The First Ten Months...Part 1

Tommy died ten months ago. I still have no plan for a life without him. I try to create scenarios where I make some sort of plan. It fails miserably, or I forget from one day to the next what my plan of attack for life was supposed to be. So I make a new plan and repeat the process all over again. 
 The truth of the matter is, I want my life back. I really don't want a new life.  I loved my old life. We were happy and very much in love. We were two odd ducks that belonged together. We didn't always act the way we should but we never stopped loving each other. We were married for  48 years and I miss him.  I long to talk to my best friend. I hear him in my head and I know what he would say.  But still...
   It is that simple and that complicated. Tommy died and I didn't.  Honestly, that isn't what I had in mind at all.  I never thought much about death.  We were young and then we weren't.  In my mind, we would die together either in a car wreck or a plane crash. Whatever happened we would be together. We actually had this conversation several times in our life together.  It didn't work out that way and I am mad.  I am angry with Tommy for dying.  I am mad at me for being alive without him with no plan to continue. I miss my old life and I want it back.  And I can't have it. So here I am ten months after Tommy died and I am no closer to living than I was the day after he died. Each day I get up and think, 'ok world what are we gonna do today' and the world does not respond. I make a list of things I could do and then immediately throw the list away.  Most people think I should have moved on and started living.  I am trying. I am trying!! I have nothing that moves me.  It is all 'busy work'.  My short term memory sucks. If I did remember something it is gone by the next day. This odd condition is caused by 'grieving' and 'stress'. Two emotions that have their own agenda to run. There is a good chance I suffer from memory loss from the two long operations I had. The first was the double knee replacement. The other was when my right kidney was removed about two weeks after Tommy died. It was cancer. They got it all and I am on no meds for it. As it stands I am on cancers timetable. Hopefully, we will never meet again. 
   Am I having a pity party today?  Probably. Do I care?  Not one bit. 

Welcome 2019...

   As I write this I am drinking my second cup of coffee in 2019. I am enjoying talking to the early bird risers on FaceBook. I took a quick look at the weather and news. Both could be a whole lot better. I didn't make any New Year's Resolutions last night. I don't think I have ever done this before in my life. I could not think of anything. All I know for sure--I want a new life. A better happy life. My priorities have changed a lot in this past year. We shall see how that plays out in real life. It is the first time in my life that I am only responsible for me. If I don't do it---then it doesn't get done. I am responsible for me and only me. That is kind of a scary thought coming from a woman who had eleven months of "October and one month of December and all 365 days were Friday." The good news I know it is January 1,2019. As for what day of the week it really is? let us say I don't think it is Friday but I wouldn't want to bet my Social Security on the other six days.
  I wanted to touch base with everyone. Thank you for your support this past year. Thank you for standing in the gap for me when I couldn't hold two thoughts together. I have never in my life been this broken. I feel like a jigsaw puzzle that is missing a few pieces. Nothing fits. But that will change with time and I do believe it will happen in 2019. Being willing to accept what cannot be changed is the beginning of healing. 
  I want to thank my daughters, grandchildren, Becky, Darla, Joanie and Barbara and all my friends from long ago. I love you all and am so blessed to have you in my life. I also want to thank all my FaceBook friends that I have built a strong relationship with over these past years. We have never met in person but you probably know me better than my neighbors do and half my family.  I love you all and you are vital to me.  And so important in my life I count on you. When I count my blessings I count you all twice. Here's hoping the New Year is kind to all of us. That we open ourselves to new adventures and new ways to see the old world.  Much love to all, Vicky  

Miz Vicky Gets a Tattoo...Part 2

  When Lisa and I entered the Tattoo parlor, we entered another world. I knew as soon as I walked through the doors, I was in for a new adventure. I could not imagine what the next five or six hours held for us. I knew one fact and one fact only. We were going to have a good time...and have a good time we did.
  It was about four o'clock in the afternoon when we sauntered through the tattoo shop doors. It is a huge place with artwork and oddities all over the walls.  The first thing I saw was a car with a bear rug underneath it.

 I could not take everything in with one look.  The room was as

varied as the people who worked there. There was one young man in a chair waiting for someone to wander in needing his services. His name was "Coop" adorable and funny but not a happy camper.  We were his first customers all day. It was around 4 o'clock and he needed to earn some money. We were more than glad to oblige because we needed two tattoos. As we were making plans for our tattoos a young woman with three children busted through the door.  She was this side of mad.  She yells at Coop to watch the children. One little boy was about five, the second little boy may have been three and the third one was in an infant seat asleep.  She plopped the baby on the counter by us and took off in a rant to an office that we thought was vacant.  The baby slept. The two brothers got in a shoving match and one started crying. Coop jumped up, separated the boys and came back to work on our sketch. I asked are these yours?  He said, "God NO!!" and answered the phone. About this time the mother comes out of the office mad as all get out and rushes out the door, leaving the children behind. Coup writes in an appointment and hangs the phone up. He asked us to watch the baby while he gets the other two set up watching cartoons. About this time the baby wakes up and starts to cry. Coup runs back in the office grabs the baby and runs out the door to an apartment across the street. He is gone long enough to change a diaper. I guess he phoned the manager and asked him to come out of his office and keep an eye on the place just in case he had read us wrong and we were either thieves or kidnappers. The owner knew we were harmless but made small talk with us until Coop arrived from his mission. 

When Coop arrived with the baby in tow we once again discussed our tattoos for about three seconds. That is when another tattoo artist arrives. He is talking up a storm to no one in particular. He had not had a good day either.  About this time I have to go to the bathroom. I asked if I could use theirs. Coop said they didn't have one in their part of the building but I could use the one in the hallway. Fine by me. When I get to the hallway there are two doors the first one was locked and the second one opened into a bar.  When I opened the back door to the bar, everyone turned to see why I was coming in the back door. I no longer have any inhibitions. I do not care what people think. I am so done with that.  It is very 'freeing' to feel this way. So I just told them I had to use the bathroom and the other door was locked. The lady bartender told me I had not walked far enough. The bathroom was around the corner from the locked door. I smiled and started to order a Salty Dog when I figured I had better get back to Lisa. I turned around and made my exit. I found the bathroom and was back in the tattoo shop in no time at all.  Everything was still a little on the chaotic 

      side. The manager went back to his office, the three children were still there. The mother was AWOL, three teenagers had arrived wanting body piercings. The lady who did body piercings was the AWOL mother.  Lisa and I looked at each other and laughed.  

Finally, it was time for our tattoos. Coop was as ready as he was going to be that night. I wanted to go first. We had this all planned and programmed. All I had to do was sit still and let the artist work his magic.  He started with my 'swath of blue background'. It didn't hurt as much as I thought it would but my arm started bleeding and Coop was worried. He said it shouldn't be doing that. There was nothing I could do about that. It is just my skin. That is when he asked me how old I am. I told him and he hung his head for a few seconds. He thought I was younger than I am and he was not prepared for the thin skin. Finally, it quit bleeding and the words were completed in a flash, However, I have a blue semi arch at the beginning that looks like it has the makings of being a comet. Anyway, that is what I am gonna do to fix it. Add a silver star at the beginning and throw a couple more stars in the mix and be done with it. It will be pretty when those things are added.

Next, it was Lisa's turn. She was as excited as I was. This was a good day for us. Her tattoo went smoothly. Coop was done in no time at all. Her tattoo was perfect.

I think Lisa'a tattoo is great. As we finished up and I paid Coop, he said, "it is dark and I want to walk you ladies out." He opened the door for us. We were still cutting jokes and laughing. Coop gave each of us a hug and a kiss on top of our heads. He said for us to stay safe and to not make this my last tattoo. Sorry Coop but this is it. I got what I wanted.  "If Not Now...When?" is just what I wanted and the experience was even better.

Miz Vicky Gets Her First and Last Tattoo...Part 1

  I can check another 'want to' plan off my bucket list. I have my first and last tattoo.    
 When Tommy joined the Marines his mother made him promise never to get a tattoo. He kept that promise. However, he did not want me to get one. He never was a fan of tattoo's on anyone. So I told him that as long as he lived I would not get a tattoo. This statement ushered in years of laughter, jokes, and discord. 
  Tommy watched t.v. all the time after we retired unless we had plans to do something. I can go days without turning on the television. My joke and promise to Tommy was if he died first...the remote would go with him. And it did.
  He always told me that he knew I would get a tattoo no matter how old I was if he died first. He was right. I did.
 He intended to fill my casket with all my art supplies and books put me in a boat and float me down the river. We made up all sorts of funny morbid stuff. We knew it was a lifetime away. And then one day it wasn't.
  I never knew what tattoo I wanted. It changed from year to year. I am so glad I did not get the symbol of a hand shooting the bird on my wazoo. I had that one picked out for years when I was young and wore bikinis. It would show above the bikini line. Why??? Who knows. We did a lot of crazy things back then. 
  Several months after Tommy died, I went to Florida to spend some time with Lisa and Lisle. That is when Lisa and I decided it was time for the 'tattoo'. I finally decided on the words, " If not now, when?" That is my new motto for life. Lisa got a dandelion blowing in the wind, with the words "Just Breathe".
   When we entered the tattoo parlor, we walked into another way of life. It was one of the best days of my life...so far.
   

Foot Massage and a Contender for Pimp of the Year...

   Lisa took me Saturday to get a foot massage and pedicure.  We stopped at a little Oriental shop.  We were introduced to  the people who would be working on us for the next hour. Included in the pedicure was a massage from the chair we were sitting in.  I had not experienced the pleasure of either. The lady who worked on me was nice but only spoke very broken Engish to me. Lisa and I picked out a dark sapphire shade of blue for our toes.  I am assuming after the toes were done she turned my machine on high and left.
   Lisa had a fiesty Asian young man with a great sense of humor. We hit it off immediately. He thought I needed a boyfriend. I assured him I did not and that I was fine. He said,
"You color your hair and you look fifteen years younger,"  I laughed and told him I didn't want to color my hair. I earned every one of these silver hairs and I like them."  He wasn't satisfied. He kept on talking b.s. for the duration of the pedicure. He informed me if I got some slinky clothes I could have a wonderful a wonderful time at some club he knows. He offered to introduce me to some of his friends. I laughed and asked him if he was a pimp or an escort?  He just laughed and never did answer the question.
   I do not know who owned the shop. The older lady who worked on me was not amused with his banter.  I thought it was funny.  Lisa and I were laughing and having a good time. That is about the time the older woman returned to adjusted my back massage chair. I thought it was going to beat me to death. I could not have gotten out of that chair by myself if I was dying. Ah, sweet revenge probably from his mother.  Oh well, live and learn.  I bet he got his wazoo chewed after we left. If he got fired, I am sure he knows where to find another job. It is probably called, "The House of the Rising Sun.

One Thing I Know for Sure...I Love to Fly

  I love to fly. Airports are one of my favorite places to people watch. Honestly, as much as I like to read, paint and write, I believe I might like people watching the best. 'People watching' usually leads to my other three interests.It adds fuel to my fire. My trip to Florida was no exception. 
  I arrived at the airport without any trouble until I found out I had to park my car in the long-term parking area. This place happens to be in the middle of BFE. And no one knows for sure where that is---same with the airport long-term parking lots. After almost two hours of near misses, I find myself in the right lane, headed in the right direction. When I arrived there was no one there except 3 other people who were waiting to be picked up by the airport bus and taken to their intended destination to begin their journey. We shook hands and introduced ourselves. We made a few jokes then waited for the bus to pick us up. The bus was there soon. After making it through security, I proceeded to my gate, find a seat and make a quick scan of the people I would be flying with. I was early and there were only about five people there. I took my seat on the side of the wall facing the crowd. It did not take long for the usual nonsense to begin. It is always a different situation but it is still usually a hot mess in the making.  
   Sitting two rows over from me on the outside seat was a lady who clearly was about to have a meltdown. And meltdown she did. She was probably about ten years younger than me. Tears were flowing and she was crying out loud in a few minutes. I got up to walk over to her and two men from airport security walked rapidly down the hall and stopped at her seat. They began to talk softly but firmly to the loud crying woman. They were trying to calm her down without making a scene and to remove her from the airport. That is when I took a seat and began to take mental notes. With my memory condition, it is a fifty-fifty chance I will remember what happened. The way I look at the situation, it never hurts to try. I never did find out for sure how she got through security because she was most definitely on her way to being just this side of drunk. The two young security men asked her how much she had to drink. She told them, "Not much, one at six, one at seven, one at eight and one at nine. I wondered what she had been drinking. She was informed that she would not be flying today. She had already missed her plane. She began to sob and cry loudly. She was not a pretty crier. Her nose ran, she spits on the floor and began to call for help. She got help alright, just not what she intended. Four big security men came out of nowhere. That made six men to her lonesome self. She informed all the men to "step back and not to lay one hand on her. She had been raped before and if anyone touched her she would absolutely flip out on them."  The men backed up and called for a woman security officer. No one came. She kept telling her life story. One young man connected with her on some level. He motioned for two of the men to step back out of sight. The two men standing by the officer in charge,  moved back about twenty feet. I had to scoot over two seats because one of them was in my way. The point of contact officer asked her if she was thirsty. She was and one of the officers got her a glass of water. I was curious to see which of the officers would end up wearing the water. She was calming down and drank the water. Then the officer told her the airlines would put her up for the night and she could fly out tomorrow when she felt better. He had to show her the schedule, talk to his supervisors and finally the two of them walked away. The other officers followed about ten feet behind.
  The next lady to become upset was an older looking hippie woman who told people what to do instead of asking. She informed the steward that she would be back in a minute and was leaving her carry on luggage by her chair, while she took her dog to pee. He informed her that, "no she was not leaving her carry on there". If she did it would be gone when she got back. What a hormonal day it was. This lady wheeled around and said, "That lady over there is my friend and she will watch my luggage." The lady and her husband looked at each other and said, "well ok." The woman threw her shawl over her shoulder, stuck her nose up in the air and her and her dog trotted off in the direction of relief. I got tickled and was laughing to myself as I thought about what all had just happened and we hadn't even boarded the plane. 
  Finally, it was time to leave. In less than three hours I would be in Florida. It was a beautiful flight until lightning struck our plane as we landed. But that is whole different story.... 

I Do Not Belong in this Century....

     I do not belong in this century.  After spending a week with Tami and my grandchildren, this fact has smacked me in the face once again. It is so true. I was sitting at the kitchen table while the kids were working on their homework. That is the only thing that hasn't changed, the kitchen table. However, if I had not been here they would have all been in their rooms.  I asked them where their books were and I was informed they no longer use books they have I Pads. Really???   How can a person develop a love for the written word if they never hold or read, or smell a book? I am one of those people who highlight a wonderful sentence with a yellow high lighter. It can be done on these gadgets but I have yet to see it used. I reread books I can hold. They have become friends who brought me pleasure and answers when I needed them most.
   I have a Kindle and it has about 400 books. Most of the books purchased in the last two years are about cancer, depression, anxiety, hope for patients, how to be a good caregiver and what to expect when it comes to dying.  I read until I could not read anymore. I will never read these books again. I also do not think I will delete them. That was part of our lives for a long time.
   We dropped that subject and they showed me their math or what- ever it is called now. I got up and fixed me a bowl of ice cream. I needed a stiff drink but ice cream would have to suffice. There is no way they could make me understand the necessity of why they had to learn what I saw before my eyes. I got up to go set on the front porch and ponder what I had witnessed at the table. They all understood it perfectly and it made sense to them. Thank goodness because in a few years they will be running the world.
    When I came back in I told them I did not want a vacuum cleaner that will vacuum on demand. They have one now that is round and runs around the house like a grounded spaceship. They looked at each other and laughed. I did too.  We coexist in two different worlds. I like mine better and they prefer theirs. That is fine with me. I am missing all the knowledge they already know. They are missing using their imaginations, daydreaming and wondering about all the what if's.
   This generation is so much smarter than I am. However, they never experienced drinking homemade lemonade while sitting on a porch swing reading, "Gone With the Wind" on a hot July day.
   It is a trade-off. They will make the world better and do things I never thought of doing. I, however, had a real childhood. They do too it is just miles and miles apart in this short time span on Earth.