"Change, when it comes, cracks everything open."
Dorothy Allen

Thursday, April 28, 2011

Answer to the inevitable question

With all the stuff that has been going on in the last month or so, I have been fielding a lot of questions. 
"How are you/Geoff/Kathy/the girls?"
"Do you need anything?"
"What happened?"

But hands down, the question I am asked most often is "How are the kids?"  In particular, Sebastian.

So, I thought I would answer the question for everyone.  The short answer is- he's fine.  He really is.  He gets up every morning, he eats, he plays, he goes to school.  He still does most of the stuff he did before, he laughs and gets goofy.

But what I think most people want to know is - Does he understand?

This one is tougher.  Yes, I think he does.  But what exactly he understands and thinks, that is the grey area.  Let me start at the beginning.  Maybe I will figure this out, myself, through the telling.

From the time that Kit got sick and went into the hospital, I tried to be open and honest and, most of all, plain when I talked to Sebastian.  It is very difficult.  We adults rely of false platitudes and comfortable phrases all the time.  So, to be blunt and plain and straight forward and literal- it's painful and difficult.

The first day that Kit was in the hospital, I was home alone with the kids.  Geoff had gone earlier to be with his family.  I was waiting for news, to find out whether I should go or not.  I decided to talk to Sebastian about what was happening.  It was the first conversation I have ever had with Sebastian about death.

We were sitting in his room, playing on the floor.  I asked him if he knew where Daddy was?  He didn't.  I explained, "Daddy went to the hospital.  Grandpa is sick and he has to stay there".  Sebastian remembers his times in the hospital.  He actually remembers good things, and thinks the hospital is a fun place.  He smiles a little, thinking about the hospital.  I contiue to talk, trying to pick straight forward phrases.  I tell him that the sick that Grandpa has isn't like a cold.  There is a chance that Grandpa could die.  It was scary to say that word, that early in the game.  But I knew, I had to start preparing Sebastian as early as possible. 
By this time, I was crying, and it was hard to talk.  Sebastian doesn't get scared by tears.  He doesn't react to them often.  That has since changed.
Sebastian asked what we can do.  I told him that all we could do was pray.  We could ask God to help Grandpa and everyone else to be safe.  He knows about praying, we do that before bed.  So I said a prayer and he repeated all the words afer me.  I hugged him aferwards, because I needed the hug.  He didn't.
I ended up going to the hospital that afternoon and into the evening.  This began a tradition of Sebastian and Sawyer spending lots and lots of time with my mom and dad, while I was working or at the hospital.  Geoff was at the hospital pretty much from the time he work up until the time they kicked him out at night. 

We brought the kids to see Kit a couple of times.  Of course, now, I wish we had brought them every day.  Because Kit wasn't hooked up to scary machines or anything like that, he wasn't scary to them, they knew he was Grandpa and they didn't make strange. 

Sebastian would hug Kit, and touch his hand or his leg.  He would focus on folds in the blanket.  Then he would make his way to the chair in the corner, and sit with his pictures or papers.  After about 10 or 15 minutes, he would start to ask to go home.  It was often crowded in the room.  Noisy. Sebastian wasn't scared, but he didn't quite understand the point of being there.  All he knew was that there was no TV.  He was always well behaved. 

During the 2 weeks that Kit was sick, I would continue to bring it up with Sebastian.  Not alot, but often enough.  I wanted him to understand that it was ok to talk about.  I didn't want it to be taboo.  I didn't want it to slide from his memory.  But much of the time that we talked, Sebastian would lose focus.  He would drift, not make eye contact.  He would be doing something, and suddenly become hyper-focused on it.  It took me a long time to figure it out.  Call me slow.  This was his avoidance technique.  He struggles to express his emotion.  He can't say "I'm upset.  I don't want to talk about this."  He won't just sit and cry, because his sadness is overwhelming him.  What he can do, is when I say Grandpa is sick, he can fill his vision and his world with a picture of Jack and Sally.  When I talk about dying, and that Grandpa won't be around anymore, he can ask me if I like Wonder Woman, and if I want to watch Cats and Dogs.  He controls his environment with an iron fist, as often as he can.  I learned to respect that.  I still pushed.  Somedays I lost my patience.  I wanted to talk.  I wanted to cry with him.  Sometimes I yelled.  I am really sorry about that now.

The last time the kids saw their grandpa was Thursday, April 7.  We brought them in a bit late, I think it was 8pm when we first got there.  There was alot of people, as always.  Sebastian had given a picture of himself in front of the Count (The vampire on the Screamers poster, down on Clifton Hill).  Geoff had taken it in, and it was taped to the wall at the foot of Kit's bed. Sebastian looked at all the pictures, then parked himself in the corner.  We didn't stay too long, Kit was tired.  Sebastian hugged him and kissed him, said he loved him (after we reminded him to say it- which doesn't diminish the feeling behind it one iota) and said goodbye.  We didn't know it was the real goodbye.

On the ride home, I asked Sebastian if he had any questions.  He asked about what?  I said "About Grandpa.  How he is bed in the hospital.  Do you have any questions about that?" 

He was quiet for a few seconds.  Then he said " I don't understand why you are asking me that".  He had never used that phrase before.  I don't know if he meant to be profound, or if he was just really confused.  I explained "For some people, it bothers them to see people sick.  They feel sad, or scared.  I wanted to know if you were sad or scared.  Are you worried about Grandpa?  Do you have anything that you want to talk about?"

Again, quiet.  Longer this time.  I was just about to give up and move onto another topic, assuming that he was ignoring me, or absorbed in something else, as usually happened.  Then, quietly, from the backseat I hear "No, mommy.  I think I am ok".

We didn't talk about it anymore that night. 

That night was the night that Kit ODed.  We got the call at 12:30 in the morning.  Geoff went on the run, and I followed around 3am.  My dad came and slept here, so someone was here for the kids in the morning.  The kids spent the day with my parents.  About 6pm, I left the hospital, and went to visit them at my mom and dad's.  I filled them in on what was happening.  I hugged the kids, made sure they were ok and happy, and left again.  I toyed with bring them back with me, but Kit had been sleeping when I left.  My conversation with Bree-Ann was that Kit would likely not wake up again.  As much as I needed my babies, it served no purpose to bring them, keep them up, have to watch them when Kit wouldn't even know they were there.  They didn't ask to come back with me, so I left them there.

Kit died that night, at 2:04am.

After that, when we left, it was about 3:30 in the morning.  I helped Geoff's mom carry stuff from the room out to her car.  Eric helped too.  The fresh air was nice, after the heat and dryness of the hospital.  I walked over to our van, since I knew Geoff was on his way out.  I texted him - "I want to go see my babies".  He agreed. He understood. 

We drove straight to my parents' house.  We banged on the door and yelled through the window to wake them up. 

Once we were in, and I had stopped crying a little bit, my dad brought Sebastian in to see us.  He was still 3/4 asleep, and had no idea what was going on.  I started sobbing as soon as I saw him.  He asked why I was there?  I cried harder.  I tried to say that Grandpa had died.  I tried to hug him.  He recoiled from me, pulled away and turned into my dad.  My dad turned him around and held him, so that I could wrap my arms around him tight and sob into his skinny shoulder.  He was stiff as a board, uncomfortable.  Again, I wasn't playing by the rules of his world.

We ended up sleeping there that night, me in one twin bed, curled aronnd Sawyer, Geoff in the other with Sebastian.  Both kids woke up before us, and went out for breakfast.  I woke up the next morning, in my old room, in my parent's house.  I could hear Sebastian outside the door, wanting to come in and wake us up.  My mom was trying to hush him, keep him quiet, let us sleep.

That night, Aunt Shelia and Uncle Marc invite everyone to dinner.  Sebastian is his usual social self, staying in the computer room, playing by himself.  I bring him up for dinner, and decide to let him eat a piece of pizza as a treat.  Sebastian has decided that he is not going to eat.  Not one bite.  He and I fight, me trying to keep a grip, but really just wanting to slap his butt and sit him down, him wanting me to go away and leave him alone.  He pushes and pushes and I push right back.  I can feel the eyes of everyone on us, even though I try to be quiet, but Sebastian's whine is loud and piercing.  At one point, Holly says "Anita, he's had a long, hard day too."  I appreciated that.  Not even so much what she said.  But I felt that they wanted to say more, to say "oh just let him go".  But they didn't.  Not one of them.  And I appreciated that respect and love more than anything.  I let it diffuse a bit, and we all moved on.

I tried to talk to Sebastian a couple of times that day.  He neatly avoided the conversation, and I was too tired to push it.  I was determined to not leave him for a significant length of time.  We kept them with us, through most of the following days.  Without me ever having sat down with him, he seemed to understand that something had happened.  He didn't ask why we were home from work.  He didn't ask why Geoff wasn't at the hospital, when he knew that was where Daddy had spent the last 2 weeks.

Tuesday.  Visitation.  I was torn on whether or not I should bring him.  My mother firmly believes in not viewing bodies, whether you were an adult or child.  But I talked to his therapist at Brick by Brick, and she reccommended it.  Autistic kids are so literal, so visual.  He needs this.

We walk in together, him holding my hand.  We walk up to the coffin, a bit behind Holly, Dawn, Geoff and Kathy.  We wait our turn.  This gives him a chance to get used to the smells, the sounds, the feel of the funeral home.  When it is our turn, we walk up.  He actually looks.  Most of the time, he will glance, a second or two at a time.  But now, he looks. 

"Oh, there's Grandpa."  That's all he says.

Sebastian had a Wonder Woman toy in the van.  He is giving it to Grandpa.  It's hands are chewed off, the painted hair is worn off in places.  It is 100% Sebastian's.  Holly helps him put it in Kit's hands.  I was really worried that Sebastian would decide that he didn't want to give it up, that he would want it back.  He doesn't say a word.

I am crying so hard, I can't hardly breathe.  I try to be quiet.  I don't want to scare him.  He turns around and we sit on the couch together.  I hug him, and he hugs me back.  He can feel me shaking and he pulls back and looks him my face.  For the first time, he really, REALLY sees my tears.  He wipes them off my face with the flats of his hands. Don't.  Don't.  Don't.  He has reverted to one word sentences. There is real concern in his face and eyes, so I pull myself together.

Eventually, we make our way over to the picture montage.  Sebastian is more relaxed now.  It's just us, people he knows in the room.  I have stopped crying.  He slouches in a chair, fiddling with his fingers.  Holly brings him a teddy bear.  He hugs the bear, it is super soft.  Holly explains that this is his Grandpa bear.  When he wants to hug Grandpa, but can't, he can hug the bear and Grandpa will feel it. Sebastian looks at the bear and drops it on the ground. 

"I don't like it."

He knows that's not is Grandpa. 

Eventually, others come.  Lots of others.  I had made arrangements with my parents to come about 230, so that the kids could be there for the beginning, and then leave with my mom and dad.  About 130, Sebastian, overwhelmed by sensory input, shuts down.  He sits in a chair, closes his eyes, and is asleep about 1 minute later.  I realize we are seeing another coping mechanism.  If this helps him live through this, I will let him sleep.

The next day was the funeral.  I wanted Sebastian to sit with us.  Sawyer was going to stay with my mom and dad, in the back, in case she got fussy and had to leave.  But when my dad showed up to take her in the morning, she threw a fit and there was no way she was leaving.  Sebastian said he wanted to go, so they traded places.  When we got to the church, I asked him if he wanted to come sit with me and Daddy.  He didn't, he wanted to stay with Grammie and Papa.  I didn't see him much during the service.  According to my mom, the bagpipes bothered him.  They were loud.  Again, Sebastian coped.  He stretched out, closed his eyes and slept his way through the service. 

At Betty's Restaurant after the funeral, he was good as gold.  Geoff's aunts made a real effort to talk to him, and play with him.  We laughed to see that he can wrap his arms comfortably around Aunt Lana's neck.  Aunt Lana kept up with his awkward gait and weird, dancing walk, and turned it into a waltz.  It was lovely. 

In the weeks following, life gradually returned to a new normal.  But there are cracks in his armour.  He is acting out.  For the the first week, he didn't want to go to sleep.  He slept with me for about 4 days.  He would break down and cry.  He hit his sister, and would push her down.  He refused to eat, or would sneak food he knows he isn't allowed to have. He talks back.  He ignores us.  He messes up his room, and refuses to clean it up.  Yesterday at school, he had a breakdown and needed a sensory break. 

But then, there are the good parts. 

Three separate times, I have asked him a question before he goes to bed.  As he climbs into his bed, and I tuck him him, I asked him,
"Does Grandpa come and visit you in your dreams?"

Normally, if Sebastian doesn't understand a question, he will answer one of 3 ways- he will ignore the question, he will just repeat the last words you said, hoping that will answer it and you will go away, or he will ask you to say it again, because "I can't hear you."

All three times I have asked, almost immediately he has said "yes".  I asked him what Grandpa says.  He says he can't remember.  But he smiles when he says it, so it makes me think that they talk about good things.  I always tell him, if he sees Grandpa tonight, tell him I love him.  And Sebastian says he will.

So, I guess that is the long answer.  Yes, he is fine.  He is healing.  Thanks for asking.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "new normal".

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

Walking Strong

Geoff and I (and probably the kids) are going to do the Relay for Life this year.  Obviously, for Kit.  I support alot of charities, and cancer was never really one that I supported.  I don't agree with the big business mentality of it (this is the conspiracy therorist in me coming out, as I have heard this recently from Roan.)  But we feel the need to do something...anything...to make good and right come out of the senseless.

So, we will be travelling to Windsor, Kit's hometown, to walk with as many of the Rousseau's as we can muster.  The kids will sleep in sleeping bags and we adults will walk and talk and laugh and cry.  We will remember Kit and his stories and his laugh and his own crazy distinctive walk.

And really, at the end of the day, that's all that matters.  He is, again, bringing us all together.  And THAT, my friends, is worth supporting.

So, if you are so inclined, and wish to give, here is the link to my personal page.  Like I said on Facebook-  I will take what you will give. And you have all given so much already. ♥

Anita's Relay for Life Page

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "new found purpose."

Saturday, April 23, 2011


Geoff, Dawn, Holly and Kathy made 4 CDs worth of songs to play for Kit's visitation and funeral.  At certain times through the visitation, when it would get quiet, you would hear a song that would eaither make you smile, or make your cry, or - most often- make you do both.

Dawn made us copies of all the discs. 

Today, Geoff and I were cleaning the Hoarder's episode which our house had become, and Geoff put the music on. 

I lost it, a couple of times.  Billy Joel got me, so did Johnny Cash.  Jim Croce.  Others. 
"The times, they are a-changin." 

I am sure Geoff probably did the same.  We did it privately and quietly, and just kept working. 

These songs- they belong to you, Kit.  I will never hear them, without thinking of you.  And I know, one day, I won't cry, but smile.  

Miss you.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "never the same".

Big Day. Birth Day.

So, Tuesday was my 38th birthday.  Or, as I like to call it, my 3rd annual 36th birthday. :)

Honestly, the age doesn't bother me.  I don't feel old- well, most days.  Some days it is harder to get out of bed than others.  Sometimes I forget things.  But most of the time, I really don't feel much different than I did when I was 20, or 25 or 30.   Hopefully, I am a bit smarter, a bit kinder.  But who knows?  I still do dumb things.

Anyway, the birthday celebrations began last Friday, when the lovely ladies from work- Lynnie, Teresa and Dawnie C gave me a kick ass gift and we went for lunch.  They got me a framed print of Rosie the Riveter, which just happens to match my bad-ass calf tattoo.  I love the print, and I was so touched that they had found it much earlier and ordered it in for me.  We went to Cats Caboose for lunch- so I got to have my deep fried pickles and buffalo chicken salad.  So good.  So yummy.  It was great to see them outside of work, and have some time to chill out and chat.

Friday night, my chill'uns went to Grammie and Papa's for the night, and we went out to celebrate my birfday.  Right up until we actually went out, I was a little unsure about whether I wanted to.  It had only been a week since we lost Kit. Everyone was (and still is) feeling sad and unsure and are trying to figure shit out.  To my everylasting delight, my sister (inlaw) Dawn agreed to come out, and that sealed the deal.  I picked her up, Kevin and Michelle came to the house and we all headed off together to Somebuddies for pizza and wings.  Joel and Carrie got there first, and snagged us an awesome table. 

We ordered tons of food, and drinks.  Dawnie and I ordered a Blue for the first round and drank a toast to Dad.  We actually all talked about him alot.  It was good.  I am sure it was a little awkward for the others, but it felt good and cathartic to talk about him and laugh and joke.  The jukebox seemed to have it out for us, and played a ton of songs that we had played at his visitation, but it was ok, because the songs kick ass.

Teresa and Ron came and met us, and we hung out and drank until about 11pm.  I can't even remember everything we talked about, but I know I laughed alot, and had a really great time.  Eventually, we headed out to the Chili Pepper in St. Catharines, to see Figure Four.  We originally saw them play on St. Paddy's Day, and they were awesomely awesome- played alot of 80s hair band stuff, and were just really fun and good.  Joel and Carrie had to head home, but I was so glad they came.  :)

We made it to the Chili Pepper and all got carded at the door.  I literally couldn't believe it, and argued with the guy a bit.  I couldn't find my driver's license, so eventually I found my health card.  By that time, the bouncer was, I'm sure, very sorry that he asked me for anything. By the time I got it out of my wallet, handed it to him and got it back, everyone else was inside and gone.  We eventually found them downstairs.  Michelle had picked a table at the front, so a table that was guaranteed to be loud, but one that we could shout out requests to the band and be heard.  The girls stayed at one table, the boys at another. The night has gotten a little blurry, but I remember some random events:
- Teresa spilled a beer on my leg, and then took a picture (or three) of the wet spot.
- I couldn't (and really, really shouldn't) drink my tequila shot, so the lead singer did it for me
- I did drink the yummy green shooter from the band
- I yelled at Teresa for leaving to yell at some girl that pushed her.  I told her she had to tell me if she was going to go get in a fight, so that I could come and watch her back
- We high-fived some random guy who gave a good request to the band- I am pretty sure it was "Glory Days" by Bruce Springsteen
- Michelle wants us to start an all-girl cover band called the Eaglets.  This is because we rocked out the Eagles.  God, we are awesome!
- The children that came into the bar had completely inappropriate outfits on.  By inappropriate I mean that I don't want to see your 20 year old cellulite.  Gross.

All in all, great night.  Great friends.  Thank you everyone- love you lots.

I normally book my birthday off, and I did have it scheduled.  But we have been so busy lately, and I had time off because of Kit, so I felt really bad about taking another day, when i didn't really have to.  So I worked.  But everyone at work was great.  They got me a card, and we had birthday breakfast cake.  One of the benefits to working on your birthday means that you get to eat cake for breakfast.  It is a tradition that I gladly uphold.  Val took me out for lunch, to Grill on the Hill.  It was delicious, even if they didn't have my favorite sweet potatoe fries.  Thanks, Val!!

That night, my mom made my birthday dinner- turkey crepes, greek salad, chocolate covered strawberries and birthday cake.  So good.  I only get the crepes once a year.  Geoff had to work, but that's ok, since he really doesn't like them anyway.  He had called me that morning and left me a beautiful voice message, wishing me a happy birthday.  I had left that morning for work, before he had a chance to say it.  It was very nice that he remembered. 

Anyway, my mom and Dad got me a big bag of kitchen stuff and a digital frame.  It was very nice, lots of cool stuff.  Geoff got me Season 2 of Fringe, and a digital frame. :)  Good deal.

Later that night, Geoff's mom, sister and aunt Gay came over.  Kathy and Dawn gave me deneros, which is always, ALWAYS appreciated.  It was a very nice visit.  Kathy looks good, even though I am worried about her.  It was great to see them. 

Today, we went to my mom and dad's for dinner for Good Friday.  My brother had my birthday gift.  It's my birthday gift, plus Easter for everyone, and tons more.  He got us a treadmill- a great one.  :) :)  I am so excited.  He is coming over to set it up tomorrow.  He is so awesome.  The very best, though?  I hugged him to say thank you, and he actually hugged me back. That was great.

All in all, it was a great birthday.  Part of me really didn't want anyone to remember.  I didn't want anything to happen or be said.  It didn't feel right.  I just wanted it to be another day. 

But having people remember, and be so incredibly thoughtful and wonderful and amazing- that was nice.  I am surrounded by such loving and selfless friends and family- it really is overwhelming. 

Love, love, love.  What a good day.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "new age, new year."

Sunday, April 17, 2011

Writing my future

As anyone who reads this blog with any regularity knows, I am .....dissatisfied with my current state of employment.  I struggle daily with my job, my place there, my contentment.  I think about destiny and karma and meaning in life. 

This is a hard thing to think about, to articulate.  I try to be eloquent and witty and coherent.   But I feel like I am not making myself understood.  I feel like if I could just express myself properly, if I could say the right things, in the right way, then I could figure out what I need. 

So, I am trying to be plain.  I don't want to work for other people any more.  I want to work for myself.  I am willing to work hard, put in long hours, be creative and smart and bossy and wonderful.  I will push myself to step outside of my comfort zone.

God, it feels like I am interviewing myself.

I am not lazy.  I may say it sometimes, but I know, deep down, that I am not.  A couple of weeks ago, when visiting Kit in the hospital, I called myself lazy.  It was the day of my 2am to 10 am (which always seems to turn into an 1130 am) shift.  I had left work, gone straight to the hospital, was planning on going home to sleep, but then had to go back to work, to sit in on a conference call at 430pm. (I did go back at 3:30 for the call, and ended up stuck at work until 630.)  I was supposed to do something, or had forgotten to do something, and called myself lazy in front of Kit.  He looked at me and laughed, and said "Yeah, that's right, my daughter in law is lazy" in the most sarcastic tone he could muster. :)  I appreciated the fact that he knew how hard I worked. 

So, even though I am not lazy, I am overwhelmed.  I have a lot to do, every day, all day.  I try not to procrastinate, but I find I have to,  because there are not enough hours in the day.  I don't know if all the choices I make are the right ones.  But I try.  I know that I chose wrong, alot of the time.  Work tends to win.  Alot.  I don't take care of myself, because I run out of time.  I don't play with my kids as much as I want, because work is waiting.  I don't clean my house, take pictures, promote my business, knit, read, organize my finances- because work takes up all my time.  I have been working 25-30 hours of overtime a week, for about 7 or 8 weeks now.  I am tired all the time.  I feel like crap.  And in the end, what do I get?  A paycheque.  That's about it.  The satisfaction of getting a job done is more and more becoming something I don't care about.

So, what do I want to do? 
I want to take horror photos.
I want to take photos of kids and families with special needs.
I want to write my blog, and stories and articles.
I want to raise money for charity.
I want to knit cool fun things for kids.
I want to grow things in my garden and make jams and salsa.

So, tell me.  How do I make all of that make money for me?  How do I replace my income with this?  How do I pay my bills, my mortgage, therapy, food?  How does that happen?

I know several people who make a living doing what they love.  I am inspired by them.  One of them, Celine, is proving to be a good friend.  She is my dog trainer and a sweet, lovely, earthy person.  I posted a picture on Facebook- a "photo of my day".  It was of my cubicle at work (I don't even have that anymore).  When I saw Celine shortly after that, she told me, in this heartbreaking voice that she was sad for me when she saw that photo.  She got it.  I don't belong there.

I am trying really, really, really hard to not be depressed.  I am trying to be positive and open to all the opportunities that life can throw at me.  I know that the perfect opportunity isn't going to drop into my lap, I have to work and make it happen.  I have to be smart, and resourceful and dedicated.  I have to believe that I was meant for better things.  I do believe that.

One of my favorite sayings is "Everything is ok in the end.  If it's not ok, it's not the end."  I am not at the end.  I am somewhere in the middle.  I am working towards ok.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "Needing more".


Today the wind is blowing.

I love spring winds.  One of my favorite things is to lay on my bed, with the window open, and the wind blowing, and smelling the smells of spring- dirt, and growing grass, and daffodils. 

Axle comes in and he smells like the outside.  Sawyer and I hug him, wet fur and all, and smell that smell.  He sits by the window and enjoys the wind as well.

Yesterday, we did something we haven't done for a while.  In the afternoon, we took a drive.  I grew up taking drives on the weekend.  My dad would pile us into the car, and drive for hours on country roads.  We really never ended up anywhere, but I loved them anyway.  We would listen to music, and stop for Pop Shoppe pop.  In the summer, we would sometimes get ice cream, and stop to check out good fishing spots. 

With the price of gas, me working every weekend, Geoff's dad- we haven't left the house very often, unless we had to.  So it was nice to go, just for the sake of going.

I am still feeling restless.  I still feel unfocused and blurry.  I want to talk and talk, until I figure stuff out.  But I don't know where to start. 

I am logging in now, to start to work.  Again. But at least the wind is blowing.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "going Nowhere".

Friday, April 15, 2011


I went back to work today.  Ug.

I worked from 830 am to 7pm, came home, spent a couple of hours with the kids, and then worked from 9pm to 12am.  It is now 12:10 and I am so tired, I can barely keep my eyes open.

I was questioned all day today.  Everyone wants something from me.  I shouldn't have gone back, but I felt so incredibly guilty, I couldn't stay home.  When I left, suddenly, Val had to pick up all my slack.  That was so unfair to her, I feel incredibly sorry.  She has so much work on her plate and I just added to it.

So, questions.  Why is this happening?  Why is that not happening?  How long will it take?  When will you know?  What are you going to do?  Can you?  Will you?  When? When?  When?

I hate to admit it, I cried today.  Right at my desk, which isn't even my desk.  I put my head down, and let a few tears come. 

But, I finished the day (about 15 minutes ago).  I got some stuff done.  And I answered questions.

But I have a bunch of my own. 

- Where am I going?
- What do I want to do?
- What will make me happy?
- When can I get here?
- How do I do it?

I just want some answers.  But I guess everyone does.  I guess I am really not so special, I don't have any more answers than the rest of you. 

I am just gonna go get a drink, and go to bed.  Night all.  I will see you all tomorrow.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "Night time ramblings".

Wednesday, April 13, 2011


So, today was one of the hardest days of my life. 

Not THE hardest, that was another day.  But definitely top 3...probably top 2.  And it wasn't just today, it was the last 2 and a half weeks.  Or 18 days.

18 days to change a life.  Lots of lives.  No one will be the same again.

We said goodbye to Kit today.  Today was his funeral.  It was lovely.  Holly wrote a beautiful eulogy, from all the ramblings and bits and pieces that everyone threw at her.  She wrote about everything that I would want to hear about.  How she did it- I don't know.  But she was honest and eloquent, and I am so very, very proud of her.

Paul read it.  I don't know how.  He broke down, which made everything so very real and heart wrenching.  It was a beautiful thing, to watch him power through, because he believed that what he was saying NEEDED to be said.  Even if it was just us, in the front row, that needed to hear it.

Kathy was amazing.  So together and wonderful.  She has been a solid as a rock through all of this.  She has cracks in her armour, that's for sure.  But those cracks are what allow her to release the pressure, and continue to function.  Each time I see her, I gain more respect and love for her than I thought possible.  I am in awe of her.

Dawn and Holly did so well.  Dawn and I shared some laughs- it wouldn't be the right and normal without laughing in church.  Holly made it all happen.  I don't know how she did it, but I have a total new found respect for her job and how fucking good at it she is. 

Geoff was solid too, but we cried together as Paul spoke.  I couldn't hold back, as Paul got to the parts about me and my babies.  My friend Bill said he kept it together, until he heard me cry. 

Sawyer slept on my lap, she was uncertain and nervous, and wanted the reassurance of a bottle and Mommy's lap.  She was such an angel, and I wiped my cheeks on her hair throughout the service.  Bastian stayed with my mom and dad and brother.  He copes by shutting down.  Everything gets to be too much, and he drifts off to sleep.  He did it yesterday at the visitation and today, he slept through the funeral.  My poor boy.  I like to think that Grandpa is talking to him now, in his dreams, in a way that they couldn't before. 

I am so exhausted, I feel like I haven't slept in days.  But I have. 

I can't look at my own parents, without welling up.  All of this makes me appreciate them more.  It makes me sad for every time I have been a bad daughter.  It makes me want to hug them every time I see them.  I think I just might.

I am going back to work tomorrow.  I hate the thought.  I think about Kit, and life and death, and my stupid, ridiculous job loses all meaning.  What good do I do?  How do I help others, or make the world a better place?  What does the job offer me, other than a paycheque?  The answer is complicated. 

I keep thinking and thinking...there has to be more than this.  I feel something coming..something just over the horizon.  I can feel it building in my soul.  I hope I recognize it when I see it.  I hope I have the balls to help make it happen.  I hope I can do well.

Losing Kit has taught me alot.  I have learned that I miss family.  Yes, they drive you crazy, but you need them.  I have fallen away from alot of mine.  I want them back.  I miss them.  I see the Rousseau's and I want what they have.  They include me, and I love that.  But....but...but but but...

I have learned that I need to be happy, in as many aspects of my life as possible.  I need to make experiences for my kids and keep them close.  I need to be affectionate and loving and dramatic and myself. 

I want someone to stand up for me...at my end....and say the things that we have been able to say about Kit.  It was a tribute to be proud of and want for your own.  And I do.

I am rambling, I am tired.  I will end here.

Kit, I miss you, I love you.  You would be so proud of your family, they did so well.  And they are going to be ok.  Come and visit us, when you can.  We will be watching and waiting for you. 

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "never forget."

Sunday, April 10, 2011

What I'm not saying

I got this email today from a friend.  This person is someone that, in reality, I haven't really known that long.  We work together, and for some weird reason, even though we are different, we clicked.  Lately, we haven't spoken much, 'cause things at work are weird and busy and horrible.  But she sent me this.  It is one of the best emails I have ever recieved in my life.  I want to keep it forever.
For those of you that don't know what to say....Read this and remember, it's all about what you're not saying.

Hey Girl…

There are about a million thoughts and feelings running through my head and my heart. I can’t say them because I don’t have the words, and often feel awkward and stilted when I try to convey the things inside my heart.

So when I next see you, I’ll probably call you a slacker for taking time off work. What’s going through my head, and what I can’t say out loud, is that I’m amazed by the courage you must have to get up and face the world with the bravery that you do. I’m sure you’ll be bombarded by many questions and well-wishers, and I will struggle with the balance between wanting to convey similar sentiments that they are, but also to want to give you a sense of “normalcy” – a reprieve from it all, so that if you want to, you have the option to pretend like none of it happened, or is happening. A break from the reality of it all.

I’ll probably make some offhand compliment about your hair, or your shoes, or something… and what I’m thinking about is how much effort you put forth into thinking about everyone else – thinking about how to provide the emotional support that Geoff, Dawn & Holly need, and how you’ll try to explain to the kids what’s happening - and what they can expect to happen next. I’m thinking that you give so much of yourself to everyone around you who needs you, and hoping that you are getting what you need from those around you who love and care about you. I’m thinking that I hope you know I’m one of those people, even if I’m just the girl who said that your eyelashes look particularly nice, and did you get a new mascara?

I might take some time to bitch about the crappy customer service I had over the weekend. What I’m thinking is that I spend the greater part of Saturday afternoon trying to get flowers for you – not sympathy flowers or some random bunch to say that I was thinking of you, but an arrangement of hyacinths, lilacs and sweet peas – something that might make you smile, even briefly. I won’t tell you that I think I made the third person who told me that lilacs & sweet peas were out of season cry, because I was so frantic and upset about the fact that I needed to DO something for you and I felt like I was failing miserably at it, and I might have possibly taken it out on them. I’m sure she’ll get over it.

I may say something about how when all this is done, we should get drunk together – that doesn’t really have an alternate meaning, so much. I mean that – we’ve never gotten drunk together and I think it’d be a hoot. What I’m not saying but what I also mean, is that when you’re ready, I’m there – for whatever. If that’s being a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, or just a person to pour the shots – I’m there.

My heart aches and my eyes well up whenever I think about the loss your family has suffered, so I take the coward’s way out and try not to think about it, or talk about it. Instead, I’ll call you a slacker, ask you where you got that cute top, briefly complain about bad customer service and suggest that we get smashed. Those around us will probably think I’m insensitive and uncaring… I don’t care about them – I care about you. I just wanted you to know that, even though I can’t say it.

What I am remembering

- the look on Uncle Terry's face, when I came to the door yesterday morning and said "It's time."  I have never seen a man move so fast.  Funny that I remember him, and not Geoff or Eric. 
- how the sound of your breathing was laboured, but almost soothing because is was regular and still there.  And how things sounded and felt when that stopped.  I will remember that always.
- How you squeezed my hand, when I talked to you.  I never really had alone time with you, not these last 2 weeks.  And that's ok. So I told you what I wanted to tell you, with others in the room.  It felt weird at first, but pretty soon, I didn't care.  I still didn't say everything I wanted to say, I don't think anyone did.  But I said enough.  And you squeezed my hand.
- How I kept expecting everyone to ask why I was so sad.  My daddy is still alive.  My brother is still alive.  My husband is still alive.  But no one did.  No one left me out.  Everyone expected me to be in the Kathy, Holly, Dawn and Geoff.  I tried to give them their own time, as often as they needed it.  But I was so proud and grateful every time one of the aunts sent me in, because I belonged there too.
- how I staggered and almost fell in the parking lot, when Aunt Lana and Bree told me the final diagnosis. 
- how you had this weird thing on the middle finger of your left hand.  I kept looking at it.  Don't know what it was.
- how you called me "darlin' ".  No g.
- how quiet it was at the end.  So quiet.  I know Dawn is angry and Holly and Kathy are so incredibly sad.  Geoff is quietly angry and sad together.  But in my heart and gut and soul, I felt peace.  It came from you, I know it did.
- how, when all was done, the only place I wanted to be was with Geoff, my babies and my mom and dad. We went straight there, and woke everyone up at 330 in the morning.  My dad answered the door.  All of a sudden, it was too much, and too hard.  I just hugged my daddy and cried.  I found my daughter, asleep in her bed, in my old bedroom.  My mom, awake and already knowing, hugged me and I cried and cried.  I just wanted to sleep with my babies.  Dad brought Sebastian in my room, and he laid with Geoff, and I hugged Sawyer.  Geoff and I cried and talked and even the dog laid on the floor and whimpered with us.  I couldn't move, but Geoff was restless.  He went and talked to my mom and dad.  I hope that was ok with you.

Right now, what I am remembering is what has just happened.  But I know that will change eventually.  I will begin to remember again all of the other times.  You have been in my life for 20 years.  I know I never really called you Dad, I called you Kit.  But you were.  You were.  You are.

I am so sad.  I miss you.  I hate how everyone is hurting.  I want to help, and I don't know how. 

I think I might keep talking to you.  Hope that's ok...

I have to go. xoxo


Saturday, April 9, 2011

Dear God.

Dear God,
Last night, I prayed for you to make it easy on him.  And you did. 

Thank you. 

I'm ok with it being hard on us.


Friday, April 8, 2011

Wednesday, April 6, 2011



[dig-ni-tee] Show IPA
–noun, plural -ties.
bearing, conduct, or speech indicative of self-respect or appreciation of the formality or gravity of an occasion or situation.
a sign or token of respect.
Today, someone was talking to me about my father in law.  I was giving them an update, such as I have.  And somewhere in the middle of that conversation, I made a comment about how, in times like this, you tend to lose all dignity.  There is no more privacy or secrets. 
For the rest of the night, that thought has been ringing in my head.  About dignity.  The loss of it.  This isn't the loss of dignity you might feel by flipping over your own feet and landing on your ass in front of a crowd.  This is the kind when you have to ask others to help you with the most basic life skills.  To have the help of others to move, and eat and function.  For someone independant like my father in law, it must be so difficult.  I wonder if he thinks about that.  Or if, in the face of survival, those thoughts don't even surface anymore.
I try to make sure that I maintain the dignity of others.  I try and respect the face that people put forward.  I have had discussions with people, where I know that they are wrong.  If there is no point to it, I won't call them out.  I let them continue to think they are right.  It does no harm, and I let them keep their dignity.  I know others that don't do that, that have a driving need to be right.  That's their own choice.  To me, having someone feel good about themselves and what they believe is more important.
I try really hard to let Sebastian mainain his dignity.  I know that he doesn't really think in terms of that, but that is no reason for me to embarass him.  Sometimes, Geoff doesn't think that way, or it just isn't in his scope.  He will do things to Sebastian, or call him out on things, or ask him questions that would be best asked quietly, or behind closed doors.  When I have called him on it, he said "Well he doesn't care."  My comment was "Everyone around him does.  The kid has so many strikes against him, why in the world would you ever set up more?"  He ignored me at that point, or called me a name.  But he seems to have slowed it down, so I hope that he keeps it in the back of his mind.  I don't care if it is in front of family, or in front of strangers- it's about respect. 
Dignity.  It's about respect.  It's why I hate it when people call me out and point out my flaws.  It's about my fear of being wrong, or unprepared, or looking silly in a way that I don't chose.  I don't want to be unprepared, or caught off guard.  I don't want to be picked last.  I want to be the best, and I want to be recognized, but not to the detriment of others.  I want to earn my praise, the hard way, the old fashioned way- through hard work and smart thinking.

This post has been kind of rambling and weird.  It's kind of like my thoughts today.  So, I apologize. Hopefully, these will get better...

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "Not arrogance, Dignity."

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

My TV choices

So, for the past 6-8 weeks, I have been watching more TV than I have in the past 2 or 3 years.  Because I am doing overtime work on my laptop most nights and weekends, I tend to park it in my bedroom, lay on the bed and work, while the TV plays in the back ground. 
I really don't watch that much TV normally.  I will sit and watch a movie lots of nights before bed.  But with this very sedetary lifestyle I have been living the last little while, the TV seems to go hand in hand.

Even though I am rotting in front of the idiot box, I am trying to make good choices in what I am watching.  Some of my current obsessions are:

I <3 Cesar
The Dog Whisperer:  I heart Cesar Millan.  First, he is cute!  Maybe I am the only one that thinks that,  but he is.  I love his mentality, about being a pack leader and leading through calm, assertive energy.  When you listen to his message, it plays into many portions of your life.  It is about living in the moment, getting rid of useless baggage, being happy with what you have, and living your life.  Not a bad message, whether you are a person or a dog.

Pitbulls and Parollees: These people are crazy.  Tia, who runs it, is a little trailer trash, but her heart is in the right place.  She tends to be overly dramatic, and she reminds me alot of people I know.  It is interesting though, on how she manages the dogs and the convicts.  Her daughters are interesting, especially the one with the big neck tattoo.  I am judging!!  :)

Tia is a bad ass.
River Monsters:  This has a really cool premise.  This guy is an extreme angler, and he goes all over looking for weird and violent things living in rivers allover the world. One of the cool ones was after river sharks in Aftica, and after a monster in the lake in Alaska.  It plays to my love of things supernatural and weird.  And also fishing.

Hoarders: this show just makes me feel better about my own life.  I feel clean and wholesome and sane afer I watch this show.

Animal Hoarders: at least there is no human poop in a bag on this show.  Just animal crap everywhere.

River Monsters
The Haunted: it is ghost stories that impact and often revolve around animals.

Basically, I watch the Natural Geographic Channel, Discover, A&E (but I miss American Justice) and Animal Planet.  Geoff makes fun of me constantly, because of the shows that I watch.  I don't care though, they make happy, and I learn lots.  I do watch other shows- like Ice Pilots and Alaska State Troopers and Wild Justice- but just not as regularily as I watch the others. 

I think you guys probably see a trend.  I am living a life vicariously through these shows.  I can live in the rough, up North.  I can be surrounded by animals, and nature.  It's just weird that I watch these shows and crave this life, while I am working 12 -14 hour days, working for a global corporation.

If you had asked me when I was 9, I never would have imagined that I would end up where I am.  I would have talked about animals and trees.  Not numbers and computers.

Oh well.  Gotta go, Hooked Again: Monster Fish is starting at 10. :)  Can't miss that.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "Nat. Geo".

Sunday, April 3, 2011

Right now...

Right now...

I can hear my son humming.  That is his stim, and he does it when he is nervous, scared, anxious.  But this is his happy hum.  He is content and doing what he loves.

Right now...

My dog is running down the stairs.  The weather is beautiful and he wants to be outside.  He stays out for hours at a time, laying on the steps of the side porch, nose to the wind- sniffing, sniffing. He, along with so much else of my life, is being neglected and having to wait.  I think he understands, and even if he doesn't, he forgives.

Right now...

There is a bouquet of flowers on my counter top.  It smells like spring.  I can smell the hyacinth up here in my room.  It is my favorite flower scent, followed closely by lilacs and sweet peas.  The smell of hyacinth sends a shot through to my heart, that makes me happy and content.  I am thrilled to have them in my home.

Right now..

My daughter just came in my room, making her small noises and she talks to herself.  She is climbing up the side of the bed, to tuck herself in beside me.  She is warm and sticky and smells like chocolate.  She must have found a cookie.  She is tired and yawns hugely.  She is laying on my legs, sleepy and soft.  

Right now...

My husband is downstairs.  I don't know what he is doing.  It is where he spends most of his nights, but now, it makes me worry..just a little.  He will be up soon, after I put the kids to bed.  We can talk a bit before sleep, and share some of our day. It can be hard, to not see each other for most of the day, and to try and catch up in only a few minutes.  If anything changes, I am hoping we will be closer, that we can have more meaning between us.  It's 13 years for us this year.  That is a long time for contentment to set in.  For complacency.  For routine.  We strive against it, when we think of it. But there is so much else to think about.

Right now...

I am laying on my bed, watching TV.  I watched TV all day.  It was wonderful.  I played with my kids.  We read stories.  We had cookies and milk.  I brushed Sawyer's hair and cut Sebastian's.  I am going to have a bath, and have a glass of wine, after I put the kids to bed.  I will go to sleep early, and try to think good, hopeful, powerful thoughts.  I will say my prayers.

Right now...

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "now".

Going Grey

Ok, so I am trying to distract myself and stay positive right now...so you are likely to see a bunch of crazy posts and topics from me. 

So, right now, I am super poor, and I count on being that way for at least the immediate future.  Because of this, at least partly, my roots are growing in.  I haven't had roots this long in ages.  I really didn't realize how grey my hair is.  It is really, REALLY grey. 

So, I am thinking that I might grow in the grey.  My dad went silver by his mid forties, and was nicely salt and pepper before that. 

I am just thinking - Why fight nature?  I would enhance the grey, bring it in and do it nicely.  But why not??

However, in order to do the grey right, and not just look like an idiot with huge roots that is too cheap to die her hair, I might have to go short. 

Anyway...that's what I am thinking about.  Maybe going grey.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "au naturel".

Why I am grateful

- The sun is out, and I heard birds when I woke up this morning
- Geoff is going to buy me new Magic Erasers on his way home from the hospital
- I am watching "13 going on 30"  and it's got Mark Ruffalo in it
- My kitchen smells like fresh baked bread and hyacinths.  My favorite smells
- I have 3 bottles of fruity wine in the fridge
- My shampoo smells like strawberries
- I only have 2 baskets of laundry that need to be put away
- My work husband, Bill, is coming back.  Haven't seen him in forever.
- Geoff got to sleep in today, and the dark circles under his eyes weren't as bad.
- Sawyer peed in the potty 4 times yesterday
- "Jesse's Girl" is on the radio
- My dog is sleeping beside me, heavy and warm
- My puppy is 19 days old...almost 3 weeks
- I shaved my legs today
- I am going to give Sebastian a hair cut, and he has promised to sit still.
- I have good friends that care and aren't afraid to tell me that. 
- I am surrounded by family.  They love me, and drive me crazy, and are the best thing in my life.
- I will probably get a good tax return this year.
- It will be summer soon. 
- I have a job. 
- I just uploaded 1000 new books to my Kindle.
- I am going to have left over Chinese for lunch.  I will have an awesome dinner too. (don't know what, but it will be awesome).
- I have ice in my glass of pop.

Autism Month

April is Autism Month.  I didn't write this, but it's pretty accurate.

Thanks to everyone that cares. :) You know who you are.

The Misunderstood Child

I  am the child that looks healthy and fine.
I was born with ten fingers and toes.
But something is different, somewhere in my mind,
And what it is, nobody knows.

I am the child that struggles in school,
Though they say that I'm perfectly smart.
They tell me I'm lazy -- can learn if I try --
But I don't seem to know where to start.

I am the child that won't wear the clothes
Which hurt me or bother my feet.
I dread sudden noises, can't handle most smells,
And tastes -- there are few foods I'll eat.

I am the child that can't catch the ball
And runs with an awkward gait.
I am the one chosen last on the team
And I cringe as I stand there and wait.

I am the child with whom no one will play --
The one that gets bullied and teased.
I try to fit in and I want to be liked,
But nothing I do seems to please.

I am the child that tantrums and freaks
Over things that seem petty and trite.
You'll never know how I panic inside,
When I'm lost in my anger and fright.

I am the child that fidgets and squirms
Though I'm told to sit still and be good.
Do you think that I choose to be out of control?
Don't you know that I would if I could?

I am the child with the broken heart
Though I act like I don't really care.
Perhaps there's a reason God made me this way --
Some message he sent me to share.

For I am the child that needs to be loved
And accepted and valued too.
I am the child that is misunderstood.
I am different - but look just like you.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

I'm back.

Hey everyone.  I know, I know, it's been a while.  I apologize.  But most of you know what has been going on, and how I have been spending my time.

First and foremost, my father-in-law, Kit.  He's ill, very ill.  It was a shock to (most) everyone, and we are all trying to deal with the fall out.  He is still in the hospital, and they are still doing tests, to try and figure out the full extent of his cancer, and then determine how best to proceed. 

Of course, it has been absolutely horrible.  So scary and intimidating and heartbreaking.  It has been so hard on his kids and wife.  It is hard for his brothers and sisters and their wives and husbands and kids, and nieces and nephews and grandkids and friends and acquaintances.  And me. 

Kit and I have always gotten along well.  He makes me laugh in alot of ways.  I see so much of him in Geoff- the dramatic pauses in story telling, the drawn out explanations, the expanse of useless information stored in his brain.  The love for his family both near and far, and his love of life.  He and I have always been able to talk about books and movies, and travel and work, and prety much anything.

The other night, Sunday, the day all of our lives changed forever.  As we were leaving at the end of a long day, I hugged him.  He called me "his other daughter."  That meant so much.  He said he loved me.  I told him not to leave us, we still need him here. 

I have been trying to talk to the kids, to explain what is happening with Grandpa.  To prepare them for what may come.  One of Sebastian's first questions was "what do we do?"  I told him that we can pray.  So every night, after our regular nightly prayer, he says a prayer for Grandpa.  To help him feel better, and to be happy, and to keep him with us, as long as he can.  Trying to explain life and death and the finality of everything to a 9 year old with autism is a never-ending process. As hard as it was to see Gage and Roan, sobbing and clinging to their Grandpa, Geoff and I was jealous of that.  Sebastian doesn't get this.  We keep talking, and trying to make him understand.  It will be a process in repeating and consistancy.  And repeating.  And repeating.  *sigh*  I know it's hard on Geoff, to talk about his dad, so I do it. 

I have also gone back to work.  I was off on Monday, because I was so physically and mentally exhausted, I couldn't function.  But on Tuesday, it was buisness as usual.  I knew it would be hard.  It is so difficult to be there, working and trying to meet all my deadlines (which are getting more and more agressive), and to be professional and positive and social.  All I want to do is be home or at the hospital, with family.  I feel overwhelming guilt.  One of the hardest things is to realize that life doesn't stop.  It keeps going.  I still have to give the kids' baths, and cook dinner.   I have to grocery shop and pay bills.  I have to get my taxes ready, and work on my budget.  I have to walk the dog and clean the house.  And I feel guilty, each and every time I do something normal. 


Another thing going on is Sebastian is in therapy full time (well, as full as we can handle).  He goes 3 half days a week, plus another hour a week of OT.  He has been doing really well.  He really seems to like the therapy, he has alot of fun, and always comes out smiling and bouncy.  We have started to see some differences.  Yesterday, he watched the BEE movie at school.  Last night, on a drive, he started telling me about the movie.  It was pretty basic, but it was probably the first time he has every really told me about a movie, and not just a single scene or a person.  What a breakthrough.  He has been doing pretty well keeping his room clean, and has been getting dressed by himself.  He can open his own milk container and pour a drink and put the straw in his juice box.  These all probably seem like little things, but to us, they are huge.  He is 9, so it is difficult for him to change.  The fact that after only 3 weeks he is making improvements...that makes it worth every single cent.

The last big part of my life right now is work.  Oh, work.  The backlog we are working is still there.  We are in the final stretch, with our deadline of April 21.  So it is 3 more weeks of overtime and long days and nights.  Then, hopefully, a break.   Me and the entire team are frigging exhausted.  But everyone is doing great.  Thursday, one of the team members pulled me aside and told me how proud she was of me.  She listed off all of these amazing things that she thought about me.  It was such a surprise and such a nice thing to do, and at exactly the right minute.  I had a couple of pep talks that day, from the Big Big Boss Man, to my peers.  To all of you that are holding me up right now, thank you.  It means more than you will ever know.  You guys are part of the reason that I can get up in the morning and function all day long.  <3 <3

I had applied for a new job, but didn't get it.  I apparently had a really strong interview, but one of my answers wasn't as strong as it could have been.  I knew when I was answering that it was a crappy answer.  Good to learn from.  I know that everything happens for a reason.  So, for the time being, I am in limbo, and will just keep on keeping on.  I just do my job, and do it the best I can.

So, speaking of work, I have to get down to it.  It's 2pm, and time to work.  Wish me luck.

Thanks everyone, it's good to be back.

Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "new beginnings, never giving up."