Happy Birthday Grandpa...and Goodbye

The last month has been hell. I lost my grandfather on Friday, July 9. My father called me the day before barely able to control his own emotional despair (marking the second time in my entire life having heard him cry) to tell me my grandfather had been hospitalized and put on a morphine drip to make him comfortable. I spent the next four hours at the hospital just sitting with him, trying to encourage him to eat when lunch came, making him more comfortable when he became fussy, until he fell asleep. My boyfriend brought me my favorite dinner and beverage and ate with me in the cafeteria before going back and saying goodbye.

I tried to go to work the next day, but couldn't concentrate. I left with the intent to go back to the hospital, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I went home and alternated between sleeping and crying. My father called me at 6pm to tell me my grandfather passed at 2pm while they were making arrangements to have him transferred to hospice care.

He loved to boast to me and others that I was his favorite, the "golden grandchild" as he would often call me. He loved to threaten boyfriends about taking proper care of me. I was the only one he would waste air preaching to, despite my grandmother's protests that he shouldn't. Every time I saw him, he always had something to give me, whether a new coin to share (he loved collecting) or a bag of candy from Grocery Outlet (he later became known to pretty much everyone, affectionately if not slightly creepy, the Candy Man). All my life, he was a rock I could talk to, and even the day before he died, my grandmother lamented about how she couldn't get him to talk to her, but he would still talk to me.

Several years ago he went in for what they thought would be a double-bypass surgery. He must have known it would be bad or they gave him a weird survival percentage because he seemed very desperate just before going in for surgery. It ended up being a quadruple-bypass surgery and he came out without complications. The downside was that he would never be able to play golf again, his true first love even though he was terrible at it (I have fond memories of driving him and his golf buddies around on a golf cart trying to dodge old men trying to pimp out their grandsons to tame the wild goth chick). He resolved to play cards at the various fraternities he belonged to. About a year ago, his doctor advised the DMV to administer a driving test, which he of course failed.

He told me at our New Year's Day dinner that this was going to be his year. And not in a celebratory, everything is going to turn around sort of way, but in a this-is-going-to-be-the-year-I-die way. He stopped communicating with family members. His appetite (already significantly reduced after the bypass years ago) dwindled even more. His freedom completely stripped, he suffered from depression. Four months later, he fell and broke his leg. It was weeks before they could do surgery on it. He was then confined to a recliner getting up with lots of assistance only to use the bathroom and eat on occasion. He became increasingly depressed, until he stopped eating and talking altogether. He was admitted into St Agnes sometimes Wednesday, July 7.

I didn't have an opportunity to really acknowledge or deal with the loss of my grandfather, with whom (if you couldn't tell) I was very close. Alongside my own loss, I was having to help support my boyfriend in a custody battle for his son. The combination of stressors had me lose sleep for over two weeks and unable to get the nurturing I needed from the person I needed it from the most. It's taken me awhile to realize how much animosity I'm still carrying from all of that.

Today would have been my grandfather's 89th birthday. The family is going to go to dinner, like we always do, to celebrate. I'm thankful for the near 29 years I had to know him and to love him. But now it's time to say goodbye.

No More Roaches!

Stupid roaches have slowly been invading my kitchen. It would seem they must have burrowed in the microwave and come over during the move from the apartment to the house. Now they hide in the electrical outlets and scurry out if I leave the dishes in the sink too long. It's really gross.

So I'm supposed to be having this graduation party on Saturday, and I'm completely embarrassed by the weird infestation of ants, roaches, and now (oddly) house flies. So last night we went to war.

I wish I would have thought to take pictures, but this article on Instructables covers the project pretty well: No More Roaches.

We got home from work, ate, and got to work making the weird blue concoction. Forty-five minutes later, the whole bottom floor was done. We should have probably done the second floor, but we're lazy. I did, however, jaunt around the front and back yards applying the mixtures under the weep-screen (trying not to block it, of course).

Commenters posted positive results, so I hope we can expect the same!

Purging the Material Dross

I'm a pack rat. A low-level one, but I hate to throw things away. The worst part is you generally can't tell walking into my house. If you can't tell, that means I can't tell. If I can't tell, that means I'm not consciously aware of my problem.

As of last Saturday, that's all about to change.

After going through bins, drawers, two closets, a million and a half random bags, and under the bed, I produced a small fortune in junk I was just hanging onto. Much of it was clothes I thought I might fit back into one day, and if not, something I would reconstruct into something else. Three huge Rubbermaid storage bins, two laundry bins, some boxes, and a few bags later, I trucked everything out of my bedroom and plopped it down into my crafting room. Two bags of recyclables made it to the city sanitation bins. I didn't have that much in the way of landfill garbage, and that was refreshing.

Armed with a roll of garbage bags, I rifled through the dusty hoard and separated things I really wanted to part with from things I wanted to keep or saw a vision as something else. The box that stayed to metamorphosis into something new was significantly smaller than the bags and bags full of crap to go out.



Actually, looking at the pictures it seemed like so much more. Anyway, I posted my goodies on ClovisFreeCycle and moved back inside to get to work making stuff. One of my keepers was a pirate shirt my boss gave me one year for Christmas. Here it is in it's new form as a pillow cover:



I was so pooped (I spent over seven hours altogether on everything) I took a nap after completing the one pillow case. I have a whole box left to go through. Whatever isn't reconstructed after six weeks gets donated to Goodwill. No ifs, ands, or buts.

Over the next six weeks, I'll be targeting every other room, cupboard, shelf, cabinet, and crevice until I am satisfied I have only that which I love.

Why I love the holidays

No, I haven't broken yet. You will find no Christmas spirit here. I generally hate this time of year because I can't get out of the house without being put in mortal danger by rushing, oblivious shoppers. I enjoy the time I spend with my families and while giving and receiving presents is fun, the food and company are generally preferred by me. Oh, and if the spirit involves spirits, I am doubly in!

One of the best things about being in crafting communities is seeing how other crafters celebrate the holidays. I think this is going down as one of my favorite ideas. And since it involves tigers, I'll definitely be needing one of those.

http://gizmodo.com/5113090/macabre-plush-toys-are-perfect-xmas-gift-for-future-psychokillers

Pet Lovers Swap

Just received my Craftster swap partner yesterday. Partner is a proud owner of a baby Siamese named Ari. Ari sounds like he has a lot in common with my cat, Honey, so I look forward to crafting for him. She said no wool, unless it's purpose is to be killed by said cat. I'm thinking a Homespun blanket and a few cat toys, maybe bowls if I get antsy.

Christmas

Most...MOST of the presents I PLANNED on making are complete. I have a whole Rubbermaid bin dedicated to them. I plan on taking pictures this week and posting them on Craftster.org and my Flickr account. I should make a game out of it. Put up a slideshow and make everyone guess.

Clean and Soft

I may have overdone the baking soda "paste" yesterday. I measured a 1/4 cup of baking soda and added water until it because baking soda-water. It seemed to be quite a lot more than previously, so my measurement must have been way off. However, it was much easier to spread over my scalp than before. I first massaged my scalp with finger tips, then with a wet wash cloth before rinsing.

Since it was Sunday, I also rinsed with a cup of apple cider vinegar. Now, this seemed to leave my wet hair sticky. In order to keep my waves, I didn't comb my hair. When it dried the scalp was clean and free of oil. My hair is soft and light and full of body. It's amazing to think a week ago today I was going to give the whole thing up.