I count shadows from at least six different sources..
I love morning.
The Good and the Bad
This is going to be bad news for someone… or many someones…
And the good? I’m going to meet my father in November!! We’re both pretty excited, as is Mike. He’ll be there too. It will take place in Galveston, since he’ll be there already and who doesn’t like a road trip?
No, no more panic attacks. 😉
Panic Attack
I had one yesterday. My first. It was horrible and surreal.
This is what precipitated it:
I wrote about my newly acquired brothers and sisters, right? Really wonderful people. I’ve spoken to them on the phone and we’ve emailed facts and such back and forth. I’m lucky they contacted me and even luckier they want me in their lives.
So one of my younger brothers spoke to my biological father – his father – I’ve been bogged down in labels lately – about me. Such as… we not only know about her but we’ve spoken to her and what are you going to do about it?
I don’t know if he chose to blow me off a year ago from disinterest when I told him of our biological relationship or truly didn’t believe it… or… God knows… but he emailed me and wanted to know if I wanted a relationship with him.
After a year of resentment (that I truly did not know was lurking below the surface!) I flipped out. Here he was, asking. There I was, having a panic attack. I had to lie down with Badger (she’s very calming; I don’t know why) and of course fell asleep. When I awoke, it was over and I was able to write back.
He’s been great; telling me about his life and asking about mine… He signs them ‘your father’ or ‘dad’ and that gets me right in the feels. So the last time I wrote back I told him (because I use his name) that I wanted to call him Dad, but every time I think ‘Dad’ I of course think about my Dad. Adopted. See what I mean about labels?
I need some Sleepytime and Badger…
And yes, that really is me on the porcelain. 😉
Bed Head
We’ve been through an ordeal: mattress shopping.
I thought it would be a dandy idea to order a bed-in-a-box thing, so tré moderne! The only problem? Either it sucked or we’re too old to sleep on ‘a cloud’, a.k.a. Casper. My back has never been so bad.
Then we slept on it the next night, just to make sure it sucked. I couldn’t even move yesterday, going from the inversion table to the very firm sofa over and over…
Ironically, we’ll have to jet over to Mattress Firm, which is in financial peril over the bed-in-a-box phenom. Oh, I get it; I’d much rather make this sort of transaction in a detached, sanitized way instead of touching mattresses that dog knows who have lain upon. I’m taking a sheet with me, screw anyone who thinks it too precious!
This is our 20 year old headboard, which I still love.. but I swear I’ll cut it up with a blowtorch should the top of my head ever touch it again.
Bad shot, but I wasn’t going into the brush and spiders to take a better one.
Now, my original idea was to take a picture and post it for free on NextDoor… but Arthur opined that it would look good covered in ivy out back.
I think it would be sweet spray painted white(ish), suitable for a teen’s room… but since when do teenagers have king sized beds?
Sigh. I suck at the home decor thing. And now I must find a new mattress and headboard. Pray for me.
EDIT:
It’s the Simmons Beautyrest World Class Resonance Plush! Which felt wonderful in the store and hard as a brickbat last night. We’ll see. The salesman said it would take a few days to feel like it’s supposed to, but I wonder why… Anyway, new bed. I’m exhausted.
Forgot to add:
The guys who picked up the Casper (1-800-Buy-Junk) to supposedly recycle it? They were very forthcoming about how many beds, just in our area, they pick up: A hint? Between Casper, Purple and another he couldn’t remember the name of… they are very busy. LOTS. It must cost the Bed-in-a-Bag people about $100 a pop to manufacture those mattresses; they’re just foam. Then they sell them for $800 and up? Yep, they can afford to give a LOT of people their money back…
In Hiding
So, here’s a thing.
My biological siblings (paternal) found me. (I was adopted at birth, which isn’t a thing.)
After getting the cold shoulder from my maternal half-sister, this was good news. I was excited. They were excited. We exchanged some info and I’ve spoken to the oldest sister on the phone twice. After that I wanted to fade into the wallpaper.
Don’t get me wrong, they’re very nice, open people who could have just ignored the DNA results. Instead, they said “Hey, we have a new sister!”
I’m sandwiched in between two brothers. One born barely a year before me, one a year after. Logically, I knew it had nothing to do with me, but I was so embarrassed and ashamed. That bastard! I know he was in the Navy, but damn.
Add to that all the siblings are highly educated with great careers. Accomplished people. And I’m… well, I’ve done nothing, I’ve made nothing and I am nothing. That’s what keeps cycling through my head, over and over….
Just to add… Oldest sister asked what I do all day and I was stumped. I fritter. Laze. Loll. I am one of life’s lollopers.
So I would like to hide, yes and thank you very much to you. All in all, it’s been a gigantic mindbender.
Yes, I need a Miranda fix.
New Sailor
And his sister. We watched the graduation live online, but couldn’t pick him out from the hundreds.
He looks a bit shell-shocked, doesn’t he? 😉
We’re very proud, obviously, and praying for only good things in his new career. ❤
And a Funny Story
Look at my pretty babies! Growing out of their makeshift pots like fledglings falling out of nests…
Rocks are so chaotic, don’t you think? Seen from the street they might give a uniform appearance, but up close, it’s like a stony holy war.
Okay, here’s the story, more silly than funny. I’m still painting. (And yes, still on the first room. Go ahead and laugh. We’ll talk when you’re 60.) Everything is done in the master bedroom except baseboards.
While the bed was pulled out last week I painted the baseboards in that area, which included caulking. Now… I’m a very neat painter, but caulk? It gets everywhere, as if I simply open the tube and start spraying it with childish abandon… AND, instead of putting gloves on, my hands were nekkid. Of course. Well, it didn’t take too long for my right hand to be completely covered in caulk. And it freaked me out; that stuff just doesn’t want to come off! If only my store had Lava, but I can’t find it around here.
Dawn and Bartender’s Helper proved useless, so I ran into the bathroom and found some face wash… the kind with little beads to help exfoliate dead skin. Ew. So I’m washing… and washing… and the stuff’s not budging! In fact, the damned beads had stuck to the caulk, so now it looks -and feels- like I’m wearing a beaded glove.
Acetone saved the day, but how surreal there for a minute…
