So long, 2017; don't let the door hit ya where the Good Lord split ya!
Saturday, December 30, 2017
It's time to put 2017 to bed... thank gawd.
Don't get me wrong, it's had its highlights. I got engaged in April, and just now my coworkers have cottoned on. They're all rather annoyed that I didn't make a big deal out of it; I didn't want to deal with all the squealing and commentary and mentions of "When will you start having baaaaaaabies" bull. When I have a lobotomy and an ovary transplant. So, never.
I seriously want to be a cheeky little monster and have a "maternity" shoot when I finally get a dog. *LOL* Any babies I have will have 4 feet and fur.
Anyway... Fiance' and I got a house, and it's a lovely old house with quirks to spare. We have a 2 car garage (with a broken door but that's another story), a lovely backyard for me to fill with lilacs and such, and a basement that I just started converting into a home gym. I finally got the Bowflex my mom brought up from my uncle's house in Florida, and a friend of mine has loaned me her elliptical as she has no space for it and it was just gathering dust. I want a stationary bike and some heavier free weights, as right now I just have a few "Barbie" weights... but, so far so good. Yoga mat, ab ball, medicine ball, kettlebell, hula hoop... I'm actually excited about this. :) Earlier this year Jonathan installed a TV and DVD player down there so my fitness DVDs weren't going totally to waste. So it's official, I have no more excuses to NOT work out every day. I don't even need to leave the house or work on someone else's schedule... I can just go downstairs, throw on some hard rock, and sweat.
But yes, this year was one to go down in infamy.
It's been almost 3 weeks since dad's funeral. We had him cremated, and his remains are stashed in what has to be the coolest urn ever. Everyone gets such a kick out of it. Not a vase, not a box, but a big ol' ceramic John Deere tractor. When my sister and I saw it at the funeral home we immediately fist-bumped, and then giggled as the rest of our tiny little family trickled in to the planning meeting and gravitated toward the tractor jar. After he was released back to me I put the urn in the big curio cabinet I got over the summer and made a little display around it. His John Deere clock, his little Cars toys, the cap he was wearing on his last day of life... his glasses and his drivers license are in a little dish I bought at Halloween; a pair of black angel wings curved into a bowl shape.
Yesterday I packed up his clothes into a couple rubbermaid bins, keeping out a few things for my sister and his carhartt gear for myself because why not, it fits, and it's damn cold shoveling the driveway. *snort* I started going through a bag of bits and bobs and that's where it went downhill. I haven't really cried since he died. Just a couple tears here and there, nothing I would really consider real grieving... but then, last night, out of absolutely nowhere... I pulled out this little notebook where he'd been jotting down his blood sugar numbers, and on the page to which it was flipped open was a single entry, for the morning he died. He'd taken his numbers before going out with his uncle... seeing his handwriting, seeing the very last thing he'd ever scribble... I utterly lost my marbles.
Jonathan said it was only a matter of time before I broke. I'd been keeping everything together for weeks, working on cleaning out his apartment, sorting his papers, taking on the debt of his cremation and such... I'd seriously thought it was the Lexapro keeping me taped together at the seams, and at one point I wondered if there was something wrong with me as I hadn't really rent my clothes and gnashed my teeth over this... but there it was. One tiny little scribble in his terrible handwriting and I just broke. And I was ANGRY. So unbelievably angry. Punch walls, stomp holes through floors, scream bloody murder, break dishes, smash glasses... I wanted to utterly destroy something, anything, just to get it out.
I resisted the urge to smash out my front windows and instead told Jonathan exactly how I was feeling. He was caring enough to keep ahold of me so I didn't do anything terribly stupid, no matter how much he understood the urge.
Tomorrow is a fresh day; I get to go play with my new gym equipment and start reminding my body how great it is to be limber and have stamina. :D