Summer Recap

This will forever go down as The Summer of "I Got Nothing Done".
Garden? Planted, weeded once in awhile, harvested- yeah right! Not yet.
Critters? Minimum amount of chickens, no pigs, 2 steers (to be butchered within a month). So there will only be a small amount of chickens to winter over.
Household projects? Stove restoration - still sitting on the front porch. Greenhouse? Still sitting in my head, although I think we have all the windows we need now. Back deck? Still there, still unfinished, still no steps or railings or cute little planters.
And on and on it goes.

Why? Because I got nothing done - or did I?

My Dad (my hero, my superman, my Daddy) is dying of parkinsons. Could be days. Could be weeks. Knowing the strength of my Dad's character, will and personality, could be months.

This is what I know about parkinson's (no respect for this disease, so you get no caps! Deal with it!)
The experts all say that no one dies from parkinsons, but that it's just a miserable way to live until something else kills you. I respectfully, now, disagree.
My dad can no longer eat much. He can't stay awake long enough to eat enough or even drink enough. He is quickly losing the "swallowing" instinct so chokes frequently.
How does this not kill him?
He's been totally and thoroughly degraded, humiliated and broken down by this disease.
How does this not kill him?
His body is ravaged to the point where he can no longer walk, talk, communicate, think, or even spend any amount of time awake, let alone spend any time at all in this world that I still live in.
How does this not kill him?
There are no more "good" moments for him, he is just lingering.
How does this not kill him?
So, while I don't have the appropriate letters after my name to make a statement like "parkinson's does not kill...." I disagree.

So, what did I do this summer? Between my mother, my daughter and myself, along with the awesome, wonderful, bestest (not a word? don't care!), most compassionate people on earth who fall under the tent called "Hospice", I have spent lots and lots and lots and lots of time with my Dad. Time that will never be wasted. Time that I can never get back with my home and farm (again, don't care). Every day I still learn something new from this man who most would only see as a shell. Every day I gain time, more valuable than all the gold on earth or in heaven, with this man who when I was a small child, did the same for me.
Because he's still there. I defy you to look in his eyes. Deep into his eyes, into his soul and tell me he's not still there. He is.

Whether he has days, weeks or months left, we will still continue to give him our best, to give him everything we have, while our heart breaks. While we watch him slowly slip away.

Because he's my Dad. And he would have done it for me.

And when it's my time to linger at death's door, I can only hope that I can pull it off with a shred of the amazing strength that he has shown. And when I am able, when he's asleep, I will tell him to go. That's it's ok to go. That his parents, siblings and one of my brothers are waiting for him. That he's done his job here on earth in shaping the lives of myself and my brothers, who are 4 of the most amazing people I know. And that it's time for the next chapter of his life, to make his Heaven into an equally amazing place.

I love you Dad!

It's All About Relaxation

I've come to a conclusion that relaxation and having your ducks all in one puddle, that you can actually find, on command, are both related.

This insight all came to me on my ride from work last night (and it only took 50 some years to get to this conclusion)!

Beautiful night, gorgeous, looking forward to the meteor shower and all (it's all about the universe!). But it's a bit chilly on the toes, (wearing socks might have helped, but they were in another puddle - probably in another universe). But I was relaxed because I was riding, and knowing that I'd be witness to a majorly cool solar event later that night (after dinner, laundry, dishes....) And then it rained. Rain = clouds, and clouds = no view of night sky. There's probably a mathematical equation in there somewhere, and I'm sure one of my engineer brothers would love to help me out with that one.

Relaxation is accepting that rain is good, and that meteor showers will be visible again, at another time. The tomatoes and peppers like the rain, as does the corn and cucumbers. And I really don't like watering the garden from the well and since I don't have the watering systems set up yet, that's what has to happen.

Relaxation is knowing I'm right on top of a major life changing deadline at job #1 (and having the confidence to actually acknowledge that I'm right on top of it, and I WILL meet this deadline. (now that I've sufficiently jinxed that one...)

Relaxation is starting a new job without leaving any of the previous jobs and figuring out how to get another hour or so out of every day (it is a part time job, after all). But, hey, the universe will get me through that one, and the extra money will buy me a really, really awesome vacation in January in Colorado.


Relaxation is knowing that I have to have 2 sweaters done by the middle of Sept. and that both of them are nearly done. (I just did the jinx thing again didn't I?). But both are extremely enjoyable and are easy to knit while watching tv (what's that?) or walking.


Relaxation is riding to work with a turkey carcass strapped to the back of the bike, so that even though I have to work until late, my son (who is home from Iraq for another week) can have his turkey noodle soup that he loves (have to make it at work for various reasons, mostly so I only have to cook once, and my Dad can eat too). Gotta love the looks you get from people, although this being farm country and all I'm sure I'm not the only one who has attempted this.....


True relaxation comes in knowing that tomorrow night, come hell or high water, I'm going to my Knit Night, even if I'm late, and even if it's raining and I get wet, cause, well, that's what I want to do.

And most of all, relaxation is having a soft puppy to cuddle with. Awwwwww. No, not the Bu-Dawgh, he's not soft, although he is cuddly. But The Mouth has a Siberian Husky, who is very, very cuddly and of the Soft Enough To Spin His Fur Into Yarn To Later Knit Into Something That Will Hopefully Not Smell Like Dog Hair When Washed variety. Plus, he smiles too, now that's relaxing!

Relaxation is conquering my demons one at a time with a grace and strength (still working on those, but hey, gotta have goals..) that sets me apart from, well, ok, not from anyone else who's ever conquered demons, but they will be conquered. I will whip them into submission. I will win! I will rise victorious, and there will be no jinxing of this! I WILL WIN!
Alot of this recent "I will win" attitude comes from a friend, who recently in an accident, and is now paralyzed from the neck down and may never even breathe on his own again (a Christopher Reeves type of injury) fights his own battle. I'm told he has a 1% chance to breathe on his own again and a 1% chance to actually walk again (if he actually pulls through, and this hasn't been verified yet). This has sparked discussion between myself and hubby about what ifs and what nots. We're fiercely opposed on this one. I'd like to believe I'd take the 1% chance they've given him and make it 2. Then make it 4. And go from there. Hubby, not so much. I'd like to believe I got this attitude from my Dad, who fights his own battles daily with a fierceness unparalleled, but on the same plane also hope I never have to find out. I'd like to believe that if forced into a fight such as this one, I'd be able to walk the walk and not just talk the talk, again, hopefully I'll never find out, I'm afraid I'd fall far short of my own expectations.

But, it's all about relaxation, and ultimately, taking what life throws at you, making the best of it, and smiling through it.

And that's deep enough for now!

Black Dog, Revisited

Today I need to vent, just a bit, so if you're not in the mood to listen to me whine, feel free to leave. I've had a few people ask me about reference to The Black Dog. Depression has been referred to as The Black Dog. That's all, The Black Dog = depression. I fight with it pretty much daily. I'm not feeling sorry for myself, that's just the way it is.

Everyday, I have to watch the strongest man in the world, fight to try to do the little things that most of us take for granted. And every day, the strongest man in the world fails (in his eyes, never in mine) to do most of these things. And he knows it. You can see it in his eyes, and he knows it. He knows that he should be able to figure out the little things, he knows he used to be able to do it, and he knows he can't. And he knows that we consider it necessary that someone be with him all the time, and it surely burns away at his pride and ego to know that we consider him to be "incapable".

Yet, he still fights. Every day. To be the man he used to be. To be the man who is not confused by little things, like where to put the leaves he just finished raking. Stuff like that. Any why can't he get the lawnmower started, or which terminal to put the battery charger on.

And every day, we watch as he gives up the fight just a bit more, and falls into his hole. And every day, we have to figure out new ways to hold him up, to help him fight. To keep him going. To be the person he would want to be if he could.

And the next day it starts all over again. Some days are good, some are bad. I used to think it was the weather, it doesn't seem to matter. I used to think it was whether or not people were around, but that doesn't seem to matter either. We all have good days and bad days, that's just the way it is.

And every day I thank God for the incredible support system we (my mother, daughter, and I) have. For the phone calls from other family members, checking not only on the strongest man in the world but also on us. For the endless doctors who take our questions and treat us like we're the only patients in the world. For a husband who always asks how my day was, and if it was crappy, I can tell him that, and he listens. He knows he can't fix it, all he can do is listen, and he does. Even when I forget to ask him how his day went. For the friends and co-workers who hold us up in their own way, to give us a bit more strength so that in turn, we can give it back to him. And especially, I thank God for the strongest man in the world, who has taught me so much about living, loving, and life. There's still so much to learn, I will soak up every little bit I can while I can. And I sincerely hope, that if it's ever my turn to face this kind of insurmountable struggle, that I can do it with the same amount of dignity and grace and strength.

I love you Dad, but I hate Parkinson's.