Monday, March 18, 2013
Three and a half years ago, my husband bought a 2002 T-bird convertible, white with red leather seats. He always wanted one and so we got it. He loved that car, flitting aorund town in it with the top down. Everyone who knew us would honk and wave. A few months back he got called from a crazy woman on his cell phone that there was a bomb under the car. The police came and found a key taped to the underneath side but no bomb. Since the woman's cell # was on hubby's phone the police could trace her. The key, which we didn't know we even had, got put into the side pocket of the car and forgotten.
Saturday night, we forgot to close the garage door. We've done that before but we certainlly won't be forgetting that again.
Early Sunday morning, my husband walked out to get the newspaper and the car was gone. Our neighbor said she saw the car leaving our garage at about 5:40 and thought it was my husband going out early to pick up his political signs. I wish she had called but who would have thought it was someone else. Within an hour the car was in the Choctawhatchee Bay. Of course with the key in the door, they were able to start it and move it out. It was a quick operation. She said she saw another car and driver and someone get in the T-bird and drive away. The place where the car was found is at the end of a cul de sac on a little bayou. That morning a boat was launched across the bayou and hit the car. Otherwise, it may have been a while before it was found. We were there when it got pulled out, still a pretty little car with no damage but complete submersion is not fixable.
Last night I couldn't go to sleep, so anxious. This morning I was talking to a friend and just started to cry. Its like losing a member of the family, we had such a good time in it. I have the idea of writing a children's book called Grandpa's car depicting all of the fun things we did and then what happened to it at the end. Wouldn't that be a safety kind of thing for the police to hand out and a learning experience for kids. In this day and age, when people are so hateful to others, we need to know things like this can happen.
It could have been anyones car that was left in a driveway to be stolen, even without a key. These kind of people can start cars without keys. Ours was in the garage but easilly accessible.
At first we felt stupid but in reality we were careless to leave the garage door open and the key in the sidepocket of the car. We were not the bad guys, there were two other idiots who were the bad guys. My husband went to the school and we are going to post a reward to see if kids will talk and find the perpetrators. I think someone in the neighborhood where this happened said a truck had gone in the water a few months back. It's just an awful thing.
This week my husband lost the election as Mayor of our city by 120 votes. I think if we had the publicity from this, maybe he would have won. And then I had all that medical problem with sinus infection, deviated septum and GERD. Maybe those are our three things that happened. Don't want another.
I dreaded 2013 because I am suspicious about the number 13. Maybe I had a premonition. HOpe the rest of the year is better. Once we took a trip to Egypt and we went on one of those little canal boats down the NILE. They put us in room 13 over the engine room. Not only was I not having any part of that but I was getting nauseous over the smell of the engine oil. So the guide swapped with us and put us under the dance floor. Which was kind of noisy but shuts down at 10:00 in Egypt and no alchohol. So we were able to sleep and I wasn't concerened about # 13.
The car is completely trashed and cannot be fixed. So I guess we will be car shopping.
Sunday, March 17, 2013
This morning my husband went out to get the paper and came back in and said his t-bird convertible was missing. Someone had stolen it from our garage. What a piece of crap that is. They found it this afternoon, submerged in 30 feet of water. Why would someone do such a crappy thing, senseless. We had left the garage door open all night, forgot to close it and that will never happen again. He sure loved that car.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
I have a high tolerance for pain or discomfort so I usually pay no attention to whats going on and suck it up. But this year, after being sick for 3 weeks, I just haven't felt 100% and I've been having a lot of acid reflux, coughing, headache and sore throat so I went to the ENT doctor. He ordered a cat scan and the results came in. I have a sinus infection, a deviated septum and large tubes in my nose. On my right side I have a headache over my right eye, pressure on my right ear and nose. I also saw the gastroenterologist nurse and they have me scheduled for an EGD, rotorooter down the throat to the stomach to look around. She mentioned possible H-Pylori which is a stomach bacteria that remains undetected unless biopsied.
So there you have it. Now, I can allow myself to feel bad. The doc put me on an antibiotic regimen for the sinus infection and suggested I have surgery for the deviated septum.
How, at 65 on Tuesday, have I gone all these years with a deviated septum? I know that my right nose always feels more stuffy than the other side and I snort and cough a lot, especially lately. Hubby has been complaining about the coughing for years but I just ignored it and him. It became such a normal thing that I didn't know what to complain to the doctor about. When we went to Disney in January, my son mentioned that I coughed the whole time I was there but I didn't pay any attention to it. It was such a normal thing for me.
It has also been suggested that I lose weight to help with the acid refulx and I agree. But this year, I have so much acid churning in my stomach, it makes me feel like I am hungry so I eat to quell it. Please Lord I hope they don't put me on Prednisone. I know I was old when I registered at the surgery center and was asked for my medication list. I couldn't even remember them all. I've been carting my MIL's med list around with me for years but now I get to have one too.
So there you have it. I am signing up for that deviated septum surgery when I get better.
Thursday, February 28, 2013
I don't always read the flylady emails in my box but this morning I haphazardly clicked on the below testimonial. What a timely dissertation on fabric hoarding! If you are a quilter, enjoy!
This story is about my mother, but maybe it will be useful to some of your other FlyBabies. (I've used the lessons I learned from it myself, and it helped me accept the wisdom of FlyLady later.)
My mother is a True Crafter - she quilts, she knits, she is *amazingly* creative. And over the years, she has collected materials for dozens of projects that, being a busy woman, she has never gotten around to finishing, or even sometimes starting. Adding to the problem is her loving and generous nature - with five living children, and a dozen grandchildren, when she would be working on a project, every now and then she would get "besieged" with requests from all of us to "make me one, too!"
The next thing she knew, her sense of "fair play" would have her buying the material for half a dozen or more of some project or other, and by the time she had made two or three of something, it wasn't "fun" anymore, so it would all get put aside for her to feel bad about not finishing. Plus, she *loves* a good bargain, so, to put it politely, things started looking a little "hoarders" like in the room she stashed things in, instead of being a relaxing and enjoyable work space.
In my father's final years, he went through a series of challenging health crises. My mother sometimes indulged in "retail therapy" with fantasies about "having time to (fill in the blank)", but as his health declined, things were sometimes simply tossed into the "sewing room" as she dealt with the emergency du jour. Finally, after a battle with pancreatic cancer, we lost him, and my mother was left to pick up the pieces of her life without her husband of nearly 35 years.
The sewing room, which should have been a source of comfort, simply became the symbol of how "out of control of everything" her life had become, and that is where I was finally able to step in and help out. I was ruthless with her. We went through her entire fabric stash, accumulated over decades, and anything she didn't LOVE, we put in a pile to find a new home. We went through *hundreds* of patterns - my mother would sometimes purchase multiple sizes of the same pattern to accommodate different size children/grandchildren, and if she had forgotten she had purchased something, would end up with multiples of them if she *really* liked them.
There were five sewing machines in the room (two gifted from deceased family members), and more "UFOs" than I care to count - with me cruelly limiting her to "only twenty-five"! And her zipper collection! She had gotten a "great deal" on zippers on e-Bay, and I had to point out that no human being on the planet would *ever* be able to use 75 red 9-inch zippers, especially when her true passion was quilting/not making clothes. (For some reason, counting them out loud in front of her seemed to help make the point - lol! She only kept ten!) This was *extremely* hard on my mother, but we found a way to make it work. It wasn't trash - it was *valuable* and it didn't belong in the trash, but seriously, no way did we have time to sell it on e-Bay (and there was a good chance that anything that didn't make it out of the house would end up back in the room, especially if she was wiffly about whether she "liked it or loved it" which was the standard for going away).
Plus, it represented hard work - she hadn't just bought JUNK - she bought Good Stuff that had Potential. Who would want to just let all of that go, for nothing except a feeling of "control"? We solved it by making sure her needs were met -- she needed to feel loved and appreciated; if she couldn't get it from people, she was trying to meet the need with "stuff."
I announced a "crafting giveaway" to a dozen friends, and demanded as price of admission "Chocolate and Appreciation." The first time the women arrived, they brought "Hershey bars" but by the third trip, it was Godiva. They sang her praises, while they hauled bag after bag of "treasures" from her house. They fawned over her collection, promised to do good things with the items, and at the end, we *still* filled a van with items for a church rummage sale. Over $16,000 worth of "stuff" left the house - and my mother still had an enviable collection of "the best stuff" worth over $20,000, along with room to put "new stuff" in as she learned new techniques (heirloom sewing!) and discovered new passions in her creative efforts. (The two junky sewing machines, kept out of memory, went away, too!)
The biggest change? Her attitude. We finally worked through the "guilt" of "making the same thing for everyone" and now she concentrates on "one of a kind" gifts, which means she can enjoy creating different things for each of us. The UFO pile reminded her of which things she enjoyed, and she was able to release the boring stuff she really didn't want to do anymore. Meanwhile, the lavish appreciation and tears of gratitude from the recipients of her largess really helped her "release and let go" of items she didn't love anymore. Plus, the Godiva! Lol!
Today her sewing room only has things she loves in it, and it makes her happy. I am *SO* proud of her, FlyLady! She is my inspiration! (And she helped me "let go" of my "someday, I'll get to that!" projects later, when it was my turn, too!) Crafters are givers and dreamers, dear FlyLady. They always seem to be taking care of other people. I don't know why, but they always seem to be married to or surrounded by those who don't see the possibilities in stashes of fabric, but I know that my mother truly felt like her life was back in control when we finished taking back her sewing room.
Just like she had always planned, she made people happy with her generous cleaning frenzy. I hope some of your other FlyBabies follow her example; the local senior center is filled with women whose limited income means they can't indulge in the joy of creating treasures that crafting gives. One boogie in the craft room...?
My Mother's Daughter in Michigan
I learned so much from reading this. Makes me want to go and clean up my sewing room.
You are not behind! I don't want you to try to catch up; I just want you to jump in where we are. O.K.?
Words can be KIND or MEAN; the CHOICE is yours in 2013!
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