Breaking Expectations

Huntington, WV

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Humidity: 32%

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     An absolutely beautiful day.  We got outside and cleaned up the yard.  While we were outside, news was still happening around the world.  It isn’t pretty.  Hubby likes to have the news on to follow the blow-by-blow of political developments.  I would not say I am uninterested.  In fact, the opposite is true.  I am very interested in the political new, but if I am not careful it can become obsessive.  I can just hear my Dad saying,  “What are you going to do about it.”

      I have written some political blogs, and I’ve been outspoken enough to lose a couple of friends, or at least potential friends.  If I had a clue what would help bring people together to sing Kumbaya, I would do it.  The main problem is that I can’t really figure out what is really going on.  The art of compromise is dead.  (So, I guess I did figure out what the basic problem is.)

     How much does it really affect me?  I’ve been on the losing side before, and I saw no noticeable difference in my life from the transition from one administration to the next.    The Republicans have the power, and believe they have all the answers to  the problems of the country and the world.   To the Republicans I’d like to say,  “Good Luck with that!”

     I am still going to be pissed at the irreconcilable differences between Hubby and I, or between myself and other members of the family.  No matter what, these are the people who will be there for me if I ever need them.

     My main focus is going to be my life.  What makes me happy.  I have trips I would like to take,  people I want to hang out with, and pets to care for.  I like writing a blog, steadily increasing in readership from around the world.  I’ve gotten Adobe Photoshop Elements 15, and am struggling to figure it out.  I have hobbies that bring me joy.

     I also got a fortune cookie with this fortune:

You are a lover of words, someday you will write a book.

Someday could be now.

Getting Ready for the Next Phase

Welcome to our home. 

Welcome to our home.  Notice how neat it is.  I am glad I have this picture, because it is a very unusual event.  Hubby and I spend a bit of time getting everything as organized, uncluttered, and neat as we possibly could.  The reason?  Well, we have placed our humble abode on the market.  We needed the picture for our posting at MHVillage, a site for selling manufactured homes.

I love my little doll house.  Normally it is stuffed to the rafters with my personal art, and that of grandchildren, next to that picture above the sofa.  You can still see the fan cord there next to the sofa, because here we are in mid September and it is a freaking 90 degrees outside.  The toaster oven is relocated to the laundry room where our microwave oven resides.  My chicken has been moved from the table to behind the sink. The coasters, utensils, remotes, pictures, and tchotchkes are all put away or already packed.

To you who may have real estate experience, I know the walls are yellow, and the giant artwork should go, but I have no climate controlled place to store the painting while we sell our house.  Around the corners, and down the hall are rooms stuffed with things that need to be dealt with on another day.  Pieces of furniture and boxes already packed must be transferred to our locker.  We have begun the process of selling off stuff that has been packed away in storage for five years.

The fragile neatness will have to be maintained for that hoped for buyer who will want to look at the house right away.  I’ve done this before.  Once all the personal stuff is out-of-the-way, we settle into a routine of putting stuff away.  Already, our stuff has begun encroaching upon the pristine neatness.

Entropy is already making its dent.  Entropy is that principle of order returning to chaos unless some force holds order in place.  (That force will be me.)  The remotes, coasters, a bag of chips along with Hubby in his chair are already back in residence.   The animals have been allowed back in, along with their beds and toys.

So why are we putting ourselves through this?  Didn’t I say I love my doll house?  Yes, I did.  As much as I love my doll house, Hubby is no longer employed in this area (#retirement), and we are no longer tethered to this area and have the freedom to live where we want.  We have an opportunity to select our retirement home, and plan on living closer to at least one of our children, and take extended visits to the rest of them.

There is still a possibility we could take our home with us, but that prospect seems daunting.  We have many choices we will be making in the next few months.  The fragile order of our lives has devolved into chaos, but we are creating order in a way that suits our lives now.

The first step, is get ready for a move.  Something I’ve done many times.  But I’m going to miss my stuff while it sits in boxes in the dark of the locker.  Opening things in our new location will be just like Christmas!

So Spoiled

Its another Wonderful Wednesday and time to be grateful for how darned spoiled I am.

It is a beautiful summer day, and listening to NPR this morning, I heard stories of the struggles of Syrian refugees.  Here I am in the land of plenty, and taking full advantage.  I live in a home where I feel completely safe.  I feel no need to be armed.  I feel no fear to walk down the street, not even at night in most neighborhoods, in most anywhere in the country.   I can say whatever I want and express any opinion no matter how many others disagree with me, I don’t even have to be particularly nice about it.  Being nice helps if you want people to stay and listen, because where I live we can just walk away and stop listening.   These rights extend to social media, where I have blocked several sites from even appearing on my home page.

Another way I am spoiled is with good medical care.  Despite ongoing political wrangling over medical care, and the rare  published statistic on how Americans may not have the best health care in the word, I have grown accustomed to having a pill to cure most any ill readily available.  When a pill can’t provide a cure, a fairly safe surgical procedure usually will.  I get down right testy when a solution to any health problem is delayed.  I am old enough to remember how polio sent fear into my parents, and measles mumps and rubella were taken very seriously.  I remember the vaccination party where my friends and I were the first to get our sugar cubes as soon as they became available.  So I have a little annoying cough.  There is a vaccination for those scary diseases, and there is a pill, ointment, or wash for most things that people just had to suffer with in the past.

I am also spoiled with a multitude of pets.  Well, currently four pets.  My newest pet (notice how possessive I am) is Shadow who keeps me company while I write, watch TV, or sleep.  Each animal has their place.  Penny, the elderly lady of the house, sits at my side while I read or watch TV, with Shadow in her place either on my lap or on the back of the sofa near my head.  Brutus Buckeye’s place is Hubby’s lap.  Blue, our other cat, walks alone, except for requiring daily petting, and someone to open the door for him.

Yes, I really am spoiled.  I just expect that this is how life should be.  True I did plan and work for what I wanted, and I protect what I have.   It is difficult to believe not everyone is as lucky.

Trouble Sleeping

There are many reasons we might have trouble sleeping, and the consequences of our sleep problems can become serious if not corrected.

In the early days of marriage, we lived in an apartment that kept us a toasty 85 degrees or warmer.  On a snowy day like today that seems like a heavenly problem to have.  When it comes to sleeping in such a warm temperature it is not a good thing.  After months of enjoying my tropical temperatures, but lack of truly restful sleep began causing serious problems.

The problem was falling asleep everywhere.  I would sit down before work, and doze off until someone told me I better wake up and get moving.  If I leaned against a wall, I was asleep.  Sitting down for a meeting, I was asleep.  I even fell asleep driving, veering off the road to the right, bouncing over the curb, tree lawn, and sidewalk, and waking in time to drive between a car parked in a driveway and a phone poll and back to the road merging into the lane of traffic between two cars that were going at speed.

My doctor said all this sleeping was the result of sleeping in a room that was just to warm.  I requested the apartment manager fix the heating problem.  Sleeping in a cooler room corrected my sleep problem, and my employer was again happy to see me stay awake, and driving became less harrowing.

Most other sleep problems have been minor inconveniences:  uncomfortable night-clothes, Hubby snoring, a puzzling problem, too much light coming in the window, noisy, or an uncomfortable bed. All of these things can interfere with sleep, and need to be remedied before serious problems occur.

Now I have a new sleep problem.  My very spoiled cat, Shadow.  Shadow has grown to a whopping 6 pounds 7 ounces, and can stretch out to occupy a third of a queen size bed.  She wants to sleep right at my side.  It is nice have that purring little bundle of warmth tucked against the small of my back, or against my belly, until she comes under the covers and tickles me awake with her whiskers.

Sometimes Shadow wants to sleep right between my legs, which prevents me from moving.  Other times Shadow isn’t as sleepy as the rest of the family, and my feet become a plaything.  Awaking to claws and teeth digging into your foot is no fun.  I expect Shadow will learn the acceptable limits in time, just as big brother Blue has.

Sleeping with pets can have other problems, for not only sleep but beauty as this video explains. Our pooches are in crates in the bedroom, and sometimes they snore and now that Penny is getting older she wakes up at night and demands to go out.

If you are thinking about getting a pet, you might want them to sleep in another room.  It is to late for me.  Save yourself.

Adoption, Finalized

Finding a child to adopt is like catalog shopping. Our social worker gave us a website and a binder full of adoptee bios. We learned an entire vocabulary of abbreviations: SBH, ADD, ADHD, and MRDD. Our social worker called us about adopting a 4-year-old boy, but we felt that would be a better match for a younger couple. We were also asked to consider a 17-year-old, about to age out of the system, but after reading of her severe mental health problems we said a prayer for her and declined.

Our future son , David, lived only a few blocks from us, and could go to the same school. David is very high functioning MRDD in special ed classes, has a kind heart, and stated he wanted to be adopted by a Christian family. David was 13 years old. Another family was also interested in David, and a panel of social workers interviewed each of us to decide the best placement. David’s story of separation from his mother and her signing him over for adoption rather than attend parenting classes, broke my heart. The separation occurred right after a fire in the home that killed two boys near his age, and the adult babysitter, who were spending the night while the parents went out for the evening. David passed out in an upstairs window during the fire, and fell to the ground, saving his life. When our social worker told us David would be placed with us, we were overjoyed.

We met David at the local Wendy’s, along with his foster-mother, and the social worker. I prepared a small picture book of each member of the family, including all of our pets, for David. Our first meeting went so well that David came back to the house for his first home visit. We had two empty bedrooms, and David chose the one already decorated for a boy, and liked it so much no redecorating was needed.

For weeks, David would spend time at our house, until he was ready to make the move permanently. David loved our dog and cat, but asked if he could bring his cat to our house. We said, “Yes, of course.” So David and his cat moved in with us. The cat choose our bathroom as his home and defended it against all who entered. David’s cat even attacked David. I explained we would be bad parents if we allowed an animal that would bite him to stay in our home, so we made a plan together to tame the cat. David began hand feeding the cat, and slowly lured his cat out of the bathroom and down the stairs. Once the cat was on the main level, David began to pet the cat while he fed it, and eventually David could hold his cat. The cat joined the family. Perhaps this successful project gave David a bit of trust in us, his parents.

With the help of a bonding therapist we began evening holding, where David would lay across our lap, and gaze into our eyes as we talked. David was reluctant, but not so reluctant that he was willing to call the social worker and refuse the adoption. David also refused to call us anything. We, of course, wanted David to call us Mom and Dad. We were not peers, so our first names were out, unless accompanied by Aunt and Uncle. He could call us Mr. and Mrs. Sutton, but then he was only a guest. He had to decide. Guests ate at the dining room table. Family ate at the kitchen table. It took a week, but David started calling us Mom and Dad. In addition we read Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling together. David loved Dad’s reading, so Mom could just listen and enjoy.

After six months, on December 7, we went before a judge and David officially became our son. David’s new birth certificate states we are his parents. There have been challenges, but David is now 28 years old and living on his own. He occasional needs help, but usually refuses the help we are willing to offer. But we are there for advice, and emergencies. David knows he can trust us, and recently expressed love for us.