handstories

Taxing

"Twilight in Pink"

Questions...

    Do I hate doing taxes more than K hates being around me doing taxes?  ("You get so angry, Angry, ANGRY!?!")

"Maia" (named for the Greek goddess of Spring)

    If only one thing on the To-Do list gets checked off, is it considered a win?  (If that one thing is "sharpen pencils" does it still count?)

"A Forgotten Dream"

    Does going for a walk, getting some exercise, justify putting off working on taxes?  (If the walk was to the wine shop, does it still count?)

    If this happens instead of working on taxes, is it considered "tax evasion"?

"On the Edge of it All"

    How is it possible that someone who took twice as many English classes than Math and still scored higher in the math category of the SATs, when faced with a simple form, be reduced to tears every single year?

    (Really, I'm fine, and the pencils need sharpened again...)

Songs for Our Circle

"A Pocket for the Burnt and Broken Heart” by Mo 2014

    Reading the posts that hold Rod and Mo in our hearts reminds me again of the strength and beauty of this circle.

    Mo's pocket hangs next to my worktable.   Inside of it are things and thoughts for love and healing.  In a long ago post about it, I wrote, "This beautiful "Pocket for the Burnt and Broken Heart" by Mo arrived a bit ago.  It came holding Mo's amazing spirit and stitching, along with a heart stitched by Jude, and many treasures and inspirations.  I love thinking of all of the journeys contained in it's parts, and how it represents a little corner of the community Jude has created.  I am so grateful to Mo for sharing her heart . . . both kinds."

    Thinking of this community, I thought of the song "A Circle is Cast" by Libana (listen here), and this one...  and remembered being at one of their concerts in the early 90's.  It was an intimate space in shadowy light, with these gorgeous voiced women circling us in song.  It was beautiful and holy.

    For Mo and Rod, holding them, and each of us, in the circle of light that this community is.

In Search of Stillness

    Thank you for all of the lovely heart-filling comforting comments, they were warm beams of light during the last week.  This circle of cloth and care is so very swell, xox.

 

    I'm trying to get back into a routine.  Starting with this little moon, stitched on the drive to and from Oregon.  "Stellaluna," star and moon.  Made in last summer's indigo bucket using a dime for a resist, I think.  There was even a daily painting, the first in over a month.

    After days of digging, lining, jackhammering, etc... we have a newly lined mainline without tree roots growing in it, an unclogged pathway to the mainline, and a new drain in the basement floor.  I am ready for a still silent space.

    Part of the plumbing saga included bringing up piles of old clothes from the basement to the living room (to join the other furniture, boxes, and mattress that K used while recovering).  Most of it belongs to the guys (just saying).  I announced that none of it could go back to the basement until it had been seriously reviewed and deemed either sentimental (old baseball jerseys) or useful in the present (time for K's old corporate wardrobe to go!).  Which led to facetime calls with the boys yesterday during which I held up dozens of pieces of clothing for their review.  The result was seven bags of donations!

    There is still more mopping to be done in the basement and in the house (between the melting snow, pouring rain and men tromping back and forth, the yard was turned into a mud trench).

    The workers were all nice guys, but one could not get his foot out of his mouth.  The company had been kind enough to rearrange the schedule so that we could leave town to be go with my mom.  The day before we left, after they had finished and gone, I discovered a new worrisome leak in the basement.  Someone was sent to check it out, after much frustration on my part and what seemed like confusion on his, we decided that it was ok enough for the time being.

    As he was leaving, he said, "Well, now you can go on your vacation!"  

        "Vacation?"

    "Yes, you're going out of town?"

        Given how the last half an hour of trying to communicate with this man had gone, this is where I should have just said "Thanks," and let him go.  "We're not going on vacation!  A family member died!"

    "Oh, I'm sorry."

        "It's ok, it was actually a blessing.  He was in p..."

    "I know how that goes.  I had an uncle that I hated and wasn't sorry when he died."

        "We're sorry!  We loved him.  He was in pain..."

    "Oh, well, then... have a nice day today!"

        "Not so far!"

    In his defense, after the last couple of weeks, I had lost all coping skills by this point.  He left, I went upstairs, swore, and watched an episode of "Leave It to Beaver."

    This one is about needing some sky.

    Mom is sad, but ok enough, and seemed glad for the company.  We went for a short walk.  She's not been out in the world, other than to hospitals or quick runs to the store, for the last two months.  She needs Spring to come.  She's been cleaning, going through things, found his high school photo- charming.  We found common ground in conversations about the past, stories of how they met, and of how she and Dad met- both tales were funny and sweet.

    Through is truly a place.

Songs

"The Music of Memories"

    Many thanks for all of your thoughtful and heart filling comments on the last posts.

    We are sad, glad that he's not in pain anymore, and such sadness for my mom.

    Yesterday was long- the phone calls, texts, the not knowing what to do with myself, and the plumbers.  (Of course, yesterday was the day that water couldn't be used for six hours.)

    And there was stitching and gratitude for moments and memories.

    I'm so very glad I got to sing with him.

    The plumbing issues continue, and I'll be away some.  Hopefully, stitching here and there.  Be well.

with love

He died this morning. 

Sadness and blessing.  Grateful that he is at ease.

He was a kind good guy, friends and family called him "Koo".

Thank you for your caring support. 💙 

Home & Hand Stories

"Spells of, from & for Home"

    The road opened back up.  No locusts, hailstones or boils appeared.  Two days of trying to help.  Hard.  Just hard.  Physically, emotionally hard.  Due to covid there is not enough support for him or my mom.  We need to figure out a better plan for them, this is not sustainable.  None of us knows what to do.  I'll probably return at the end of the week, when the plumbers are done here.

    Sitting here in my studio room (with a jackhammer sound coming from the basement), surrounded by things I love, especially these blue walls.  Sitting here stitching this morning, trying to figure out what this overwhelming feeling is?   A kind of homesickness, I think.

    Last week I noticed that I kept putting on more layers.  For cold or comfort, I'm not sure?  At one point there were seven items of clothing, and that was just from the waist up.  Just now I remembered that this was something I used to do as a kid, when things didn't feel safe.

    Mom's husband is mostly resting, sleeping, unaware, but there are moments of connection.  There were three sweet ones... 

    On the first day, giving him a dropper full of medicine that he didn't want.  I was firm, "This needs to happen.  It will help you."  He opened his mouth.  "Thank you, good job!"  He raised his arms up a little, hands about a foot apart, gesturing.  I didn't understand.  He tried to say something, a few times.  I realized it was an echo of how I had said "good job!"  That he was trying to clap.  I gave him his deserved applause, he smiled.

    Knitting across the room from him.  Again, the hands were up, moving in a pattern.  "Braiding," he said.  We "braided" together for a few minutes.

    Just before it was time for me to leave, he began humming, "Swanee River."  I joined in with the few words I knew, made up some, hummed too, and then started "Red River Valley."  He hummed, managed a "valley" here and there, as he waved an arm in conductor-like movements... flowing.

Next...

    Yes, it could be worse...  This was on the way to the grocery store yesterday...

    This morning, while loading up the car, a friend texted that the freeway between Washington and Oregon is flooding and has been closed.  I can't get there from here.

    I haven't got a new calendar yet... Is the apocalypse scheduled for next Tuesday?

    Really, I'm laughing.  What else can you do?!?

Chanting to self

    Cloth, thread, needle, blue, moon, waves, stars...

    Last night I opened up the dishwasher too soon.  A new way to wash the kitchen floor.

    This morning I woke to the sound of the cat throwing up in the living room.  K was in the shower. While cleaning it up, I heard a crash in the bathroom.  The shower curtain rod had broken off the wall.

    I am so done with this week, and it ain't over.

    Tonight, the neighborhood will be without power from 7-2, something or other is being done to something or other.

    Heading back down to Oregon to help Mom tomorrow.  I'll have my phone, but I find it hard to read or type much on it, and there is no internet at her place.  Some stitching will come along, but the place is very dark, and she keeps it even darker.  There are always socks to knit, and she does have a hummingbird feeder to watch.

    Cloth, thread, needle, blue, moon, waves, stars...

2022

    Or as my brother said today, "2020-too."

   I had meant to just take a short break, enjoy the boys being home, make some merry, etc.  Those things did happen, but other events have required time, attention and care.

    My mom's husband of thirty-plus years, a good dear soul, is in hospice.  We have gone down to Oregon a couple of times, offering what help and support we can.  Another close family member had emergency surgery just before Christmas.  There's the ongoing and growing plumbing issues, which were supposed to wrap up this week, but have been postponed until next,...

    Because yesterday, after a bad slip on the ice on our hill the night before, K. was unable to walk without help, in so much pain, he spent the day/evening in the ER.  Fortunately, nothing is broken, there is a hand sized horrible looking hematoma (muscle bleed) on his hip and a few weeks of recovery ahead.

    I am grateful for many things in all of this- 

    The medical emergency conversation my family had last weekend, sharing stories (we have fire fighters/emergency workers in the group).  One of them said, "Don't ever walk into the ER."

    Remembering this as I pulled up to the drop-off zone, next to the long line waiting to pass through security and get into the hospital (did I mention that it had started snowing/sleeting/raining again?), arguing with K., who had first fought me about going at all, "People wait for hours just to be seen!" and was now trying to convince me to just drop him off...

    "Just sit here!  I'll get you in!"  Leaving him in the car, I joined the line and then spotted someone official looking leaving the building out a side door, "Excuse me!  Are you a security person?" 

    Yes. 

    "My husband has fallen, maybe broken something.  He can't walk.  WHAT do I do?"

    "I'll get you a wheelchair."

    A few minutes later he was back with the chair, an orderly, and he was taken directly into x-ray.  There were still hours of follow-up, CT scan, etc., but no waiting in crowds.

    Also, my best friend lives two blocks from the hospital.  I was able to wait there and talk with K. and the doctor as needed.

    And then, this morning, feeling a little better, K. decided to take a shower.  Afterwards, while getting dressed, he called out feeling nauseous.  I went in.  He was resting on the edge of the tub, and moments later fainted and slid to the floor.  It was so scary.  He came out of it quickly.  What to do?!  Call 911?  Call the neighbors?  And then remembered, B., a friend from our singing group, a retired doctor (from the same hospital), only a few blocks away.  He made a house call, reassured and advised... Whew.

    Again, so grateful for the people in our lives... Including those of you who have reached out recently, thank you.  There were also a few other crazy dramatic things that happened in the last weeks, which I can't write about here, but really, we are ok enough, managing.

    Determined to stitch again, I'm starting with stars...

    I hope that your new year is off to a much calmer start!

    Sending love, Hazel