TP: Sepia (Jizo)

Depression is deep if I'm not taking pictures. It's been a rough couple of months, I've few pictures to show for it. 

Coming out of the fog just in time for the end of Sepia Week for Thematic Photographic with my Jizo, in his new home just outside my window.

Hannah's Jizo

My Worst Fear

summa teeth - eek!

Tuesday I was sitting at the computer and my tongue found chunks. A tooth had crumbled, succumbing to the cavity I'd denied for weeks. A tooth people can see. I can no longer deny the declining state of my chompers! With the holidays fast approaching, my Dental Work Savings had accumulated exactly zero.
I managed to scrape up 150$ before calling local dentists on Wednesday morning.  I did find *one* dentist in Corvallis working a full day. His office, however, was unable to serve me within my budget. (to be detailed in a much longer blog post of it's own)
I began to search in nearby Albany, and quickly found Gentle Dentistry: 1) open, 2) available, and 3) willing to work within my budget ♥ Not to mention, upon answering the phone, the lovely Tina had me taking deep breaths, calming down and feeling well cared for ♥

temporary filling,
permanent smile

Dr. Phan cleaned my hole and threw on a patch good enough for the holiday weekend, sans biting, all for 117$.
He gave me an appointment for this afternoon at 3:30; yes, he said, he'll be staying late for this one. He's giving me a discount for paying cash. Cash for a 700$ procedure I have approximately 33$ available to fund.
Refusing to accept an ugly smile until 1) dentistry becomes affordable, (pick yourselves up), 2) I win the lottery, or 3) I'm able to nickel and dime my way into a dentist's office, I ponder the options.
I kicked off my SaveMySmile campaign on Twitter, asking for 70 followers to donate 10$, then I moved to Facebook, asking each of my 600+ friends to PayPal just 1$. I'm well aware it's a bit like the NPR Pledge Week, still amazing and just a bit annoying. I apologize. And smile :D
I found this nametag in my shuffling and turned it into this sign ♥




~♥~ ~♥~ ~♥~To date, an hour from my actual appointment, I've managed to raise 75% of what I need, contributing an additional 10% myself. I've more than 50 families to thank from the bottom of my heart, with the biggest smile of all, for making this happen! I'm about to have the most anticipated rootcanal in history and I've rarely been happier.

Eggs and 'tetchup

Eggs & 'tetchup

I once had the best wife in the universe, who just happened to be one studly hunk of a man. An unbiased opinion, that, I swear. Mitch was of the "Wash, Clean, Cook? YES!" mentality that I still cannot quite understand. Happy to appreciate these skills, in my confusion, make no mistake, I'm very grateful! Especially considering Wash, Clean, Cook were happily joined by Play and Change Diapers ♥

When he fell undeniably ill, mid-October, there was no denying a shift of responsibilities was inevitable. I wasn't ready for imminent, inevitable was fine.
Mitch's mother came to visit for Thanksgiving. I prepared by asking, pleading, begging, admonishing and threatening Mitch to remain still and docile, for a few weeks, to allow his bruises to heal.  We knew they came from his Lumbering About Adventures, including walls, doorways and floors; she did not. Already, he was a scary sight post-stroke, I'll admit, and I was there every day to watch the rapidlyslow decline of his body. She was in for the shock of her life, I wanted to soften it as much as I could, with whatever energy I could muster.  (FYI - he didn't listen)

I'm honored that food was her only issue with his care. Mostly I remember she made him oatmeal, his childhood favorite, like when he was 8.  Mitch really liked it with steamed milk and thank the heavens Mitch's mother was there to provide this peek at someone who'd been a stranger for almost 25 years of my life and my husband for merely 5. These peeks were numbered, sacred and running out at alarming speed.  I make oatmeal with water, he made it with water, she found comfort in providing the milk ♥

Oh look! Eggs & 'tetchup

On his last day with his mom in town, I made breakfast. And documented it.
My kids liked Eggs & 'tetchup because their dad made it for them whenever they asked. They liked Cheese Toast because Daddy told them the very best cheese comes wrapped in individual slices & tastes great slapped on dry toast.
It was two days later when I offered the kids breakfast and they ran to Mitch's dresser. Puzzled, I followed and observed as they opened his sock drawer, I helped them rifle around until we found the (unbeknownst to me) mega-stash of Everlasting Gobstoppers.  Apparently, the breakfast of other champions named Jenner. Daily part of the lounging-in-bed-before-actually-getting-up routine. Probably followed by a trip to the kitchen with real food, before the family shower at 11:30 am.
A part of the day that was theirs alone with Dad; with routines and rhythms and scents and sounds so different than my own; different even than when I am present. I was suddenly extra sad for them, for this intimacy they'd lost and perhaps never remember. And I stopped. They'd been given the gift of a father, for the briefest of moments, who was their playmate, their champion, their sun & moon. Perhaps not to be a memory for the brain at all, but a memory designed for one's heart and soul.
And that memory is moving towards making it all worthwhile ♥ 

Prayers Answered

Chocolate IceCream for Brekky, because we can!

I remember chatting in bed that morning, the two of us whispering as I dosed his morning's medications and the children dozed nearby. The headache was bad, they were all bad since we'd stopped the steroids, we hoped for comfort from some Breakfast Morphine and a nap.
Meanwhile I was off to work at a church. Not just any church, mind you. A church filled with Believers, including a family I met when I was 8 years old. A family who's chance meeting led to my career as an ASL interpreter; a family who's faith inspired me deeply and wholly through my life.  A family who asked me how I was and anticipated an honest answer. So I gave them one: I am done, spent, empty. I cannot carry this burden one more day. So we prayed, the whole of the congregation prayed my honesttogod prayer with me: Let it end. Soon. 

I now believe Mitch might've been praying the same prayer. When I arrived home and set about his care, his headache was a reported 15 on a 1-10 scale. I began the Instant + Long Morphine + Marijuana Cycle to bring down his number. Nothing worked. I turned to light the vigil candle before the VirginMotherofGod and when I turned back 'round, Mitch's mood had shifted. "She scares me," he said again; apparently she'd been scaring him for a few days now. I wondered if she was hovering near, waiting to deliver him to the other side. I comforted him with some soothing words of her kindness and grace, of her gifts of faith and love. He seemed to buy it and fell asleep. 

When the chance came for a quick escape, even for an hour, I took it! Mitch and the kids were looked after by family & my brain needed respite for what was to come next...
I heard him when I walked into the room. My brain told the rest of my body before I could cognitively puzzle the pieces & I flew into action. The Death Rattle(tm), The Official Sound of Death Itself. Right there in our bed, our whole family's bed, just like we'd talked about. Like we'd so desperately tried to deny. Death was a'knockin' and I had to decide Hostess Protocol. Aunt Donna appeared (she's really so very good at that) and set to work right away. The hospice nurse was called and the bed cleaned and changed.  I brought out the tub for bathing, filled with warm, Satsuma scented water and a cotton washcloth, like I'd promised.
And I wanted to break, so desperately.
Humans don't break, though, even when they're willing.
I was snapped back with "If you don't do this here, they'll do it at the hospital"
Again, I was giving care, Ultimate Care to the man I promised to love, honor and cherish for all the days of his life.  I wasn't gonna run screaming on my very last chance to do just that.  (I wanted to though, I really did)
Calls were made, people streamed in and out, the children were lightheartedly entertained, laughter was heard and vigil was held.
When his last breath had once again been foiled by my arrival in the room, I snuggled with him in our bed, this one last time. I sent for the priest & asked for the children to go along for the ride. When the door closed behind them, I bent down and whispered his sweetest permission to Run Forrest, Run.
And run he did, right that very moment, to whatever was waiting for him not-here ♥
I sang to him because it felt good.

Pedro meets Mitch, Mitch meets Pedro

Missing him today as much as I knew I would on the day I promised. ♥

Tool of the Oracle: Your True Nature

A meme stolen from Sara McGrath and passed along by Frank Maier
Instructions:
1. Delve into your blog archive.
2. Find your 23rd post.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions.
The 23rd Blogpost on this here blog, is a photograph, no words, from November 2005: 

My True Nature

I believe the Oracle's power is most evident in the 5th sentence of this year's 23rd post: 

I'm a baking maniac with a son on vacation, making said mania guilt-free.

From Spring Sadness May 2010

TP: Flowers (of the Sun)

Just when I'd given up on life in the Dead Zone, these late bloomers have restored my faith in the Sun, The Oregon Sun. Their faces are at last opening to the final rays of our Summer's Shine.

Baby

Bursting (hello mr. bug)

Happy Half Bloom*

*aforementioned FXCam app, Toy Cam

Unconscious Mutterings #395

Hannah, circa 2001

I say ... 
and you think ... ?

Leads :: Connect
Concierge :: Serve
Thousand :: Miles
Engines :: Run
Argument :: WIN
2006 :: Whew. Hannah
Knot :: Tangles
Fuck :: Me
Handsome :: Hero
Ridge :: Runner

TP: (Black-eyed) Flowers

Black-Eyed Susan, three perspectives.

one

two

три*

*used the Russian Camera on the Retro Camera app (droid). Since deleted. I'll stick to FXCam.

TP: Flowers (from ABQ)

We've a very non-traditional (read: Oregonian, not South Dakotan) garden in our backyard.  This year has been a grand experiment, as we learn about our 25 different types of dirt and what it needs to grow what. Flowers are mixed right in with our food crops; some of them even being food (Nasturtiums). In the back of the space, where  most everything has failed to thrive, I spy Morning Glories joyfully embracing my stunted corn ♥ 

Pretty in Pinks

Beautiful in Blues

Not only are Morning Glories my favoritest flower in the garden (something about the fleeting beauty, the fragile-seeming strength), these are especially sacred as they're part of the bounty I've received from Sandra Dodd's backyard. The same flowers grow there, as here. And this comforts me ♥ 

TP: (Still my) Kid

Hayden + Buster = 10 Years!

This here's my Kid and his dog, Buster. He's freshly 12 and still attached after 10 years...

The original Buster was a gift from Tena, just after Mitch died. Hannah got Ginger, whom I now treasure in her stead ♥
This is, in reality, Buster III; an identical twin to Buster I. Buster II was a close approximation for the 4 year old who'd lost forever his sacred pet, until Buster III was found and adopted. For once, I thank the corporate gods for consistency in product: Toys R Us carries identical doggies at all their stores!
Buster mostly hangs out on top of our television, watching the action. Where he's safe from Charle's affections.  This day, Hayden had Buster because he'd just saved him from said affections. (Charlie does not shred babies; he carries them and slobbers them) After a bath, Buster will be just fine!
I'd say good as new but I believe this dog can never again be reduced to good as new.
He gets better-as-old with all this Love.
And moments like this, captured forever, make Buster invaluable to all of us.

Happy Birthday, Hayden!
I'm so glad you were born.
I'm so glad you're my kid ♥