Happy Birthday, Derby Day, Mother's Day

Back in August of 2012 I wrote my first blog. Not to be famous or to bad mouth others but to find an outlet for my own feelings and emotions. So this week was the anniversary of one of the traumatic events that got me to start writing.
This week is also Mother's Day and the Kentucky Derby. Now I know that in most houses none of these things have to do with the other but in my house the Derby and mom and grandma always went hand in hand. Mom and Grandma were both from Louisville, Kentucky the home of Churchill Downs and the Kentucky Derby both their birthday's were withing a week or so before the Derby and just a few weeks before Mother's Day most years. Going to the Derby has been on my bucket list as long as I wanted to go to Times Square for New Year's Eve which I did for the year 2000. I am far from a fancy person but for that day I will wear a dress and flat shoes and a moderate hat but none the less appropriate for the Derby. I will drink mint juleps as though it were my God given right. The only thing I won't be able to do is call mom and grandma when I am done with the day and tell them how wonderfully long the day was and how amazing the hats and the clothes were and the number of famous people we see that day.
Today as most Derby Day's I watched the pre race festivities the early card races and enjoyed the call for riders up, the Post Parade and the singing of My Old Kentucky Home (which Brian used to believe was a song written about a house I lived in, in Kentucky) update babe: I never lived in Kentucky. Still makes me laugh. And then the fastest 2 minutes in sports. A new person at work was sitting with me this week and I spoke of the Derby and she being all of 20 years old did not know what the Kentucky Derby is. If you have somehow read this far and don't either please Google it or ask Cortana or your friend Seri.
So I did not talk on the phone today through all of this or watch with mom and grandma as we have in the past. One year we took the kids all down to mom's and made Derby hats and made bets on the race and watched it together. That was probably in 2011 or so. Funny how the time flies by and somethings will always stay with me. Like the Derby that I had 2 of my nieces over for and explained about betting and gave them each a quarter to bet on the race. They may have been 5 and 7 or so but the older of the two decided that she just liked that I gave her a quarter and she wasn't going to risk betting. I told her that was a choice she could make. It was so cute.
I try to share these bits of family history and tradition with the kids and recently I have been reminded by the fact that mom is gone that I have no one to pass my knowledge or love for any of these things on to. I have no children to instill my beliefs in or to share my joys with. This was something that when I was of the age of everyone around me is having children was a reality I did not want to accept, yet here I am of the age where my friends are now becoming grandparents and again it is brought to the forefront in my life. And since with the recent death of my mother I have been reminded of the 5 steps in grieving. Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression and Acceptance. I realized I have done rather well with my anticipatory grief (fancy term for grieving before the person passes). This is my thing. I am sad before and even though I know I did everything that I needed to do for the person. It may not have been everything others wanted from me, or everything others expected but it was exactly what I could do. But in anticipation of not being able to save the person I grief for their loss ahead of time. I want for one more day while I still have days and want to make better what I cannot change. But after the loss of a person that I have grieved for ahead of time it
gives me acceptance. Something that a lot of times in my life I fall short of accepting myself. And here we are back to the fact that I never had children. It was not for a lack of trying but I always said God  and I didn't see it the same way. Even today I have all the signs of grief for a child I never had and life I did not live. I do accept the way my life is and don't want to adopt. This may be fear of acceptance by the child or fear of not being good enough to some stranger. That is all on me.
Since over these last few months I have struggled with what to write at times for fear of sharing someone else's sorrow or opening up someone else's wound I decided tonight that my wounds are the only ones I am speaking of and always have been. I am not going to stop writing for fear of what others think this is purely a selfish act which a dear friend reminded me this morning that I don't have enough of. So I am going to work to accept the things that I cannot change and I will write the things that I would have shared with my kids in hopes that one day someone else's children will find what I have written and think I didn't know that about my family. And that will be my way to share my history with the future generations even if they are not my children. Happy Mother's Day Mom and Grandma (both Grandma's for that matter).
 

Is it Sediment or Sentimental?

I am up early this morning. Not as early as I usually write. The sun is up and it is a bit cool out this morning and windy. I have been thinking about everything lately and found it ironic that at this time of sorrow how I don't write. I do write in my journal at work maybe once a week and I have been trying to put together a poem that I felt should have been a one time sit down and spill it out kind of thing but it is not coming out that way. Nothing really comes that simple right now. I was thinking this morning about the fact that I don't write because I am not the only one feeling this sorrow and I don't want to discount anyone else's feelings by making mine seem important. I guess that is the empathy that I have. I don't discount anything of someone else's but I am always able to discount my own.

The first thing that came to mind this morning was the word sentiment but I thought how similar it is to the word sediment. So you cherish it or you throw it out, just one letter makes all the difference in the world.

Life is always full of challenges but these I face now are so difficult for me. I hold them inside, maybe not to let go. And I keep telling myself I need to let go. I cannot hold on to everything not even these feelings. I am thankful that depression is not figuring into this. I know some of you are thinking oh but it is Jeanne, you just don't realize it. But it isn't. Trust me. I have a life time of experience and one thing when I am heading down that hole I know it. This is different. I am motivated to do things it is just I am overwhelmed with what to do first. But yesterday Billie, Al and I made a dent. Be it a small dent. We went through mom's clothes. We started with two bags. Garbage and donate. We joked when we had filled the 5th bag of donate that since we each get one fifth of the contents of the house we each get a bag of clothes. I know that is stupid but that is how it is. If we didn't joke about it I might cry, but I didn't. When we were through we donated 6 bags of clothes and had thrown out two. I feel like we didn't even put a dent in her room but we did. I need to not discount our accomplishments no matter how small.

So next week is mom's birthday. I said we would all go to lunch at her favorite restaurant. Just the 5 of us and family. I thought about inviting more but then that becomes a big thing and I don't know... I just want it to be us and I want it to be nice. Maybe afterwards we can go to mom's and each pick a few things out of the house. This is the part that is hard for me. Not that I don't want them to take things that remind them of mom and grandma but then I picture the house with pictures missing off the wall and then it will not be the same. I know it is never going to be the same. I realize that every time I sit down in the living room and look around.

I think about the show American Pickers because when they buy something from someone they always make it like they are going to cherish the thing they purchase. They always say that they are going to pass on the story of the item and the person that owned it and if even the only person that is going to remember the story is a person that saw it on tv I guess that matters. Someone will remember. But don't they only cherish the item until it is in the truck and the camera is off and then it is going to their store and their going to sell it. Now the person that is going to buy that farm fresh find of theirs will they cherish the thing or did they buy it just because it was on tv. Does that matter?

I really wish something that was inside me would spill out onto this page and make all of this easier. Some realization that will make this all ok with me. I wonder if mom knew this part would be this hard. Then I look around my own house and want to get rid of stuff. Because it is just that. Stuff. Most of the nick knack things in my house were given to me. I am not one to buy things for myself. Mom used to love to buy anything with geese on it because I had some Louisville Stoneware that had geese that I liked and geese canisters in my kitchen. I now have geese all over my kitchen but I had only bought the Louisville Stoneware pieces. When I had cats mom would buy me any cat figurine she found. So our living room has all kinds of cats. I only have one I picked and I painted it to look like a cat we used to have. I know the reason I hold onto these things has to do with that I remember that mom bought me the cats and the geese. That a girl from work gave me a black cat angel when she left and that a guy that sat by me gave me the snoopy race car figures I have and that a funny looking figurine in a safari suit was on Brian's birthday cake one year. I can walk through every room in the house and tell you who gave me what and why or when. Then funny thing is I guess it is just stuff but stuff someone bought for me. So am I not to cherish these things? Maybe that is it. I guess I always felt if someone gave you a gift that was something you should keep because they bought it for you. I know most people don't remember where everything they owned came from or maybe they just use it until they don't need it anymore and then it can be discarded.

Maybe that is the part that bothers me most, the discarding. If I get rid of the thing that they gave me am I getting rid of the person that gave it to me to begin with. Am I discarding our relationship or the fact that I even knew the person. Or is it that I think if I get rid of the thing they gave me that I will discarding them. I know the rest of the world is just like throw the shit out Jeanne.

Today this blog is not going to be one that I get up from and feel like I have accomplished something, or come to some conclusion. It is as mismatched as the things in my house and mom's. A jumbled bunch of thoughts that don't even make sense to me. Part of me wants to delete what I have written and go back to bed. But then this time was wasted if I throw out what I just spent the last hour writing. Maybe like the time spent picking out the cats and geese for me and the time she spent saving all the things in her house. Maybe that is it. Maybe I feel like she will be forgot if we get rid of her things or her house. I know that is not true but maybe that is the moral of this whole mess. She equated the things to her worth and I equate them to her memory.

Like I said, are all these things and memories are they sediment or sentimental? The fact that I don't discard them makes them sentimental but can they be both. Can I remember that I had them and that mom enjoyed the find and I am done using them or looking at them and can get rid of them. Can I? I guess that is the question.

500 Words

Today I did something I have never done before. I submitted a story I wrote for a writing competition. It had to be a story never before published so I cannot share it until after the contest is over. I first heard of the contest back in December and I wasn't sure I could write something for it. The only real restrictions other than previously unpublished is that it had to be fiction and it had to be 500 words or less. I really wasn't sure how many words 500 was. So one night while I was staying overnight with mom I thought since their is nothing on TV at 3AM and I cannot sleep I will try to write something. So I started off with a piece of mom's paper and started. I wasn't sure what I would write about but I thought I just want to write a page and count the words and see what I have. That was how this started. The problem I didn't stop after the first page. I wrote 3 and a little more. The story tells the tale of person going to the beach and how both the beach and her are the same and they change. When I read back what I had written it made me cry. It was a metaphor for life. Mine maybe or maybe mom's. I wrote most in 3rd person as though I am watching someone else's life but then when I speak of the person at my age I used the word I. To some that means nothing to me it means that no matter I how try to separate my life from my mom's by growing up and moving out and even getting married we are still one in the same or are we?

I don't think I can say much more about the story but I was successful. It was just over 500 words. So as I typed it today to submit it. I typed as I originally wrote by hand and then edited just a few words and went from 512 to 500. So the whole thing seems like it was meant to be. I submitted it and now have to wait. It would be wonderful to be recognized for my ability to write but there are millions of people out there in the world waiting to be recognized for whatever they do that they enjoy. So I will only be disappointed for a minute because I know that when I read my work and when my best friend read it, there were tears in our eyes. I read it out loud today to Brian and he said he was crying before me. The important thing to learn was I can do anything I put my mind to. I am only limited by my own fears of failure.

Winning will not bring mom back so she cannot enjoy the fruits of my labor that evening. This piece however will always remind me of those days spent caring for mom. Sometimes that meant lifting her or helping her but sometimes it was just sitting with her. Talking to her. Listening to her stories. I have realized over the last few weeks I have been preparing for this year for a long time. Bits and pieces over my life then caring for our dog Kody for the 14 years we had him. Then in 2012 dealing with Brian's sister and her daughter and grand daughter's death and a few weeks later my cat of 21 years passed away and then a month later my grandmother. All those things taught me lots of things. How to take care of a sick dog is not the same as mom but it is not totally different. In the end I had spent 24 hours a day with him trying to get him to eat anything to get better. Going to Arizona to deal with Brian and his families tremendous loss taught me to express myself in ways other than panic. I learned to take the words in my head and put them to paper or write my blog. My grandmother's funeral preparations were very similar to mom's. Maybe they weren't as different as they thought they were.

Now I am left not alone but not the same. I do have times I want to call mom. I want to ask a question even though I may not have followed her advice at least I knew where she stood on the topic. I have just such issues now and I don't know what she would do. I don't know what I want to do. Part of me says nothing. Do nothing. Let things be the way they are and then there is the part that says that may not be fair to to everyone. Some may read this years or days from now and think they know the dilemma but I doubt they do. I am always looking out for the whole. In my book 5 will always =1.

What are you saving for?

Some people save for the future, for a rainy day, for a vacation but my mom seamed to want to save everything. She saved her good clothes for a cruise. She saved pictures to share and she saved history and memories and things that might someday be valuable as though they were all things that were valuable.

It is funny though because my mother and grandmother both used good things as though they were everyday things. The living room furniture we sit on is very old wicker furniture. Original cushions and paint, if you know anything about wicker furniture you would think this stuff should be in a museum and we sit on it, sleep on it and have Christmas every year on it. Grandma never drank out of a plastic cup. She was always drinking her water or soda out of a fancy glass. She said, if you have it you might as well use it. She would however wear her good clothes everyday, just because they were nice.

But back to the saving part of my mom. She always had the spirit to save things that she thought might one day have a value. Like a bank account in her house. She saved the books we read as kids, she probably has every golden book written before 1974 and cookbooks. She saved the Fischer Price toys we played with as kids. Recently I even found the Barbie dream house folded up at the top of the closet. Really mom.

Her and Grandma liked to go to garage sales and thrift stores and they each had their things they liked to find. Grandma always liked angels and frogs and mom always liked birds and St. Francis and we joke about the shrine on the butcher's block in the living room. What you don't have a butcher's block in your living room? Well your dad probably doesn't have a cannon either. What can I say? My parents were always different.

But now mom and grandma are both gone and what my mother said we would go through and clean out is now down to myself and my siblings. My brother has cleaned up and cleaned out the kitchen but the cabinets go to the ceiling and he said, you know there is stuff in all of them. Yep. Glass doesn't get the money it used to. People don't care if they drink out of fancy glasses or ones from Target. Sorry Target but there is something to be said for crystal. Not that the stuff mom had was anything fantastic just better than the everyday glasses we drank out of. And people don't know the difference between a champagne flute and a sherry glass anymore and don't care. So they would not have a set of 8 of each plus rocks glasses and tall glasses and wine glasses and you see how many glasses one can have.

So I have told my sisters that I wanted to do some of this on my own at first. Why? I don't really know. I just know to see things thrown out that my mom held on to right now is just too much for me.
I had cleaned out stuff from her bedroom back in the summer trying to get her to use her own bed to sleep in instead of sleeping on that ancient old wicker couch but even with her room cleaned out some she did not want to sleep in there. She felt that if something happened to her back there no one would come looking for her.

Yesterday I pulled out a few boxes of things that were already boxed to get rid of and filled a couple boxes with things that have no sentimental attachment and will try to sell them at a church garage sale today. But when finished loading the car I sat and looked around and started to see my mom in the things that she saved. I know I don't have to do this now and it is probably too soon but if I don't do it someone else will want to do it for me and then I will get upset and then I will be like mom. I feel it. If someone touches the wrong thing now, I would put up a wall that my mom would. She would be ridiculous and let us get rid of nothing. But I learned as I got older if you showed her a few things that she to had no attachment to that she would start and next thing you knew she could get a room cleaned up and box up things she was ready to get rid of. It just had to be her idea.

I have found myself the last few weeks wearing good things I would never wear because, well I felt like wearing them. I know no future is guaranteed to us so I might as well wear the things I like and eat off the good dishes and drink from the fancy glasses because what am I saving them for. The future doesn't care about the past. It is a hard pill to swallow that some of the things I want to save no one else will. And I know my house can't hold all the things I want to save so that part is going to take some time and the fact that I have no children to instill the value of these items just because my mom saw a value in them.

I think it all comes back to my memory. I remember my mom telling me that the butcher's block came from the Fish Restaurant that used to be at the bottom of the hill in Maas Brother's parking lot before you went across the causeway and how it sat in our garage for years until my mom said it finally did not smell like fish anymore and she sanded and varnished it and how it will take 4 grown men to lift the top but the legs are light as a feather. Or how that wicker furniture came out of a house down the street from an estate sale. Original paint and cushions. Mom was very proud of that purchase. She cherished the pictures my grandma painted. The one in the living room on brown wrapping paper that is a chalk drawing of a fishing boat or the train or flowes she painted. She would paint ties that my great grandfather wore that had the L&N trains that he worked on. We don't have one of those but we do have a picture of him wearing one. Grandma signed the things she painted simply Jane. Don't forget the nativity scene that mom painted when we were kids. So simple but not so valuable? Well to me they are.

As they say you can't take it with you. Otherwise she would have had us pack it up for her. Just kidding. She thought by saving these items that one day, some day she would cash in or share her wealth which may not have any monetary value but Sentimental Value that is what a lot of these things have and held for her and now me.

Miss you mom.

85 Days

So... I am at a cross roads an impasse a fork in the road. Where do I go what do I say? None of these questions are easily answered today.



Today I want to tell you about 85 days that ended with 2 hours of perfection.

Jeanne K. Basore

For the last 85 days my mother has needed constant care. Not by a staff of nurses or a hospital or even a nursing home. She asked to be taken home and for her children to care for her. Her children are not care givers or nurses or in the medical field. We are dispatchers and office workers and retail employees and dental assistants and city employees. We luckily have friends that are in nursing school and respiratory therapist and lpn's and cna's. On November 15 my mom had a stroke and was taken to the hospital where I met her. She could not speak well but I was able to figure out what she was saying. Mom could only say a few words right after the stroke she seemed to say two best. "NO and "Bullshit" they became two of her favorite words over the next few days and weeks. She was admitted into ICU but before hand they wanted to put in a catheter. Well that was never going to happen. I am pretty sure she said, Hell No. So ICU it was but only for a day. She was too much for that so she was moved to the Neurological floor being she had a stroke. She had been given two swallow tests and failed both what does that mean well that they don't feel it is safe for you to eat. Then on November 17 at 7AM we were told  by a hospital doctor that my mother was unlikely to make it through the day.  The doctor said that we could try to feed her anything she wanted basically because they had no hope. So she ate. Small slow bites and not very much. She sipped at coke and by that afternoon my mother got up out of her bed and walked into the hallway with the physical therapist because she saw a friend standing there she had not seen in years. The nurses jaw hit the floor. My mom then said as only she would, I walked this far can I have a cigarette now?

Over the next few days we saw great strides and great setbacks but by Thursday they said we needed a plan. What are we planning was our question is she going to get better or is she going home to die? We were not sure of either. The doctors at this point said by what she is able to eat she will not make it until Thanksgiving. Well that is just next Thursday. We knew she was going to need round the clock care and a hospital bed so we started with those things.

And so our nursing experience started. My mother was nothing if she was not stubborn so as soon as she saw the ramp my sister's husband built for her she was mad. She would have gotten up and kicked it over into the pool and walked up the steps with assistance if she could have. But at some point we knew we needed to do whatever we could to help. Hospital bed would have ended up in the pool on top of the ramp as well if mom could have lifted it. Now with 5 of us you would think that would not be bad to try to have coverage but we all have jobs and even though all our jobs were flexible and our bosses kind. It is the week of a holiday and we can take some time and spend it with mom. The overnights were by far the hardest but every hour of the day had it's challenges.

The first few weeks she had more visitors, neighbors, old friends, previous co-workers, the mailman, employees from Publix and CVS came by to visit. The biggest surprise was our dad. They had not spoken in years but he came and sat with her and visited. They watched the old home movies and made their peace which is what was important for both of them.

 After we got through Thanksgiving and into December my mother announced one day that it was no longer a death watch. She was eating frozen orange juice and pineapple juice and Slurpee's. My brother came up with some of the best idea's. I was amazed and she would try things when he put them in front of her. She liked cold gazpacho soup I made when it was pureed. As the weeks turned into months we had to have more help. We were wearing ourselves too thin. So we brought in reinforcements.

My sister had a friend that had already been helping mom on her days off and she started to spend more time and we had another friend that had done private duty before that was free in the morning. We still were running short in the afternoon but we finally found a new friend that I knew as soon as I spoke to her that mother was going to love her. And my sister's friend the respiratory therapist that was coming to check on her and giving us whatever tips he had. The funny thing was that all these people loved and cared for mom in their own way as though she was their own mother.

People have asked didn't you have Hospice help. No. Mom didn't want strangers taking care of her. She didn't want strangers in the house. I have told people from the beginning that this was the hardest thing I have ever done and I felt like we should have a t-shirt or a medal declaring that we have done it. A friend of mine told me yesterday when I said that to her,"you will receive that medal when you see your mom again." I felt much better.

Mom loved all of these people. The respiratory therapist spoke to mom about football and music. She told him of players like Fran Tarkenton and George Blanda and singers like Frank Sinatra and Kris Kristofferson. So the next time he was over he brought a cd he had made for her of some of her favorites. He would come after working in Ocala to sit with mom overnight. Which was when her breathing was the worst.  He would come and watch football with her. One of the girls loved old movies and would watch them with mom as soon as she said John Wayne mom was sold. Another just sat and chatted with her and helped with bathing. Everything they did was to make her life better and to give her the dignity she deserved and the 5 of us the peace that we could leave and she was in good hands. They each taught us how to move her or transfer her and how to adjust her to make her as comfortable as we could.

They each had the patients of saints to do what mom asked and took care of her as though it was their own mom. Thank you Donnell, Carrie, Jarma, Kayla, Jerrica for helping and just being there.

Mom had physical therapy, speech therapy, and occupational therapy. She would request the same people and was not happy if it was not Brian, Pam and Paul. One even told her she was his favorite and he wasn't suppose to say he had a favorite. When she was not well enough to do exercises they would sit and visit with her. Check her vitals and again any tips they had they would share.

Christmas at Mom's 2007

So Christmas came and we did as always, we all showed up at moms and visited and exchanged gifts. I had made some food not as much as mom would have but none the less there was more than enough. New Years Eve I spent overnight with mom. We watched the ball drop and watched old movies. We have all sat through the hours of home movies with her that one of my sisters got copied to dvd this year with her. The kids even came up with an idea for a game. How many things can you write down that you see in the movies that you can still find in her house. We will have to play someday.


So frozen orange juice became ice chips and soup became pureed fruit cups. The acid would upset her stomach from all the juice. Never did she say she was hungry. Never in pain. Uncomfortable and even miserable at times but she was tough as nails. She would asked for a sip of coke by holding up her thumb and forefinger like you would show a pinch. As time past it was harder and harder to understand the words she said so we turned to a clipboard and reams of paper and mom's own version of sign language which we all learned. A thumb up meant lift me up higher in the bed. Just like that she created and we learned a new language. We are still torn on what will happen to all that paper but when we had a hard time understanding her we would say,"write it down mom." Trying to make communicating less frustrating for everyone.

Our 85 days is nearly up but you don't know until you know that sort of thing remember the doctors only gave her hours then weeks then they finally stopped predicting the future.

On Thursday January 28th mom said she was tired of fighting and on Friday January 29th we were all over at the house. She was not responsive to anything Tori had been there over night and Al that day, I spent the afternoon and Billie and Beth came in the evening along with their kids. We were all there. Timmy and Alex had been by. When her youngest granddaughter Ashley walked in and said "why is wheel of fortune not on. Grandma wants to watch her shows." So we watched Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy and the kids told grandma what they did at school that day and played along with the game shows. Emily had a great story of almost getting sick while singing because her group became a duet which almost became a solo as others dropped out or forgot the words. It was a great story for grandma to hear. Paul got an award for Student of the Month that day. We were all talking and laughing the only way mom would have wanted it. After the game shows we turned off the tv and the kids wanted to sing to her before they left so we had about an hour and a half of Karaoke with Grandma as they called it. The kids sang Silent Night, Automatic and the House that Built Me both by Miranda Lambert. Both Automatic and The House that Built Me were two of mom's favorites so they were sung at the beginning and the end of the their performance. My sister said, "one last song kids." When the kids were finished Beth, Billie and I changed mom and got her ready for the night. But before we took our hands off of her I looked up and said, "I think she has stopped breathing?"  Beth, Billie and I still all had our hands on her and we waited. Held our breath. Was she gone. She was. I feel that when the kids finished singing and walked out the door... Mom was gone as well. She passed away just that fast. She could not have written down instructions for a better evening. 

The next few hours and days were difficult but I thought we are Basore's and we will get through this. And we have started a new journey down a new path. I had hoped not to take for a while longer but everything changes and as the song says, "you leave home and move on and do the best you can."

That is what we are doing now. The best we can. Thanks to our Mom. 

Words I can not find

So it has been awhile old friend since I have written. Ironically we got a new computer and I thought I would write more but life gets in the way. Lots of things going on but none I want to talk about directly.

Sometimes when I write I use metaphors to explain my feelings about a subject without speaking directly of the subject. Part of that is the non-confrontational person that doesn't want to argue and I believe what I believe and you believe what you believe. You want to share your opinion write your own blog or post but don't hijack something I wrote to spout off your opinion or feelings. I know this may seem harsh but it is the private me staying private. I had to delete something I wrote because I did not want to share things that others did. I had to remove part of me for the sake of myself.

That really upset me. Really. See I know people that scroll past hum drum life and people thrive on showing others what they ate for every meal and how it came out (literally). Me I only want to give up a little and leave the rest to be a mystery. It is easier for me that way.

Easier because the computer does not show emotions. I have never used those little emoticons. Guess I can't reduce my feelings to a single symbol. That is the problem. I cannot reduce my feelings to words which I feel others can understand even though they may very well. And again I don't want you to share what I am not sharing.

This whole thing ties into work and a class I took a few weeks ago. I am still trying to figure out if the supervisor wanted me to learn about myself or to learn that I am different or to learn that other people don't get me and I don't always get them. I did realize why some people rub me wrong and I am sure why I rub others wrong.

The class I took was a Myers-Briggs assessment. Myers and Briggs are a mother daughter team that developed a questionnaire to determine peoples personality preferences. Preference is their word not mine. I, who have no training believe that people do not choose their personality. But I guess years of studying had made scientific types decide that you choose. I think people do choose what they show but I do not think you choose what you are. That is like saying I choose to be left-handed or I choose to have brown hair. Brown hair is what I came with and if I choose I can change it to blond not really. I would choose auburn, only a little just a subtle change. There is too much of me I am not willing to let go of.

I will unlike the class tell you right away that I was with some confidence a ISFP. Which is to say that I am an Introvert, Sensing, Feeling, Perceiving type person. Throughout the class we learned about the different personality dichotomies or opposites and how people of each type think and feel differently. Dichotomy is a 50 cent word. Today a young person might call it a buzz word or to say a good word to use when you are trying to show off some level of vocabulary weather you have it or not.

I have always found psychology interesting. I like understanding how the brain works but I sometimes find my brain at odds with what scientists believe.  Like I found it interesting that most of the people in the class were interested to find out the results of their questionnaire. I found myselfndifferent to what the results showed. But as we went through the class we were given examples of different sides to each type and were asked to choose which we thought we were. So since I did not make you wait for what their results were I will not make you wait to know that I choose the exact same ISFP. So am I that confident about the person I am. I question a lot but I do not question who I am.

Everyone knows what an extrovert or introvert are. Extroverts outgoing, introverts reserve. So to say at most times I am a reserve person would be an understatement. Introvert I am.

Next pair not so easy for me to choose and with less confidence did the questionnaire find my responses to be Sensing.  The other option is Intuition. Which is why I had a hard time deciding which way to go with this one. I use intuition a lot but I guess I do have a preference to things that I know are fact that I can touch, see or smell, things I know to be real.

Third pair Thinking or Feeling. Now I do think a lot but it is with my values and compassion that I think. So yes I am most definitely a feeling type.

Lastly, Judging or Perceiving again no so confident because spontaneous is not a word most would use to describe me but I am flexible and adaptable. I am far from organized or methodical unless it comes to something that has to go in that order. Otherwise I have been known to find my own way in both life and work. So perceiving it is.

So all of that said, still not sure where that leaves this girl at 3AM on Christmas Eve writing a blog. No it is not that everything is ready for Christmas. No we do not have a tree or decorations up. We have been very busy this year and other things have come first. Don't get me wrong. I love a real tree. I love the lights. I love the smell of the pine tree or fir tree. But again other things have gotten in the way.

Still trying to find the words I want to say. I have probably lost most by now but remember I don't write this for you it is for me. And I am not sleeping so I am still writing. Why am I so private? Why will I share some things with a stranger that I would not share with my friends. I don't know. It is hard for me. I know some things are hard for some people all the time and some things are hard for others none of the time. Some people just go with the flow.

So for the last week I was away and resigned myself to the fact that there is nothing I can do in Alaska to change anything in Florida so I just have to live the Alaska life while I am there. Partially in ignorant bliss. Partially too busy to worry.

The funny thing is it was not until I got back to Florida and was on my way to work today and started to cry out of the blue that I realized. "Back to life, back to reality" as sung by Soul II Soul in 1989 version of "Back to Life". Not a favorite just an appropriate song for the moment.

I don't know if the song is a request to a loved one to help them change or a prayer to God for the same. I will choose a prayer because I don't believe one is truly going to change for another person.
Yet asking God, "However do you want me, However do you need me", seems like a reasonable request. We have returned, "Back from the fantasy". So it is the "back to the here and now, yeah" that I worry about the part I truly cannot control. The part where I am the passenger not the driver, the part where I am a cog in the wheel of life. Trying like hell to roll along.  I guess if I am going to follow the song "look it is me writing on the wall". Literally so I guess I have to end this with "However do you want me, However do you need me." God, Please let me know what I need to do. Please let me know how to patient when even mine have run out. Please let me know...(Those three dots are all the unspoken prayers I ask for tonight.) They are for everyone's unspoken prayers.

Tonight I guess there is no moral of the story. I first wrote, "There is no light at the end of the tunnel" but I think there is I just cannot see it yet. I am not sure I will find sleep. I have however typed a lot of words. I have found tears finally. Finally that silly song or prayer that will no longer be silly to me has found what I need. "back to the day we have" That is all we are guaranteed. "Don't let me waste away. Help me find what I need to do what I need to do. That is what I ask for tonight.

Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night.

Every day annoyances

On a normal day I wear my heart and soul on my sleeve. It is there for all to see. The more people know me the more they know the things that bother me, things I cannot tolerate and the things that I will drop everything right now and try to fix.

But lately I have found that some of the things that bother me are well grating at my ever loving nerves. They are not the things that I would stop for normally. Kids, animals that sort of thing. So I need to get some of them off my chest. I drive to work the same way everyday and everyday I stop at the light near my work and have on one side of my car a well manicured College campus. Beautiful oak trees and green grass. The kind you find at a park and would like to spend the afternoon sitting in having a picnic. On the other side of the street are soccer fields again well taken care of and even the parking lot is clean and is not a terrible place to spend a few minutes under a tree in your car eating lunch. Then there is the median. You know a little spot in between the lanes of traffic that has a little grass a few bushes and should not be anything that causes alarm or irritation to the point that I am writing at 2 o'clock in the morning yet here I am.
Now I am going on almost two years at the office I work at and off and on for the almost two years this median has been a source of irritation. Kinda like a splinter under your fingernail you cannot get out. So yesterday as I left my mothers and headed to work I noticed that the causeway looked beautiful. The median there is well maintained by City employees and is seen as the one of the prides of the city. Well then there I am sitting at the light about to turn into work and there is this median. Obviously not the pride of the city but more like the plight of the city. Now I know this seems a bit extreme but really, the grass in this median is higher than the bushes in the median and even if the grass is mowed the weeds and grass growing through the bushes is over a foot taller than the bushes. Now there is a part of me that says Jeanne let the median go. It is not your concern it is not hurting you or anyone else which is all true. But I feel like it is a reflection of the city and therefor of me.

Now there is irony here. Our yard thanks to our little furry bunny friends needs some help as well. My little 4 legged hopping friends have caused the bushes in our front yard to die and need to be removed. I am holding out for cooler weather which is coming and we will be out there working on correcting our little problem. Hopefully in a way satisfactory to both me and the bunnies. I however am not paid to maintain my yard as someone is to maintain that median and it is just out of pride that I do it. And yes I take pride in my little stretch of the city. I have on occasion cut the grass of the neighbors who did not have as much pride or annoyance as I and would not think twice about doing it again. So the irritated Jeanne said you know I could take a lawnmower up there and fix this problem in an hour and be fine with it but then my brother tells me about some lady that does just this very thing and gets hit by a car. Now I am not willing to die for the median so I will go back to plan A and try to get the city to get their contractor that they are paying to go out and do their damn job. So I have the name of the man who can help and will make that phone call on Monday so that I can  go to work in peace and enjoy the entire view along the way.

Next, Identity theft and our government. This is another source of irritation with me. Brian and I have been dealing with for almost this entire year. First it was the IRS and then Unemployment and then a payday advance loan. So again another exercise in futility instead of spending my morning hour writing something I would like to write about a subject more pleasing than the security of an identity that I feel like is a genie out of the bottle sort of thing. It is now out there all we can do is sit back and wait for the bad stuff to happen and fix it when it does. Just to let you know the companies that say they can secure you from such things can only help after the fact if you pay more for the services. So here we wait it is now October waiting on our tax refund. Patiently waiting for the wheels of our government to move ever so slowly that maybe that tax money will be Christmas money and then I cannot wait to start the process all over again for next year. Now today I called a phone number that was provided from the IRS in regards to our tax return and they asked if it was a financial hardship that we do not have our tax return. I don't know anyone that it is not a hardship for. But no there is no company about to turn off our utilities so it is technically not a hardship. Then I was transferred to the identity theft unit and was told the wait would be 30 to 60 minutes and on their recording they said to please be patient and if you have not waited over 180 days to give them some more time. Wow. So they got their way today. I did not have another 30 to 60 minutes to hold.

Now we have filed police reports on these incidents and a report with the FTC and put a credit freeze on our credit but here is the kicker. Payday loan places don't check your credit. Guess what that means they don't know you have a freeze on yours. So to that I say sorry about your luck. I will never forget the kid that called at 8 o'clock one morning and told me that we had taken out this loan. I said I know that is not the case and he told me that my husband may have done it without my knowledge as he said, it happens all the time. I told that kid not in this house and again told him that we had done no such thing. Well the next morning he called again and asked for Brian this time and again we told him the same thing. We thought at first scam, wrong number, wrong person. Nope. All the nope. Again that genie has been used and again we had to prove our case and they have agreed we are not responsible for the loan But with my effort has come a small reward. They have provided some information to the police dept and the police dept has requested a subpoena for more and maybe someday the person who has been working so diligently on getting our money and then some will get caught. That will not put the genie back in the bottle but I will get some satisfaction out of my efforts.

Ok, Jeanne is that it you have been writing for an hour it is 3 o'clock and I do feel better about these things I have written but I have one more. Oh God, I just thought of another. Well let me see here. So do I write about politics and the fact that the 2016 election is 13 months away and I am getting poled on weather or not I will vote for Charlie Christ or Eric Lynn some guy I have never heard of. Well Charlie sorry. Oh that is funny Sorry Charlie, I am not going to vote for you. I have clothes that I have had longer than the opinions you have on subjects and you have done your bit for Florida Thank you. So this other dude Eric don't know him but the poling person told me he was raised in Pinellas County ok good but so was Charlie. But doesn't own a house here. So he doesn't live here anymore. So I thought run for office where you do live. Oh he lives in DC well guess you should run there. I don't know what to tell you people running for office but be glad there are very few people that care and less that vote and it seems that the voters are either the last few dying it is my right and my duty people or someone with some political agenda to get something done that no one wants done but no one is willing to stand up and tell you that because well that takes time. Oh Yeah and as for the politics of 2016 I heard on the radio the other day that Hillary raised $28 million in the last 3 months for her political campaign. Now here again sorry but really. That is crazy money. And where is this money going to grease the wheels of the media to spin the propaganda that she wants spun and for me to suffer through a lifetimes worth of hateful commercials crammed into a few months. I have said it before but here is an idea. Instead of spending all of this money on ads and media how about let us buy books for kids in places that don't have access to them or provide Internet for families that can't afford it. I know it seems like a luxury item to me but I know kids in school use the Internet like we used to use the Encyclopedia Britannica. For those born in the age of Internet you will have to Google it or ask your friend Siri or Cortana if she has ever used an encyclopedia to look something up.

The book idea made me think of my cousin Tami. She lives in a very small town in the rust belt of Ohio right along the Ohio River and she maintains the library in her town. You know the buildings and grounds and she has been known to shovel snow and mow grass and whatever else it takes to keep the place running. So I just looked and could not find the budget of her small town library.  So I found another small town and their library budget was 1.7 million dollars for next year. I am thinking my cousin and her friends at her library probably wish for money like that but since Ohio is not Florida there are no sunshine laws and I could not at 4 o'clock in the morning find their City Budget for next year. So I will go with what I have. That 1.7 million dollar budget for a town, well Hillary that means that you could fund over 16 small towns libraries for a year with the money you raised in the last quarter. Instead that money will grease the pockets of media moguls that can afford to have someone else read to them at night instead of going to the library and checking out a book and reading it them self. No, I am not mad just really irritated that the people of the world do not seem to care unless it affects them. And to the people donating the money for Hillary and the rest of the people running for president please. For the love of God find something better to do with your money than buying advertising.  Or make Hillary do something good with it. That would be something worth getting excited over and worthy of my vote. But her paying a bunch of people to figure out if a hateful campaign will beat out the rest well that I just can not buy into.

Alright the last thing I had will have to wait. I am sure you all are glad. I have probably lost most along the way this morning but for those that hung on until the end. I thank you for your time. I mean it. I just needed to let someone know how all of this makes me feel. So back to bed. Goodnight.