I Need a Voice

....and a venue, and a place to vent, and spill, and dish, and discuss, and tell it like it is. I've been in a rat race and so far, the rats are way ahead and all I see are rat tails and droppings. (Insert photo here - well, in your mind anyway.) Boy, I miss all of you and this and the outlet that writing is for me. I know I've also missed a lot in your lives and I'm so sorry. The good news is (well, not for my enemies), the family has not had me put to sleep yet. You have no idea what restraint they've shown.

Love,

Robynn

I Just Couldn't Do It

I bought a Christmas tree yesterday.

I wasn't going to. Budgetary constraints and common sense and painting and general house confusion had caused me to say, "Impractical. Let's just forget it for this year." But then I drove by the little lot where we always get our trees and there were just a few left. They looked lonely. And I figured the guy would cut me a deal. I mean, it's almost Christmas. It may be a $50 tree but take the $20 bucks I'm offering or eat tree soup in a few days. I figured they'd rather have the $20. I was right. And didn't a whole BUNCH of us do this when we were kids? I remember lots of Christmas Eve trees. That was before Christmas started in September like it does now.

So my tree is sitting on the back porch while I finish painting the wall where it's supposed to be displayed. Nothing like the last minute. And I was counting on Bo having the day off to decorate it so, naturally, she had to work unexpectedly. The poor thing is EXHAUSTED. She just finished finals last week with 16 units (and it looks like she pulled another 4.0 - she has to keep her grades up to keep her scholarship), worked the whole semester and has her volunteer work as well, and a sometime-second-job. If the kid doesn't collapse it'll be a miracle. (Spring semester: 20 units - really?) I miss her. We haven't had one minute to celebrate the season together. No lunches, no shopping, no just sitting with a cup of hot cocoa. These are the times I wish we didn't have to struggle and I could say, "School is enough. Drop everything else and have a life." But we can't. Grizzly's work injury in March started us down a rough financial path when they never covered a single sick day. We've been lucky to hang on to the house by the skin of our teeth (ewww.....what IS the skin of your teeth?). That means we need Bo to work for the things she must have so she ploughs forward and probably builds some character muscles that will last her a lifetime. And her supervisor's daughter was just diagnosed with a serious virus so, naturally, Bo helps and fills in where she's needed. She would never leave her co-workers in a lurch.

And now I added the tree to her "to do" list. But she wanted it, too. We talked while she was lying in bed and we both decided we never know when last Christmases come. Last time it's just the four of us? Last time when we're all in the same town? Or, just the last time? Who knows what life has around the corner for any of us. Isn't that a cheery Christmas thought? Hey, it's been a rough year. There were times I thought one of us would croak, several times I wished I would, and probably a few where others wished I would. (But I lived to spite all of us so why not grab a bargain tree and celebrate?) Come Christmas morning, we might be gazing at a bare tree but it will be a bare CHRISTMAS tree!

So, I'm off to paint and hopefully make fudge at some point - Easter maybe. And then two hours of physical therapy with Atilla the Hun this afternoon. (She's actually a darling girl I absolutely love but she WILL torture you if she needs to and never bat a big, beautiful eyelash.) And I need to quit losing time every day to this S.T.U.P.I.D. issue I'm still dealing with. Right in the middle of painting yesterday when SMACK - six hours gone. No one has six hours to give away to POINTLESSNESS five days before Christmas.

Golly, I bet you've missed all this whining. Sure is good to be back! (And THANK YOU FOR ALL YOUR RESPONSES AND WELCOMING GREETINGS! Sounds like it's a strange year for many of us but we're making the best of it and counting our blessings. Guess that's why we're still hangin' together. If your life is perfect, you probably won't like it here!)

In case I don't see you before, I truly wish you all the merriest of Christmases - time with those you love, an opportunity to bless others, and a minute to stop and say, "Everything may be topsy-turvy, troubles may knock at the door, but no matter what, God holds us in His hand and, it is well with my soul."

© Copyright 2010

Can It Really Be December?

Merry Christmas! Hello! Are you still out here......? I see I've gained a few followers since I've been gone. Now I know the secret of growth - profound silence.

Just wanted to pop in for a minute and tell you that you should be grateful for all the gory details I've spared you. It's my Christmas present to you. But don't expect it to last much longer. I have improved to the point that I may be able to sit here, at my computer, long enough to write revolting stories. I can't wait.

I miss every one of you and am looking forward to catching up and getting to visit blogs again, even if it's only one a day. Thank you for your notes in the meantime and the prayers! I'm still recovering but I'm SO much better than four, three, or even two months ago.

It's a strange Christmas here. No tree, no presents. We have been having to do some home improvement projects and are finishing so late, we all decided to have a Whoville Christmas without ribbons, boxes, or bags. Christmas will come just the same and maybe we'll truly focus on why! We have been invited to spend Christmas Day with dear friends while Grizzly works. We are happy for the work and sad for his absence. But EVERYthing is upside down this year so we are embracing the theme and letting life unfold. It'll be that weird Christmas our kids will always remember. Everybody has to have ONE of those.

What are you all doing? I'd love to hear! This week I'm painting and making fudge. It'll be great if I don't get the two combined. If anyone gets sage colored fudge from me, don't eat it.

Back soon. Merry, MERRY Christmas, my dear bloggy buds!

With Love,

Robynn

It Takes a Village to Care for An Idiot

I just have to pop in and say that I am the blessed recipient of the most amazing care. Everyone pities me, which is rich - you just don't GET that every day. And then they feed me.

We have had over three weeks worth of loving friends bringing meals, flowers, and even groceries. I've had friends, and an aunt, lay on the bed with me and just hold my hand and even sleep. You KNOW you're comfortable when you fall asleep with other people on your bed with you. I've had the loveliest cards and texts and phone calls. One friend even dropped off a pin that says, "I Love Pain Meds." And I DO.

(I've also seen more Dr. Feel than I ever care to again but I did glean a few tidbits to help me tidy up the emotional wreckage I like to call my personality.)

Something you probably don't know about me is that I really want to entertain. And I RARELY do. I used to. A lot. I know this because I was reading my son's baby book to him while on my back and it had a calendar with the dates we had people over for dinner and shopping trips for Christmas party supplies. I threw a whiz bang Christmas party every year for our friends. Then life moved on. Our friends changed as we all went in different directions. And our furniture got rattier and we ripped out the carpet and bought wood flooring to install. The only room done? My daughter's and she doesn't even live here anymore. The furniture finally got replaced but the flooring still isn't finished. But I want EVERYthing to be done before I entertain again. And you know what? Life is passing me by.

Being on my back in bed for three weeks made me throw the doors open wide and say, "Here it is! All our imperfection is open for inspection!" This has been an incredibly humbling experience. I have friends with E.X.Q.U.I.S.I.T.E. homes and I have friends who live very simply. I didn't pick ANY of them for their home and I know for CERTAIN they didn't pick me for mine. Why do I care? I can give a lot of reasons, and some of them valid, but the reality is we just don't get do-overs for a life.

My constant prayer has been, "Lord, let me entertain again before I can't." He answered me through this recovery time after surgery. Gee, thanks, Lord. I have entertained in the lamest way possible. Others have provided ALL the food and the decorations while I supplied nothing but feeble "thank yous." However, I've had all these different people into my home so at least the barrier has been broken and I'd like to think of that as entertaining. (I can convince myself of almost anything.) Other than the occasional kid friend, people are once again being admitted into "Imperfect Land." And they keep coming.

Why? I have no idea. It's not because I'm a wonderful person. It's because they are. So what was I so worried about?

Hoping to be back soon!

With Love,

Robynn

©Copyright 2010

Oh The Things That I Could Tell You.....

That you'd never want to hear. BUT.I.CAN'T.SIT. for more than five minutes, and I only get that if I'm lucky. I have an iPod which keeps me from feeling like I've been dropped in a nunnery in the Swiss Alps. At least I have contact with the outside world. But I can't write. I can't visit. I can't even check Gmail (which is my blog email account) because of the computer meltdown. When I've tried to visit blogs on my iPod it takes forEVER to write a comment and then, more often than not, I lose the whole thing so that idea is dead.

(OH.MY.GOOD.OLFACTORIES! If my dog, who is laying at my feet, does ONE MORE OF THOSE THINGS, I'm passing out right after throwing up!)

I had planned to at least visit you guys but THAT hasn't happened. I planned to horrify you with the details of my surgery. THAT hasn't happned. I planned to write more chapters in my book. Well, you get the idea. I'm a deadbeat. I have had pain that should have its own book and agent but who'd read it or buy it? I'd have to pay people to perform those chores and that's not a direction that feels really fruitful. I am NOT back to my life. I don't know WHEN I'll be back to my life. I'm grumpy. I'm WHINEY. I'm not unaware that others have far more difficulties. So I'm also GUILTY which makes me whinier and grumpier. I'm gangs of fun.

Wish you were here!

©Copyright 2010

Robynn's in the Hospital

This is Hunter(TWM), Robynn's son. She asked me to let you know that she has had a few complications after her surgery and that they put her in the hospital yesterday. She will probably be out in a few days. I would very much appreciate it if you prayed for her. She thanks you very much for your love and support and hopes to back soon. Thank you, Hunter

Time Out for Surgery

Tomorrow is my big day. I have surgery to fix this, uh, certain problem that I've been dealing with for far too long. (I promise to blog about it even though it's embarrassing and no one wants to hear about it. You know things like that never stop me.)

The hospital takes me in and springs me the same day but the doctor is making me stay in a drug induced stupor for three weeks. I can't drive. I can't operate heavy machinery, like computers. That's to keep me from doing and saying stupid things I'll regret later. You know, like usual. So if I show up at your place gushing about how much I've always loved you and then changing the subject to leaf blowers and people who don't floss their teeth, I beg your forgiveness in advance.

And I've been on a cleaning jag because I have wonderful friends who are insisting on bringing meals. That means they will see my house. And I don't want them to know how behind I am. They never read my blog so I'm sure they have no idea. Usually, when my house is a mess and somebody just stops by I simply hide in the closet and try not to breathe out loud. Now I can't get away with that. They might even come into my bedroom. I suppose that means I'll have to move the two foot high pile of laundry I like to call my "step stool" that I use to get into my extra high bed.

I only go on this kind of a cleaning frenzy for two events: vacation and surgery.

I just discussed this with my dear, sweet friend, Christina, yesterday at church. (She was all sympathy and commiseraton but, in reality, her house is always LOVELY. Thank you, Christina for pretending it's not so I didn't feel like the intervention candidate that I actually am.) We decided women do this for a variety of reasons but not the least of which is the risk of death.

What if we died while vacationing? Others would come in to our disarray and find out how we really live. Our husbands try to counter with statements like, "You'll be dead! Who cares!" But, being women, of COURSE we care because we KNOW people will still talk and we don't want to be remembered as the ones who had to have HazMat come in before others could find our final directives paperwork.

Also, there's the issue of vacationing in lovely, clean places where there is daily maid service and no pets or pet hair. Or dust. Or accumlation. From children and husbands. (Wives don't count since we always have to clean up our own mess anyway. No one comes behind US.) If towels are thrown on the floor, they are magically replaced the next day with fresh, new ones. Unmade beds are suddenly perfect.

Now, leave that dream-like environment and go home. To the mess that was left? No thank you. That kind of shock could induce headline worthy behavior in the returning wife/mother. So you must leave your home spotless.

As far as surgery is concerned, you are forced to lay on the bed/couch/kitchen counter and look at all the work you know you should have done when you had the chance. And you know if you COULD do it right now you would. And I love that lie with all my heart. It's so very holy to be utterly willing and completely unable to do all the things you tell yourself you'd do if only you could. It's far better than any get-out-of-jail free card. But if you haven't worked ahead of time, you WILL be forced to survey your disgusting domain. And that's too much guilt for even a seasoned slob.

And so I clean. And when I clean I'm an insane perfectionist.

"Do you really need to use brass polish on those draw pulls?" my husband asks while he surveys the dust hanging from the ceiling fan, spanish moss style. I have no balance. But in a few short hours, I won't care. At least while I'm taking the drugs.

So I better go now. There's no time like the present to pretend you are a gifted Domestic Doyenne. Why can't they give you these drugs a week ahead of time so you don't notice all these things or care? Now THAT would be TRUE pain management.

©Copyright 2010