construction (click here to see the vid of Flash doing his thing), which will eventually house his personal space and occasionally his daughter CC and along with them our newly-formed household.
The fabled blended family.
Anyway, Flash thought it would be fun for the kids to paint the floors and walls before he completed the rooms. So fun that he joined them. He started painting words on the walls and saying that he was “channeling,” which made me flash back to a time nearly two years ago when me, my mother and my dear friend Suzanne Kilpatrick painted similar words on the walls of the basement following Mike’s accidental death in the man-cave.
Suzanne felt that writing positive, loving words on the walls would help cleanse the space and help us heal. We did this, and about a month later, I knocked down the walls on which we wrote and painted the remaining walls blue. Suzanne also said she saw the corner of the basement eventually becoming the creative hub of the house.
I distinctly remember thinking “never.”
But now it is becoming just that. And somehow, Flash just knew it. So, on that rainy day, I joined him and the kids and painted a bit, too. And finally, things felt like a nice Sunday at home with my family.
Thanks, Flash. I love you more than you could know.
Marley paints the subfloor
Avery paints Flash's pants while Flash paints the basement wall.
Happy Anniversary
Ten years ago, we walked the French Quarter
Hunting for rings on our wedding day
Thinking we would spend full lives
Traveling, carefree, growing old gracefully.
Instead we worked, had babies; hitting our stride only recently (more…)
Space Cleansing
It’s been an intense weekend. Many social events, and also a more private happening. A cleansing of the “trauma energy” in the space in my basement where Mike died. (more…)
Check out "Farewells" in today's Birmingham News
There is an extended obituary written in today’s Birmingham News about Mike. It’s on page 12A. Or follow the “Farewells” link to see the al.com online version.
In the article, Erin, the reporter, refers to the Bare Hands Gallery exhibit, so I though it might be good to add a slideshow of part of Mike’s alter for those who haven’t had the chance to go see it. BTW, the exhibit will be up through November 17. The gallery is open Wed-Sat 11-6 pm.
Spirit in the Sky
Have I talked about Marley and how she communicates with Mike on a daily basis? She says he’s with her most of the time and is proud of the fact that she’s playing piano (he likes to dance to her playing), is watching when she helps the younger kids at school, and how he helps her when she falls.
Here is a picture she drew the other day of what “daddy’s spirit looks like in the sky.”
Life as a ghost
It is so strange going through the day as if nothing has changed.
Bring the kids to school; work on the books; close on a house; bullshit with the real estate agent; answer the phone; meet the HVAC guy; talk to the guys doing demolition work on my houses; listen to the radio; read a snippet of a novel. (more…)
A letter from Mike’s mom Dinny
My dear Michael,
You are a man of so many talents, there was little you couldn’t do–if you didn’t know how you just did it anyway.
This week's gifts
I am blessed. In the past 7 days:
5-people (including me) brainstormed in my living room and set up a long-term meal and playdate schedule and more (”meals” to include drop off meals and shared meals at my house and at other people’s houses) (more…)
Haunting outing
Went to Art in Avondale Park today. Crisp blue sky, autumn chill in the air. My mom and father-in-law came and helped with the kids, who marched in the parade and did arts and crafts. Ran into many friends and acquaintences. (more…)
The healing power of food
Call me a sucker. The way to my heart is through my stomach. (more…)
Good Night
Just a quick note to thank everyone who attended tonight’s event at Rojo. Or donated a print. Or played music. Or hosted the event. Or purchased a photo. Or picked up my tab. Or had a kind word or a hug. Or organized the event. (more…)
Thanks again
I’m realizing, once again, that it will be nearly impossible to thank everyone adequately for all of the love and support sent our way. (more…)
The floodgates open
Last night, I had a dream that Avery and Marley and I went swimming at Turkey Creek, and the water was extremely high. Avery had jumped in the water, which made me panic, because he cannot swim so well yet, but there he was paddling away, as I know he can, and also, miraculously, breathing too. What a relief. I then turned to Marley who took her turn jumping into the dangerously high water. Lo and behold, she also could swim. Much better than I thought she could. (more…)
Good Morning
One reason I set up this blog was to creatively deal with insomnia. So, here I am, trying to plod my way through a whole new way of communicating. This site will surely evolve over time and I’m open to suggestions about how to make it easier for you to use. (more…)
Hello and thank you everyone
It’s Sunday noon and I’ve taken my first plunge into the bloggosphere. Not sure whether this is going to be an ideal format, but will check it out. Quite frankly, until last week, I wondered what all these people were doing on blogs anyway. Today, I see this as a tool with which to communicate and send back a small measure of the love that has been sent our way since Mike’s death. (more…)
