Category: Diary of a Blogger’s Blog (Mine)

In our younger years, when mortality is simply a word in the dictionary, we tend to think life will never end . . . that we’re invincible . . . that those close to us are so resilient, they’ll live forever.

As we age—acquire maturity and wisdom—we recognize how fragile, and quick, life truly is.  We blink, and 20 years have passed.  Another blink, and 40 have whizzed by like a bullet train.

My mother’s 96 years ended in perpetual sleep this week.  The tears have dried now, but the sadness—emptiness—will remain for a while.

We had an oil-and-vinegar relationship.  And the last many years were not easy ones for me as a caregiver for a variety of reasons but now, that is—as the saying goes—water under the bridge.

I’m glad I was there at the end, to hold her hand as she traveled from this earthly realm to an otherworldly one.

Rest in peace, Mom.  May God be with you.

. . . seemed like an appropriate title.  It seems my life—your life—is a never-ending journey.  One that takes a forever yet can be over in a blink.

On this end, mom-care visits are still happening.  Too much mental/emotional baggage is still holding me back from truly embarking on my life, one free of obligation and guilt.  But that’s another story.

This post is about my current trek within that forever journey.  I’d made a recent/quick decision to take control over a [tiny] part of my life . . . but it’s one I’m certainly now questioning, because it’s proven so very overwhelming.

After many (many!) years of not having fixed up the place, I decided to have the floors stripped and re-varnished, and the walls painted.  Cost aside (I’m questioning that, too, because I’m not earning a VP’s salary—heck, I’m not even earning a VP’s EA’s salary), I sucked it up and went for it.

Wow, who knew there’d be so much work involved?  Who’d have imagined that moving all the furniture would prove that difficult?!  Obviously, not me!  Who knew you’d have to spend three nights away (I kind of figured one, but three)?  Who realized local hotels cost $300+ a night?  Not me, and ouch.  So, I went for a “boutique hotel”, more of a B&B really . . . but . . . yeah . . . you get what you pay for.  <eye roll and sniffle>

After beating myself up (yet again), I decided to focus on the positive aspects.  I’d had enough semblance of thought to bring Lysol.  This was/is good.  There was a functional TV.  This helped divert attention—if you like watching news channels all night long.  One that made me stop wanting to smack myself repeatedly in the head: at least the shower was amazing.  It was clean, roomy with a seat, and the water was instantly and wonderfully hot.

The day this is posted is the day I will have returned home to new floors.  Won’t have moved what’s left of the furniture back though.  Have to wait another day.  Then the painting fellow arrives Sunday morning.  Hopefully, that project won’t take too, too long (and I’m not going anywhere, if I have to sleep on the balcony wrapped in multiple tarps).

Maybe, just maybe, come the next post, I’ll have managed to move all the stuff that’s crammed into the bathtub and shower, and jammed into the small bedroom closet—an open-the-door comedy-show explosion in the making.

I’m sure, one day, I will laugh—or at least snicker—at this current, crazy, but not-brief-enough trek.  Maybe while I’m sitting admiring the new floors and walls, and thinking, yeah, it was worth it.  <eye roll and sniffle>

So the saying goes.  Doesn’t really apply to this post, but it is the third time I’m posting about Hawaii.

There’s another snowstorm blowing white flakes past the icy window, as it did the week before, and the week before that.  While it’s pretty and peaceful, it has me dreaming of other white stuff: sand.  Like that soft, silky powder found on Oahu beaches.  Those trodden by thousands of tourists’ feet in an endeavor to catch rays, leap into sapphire waters, and/or get some serious down time before returning to the world of work and worries.

My eating habits are predictable here.  Same stuff day in, day out.  The weekly (yawn-inducing) menu rarely varies.  When I’m visiting my Hawaiian “home”, I tend to be more adventuresome.  I love trying new foods, and always do.

The last trip, however, had me hooked on a different version of my favorite food: pizza.  Garlic-kalua-pig.  Holy moley, was it good!  So good, I pretty much ate it every other day.

But I did have my veggies.  And my salads.  And my “international” delights.

Then, came the treats—the shave ice, traditional versus “fancy”.  And something I hadn’t had since being a kid (they’ve been hard to find here over the years, but are easily obtained in Hawaii) … those delightful, nummy-sweet Hostess cupcakes.  Heaven!  Like, can you spell y-u-m-m-m-m?

I had one of the must-have drinks—a Mai Tai—of course.  You know, it didn’t really appeal to me, but it sure looked pretty, especially sitting under a palm by the beach.

   Cheers to more trips and warmer days!

It’s already been over four months since I got to visit Hawaii again.  It seems like a distant delicious dream.

Sometimes, you have to wonder if taking a trip and $pending the money for it is worth it.  You get there, de-stress for 10 or 14 days, or whatever, then you head back home—and the stress returns.  Threefold.  (I wasn’t even off the plane and there was an “urgent” message from my mother’s long-term-care home, which did not turn out to be urgent.  Needless to say, however, the BP had shot through the roof and I was triple stressed by the time I stepped out of the airport limo.)

I decided to take a look at my photos.  Yup, I was there.  It wasn’t a dream!  Yeah, now I remember.  It was hot and humid . . . and heavenly.

And how I wish I were back there again, de$pite the co$t!

The shots I’m sharing are typical, touristy ones, but they’re pretty good (I’m not a bad photographer, if I do say so myself).

Perhaps they’ll take you to a another realm—if only for a moment.  Away from the icy / snow-blanketed / frigid / foggy / cold / gray / bleak / wet / damp / lifeless place you may currently be residing in.  And if you’re fortunate to be living in Hawaii and similar climes, count your blessings.  😊

Me, I’m going to dream of warmer, brighter times . . . they’re just around the bend (I’m keepin’ the faith).

Farewell 2022—stated with non-fondness. 

This year, without question, was beyond challenging.  It may well have been the worst year in my entire [long] life.  Perhaps it’s selfish to focus on me when there have been [countless] dire and heart-wrenching events around the world, but I haven’t posted in some time and I feel a [great] need to bare my soul, at least a little. 

I suppose it’s really a purge—the elimination of all that’s been ugly or destructive or belittling or just not worth carrying around anymore (as in excess baggage)

Decades of mom-care burned me out.  Sleeping three hours a night burned me out.  Working a full-time job (12 hours a day) while executing the aforementioned mom-care burned me out.  Not having any friends or social life burned me out.  Having minimal support burned me out.  Having “the system” claim my mother was capable of making her own decisions—when clearly everyone else could see that she was not—burned me out.  My anger and resentment, my weariness, my I-can’t-do-this-anymore and let-me-not-wake-up-again feelings burned me out.

Yes, it was a bad year.  My mother is now in a long-term facility and it’s a good one, so thank goodness for that.  That the staff don’t allow me much peace is another issue, but I am learning to cope with that, and I’m getting better, calmer, more resilient.

I got to go to Hawaii at the end of October this year . . . a place where I feel at peace.  It’s where I belong.  And it’s not about sunshine and palm trees.  It’s about spirit.  The trip there was a nightmare—everything went wrong.  I surely thought my perpetual bad luck would just continue, and I was very tempted to just turn tail the night of arrival and return home.  After the second day, however, it got better.  I walked miles every day, enjoyed the simplicity of being.  Felt that maybe things would finally calm and that maybe life wouldn’t continue not going my way.  😉  That the long-term folks wouldn’t give me any peace while I was there (despite knowing I desperately needed to de-stress) is another story, and one that will remain unwritten.   

My goal, my resolution for 2023, is simply to go with the flow.  That’s it, that’s all.  To embrace the last years of my life—no longer  manipulated/controlled by another person—however they unfold. 

Among other things, I intend to complete the next book in my mystery series, get my website going (and the blog redesigned), post  regularly again of course, become a full-time editor, and return to Hawaii.

I will not look back or be angry or resentful for the years that I’ve lost.  I will look forward to new lessons being learned, developing into a better and composed person . . . and moving on.  😉

May 2023 be a [much] better year . . . and an awesome one for you and yours. 

Here’s to a wonderful—gratitude-filled—Thanksgiving weekend to those in the northern hemisphere.

Observed the second Monday in October, since 1957, the “harvest festival” is a time to show appreciation, not just for bountiful harvests, but all the things, friends and family, we have in our lives.

 Quick history . . . Thanksgiving in Canada has actually been celebrated since 1879 but prior to 1957, it wasn’t on a given day and there was always a theme associated with it.  Apparently, the first celebration was three hundred years prior, when Martin Frobisher—for those of you who remember your Canadian history classes—traveled from England in search of that elusive Northwest Passage (the sea route connecting the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans through the Canadian Arctic Archipelago, which is some 1,424,500 km and lies north of the Canadian mainland).

More days (feasts) of thanks took place, courtesy of French settlers who’d voyaged with Samuel de Champlain in the early seventeenth century.  During and following the American Revolution, American immigrants who’d migrated to Canada brought along their Thanksgiving traditions and practices—like indulging in that delicious gobbler (sorry, my vegan friends) and sweet spicy pumpkin pie.

It is rather interesting, history, but I digress.  The purpose of this post is short and sweet,  Enjoy a fantastic (!) long weekend, delight in and appreciate all life has offered—and continues to offer.  Never take anything, or anyone, for granted.

Have a gobbling good Thanksgiving!