Well, the Week Just Keeps Coming!

The phone call ended, a call from son with a severe headache. Figure it is sinus; tell him to take sinus med, go to bed. Gin and I at grocery store; son calls; pain is more than he can take.

Well, that was Saturday. It is Monday now. That son, my son Vincent, is in a hospital bed with a brain tumor. I have only reported the week, now onto the second week without the first ever ending, but the whole month has been situations: two of Gin's friends dealing with problems, both in a dangerous mindset, then a run to the hospital to make sure Gin isn't having a heart attack. Her food diet with a drastic change, and meds; a visit to the doctor for a check-up, which turned up something in question--more meds, onto . . . . This month will not end by this year I can see.

Okay, another issue: Vincent doesn't have insurance. Please think of ways to help raise funds. Not only does he not have insurance, but he also has a little daughter who receives the majority of his paycheck. Advice readily accepted!

Oh, this week just gets more wonderful!

Sarcastically said after a student who has become my friend calls me to say, "He punched me this morning, I've left him." She needed to hear someone tell her she was doing the right thing. "By golly girl," I say, "Yes you are, leave, don't answer his text, don't talk to him. You need to think about how to handle his questions and what you want to say to him." Tell me, how many sorries before it is right? Before the dude left the house this morning, he complained about what she did wrong, all the while, she apologized. Wait, what is wrong with this picture? Okay, I'm done, I think, ranting about this. This has been one hell of a week!

The Moon of Man

The moon full on the night of equinox, clouds shadowing her fullness. The night of the wolf exists, I think to myself. The perfect moon, the moon to play hide 'n' seek, the moon to kiss under, to bite under, to tease the one you love. I feel the pull upon my heart and wonder who is my wolf tonight, will she allow me to have a wolf tonight. The clouds heighten the craters, which are just visible to the human eye. These clouds make the moon look rugged, like a man gone unshaven for a day or two. A little ruggedness isn't bad, in fact, some intimidation is needed at times, but not against the love, against those who would take the love. The moon loves Earth, loves man, without man, she would lose hope of being, her little control a delight of life. She gives the sign when birth is to come, when conception is possible; she guides the heart like no other at night, especially in her fullness. There are times, man should fear her, a woman should fear her, when all of Earth should fear her. She has more control then we want to believe. Time has not made her more than what she is, it is because she is and man cannot deny her. The equinox has only heightened this time, this night, emotion swelling without a place to let it go, without a source to give it to. She will not give me my wolf, not tonight, she knows it is not time.

The week continued . . .

Thursday does not end with being ill: scratchy throat, ears hurting, eyes swollen. A call from Gin's doctor after her visit. I am upset. Argh. Now it is Friday. My vacuum smells when I turn it on. When granddaughter visited yesterday, did all her sweeping, she swept up doggy water from the floor. Now, the area (which is a bag on many vacuums) and the filter needs to be cleaned out with Lysol. Glorious day, I must use a broom to sweep up dog hair and dandruff. I look at my kitchen, thumb my nose at it, sweep, get out the mats to work out. The 10am alarm goes off, which means I must check student emails, check all other post. I only have till 11am to do this, then prepare for work. I don't have a supper to pack today. Hide in my office from 1 to 2:15, then instruct, but the day doesn't end until after my last of three stops after leaving campus. Now, I am home, doing double duty for my sketches. Is this the last day of the week for me?

This week has been tooooooooo long

I do not want a week, even remotely close, repeat. A run to the hospital for the daughter, making sure it is heartburn and not more (this on Sunday evening). Monday at work does not go well: no computer wants to work for me, or the site. Then coming home to a kitchen not clean and no supper ready. Tuesday is running from doctor to doctor, and still no clean kitchen. Wednesday, classes appear to be going well, but I am worn from the first two days and feel like I will not make it through, and don't, when I find my kitchen still not clean (well, except for the stove), and Will taken to the hospital for a returning ear infection. Ginny and I go out to eat. I actually do not have the funds to do this, but we need to eat. We go to Applebee's. Salads. Her friends come by, whisk her away to a night of movies. She, or a friend, is supposed to call me, telling me when she will be home. No call. I start calling at 2 am. Yes, I stayed up; I don't like being woke up after a few hours a sleep; it makes sleeping difficult after that. At 3 am, she answers. "Phone was dying; charging. We are watching a movie. I don't know when." Tell her to call when she leaves. The call comes, when she is half way home. I tell her to call when she is in the drive, this way the dogs won't park from her knocking. You are asking why she doesn't have a key: ex-fiance took it, or lost it, and I haven't replaced it--locks need to be changed. She doesn't call; now the dog's are all barking. Will is sleeping on the couch. He had a hard time sleeping because of his cold. He is stirring, but stays asleep. All quiet again. Gin cannot sleep due to the heartburn. Will wakes up from coughing; he cannot have another dose of medicine. Some noise begins outside, but do not know what it is. I cannot sleep. Once asleep, about 5am, after Will has fallen back to sleep, after a diaper change, after changing position on the couch with him, the phone rings at 6:30am. NOOOOOO. Answer, deal, back to bed. The phone rings again, 20 minutes later. Answer, deal, back to bed. Now the dogs are ready to go out at 7:30am. I shut one in the room with Ginny (hers), and the others in the kitchen. I refuse to deal. Will is up at 9am. I am now ill.

Seventh Sketch

Yes, I forgot yesterday! I thought about it. Wasn't feeling well, and just forgot. So here is yesterdays. Today's post will come a little later.

Being Lazy Sketch

Thursday, I awoke to a scratchy throat, to a headache, to eyes swollen from both lack of sleep and sinuses. I can smell a pool full of chlorine each time I breathe in. What is this? Why? Today I will not work, will not put in my 6 to 7 hours of students' work. I feel guilty, but do not care. My day will be about me, will be lazy. My kitchen is not clean; it calls to me. I do not care; besides, the person assigned the chore did not do the work on Monday. I clean what I need and am done. I am tired. I do not go back to sleep. I am bored. I will not read from the papers. Instead, I sit in front of the computer, look at post with pictures--I do not read, except the message with larger letters in messenger. I have a few good conversations. I know I must motivate myself. I will not. I do not run the sweeper, my granddaughter does, who has been dropped off after a doctors appointment. She cannot stand the dog hair and dandruff on the hardwood floor. She does an amazing job. I hug her. She puts in Mama Mia. Good. I cn taek this sound.

Midday, my spirits are lifted. I attempt to read. I cannot focus. I don't want to. I don't care. Is it right? I don't care. I stay in pajamas until three, four. I talk to Sam while he talks to Gin, we have some good laughs and some serious discussions: all good. Music is great. I don't care about getting anything done!

Sketch six, but you guys get an extra that I couldn't post to my other blog site

I know, I know, I know. I need another sketch! I've been pondering this all day. I thought I knew the sketch I wanted to do, but now find that I don't want to share it. Why you ask? Some of it is a little more than I want to have explored on this blog site.

In front of me sits a Spanish / English, English / Spanish Dictionary that is often useless. The orange block on top of the yellow block holds two different languages. The orange block holds black lettering in English, as I have given the title. The yellow block has red lettering in Spanish: El New World, Diccionario, Espanol / Ingles Ingles / Espanol. The thickness is the old fashion standard of a novel. And with that thickness comes a lack of knowledge, missing verb tenses because supposedly a person should know the root word. Many mornings, as a ritual, I sit at this same computer, in front of the screen, preparing a statement in Spanish to a friend who speaks it fluently. This is my way to learn Spanish, which is made difficult by the lacking dictionary. Sam is kind, he does not laugh at me, and shares his knowledge. How could learning another language be made more simple? I ask the dictionary every morning when I look upon its pages, "Why do you not have all the forms listed under each form, allowing me to look up all the tenses with explanation. Even explanations are missing. Dictionaries that are of two languages need to have explanations, to explain. Yes, the book would be that much thicker, but do I care as a person learning a new language? NO.

Almost a worthless sketch, but at least I put something down. Something is better than nothing.

The Mind Sketch

I have no ideas. My mind saying boring, nope boring, and wanting to write a story. Guess what? There is not time for a story in the thirty minutes I allot myself Monday through Thursday. A sketch of my mind? The ramblings of life, of confusion, of children, of teaching, of my wants? Wants? What are those? Are they needs? This isn't a sketch of my mind is it? Chocolate on chocolate. There is this door I want to open but I fear what will happen; disapproval from family, friends, society in general. All are having trouble with the fact I have to move to have a better job because good jobs do not exists here, up here in Fort Wayne, the Fortanywherebuthere living. Do I even want this sketch known? Pour it hot and quick, down my breast. Fear. It holds me back sometimes. Edging into a situation lessens it. Originally I had "lessons," why? The lessons I have learned, the lessons I have taught, the lessons I have watched have all led me to here. I see a window in this door. A peek in tells me I will like what there is, I like making this decision, but I can't have it yet. The chocolate cannot be licked up, or down, can't even be wiped off, it can only run and run, drip away slowly--there is no one there to care for it. Still, it is hard to make change, and it will be difficult for those near me. Once again I will need to edge through, and this time for others. Should I? Do I need to do this for others as well? Am I responsible for this? The other door must come first, the door that is more tedious and time consuming--the job, the move. Decisions have been made about an area, an area more teaming with opportunities, and an area I have fallen in love with as I have searched over the year. With this job is also, maybe, taking on my PhD. Away from everyone I can be more in the right position than I ever have been. My children grown, it is time to fly. That door with the window looks good; I want someone to care for that dripping chocolate.