Geoff has been blogging and posting pictures again, after a LOOOOOOOONG hiatus.
Check them out. They are good. I really like the carnival ones and the fireworks. The most recent ones...well, I was 18.2 lbs heavier in them than I am now, so hopefully, I look a bit better now. But the kid I am with is really cute. ;)
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "new posts on an old blog".
Monday, May 28, 2012
Alley Oop
This song reminds me of my dad.
When we were kids, we took car rides all the time. I remember being really young, and riding around in the red pickup truck my dad used to have. It had a stick shift on the floor that he used to sometimes let me change for him. I am pretty sure the radio in it was strictly AM. We would listen to golden oldies, all the hits from the 50's and 60's. I can still sing most of them, to this day.
There were other rides and other cars. But the music stayed pretty much the same. As we got older, we would get to share in the music and Adam and I would bring our tapes- Motley Crue, Twisted Sister and others, and in between Rocking Robin and Johnny Horton, we would get to listen to them.
Geoff and the kids and I go to Wimpy's Diner for dinner once or twice a month. They play alot of the music that my dad would play for us way back then. And every time this song comes on the juke, I tell the kids that this is Papa's song.
This one's for you, Dad. :)
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "never too old for rock and roll".
Growing Up
Tonight, Sawyer wanted to say her bedtime prayers all by herself. When I went in to tuck her in and say good night, she yelled, at the top of her lungs, at me to stop and wait. Then she serenely sat on her bed, closed her eyes, put her hands together (I have no idea who taught her to do that) and said her prayers perfectly and quietly. It was a beautiful image and a moment I will always remember.
When she was done, she screamed at me again, that I could come in now.
She is killing me.
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "now what?"
When she was done, she screamed at me again, that I could come in now.
She is killing me.
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "now what?"
Adjusting
The last couple of days have centred alot around adjusting. First, I was trying to wrap my head around the fact that someone had reported me as "abusive" on our photography blog. Through a Cracked Lens, our horror one- that wouldn't have surprised me at all! We deserve it and would welcome it! However this was on our special needs/children and family portraits blog, so it came out of left field.
My sister-in-law had a good idea on what it could have been, and since it was better than anything I could come up with, we did the minor edits and have moved on. In fact, we are doing a vendor table at the Cycle for Autism event this Saturday, on Merritt Island in Welland. Yes, this is the same group whose page had our links removed. But I know it wasn't actually the group, just a disgruntled someone that belongs on the page. I have decided to try and not hold a grudge and adjust my thinking. Move forward. The exposure can only help us, so I hope it's a good day.
Of course, our big adjustment is the loss of Morph yesterday. After he was gone, Geoff, especially, spent much of the afternoon cleaning away the last traces of Morph. Morph had been peeing in the hallway downstairs, and had had accidents all over. Geoff steamcleaned the carpets and bleached the floors. He took all the litterboxes out (we had 3) and essentially removed all traces of Morph. It bothered me a little and I told him that we didn't have to erase him from our lives all in one day. He found a picture of Morph and Boo Radley, one of our other cats, and gave it to Sawyer to keep near her. I think that was his apology. But I do have to admit, the basement smells much better.
I feel a bit of guilt over this next statement, but it does feel a bit like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders with Morph passing on. I worried so much about him, getting him his shots, making sure he ate, trying to get him to drink, is he using the litter, are the kids bugging him, how are his scratches doing, etc, etc, etc. Since about last November, I have half expected to find him dead, somewhere in the house (not that he was that bad, it was just a fear of mine.) And now that he's gone, I don't have that pressure on me anymore. I miss him like crazy, but I don't miss that.
I was talking about him to my boss today. He had just put his own dog down, about 2 or 3 months ago, so he knows what it's about. And we talked about how neither of us wanted to make "that decision". I probably could have put Morph down a week or 2, or even a month ago. Geoff and I talked about it lots of times over the years, especially when he was peeing on everything in sight. But I couldn't do it. I didn't want to make the decision that today was his last day to live. Until the very end, when the decision was essentially out of my hands, and I knew in my heart that it was the right and humane thing to do, I couldn't do it. I didn't feel like it was my decision to make. He completely understood. He felt the same way. Somehow, that make me feel better. I thought I was a bad pet owner, because I had let Morphie live so long. Now I know, I was a good pet mom. :)
Another big adjustment is that I have a new boss at work. This is his 2nd week with us. I had worked with him before, on a previous client. While we didn't always see eye to eye before, I did respect him. He stood up for what he believed in and for his team. He never got pushed around. He was smart and knew his processes cold. He is exact opposite of the nightmare I am currently stuck with (who is supposed to be gone by the end of June, but seems to have checked out early, if you catch my drift. Very little is getting done in that office now.) I have enjoyed my interactions with him so far, and for the first time in a really, REALLY long time, I am feeling an emotion at work that I thought was completely dead.
Hope.
I am optimistic about the future. Sure, I worry that it might be too little, too late. There has been a LOT of damage done, God only knows how much. There are still some sketchy decisions being made, that I really don't understand the motivations behind (granted, I am also not privy to all the information, so I am speculating in the dark here). But, I think bring this new guy on board is one of the smartest decisions made there in a good long time. Like I said, I am adjusting, and happy to do it.
On the weightloss front, I am almost up to 55 lbs. Hooray! I had stalled for a while there- part of it was a natural plateau, and part of it was my motivation. It has been 16 weeks..probably the longest I have ever stuck with any kind of program. And I am missing things. Oh yeah, I have bitched about it before, but I miss pizza and chicken wings and fried foods and pop and cheese and sauces and pasta. I miss chocolate and candy and iced tea. I miss mayo and white bread with peanut butter and jam.
But I can do up my motorcycle boots with no problem. :) They are my favorites. They are big and clunky and ugly, but I don't care. They are so comfy and awesome. They have 2 zippers running up the front. I used to do up one of the zippers all the way, and the other gapped at the top, where it wouldn't fit around my calf. Then, after a while, I could get it done up all the way, but it was pretty tight, and at the end of the day, the creases in the leather would leave half inch grooves carved into my legs, that took hours to disappear. And now...well, now, they are loose. They do up so easily.
It's the little things like that that I love adjusting too.
I am sure there is more, but for now, the littles are both still popping out of bed. Time to rustle them down again.
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "new can be good".
My sister-in-law had a good idea on what it could have been, and since it was better than anything I could come up with, we did the minor edits and have moved on. In fact, we are doing a vendor table at the Cycle for Autism event this Saturday, on Merritt Island in Welland. Yes, this is the same group whose page had our links removed. But I know it wasn't actually the group, just a disgruntled someone that belongs on the page. I have decided to try and not hold a grudge and adjust my thinking. Move forward. The exposure can only help us, so I hope it's a good day.
Of course, our big adjustment is the loss of Morph yesterday. After he was gone, Geoff, especially, spent much of the afternoon cleaning away the last traces of Morph. Morph had been peeing in the hallway downstairs, and had had accidents all over. Geoff steamcleaned the carpets and bleached the floors. He took all the litterboxes out (we had 3) and essentially removed all traces of Morph. It bothered me a little and I told him that we didn't have to erase him from our lives all in one day. He found a picture of Morph and Boo Radley, one of our other cats, and gave it to Sawyer to keep near her. I think that was his apology. But I do have to admit, the basement smells much better.
I feel a bit of guilt over this next statement, but it does feel a bit like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders with Morph passing on. I worried so much about him, getting him his shots, making sure he ate, trying to get him to drink, is he using the litter, are the kids bugging him, how are his scratches doing, etc, etc, etc. Since about last November, I have half expected to find him dead, somewhere in the house (not that he was that bad, it was just a fear of mine.) And now that he's gone, I don't have that pressure on me anymore. I miss him like crazy, but I don't miss that.
I was talking about him to my boss today. He had just put his own dog down, about 2 or 3 months ago, so he knows what it's about. And we talked about how neither of us wanted to make "that decision". I probably could have put Morph down a week or 2, or even a month ago. Geoff and I talked about it lots of times over the years, especially when he was peeing on everything in sight. But I couldn't do it. I didn't want to make the decision that today was his last day to live. Until the very end, when the decision was essentially out of my hands, and I knew in my heart that it was the right and humane thing to do, I couldn't do it. I didn't feel like it was my decision to make. He completely understood. He felt the same way. Somehow, that make me feel better. I thought I was a bad pet owner, because I had let Morphie live so long. Now I know, I was a good pet mom. :)
Another big adjustment is that I have a new boss at work. This is his 2nd week with us. I had worked with him before, on a previous client. While we didn't always see eye to eye before, I did respect him. He stood up for what he believed in and for his team. He never got pushed around. He was smart and knew his processes cold. He is exact opposite of the nightmare I am currently stuck with (who is supposed to be gone by the end of June, but seems to have checked out early, if you catch my drift. Very little is getting done in that office now.) I have enjoyed my interactions with him so far, and for the first time in a really, REALLY long time, I am feeling an emotion at work that I thought was completely dead.
Hope.
I am optimistic about the future. Sure, I worry that it might be too little, too late. There has been a LOT of damage done, God only knows how much. There are still some sketchy decisions being made, that I really don't understand the motivations behind (granted, I am also not privy to all the information, so I am speculating in the dark here). But, I think bring this new guy on board is one of the smartest decisions made there in a good long time. Like I said, I am adjusting, and happy to do it.
On the weightloss front, I am almost up to 55 lbs. Hooray! I had stalled for a while there- part of it was a natural plateau, and part of it was my motivation. It has been 16 weeks..probably the longest I have ever stuck with any kind of program. And I am missing things. Oh yeah, I have bitched about it before, but I miss pizza and chicken wings and fried foods and pop and cheese and sauces and pasta. I miss chocolate and candy and iced tea. I miss mayo and white bread with peanut butter and jam.
But I can do up my motorcycle boots with no problem. :) They are my favorites. They are big and clunky and ugly, but I don't care. They are so comfy and awesome. They have 2 zippers running up the front. I used to do up one of the zippers all the way, and the other gapped at the top, where it wouldn't fit around my calf. Then, after a while, I could get it done up all the way, but it was pretty tight, and at the end of the day, the creases in the leather would leave half inch grooves carved into my legs, that took hours to disappear. And now...well, now, they are loose. They do up so easily.
It's the little things like that that I love adjusting too.
I am sure there is more, but for now, the littles are both still popping out of bed. Time to rustle them down again.
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "new can be good".
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Morphie
Morpheus died today.
Even though I knew it was coming, and coming fast, it still hit me like a ton of bricks. I have had a migraine for hours, from crying. I think it was because I was trying so hard to keep him alive, and it feels like I failed. Like I failed him. And I feel awful.
It all started last night. For a couple of days now, we have noticed that he hasn't been using the litterbox as much, and he wasn't moving around as much. He pretty much stayed under our bed, until I dragged him out to eat and for his twice daily injections. I started putting a bowl of water under the bed, so that he wouldn't dehydrate, because I was worried about that. He perked up a bit and started eating a bit more, and started roaming a bit at night, once the house was quiet and the kids were in bed.
Then last night, Geoff went out for a walk, and Sawyer and I were laying on my bed, watching a video before bedtime. Sebastian was already asleep. All of a sudden, we heard a god-awful yowl come from under the bed. Sawyer jumped and looked scared. It was really loud and really awful sounding. I scurried off the end of the bed, and pulled the bed skirt up to look for him, just as he dragged himself out. And I mean, literally dragged. It didn't look like he could move his back legs at all. He kept on yowling, and pulling himself along with his front feet. What I didn't know at the time, but I suspect now, was that he had just had a seizure. He crawled his way straight into the corner, like he didn't know where he was going. His head dropped to the carpet and he just laid there. I thought he had just died in front of me.
I bent down, and tentatively touched his back. I could see that he was breathing. I scooped him up in my arms and ran for the bathroom. I threw a towel down in the tub and placed him in there. By now, he was coming around, and starting to look at me. I ran the cold water and filled a cup that we have there, for washing the kids' hair. I tapped my fingers in it, and started putting drops of water around his mouth, hoping to get him to drink. His head was moving on his neck in a very strange way, very robotic and jerky. After a few minutes, he seemed to clear up a bit, and started to drink. He meowed at me, this time, a very normal meow. I was crying and dripping all over him.
I heard Geoff come in the front door, and Sawyer ran down to meet him to tell him something was wrong with Morphie. He came up and I told him what happened. Morph seemed more relaxed now, so I left the water by his head, turned off the light and left him to rest.
Thus began a long night of worry. About an hour later, when I went in to check on him, I again thought he was dead. I could see his side moving, so shallow, but he was completely non-responsive. I thought then (silly me) that the end was coming soon. Geoff had said his goodbyes, so I did too. I told him that I was sorry I didn't do better by him. I was sorry I couldn't make him better. I said I hoped he had enjoyed living with us, and being in our family. I told him that I would miss him, and that we would all remember him. I told him everything was ok, and he could rest and go to sleep.
But still, that crazy cat held on. At one point, I heard strange noises coming from the bathroom. I thought he was trying to climb out of the tub. I rushed in and got to experience his seizure. It was horrible. At the end, he was completely dazed and non responsive again. It seemed to drain every ounce of energy out of him. I sat with him after for a long time, cleaning the foam off his face (it was flecked with red) and stroking his back. And again, after a while, he came out of his daze, started to look around, and actually see me. He cried again, which broke my heart. I fed him more water, and even tried to tempt him with cat treats and food. He did little more than sniff it.
He seized at least 3 more times. I was there for all but the last one. After the last one, at about 2am, I had found him off the towel, laying in an awkward position. I straightened his towel, picked him up and placed him back in his soft warm spot. I stayed and talked and petted and cried. Eventually, I went to bed and to sleep.
As soon as I woke up this morning, my first thought was "Please, let him be dead." I know that sounds awful, but my real hope was that he had just gone to sleep in the night and passed away. I didn't want it to stretch out and be horrible for him.
When I went to check, he was in pretty much the exact same spot that I had laid him in last night. I knew he hadn't had anymore seizures, but I also knew he was almost done. Again, I spent some time with him, and then went to look up the hours of operation for the Humane Society. I knew we had to help him move on. He wasn't doing it on his own, and it wasn't right for him to suffer any more.
We had to wait an hour or so for the H.S to open up. I used the time to check on him a couple more times and to start to talk to the kids about what was happening. Neither of them really followed the conversation very well.
Finally, 11am rolled around. I called the H.S., and asked the kid that answered the phone if they could help. I cried through the whole conversation, so I am surprised he understood me. But he did and he was surprisingly empathetic with me.
I went to tell Geoff, who was outside with the kids about the price and that they were expecting us. He looked at me and said "Can you take him?" I shook my head. I could barely get through the conversation, I couldn't take him. I had done everything I could for this cat for the last 4 months, I couldn't be there for the end. Geoff nodded and got up.
I got the cat carrier and took it to the bathroom. My plan was to scoop Morph up, towel and all, and put him in. But the towel was not nice by now, so, for the last time, I picked up my Morphie. I put him in the carrier, and petted him. I sobbed and sobbed, because it was horrible and awful and sucked. We carried him to the kitchen, then called the kids in to say goodbye.
Sawyer took one look at me, and the carrier on the counter and got a worried look on her face. She wanted to pet him, so we lifted it down and let her. She was gentle and sweet, and said her goodbyes. She cried when she saw me cry. She asked where he was going, and when he was coming back, even though she knew the answer. She said she missed him, and she wanted her kitty. It was heartbreaking and horrible. Even Sebastian gave him some pats and said he was sorry he was sick.
Geoff left. I took the kids outside, still leaking. Sawyer would jump on the trampoline, and then all of a sudden she would sit down and burst into tears and say that she missed her kitty. It didn't make anything easier for me.
Eventually, Geoff came home. It was all over. The Humane Society takes care of cremation and everything, so I don't have anything to bury. I can't bury him with his brothers. In a way it's a relief, I was dreading digging the grave. In another, it breaks my heart.
So, I have spent a quiet day at home. We are picking up all the remnants of him, left all over the house. We have been cleaning up the smells and mess he left behind.
I have a framed picture of each of my lost kitties on the fireplace. Tomorrow, I will put his picture up there. Today, I am just too tired and too sad.
Bye, Morphie. Miss you.
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "never forget you.".
Even though I knew it was coming, and coming fast, it still hit me like a ton of bricks. I have had a migraine for hours, from crying. I think it was because I was trying so hard to keep him alive, and it feels like I failed. Like I failed him. And I feel awful.
It all started last night. For a couple of days now, we have noticed that he hasn't been using the litterbox as much, and he wasn't moving around as much. He pretty much stayed under our bed, until I dragged him out to eat and for his twice daily injections. I started putting a bowl of water under the bed, so that he wouldn't dehydrate, because I was worried about that. He perked up a bit and started eating a bit more, and started roaming a bit at night, once the house was quiet and the kids were in bed.
Then last night, Geoff went out for a walk, and Sawyer and I were laying on my bed, watching a video before bedtime. Sebastian was already asleep. All of a sudden, we heard a god-awful yowl come from under the bed. Sawyer jumped and looked scared. It was really loud and really awful sounding. I scurried off the end of the bed, and pulled the bed skirt up to look for him, just as he dragged himself out. And I mean, literally dragged. It didn't look like he could move his back legs at all. He kept on yowling, and pulling himself along with his front feet. What I didn't know at the time, but I suspect now, was that he had just had a seizure. He crawled his way straight into the corner, like he didn't know where he was going. His head dropped to the carpet and he just laid there. I thought he had just died in front of me.
I bent down, and tentatively touched his back. I could see that he was breathing. I scooped him up in my arms and ran for the bathroom. I threw a towel down in the tub and placed him in there. By now, he was coming around, and starting to look at me. I ran the cold water and filled a cup that we have there, for washing the kids' hair. I tapped my fingers in it, and started putting drops of water around his mouth, hoping to get him to drink. His head was moving on his neck in a very strange way, very robotic and jerky. After a few minutes, he seemed to clear up a bit, and started to drink. He meowed at me, this time, a very normal meow. I was crying and dripping all over him.
I heard Geoff come in the front door, and Sawyer ran down to meet him to tell him something was wrong with Morphie. He came up and I told him what happened. Morph seemed more relaxed now, so I left the water by his head, turned off the light and left him to rest.
Thus began a long night of worry. About an hour later, when I went in to check on him, I again thought he was dead. I could see his side moving, so shallow, but he was completely non-responsive. I thought then (silly me) that the end was coming soon. Geoff had said his goodbyes, so I did too. I told him that I was sorry I didn't do better by him. I was sorry I couldn't make him better. I said I hoped he had enjoyed living with us, and being in our family. I told him that I would miss him, and that we would all remember him. I told him everything was ok, and he could rest and go to sleep.
But still, that crazy cat held on. At one point, I heard strange noises coming from the bathroom. I thought he was trying to climb out of the tub. I rushed in and got to experience his seizure. It was horrible. At the end, he was completely dazed and non responsive again. It seemed to drain every ounce of energy out of him. I sat with him after for a long time, cleaning the foam off his face (it was flecked with red) and stroking his back. And again, after a while, he came out of his daze, started to look around, and actually see me. He cried again, which broke my heart. I fed him more water, and even tried to tempt him with cat treats and food. He did little more than sniff it.
He seized at least 3 more times. I was there for all but the last one. After the last one, at about 2am, I had found him off the towel, laying in an awkward position. I straightened his towel, picked him up and placed him back in his soft warm spot. I stayed and talked and petted and cried. Eventually, I went to bed and to sleep.
As soon as I woke up this morning, my first thought was "Please, let him be dead." I know that sounds awful, but my real hope was that he had just gone to sleep in the night and passed away. I didn't want it to stretch out and be horrible for him.
When I went to check, he was in pretty much the exact same spot that I had laid him in last night. I knew he hadn't had anymore seizures, but I also knew he was almost done. Again, I spent some time with him, and then went to look up the hours of operation for the Humane Society. I knew we had to help him move on. He wasn't doing it on his own, and it wasn't right for him to suffer any more.
We had to wait an hour or so for the H.S to open up. I used the time to check on him a couple more times and to start to talk to the kids about what was happening. Neither of them really followed the conversation very well.
Finally, 11am rolled around. I called the H.S., and asked the kid that answered the phone if they could help. I cried through the whole conversation, so I am surprised he understood me. But he did and he was surprisingly empathetic with me.
I went to tell Geoff, who was outside with the kids about the price and that they were expecting us. He looked at me and said "Can you take him?" I shook my head. I could barely get through the conversation, I couldn't take him. I had done everything I could for this cat for the last 4 months, I couldn't be there for the end. Geoff nodded and got up.
I got the cat carrier and took it to the bathroom. My plan was to scoop Morph up, towel and all, and put him in. But the towel was not nice by now, so, for the last time, I picked up my Morphie. I put him in the carrier, and petted him. I sobbed and sobbed, because it was horrible and awful and sucked. We carried him to the kitchen, then called the kids in to say goodbye.
Sawyer took one look at me, and the carrier on the counter and got a worried look on her face. She wanted to pet him, so we lifted it down and let her. She was gentle and sweet, and said her goodbyes. She cried when she saw me cry. She asked where he was going, and when he was coming back, even though she knew the answer. She said she missed him, and she wanted her kitty. It was heartbreaking and horrible. Even Sebastian gave him some pats and said he was sorry he was sick.
Geoff left. I took the kids outside, still leaking. Sawyer would jump on the trampoline, and then all of a sudden she would sit down and burst into tears and say that she missed her kitty. It didn't make anything easier for me.
Eventually, Geoff came home. It was all over. The Humane Society takes care of cremation and everything, so I don't have anything to bury. I can't bury him with his brothers. In a way it's a relief, I was dreading digging the grave. In another, it breaks my heart.
So, I have spent a quiet day at home. We are picking up all the remnants of him, left all over the house. We have been cleaning up the smells and mess he left behind.
I have a framed picture of each of my lost kitties on the fireplace. Tomorrow, I will put his picture up there. Today, I am just too tired and too sad.
Bye, Morphie. Miss you.
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "never forget you.".
Saturday, May 26, 2012
Drama
I strongly dislike drama in my life.
I love harmony. I love the status quo. I like waking up and knowing what's in store for me today. I like being in control.
That being said, I am an adult and I understand that drama, change and pessimism are a part of life. I get it. I just don't like it.
I struggle with anxiety. I have always been a worrier. I struggle with change, and will stay up late, going over and over in my mind what the change will be like, what I will do or say, how I think others will react. Worry is my co-pilot in life. I guess I know where Sebastian gets his anxiety issues from.
So, today, when I get an email from my mom, in 24 point font, in screaming red letters that a link I posted to Facebook has been reported abusive, gee...that anxiety kicks in full blast. When she follows up with a phone call to Geoff for the same thing, my stomach is now in knots.
Apparently someone on the Autism Ontario page reported one of the links to our TaCL Portraits blog (the pictures we do of special needs kids) as abusive, so all the links have been pulled off the page. I went back through and deleted all the actual posts from the last couple of months. No big deal, done in one.
But now, in the pit of my stomach, I have that ball of nervousness and worry. What did I say and do? Which post was it in particular that offended people? Do people think I am a phoney, or making fun of special needs people?
And the other sinking feeling is that I have tanked again. TaCL was supposed to be my good idea. Geoff was supposed to be working on it, making it better, improving and going forward. And now...well...now is different.
Something silly and stupid like this is all it takes to shake my confidence. It's not like it was going anywhere, or doing anything big (Geoff updated the blog once in 3 weeks, and even then, it wasn't perfect and needed more work.) The last 4 jobs we have done were freebies. So yeah, we were taking the slow way to nowhere.
But still, it would have been nice to continue without the drama. *sigh* I think it's just an off day today. I will blame the head cold and hope everything, including my attitude gets better tomorrow.
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "nowhere fast".
I love harmony. I love the status quo. I like waking up and knowing what's in store for me today. I like being in control.
That being said, I am an adult and I understand that drama, change and pessimism are a part of life. I get it. I just don't like it.
I struggle with anxiety. I have always been a worrier. I struggle with change, and will stay up late, going over and over in my mind what the change will be like, what I will do or say, how I think others will react. Worry is my co-pilot in life. I guess I know where Sebastian gets his anxiety issues from.
So, today, when I get an email from my mom, in 24 point font, in screaming red letters that a link I posted to Facebook has been reported abusive, gee...that anxiety kicks in full blast. When she follows up with a phone call to Geoff for the same thing, my stomach is now in knots.
Apparently someone on the Autism Ontario page reported one of the links to our TaCL Portraits blog (the pictures we do of special needs kids) as abusive, so all the links have been pulled off the page. I went back through and deleted all the actual posts from the last couple of months. No big deal, done in one.
But now, in the pit of my stomach, I have that ball of nervousness and worry. What did I say and do? Which post was it in particular that offended people? Do people think I am a phoney, or making fun of special needs people?
And the other sinking feeling is that I have tanked again. TaCL was supposed to be my good idea. Geoff was supposed to be working on it, making it better, improving and going forward. And now...well...now is different.
Something silly and stupid like this is all it takes to shake my confidence. It's not like it was going anywhere, or doing anything big (Geoff updated the blog once in 3 weeks, and even then, it wasn't perfect and needed more work.) The last 4 jobs we have done were freebies. So yeah, we were taking the slow way to nowhere.
But still, it would have been nice to continue without the drama. *sigh* I think it's just an off day today. I will blame the head cold and hope everything, including my attitude gets better tomorrow.
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "nowhere fast".
Friday, May 25, 2012
Fun Loving Summer
So, with the beautiful weather we have had lately, I think it is time to start my now annual tradition of my Summer To-Do List.
If you remember last year, I had a list of 50 things that I wanted to do during the summer. It really was great, for giving me ideas and helping me focus on what was really important to me. So, yep, I am gonna do it again.
1. Go camping with the kids.
2. See an outdoor concert.
3. Sit on a patio and have beers (or some diet approved equivalent)
4. Take Axle to our new Niagara Falls dog park, once it opens.
5. Have a picnic with the kids.
6. Go to the beach.
7. Get a sunburn and freckles.
8. Make salsa and tomato sauce.
9. Get a pool.
10. Paint the bathroom and start the redo.
11. Work on the TaCL Portraits and generate some business.
12. Go to carnivals, play bingo, win prizes.
13. Go to the drive-in with the kidlets.
14. Make a trip to the zoo.
15. Go fishing.
16. Have a big family BBQ.
17. Celebrate Geoff's 40th, however he wants. It might not be big, or what I really wanted, but hopefully he will love it.
18. Wash the cars.
19. Pick flowers and keep them in the house.
20. Keep the house clean and tidy. Start to organize.
21. Get my taxes done. Bech.
22. Finish decorating my bedroom. Figure out what is going on with the closet.
23. Work on the front hallway.
24. Do my homemade crafts for everyone on my list.
25. Knit like the wind.
26. Make and send the baby gift for Claire's baby.
27. Reconnect with old friends. I have some in mind.
28. Have a blast at Bruce in August.
29. Get a pedicure.
30. Get my hair done.
31. Go on a road trip, even just for a day.
32. Go to Sawyer's "concert" when she graduates from Nursery School.
33. Kitten??
34. Start learning more about photography and taking my own pictures.
35. Learn to sew. And actually make something. Something useful and pretty.
36. Keep losing weight, and hit my weight loss goal by the end of August. Or at least get pretty damn close.
37. Clean the basement. Like really clean it. For real.
38. New tattoo. Maybe.
39. Find fireflies.
40. Weed my gardens. Like more than once or twice.
41. Buy lemonade from a kid's stand.
42. Find a treasure at a garage sale.
43. Play hookie.
44. Golf 18 holes.
45. Watch the new Sons of Anarchy and True Blood.
46. Watch a thunderstorm.
47. Ride a horse.
48. Ride a roller coaster.
49. Blog. Lots and lots.
50. Do something new. Completely new. Not on this list, nothing expected. Big, little, doesn't matter. But it was new and awesome.
So, there it is, my summer 2012 list. Here's to a great year. :)
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "new summer, new list".
If you remember last year, I had a list of 50 things that I wanted to do during the summer. It really was great, for giving me ideas and helping me focus on what was really important to me. So, yep, I am gonna do it again.
1. Go camping with the kids.
2. See an outdoor concert.
3. Sit on a patio and have beers (or some diet approved equivalent)
4. Take Axle to our new Niagara Falls dog park, once it opens.
5. Have a picnic with the kids.
6. Go to the beach.
7. Get a sunburn and freckles.
8. Make salsa and tomato sauce.
9. Get a pool.
10. Paint the bathroom and start the redo.
11. Work on the TaCL Portraits and generate some business.
12. Go to carnivals, play bingo, win prizes.
13. Go to the drive-in with the kidlets.
14. Make a trip to the zoo.
15. Go fishing.
16. Have a big family BBQ.
17. Celebrate Geoff's 40th, however he wants. It might not be big, or what I really wanted, but hopefully he will love it.
18. Wash the cars.
19. Pick flowers and keep them in the house.
20. Keep the house clean and tidy. Start to organize.
21. Get my taxes done. Bech.
22. Finish decorating my bedroom. Figure out what is going on with the closet.
23. Work on the front hallway.
24. Do my homemade crafts for everyone on my list.
25. Knit like the wind.
26. Make and send the baby gift for Claire's baby.
27. Reconnect with old friends. I have some in mind.
28. Have a blast at Bruce in August.
29. Get a pedicure.
30. Get my hair done.
31. Go on a road trip, even just for a day.
32. Go to Sawyer's "concert" when she graduates from Nursery School.
33. Kitten??
34. Start learning more about photography and taking my own pictures.
35. Learn to sew. And actually make something. Something useful and pretty.
36. Keep losing weight, and hit my weight loss goal by the end of August. Or at least get pretty damn close.
37. Clean the basement. Like really clean it. For real.
38. New tattoo. Maybe.
39. Find fireflies.
40. Weed my gardens. Like more than once or twice.
41. Buy lemonade from a kid's stand.
42. Find a treasure at a garage sale.
43. Play hookie.
44. Golf 18 holes.
45. Watch the new Sons of Anarchy and True Blood.
46. Watch a thunderstorm.
47. Ride a horse.
48. Ride a roller coaster.
49. Blog. Lots and lots.
50. Do something new. Completely new. Not on this list, nothing expected. Big, little, doesn't matter. But it was new and awesome.
So, there it is, my summer 2012 list. Here's to a great year. :)
Rosie N. Grey
The N stands for "new summer, new list".
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