I'm Good

Your comments were not only much appreciated---they were amazing. I am so blessed to have such feeling, caring friends. I've had more time to read and stitch, and I'm still finding little things around the house that I'm piling up to give back to Moriah. Her daughter keeps me posted, and all is still well. "I'm good," as the kids all say. I'm in the habit of saying "I'm fine," but the English language is undergoing a big change. Grammar is changing, and I hate to sound like an old fogey, but it's not for the better.

I've had this adorable little trading card from my friend, Dianne Collins from PA for several days, but I've just now come to be in the mood to talk about it. It's just a little bright spot that came in a butterfly card when my days were dark. It's a form of scrapbooking or decoupage, of sorts. I wish my scan could do it justice; unfortunately, it misses the dimensional effects and the intricate cutting of the different little items. Clicking on the thumbnail does help a bit. I wrote to Dianne to inquire as to how she did it, and I'm wanting to try it. It's called a personal trading card in a group she's in who are doing them to suit the recipient. I'm just in love, and it set my mind working on all kinds of possibilities. I'm just disappointed in the absence of the beauty in my scan.

Meantime, I've finished a book I couldn't read while Moriah was here, and I have a Prairie Schooler yearly Santa nearly done. From that finish, I'll go on to finishing my SAL of Little House Needleworks, "Home of a Needleworker." I'm good.

Friday

Friday morning, my mother was looking at me in the waiting room and told me how bad I looked. I knew I looked like I felt. I just wanted to get this thing out of the way.

Actually, the procedure wasn't as bad as the prep the day before, but I was still dealing with the emptiness at home and the depression of the light of my life no longer there. I now knew that she had been a bit snappy with me to make it easier for me to see her go. If she only knew.....

The doctor came in to my recovery room and said my colon was "clean as a whistle;" no bad news. Somehow, it didn't matter. I felt nothing.

My husband got home from his job up North and showed up at the hospital to relieve my mom, who really needed to get away. She has RA and struggles with any position for long periods of time, and she doesn't like to leave my dad alone for long. They're both growing old and lean on each other. It's so sweet....

Richard brought me home and led me to my recliner so I could be comfortable and watch TV or sleep as I needed. I was in no physical pain at all.

Later that evening, during my haze of nothingness, my daughter called me and asked me what I had done with Moriah. She told me that she was like a different child; she is sweet, willing to help, asks what time she needs to be home; does her homework like the old days, etc. She said, "Mom, I just want to thank you for all you did to bring my little girl back to me like she used to be. You worked wonders with her, and I can't believe the difference!" I started crying and told her all I did was love her like I was loved.

My year was made in that phone call, and my depression lifted. I told Vanessa that she needed to remind Craig to be positive and love her and treat her like the terrific person she is; to praise her and show his love for her though affection and words.

She came by this evening and stayed with us for about an hour. She and I had ordered a tote bags from L.L. Bean with my built-up pay-back points from my Discover card. They came in today's mail, so I called her, and it was such a wonderful treat to have her here with both of us. We all laughed and had a good time. She looked like a little doll and had finished her work shift and was going out with her friends. Cracked me up because she got in the freezer and took her chicken nuggets, chicken patties, Toaster Strudel; then she got in the cabinets and got her cereal, Pop Tarts, and everything she ate while here. It really tickled me to see her happy.

I'm now able to stitch away and enjoy it and know that my little girl is always with me and will remember all that Grandma sent her away with. By that I don't mean the things, but the love she deserves. Grandma is at peace again.

Thursday

Thursday was a day from hell. I did nothing but drink clear juices and sucked on a few hard candies, but I wouldn't have cared if I could have just slept the day away and would have, except I got several phone calls. I don't remember much about the phone calls, nor do I remember being hungry, then came the time to start drinking the prep. I was already in physical and mental pain, and now my stomach was cramping up like crazy. I didn't get far from a toilet all evening and into the night, and my rear end was on fire.

My dear mother called and said she'd pick me up at 7:30 in the morning to take me to the hospital, and I tearfully told her my little girl had gone back home. I told her I'd feel better about it if I knew things would work out. My mom knew how hard I'd worked to help her, and we prayed together on the phone. My mom is another saint like my dad. I am so grateful to have both my parents to still lean on at my age. I don't know what I'll do without either of them. My brother, sister, and I were raised with love and good sense. I am so fortunate.

Wednesday

After her soccer game, which was so cold and windy, I thought everyone there was going to freeze, including me, who is always hot and sweaty, I said to Moriah and her best friend, "Let's go eat at Cracker Barrel." Moriah had scored a goal and they won yet again (no losses yet), so the girls were happy but hungry. I had to go all day Thursday with nothing but clear liquids before my colonoscopy the next day and had to drink a gallon of the miserable prep liquid called "MoviPrep." It moves you alright.... holy cow!!!

I ate till I nearly popped, and I could sense a change in Moriah's mood. She started acting tired and grouchy, snapping at me now & then. At first, I thought she was being cute for her friend, Kylie. You know, it's just not cool to show your love for G'ma, or maybe it was something else. I knew something was about to change.

Vanessa had been talking to Moriah's daddy, telling him things were going to have to change. He said he would just leave Moriah and her rules up to Vanessa, which I thought was a good idea. When we got home from Cracker Barrel, I got a text message from Vanessa telling me Moriah had texted her and said she was coming home. Vanessa was extremely nervous, as she felt like she needed more time to talk to Craig, my son-in-law. But Moriah was ready to go home; said she missed her room, her kitty, and her mom. So she and Kylie went to take Moriah's car home and bring Kylie's back. Kylie's car has more room, 4 doors, and is easier to pack up.

I was not prepared. I cried, but I told her I was glad she wanted to go home because that is the normal, natural thing for her to want to be home. I just told her to please hold onto the things I'd talked with her about. To tell you the truth, I was devastated.

Kylie came with her car, and together, the two of them packed up everything she had and after many tears and hugs, they drove away. It's not like I can't see her any time I want, but it was just that there was this big empty house, and I felt something of myself and all the energy I had was leaving for a new adventure. I prayed when I shut the garage door that all would work out. I cried till I was sick.

Tuesday

Tuesday, when Moriah got done with her soccer practice, she stopped at her mom's and gathered markers of different colors to do an assigned project for Spanish. Her mom asked her when she was coming home, and she mumbled, "Maybe in a couple of days." Vanessa, my daughter started crying. Moriah told me all about it when she got home to my house. She had a big poster they had given her in Spanish class, and she just sat down and finished it right away. Her mom said before she had come to stay with me, she had gotten out of the habit of doing her homework first thing. Now, it seems, she's getting back into the swing. It really helps when you don't have your dad yelling and screaming all the time to do this & that. My dad is the kindest and gentlest man I've ever known, and I don't understand how stupid a person can be to think thta being negative all the time is going to bring positive results.

I'd like to kick my son-in-law's ass up between his shoulders.

Writing Backwards

I'm actually writing this on April 14, but I wanted to do it as a diary for what has happened in the last few days. It's been a roller coaster of emotions and physical discomfort for me, so I'd like to read back on it, as one does a diary, when I feel I can without hurting.

On Monday, April 9, Moriah came home after soccer practice and was in no mood to go anywhere, thank goodness. I was in a calm mood, as I had finally been to my last appointment to the doctor who cleared me of breast cancer. I actually had a fungus infection which was attributed to my excessive sweating, in part caused by some medication, and in part because I'm a sweater and always have been. However, I was in a great deal of physical pain in preparation for my colonoscopy scheduled for Thursday morning. I had to stay off my regular pain med because of its propensity to cause bleeding, and I could only take Tylenol for one week before the procedure. Tylenol is not effective for lupus pain. I crippled with every move.

I asked Moriah if she wanted to eat in or go somewhere. Not surprisingly, she wanted to go to McDonald's, which was great with me, and it's a short distance from home. We sat down and had a great conversation while we ate. I'd had her for a month, and after the first week, she had done a complete turn-a-round in her attitude. She had brought up her failing grades and had started getting home on time, if not a little early. I'd had a blow-up with her when I didn't know where she was, and I'd told her I'd see her after work. She didn't have the courtesy to answer her phone when I tried to reach her. I got her best friend's cell phone number, and her friend answered on the first ring. She handed the phone to Moriah. I told Moriah she had owed me a call and that if she didn't get her butt home, her next home was going to be the homeless shelter in the old stinky donut shop. She was home in five minutes, and I never had an ounce of trouble out of her after that. After that, I saw a bit of improvement each and every day. I told her how proud I was of her and that I thought she was a terrific person in every way.

Her self esteem bloomed like a flower, and I held my breath that her new temperament would hold. When she came to me, she was a sulky, miserable child, unwilling to do anything I suggested to help her in school, and she "pushed the envelope" when it came to getting home when I said.

We came home after McDonald's and watched a rented movie together, laughing hysterically, and she fell asleep on the couch, exhausted after the hours she puts in every day. She goes hard for 12 hours a day, with school, soccer practice, then sometimes even additional hours at work. I just covered her up, and she never stirred.

Confession

OK, this is the way it really is. Any spare time I've had, I've been doing something that has become more of an obsession to me than stitching. I've been clearing out things at home and selling them on eBay. I have never been addicted to eBay before now. I started making big bucks, and with that money sitting in my PayPal account, it was driving me crazy. Now, mind you, I'm not going to show everything I've bought, as I've been very descriminately buying things that I'll use up, such as Philosophy skin products, that I won't have to store forever. But you know how in the process, you run across goodies that you ordinarily wouldn't buy? Well, they've been coming in droves. The mailman probably thinks I've gone nuts, which..... never mind.

I've bought lovely vintage jewelry and new jewelry as well---not costume, but nice silver jewelry, mostly Native American and Mexican silver from designers in Taxco, Mexico. Well, it didn't stop with the jewelry. I have a few things like these below that I thought might be of interest because they're hand-quilted and sold by a person who had a barn full of such merchandise and is getting out of the business. She has mostly local artisan-crafted items. I got these each for 99¢ because no one bid against me, and her postage was just what it cost her.

These things are awesomely made, with the wallets with zippers, plastic ID windows, all kinds of attention to detail. The change purses are so cute! The eyeglass case has a pocket for my magnetic sunglass attachments. My little cell phone case has a Velcro closure, and one of my pride and joys attached to its hardware---a keychain of a burro made in Taxco, Mexico. I had a burro as a child in McAllen TX. His name was Okey Doke, and this little guy looks like my Okey Doke, and I had several bidders against me. I paid too much and don't even care. It was my cast-offs that paid for my little treasures.

SBQ for April 4

How do you decide which stitching blogs are worth repeat and/or regular viewings? Are there certain things you look for in particular?Are there things you wish there were more of? Less of? Is your blog a good example of what you like to read?

Actually, I really haven't had much time for the blogosphere lately because I've had my 16-year-old granddaughter living with me, and I've found very little time for myself. However, I do like to visit blogs that are productive and very neat with a clean look, if that makes sense. I love to see new stash, but more important, I like to see the inspiring works of others. I also like getting glimpses of fellow stitchers' lives, but not so much pratter on opinions and stuff going on in the world. I can see that on TV. My blog is not a good example of what I like to read. I've been quite unproductive this year. This year has been a roller coaster with health problems and family problems. Sometimes, all I have the energy to do is lie down in my recliner and fall asleep. I don't know what it's going to take to get me out of this funk. Oh, and I also tend to read blogs of those who leave comments on mine.

This question was submitted by Heather.