OH WHAT A CRAP-FEST

If you’ve read previous posts, you know how annoyed I get from time to time about John and the crap-fest he left behind for me to deal with. It was Wednesday afternoon when I began to write this. My plan was to spend a couple more hours out in the garage sorting through crap on top of the time I already invested. Just to give you an idea of what I’m dealing with, I’m including some photos as it looks before I go out there to continue organizing.

Prior to my friend Dave coming down to take home those boxes of drawers full of screws, etc., mentioned in a previous post you couldn’t see the window. In addition, the workbench in front of the window was piled high with stuff. I know you’re dying to know what I found in that pile. How about a bunch of sparkplugs…I’m wondering if they’re the ones that came out of the ’57 Chevy pickup when AJ was 16. I also found a wide variety of screws, nuts, bolts, miscellaneous carpentry stuff and other things I have no idea about.

I also found I don’t know how many sets of socket wrenches. I put them all together in a tray that’s now in front of the window. I found lots of screwdrivers that are now housed together, a seriously broken hammer, a good hammer and a whole bunch of electric cords. I wound up the cords and cinched them together with zip-ties I put all the extension cords I could find in one box and it’s on a shelf now.

As I found stuff in boxes or just loose, I put them into a box of miscellaneous stuff destined for either Goodwill or a garage sale. In one of the photos, you’ll see a green cabinet with a bunch of drawers. Today I’ll finish emptying those drawers and adding to the pile of plumbing, electrical, carpentry, etc., materials.

Yesterday when I began on the green cabinet, I became aware once again of John’s passive-aggressiveness. A long time ago, I wanted new cabinets in the kitchen. Instead, John had a nephew of a friend who was in the painting business take the doors and paint them. I did get to pick the color. I also wanted new hinges and, especially pulls. I got neither, but in that green cabinet were more than enough pulls to replace all the ones in the kitchen. I may even have found some hinges, but I’m not sure. The kicker here is John preferred and installed a certain type of doorknobs and switch plates…these pulls would have matched perfectly.

It's now Thursday and I didn’t get a thing done yesterday as planned. Well, I did actually, but that was just moving stuff around so the men who come to mow and edge my lawn could get the lawnmower through the garage. So, today, while Haley is behind the fence and in the chicken-yard eliminating overgrowth of the wild stuff in the greenbelt that loves to invade my garden I’ll continue sorting and sifting.

By Saturday, I want to have the various boxes and containers on the table in the middle of the garage. My sons are coming over to cut up the old hot tub and remove it from the deck. I’m hoping they’ll have a few minutes to look through the crap on the table when they finish the hot tub and decide if it should be saved for my garage sale, taken to Goodwill, or the most likely choice put in a recycle or garbage bin. Maybe there’ll even be enough room for them to pull down a few boxes from the attic while they’re here.

On the other hand, I still have to go through the one small red tool chest, the filing cabinet, the larger red tool chest. There’s no order to whatever is in those containers. I glanced at the contents last fall and there’s no rhyme or reason as to the contents. I think John just opened any old drawer or cupboard and put whatever he had in his hand in there. Dave joked about wanting to borrow a tool and how John would search hither, thither and yon, and occasionally come up with whatever he wanted to borrow.

Since I’m such an organized person, I find it really hard to understand how and why John couldn’t have put some sort of thought into a system so that everything had a place. I have a friend whose husband passed away some time ago. When she began to sort through all the tools, she couldn’t believe how many hammers, screw drivers, etc., he had. She said she thought that every time he needed a hammer, he couldn’t remember or find where he’d left the hammer he used last. So, he took a trip to the hardware store and bought a new one. 

There are buckets and boxes out there as you can see from the photos. I have no idea what’s in them, so my sorting and sifting will continue for some time I think. I just wish I had a better understanding of what might have some value and what doesn’t. Maybe on Saturday I’ll get a better idea of that when the boys look at what’s on the table. Maybe I’ll even get lucky and they’ll want to cart off various tools, screws, nails, whatever. If not, I’ll at least get some direction for my future days in the garage. 

These last two photos are some of what's overhead in the rafters...oh boy, I can barely wait. 

THE FOURTH WAS WITH ME

The Fourth was definitely with me on Monday. I walked an hour later than usual, but managed the walk just fine without too much calf pain. Then, I began to plant the tomatoes and squash I purchased at Swanson’s last Friday.

          In the past, I have had four tomato pots on my back deck. This year, since my driveway is completely empty except for my car, I decided to move the pots out there. I purchased four different tomato plants and buried them as far up the stalk as I could. Then, I installed the metal cages I made and wrapped them with plastic.

          A couple of years ago, I asked John to stop by the dry cleaners and see if they would either sell him or give him four or six of the big plastic covers they put over cleaned clothes. He did and they charged him, but it wasn’t much. What makes me kinda crazy this year is that he had two rolls of plastic in the garage. Maybe he forgot they were there, but I used plastic from one of the rolls and barely made a dent. Why didn’t he suggest I use some of that?

          I was going to clothespin the plastic together, but my walking partner said something about stapling. What a great idea, especially since I could only find four clothespins.  I stapled the plastic together once I got it around the cage. It’s open on top so I can water, and once the temperatures stay above 50 every night, I’ll remove the plastic. Meanwhile, between the asphalt holding heat and the plastic, I should have tomatoes in July.

          In one of the big pots, I planted zucchini squash and in the other pumpkins. Around the edge of those, I planted bush beans in one and snow peas in the other…that’s the one with the green teepee. In another pot, I planted Danish squash and delicata squash in the other.  I should eat well this coming fall.

          There are three empty pots on the left end that don’t have anything in them yet. Later this week, I planted Thai basil and regular basil in the two smaller green ones. The larger reddish one remains empty, but I discovered another large blue pot. I'm going to plant potatoes in that one. 

          I also took the fuchsia out of the tiny greenhouse I put them in after I repotted them. They’re looking good…not as good as the ones I could buy, but those ones have been growing in a greenhouse since last fall. I hung two of them on the deck and haven’t decided where I’ll put the third. The pansies I wintered over in the pot by the front door look great, so I’m not sure if I should replace them with a fuchsia.

          After I finished planting, I moved my car out of the driveway and hosed it down. I always feel so guilty when I do that because there are places and people who would be so grateful for the water I am basically sending down the storm drain. All the needles from the spruce tree as well as who knows what else ended up at the end of the driveway in a big pile. When they redid the street a few years ago, they screwed up at the end of my driveway. They left a little depression that fills with water right by the mailbox. Once that water drained away, I scooped up all the spruce needles and debris and put it into the yard waste can.

          On Tuesday, I went to Fred Meyer because I needed a couple of those cocoanut liners for my hanging tomato baskets. I believe I posted yesterday that I bought the entire hanging baskets because they were cheaper then just the liners. I also wanted to get some quick set cement, but the bags were too heavy. Haley and I can go out for one of those when we go for lunch today. I need the cement to create a piece of glass and metal yard art.

Quite some time ago (decade plus) there was a piece of art that was donated to Jungle Party that no one liked or purchased. I was fortunate to be the recipient of it for free. I bought a short round column and placed the artwork on it in my garden. Over time, the white sculpture part deteriorated to the point it separated into two pieces. I saved the metal leaves(?) and glass flowers(?). Now, I’d like to position them in concrete in a way that’s lovely and pleasing. I may even include some of my own glass flowers if there’s room. Then, it can return to the short white column in the garden.

As I indicated above, my granddaughter Haley is going to work for me today. I know exactly what I want done and it should make a huge difference in the chicken yard. We can make a pile of stuff destined for the dump. I'm hoping my Mother's Day present will be a couple of hours from my boys on Saturday. I'd like them to cut up the hot tub and look at the various piles of stuff I've sorted in the garage. Then I'll have Haley come back with her truck...unless her dad has it on Saturday...and load it up for the dump. 

I cannot remember how many decades ago John purchased the hot tub. What a fiasco. It was supposed to come with a free gazebo. We never got the gazebo, but apparently we were lucky to get the hot tub and cover before the company went out of business. Lots of purchasers were left with nothing.

John used the hot tub faithfully because it helped a lot with all his aches and pains. I didn’t get in it often for a couple of reasons. First, I didn’t like going to bed smelling like chlorine, so I’d have to take a shower. Who wants to take a shower when your muscles have been turned to mush from the hot water? Secondly, whenever I did get in the hot tub, John thought that was a signal for sex; and perhaps if I had gotten in there every night with him, his expectation would have decreased. Still, we had some wonderful times when this derelict amenity was much newer and usable.

The hot tub developed some problems over time, but son AJ was always able to rectify them. The last time AJ did that, the hot tub sat on the deck and ran every single day and night. Our electric bill went up more than $100 a month, plus John wasn’t using it at all. So, I turned it off. Even then, it took a few months for our bill to return to a reasonable amount.

So, as I said in the beginning, the Fourth was with me on Monday, not to mention the remainder of this week so far. I have high hopes it sticks around permanently.  I could certainly get used to days like the ones I've been having. But, it's really up to me isn't it...I need to CHOOSE to have days where the Fourth is always with me...and, Cinco de Mayo disappointment notwithstanding, it's been a GREAT week so far. 

CINCO DE MAYO -- NOT

         Well, I hope your Cinco de Mayo went much better than mine. I went on line early in the day to place my order at Todo Mexico. My mouse froze up while I was looking at the menu. I couldn’t find a way to unfreeze the damn thing. I called a neighbor and ended up just turning the computer off per his advice. Voila, when I turned it back on, the mouse worked.

          Rather than return to the menu and place my order, I went about my day. It was a busy one. I had to go to Fred Meyer to get a couple of those cocoanut basket liners. Amazingly, it was cheaper to buy two whole new baskets ($4.99 each), as opposed to purchasing just the liners.

          Back home I returned to working in the garage and sorting through piles of crap. It’s coming alone, though, even if it doesn’t look that way. I’ve almost completely cleaned out this big green cabinet that has 36 drawers. I can’t believe some of the stuff I’m finding in there.

          It got so hot in the garage I stopped and read for a while in the cool of the house. Then, since I knew it was supposed to rain today, I got busy planting the remaining plants I purchased last Friday.

          Suddenly, it’s going on 6:00 pm and I’m starving. I went back to the computer to order my Cinco de Mayo dinner. They weren’t answering the phone, but the listing said Todo Mexico was open. So, I got in the car, figuring I’d place my order and wait in my car. Well, the parking lot was empty and the restaurant was closed.

          I’m already out in my car, so I drove to Azteca in Mountlake Terrace. I couldn’t believe the crowd of people standing around outside. I rolled my window down and talked with a young man who said they’d ordered on-line and had been told 15 minutes and they’d been there for 20. There was a big sign with the phone number. I called the number and no answer.

          On the way back home, I stopped by Las Espuelas by the grocery store I patronize. Again, a hoard of people waiting all around this restaurant as well. My next choice would have been Taco Bell in Kenmore, but I gave up and drove home.

          Rather than those yummy cheesy enchiladas I’d so looked forward to eating, I celebrated Cinco de Mayo with a packet of Chinese BBQ pork, half an avocado, and some cottage cheese with blueberries…with my tot of gin.

          I sincerely hope you were able to acquire or make whatever you planned on for Cinco de Mayo. As for me, I’ll just have to look forward to the next one and hope I can plan ahead a bit better. Actually, I’m really really really hoping I can make a reservation for myself and my friends for the next one.

CINCO DE MAYO

         Here we are, May 5^th, Cinco de Mayo. I was seriously hoping a bunch of us could get together and patronize a Mexican restaurant to celebrate the end of shelter-in-place and our ability to once again eat out. Well, that’s not going to happen for any of us is it?

          If any of us do decide to celebrate Cinco de Mayo, it will be via take out or delivery and either alone or with our partners/family. For me, it will be alone. As I write this, I am seriously thinking about ordering either fajitas or cheese enchiladas for pick up. I don’t have any tequila, but that’s okay because I can either drink tequila or eat Mexican food, but the combination doesn’t agree with me at all. If I’m going to enjoy both of them, I have to indulge at separate times.

          At this point, I don’t know if I’ll order from Todo Mexico up the street or Azteca, but it would be one of the two since they are my favorites. Thinking about Mexican food made me remember something that happened a very long time ago. Another great memory.

          There used to be a Mexican restaurant on Aurora just west of Echo Lake. It was called Viva Mexico and John and I and the boys were frequent visitors there. They made the very best cheese enchiladas I’ve ever had. We went there one evening for dinner. At that point in time tequila and Mexican food went well together for me. I ordered a margarita and the waiter asked if I wanted the grande. Thus, began an evening which we laughed about for a long time.

          When my drink arrived, it was the size of a fishbowl. I’d never ordered a grande before, so had no idea about the size. Immediately, John and my wonderful sons began to caution me about drinking the whole thing, i.e.,

          “Mom, you’re not going to drink that whole thing are you?”

          “Please don’t drink the whole thing, Mom.”

          “Honey, you’re going to be so sorry if you drink all that alcohol.”

          To make matters even better, they didn’t use tiny voices and where we were sitting, we were surrounded by other diners. Those diners looked over at us and you could almost see them thinking, if not saying,

          “Such a nice-looking family. Too bad the mom’s a drunk. “

          “Oh, that poor family. The mom must have a drinking problem.”

          I’m sure you’ve gotten the idea by now. Well, I’ve never been a huge drinker, but John and the boys really annoyed the heck out of me, so I was determined to down the entire fishbowl, and maybe even lick the bottom. So, I did.

          Whoa, was I drunk or what? I was barely able to get up and walk out of that restaurant. Back home, I went to bed and went to sleep…okay, passed out.

          It was probably a couple of hours later. John had come to bed and AJ, was in the doorway, telling me Pam was on the phone.

          “Tell her I’ll call her back in the morning,” I mumbled.

          John shook me and said, “Paula, it’s Pam, she has to go to the hospital to have the baby.”

          Well, that did wake me up. I took the phone and told her I’d be right there. Pam and her husband Walt were friends, and I’d agreed to babysit Walt’s daughter if she was visiting the weekend they had to go to the hospital. I got up, got dressed and headed for their house in Kenmore.

          Kenmore isn’t all that far from Lake Forest Park, in fact, they are adjacent in some places. I was still very drunk. I rolled the windows down in my car and drove very very carefully through Lake Forest Park. My little city had a reputation for handing out traffic tickets. Ha, they wouldn’t have given me a ticket if they’d stopped me, they’d have hauled me off to the pokey with a DUI. I made it okay though and didn’t get stopped.

          At Pam’s, I went back to sleep…okay passed out again…on their couch after they left for the hospital. Their daughter was born that upcoming afternoon. I was stone cold sober by then, and didn’t even have a hangover. But I wonder if that fishbowl-sized margarita is why I can now not eat Mexican food and drink tequila together.

          Instead of tequila, once I’ve picked up my dinner, I’ll raise my tot of gin and wish you all a very happy Cinco de Mayo…and hope that 2021 will allow us to exchange that greeting face-to-face. And, if we can, maybe I’ll throw caution to the wind and order another fishbowl…as long as I’m not the designated driver.

MAY THE FOURTH BE WITH YOU

         Today is Star Wars Day. I hadn’t really thought about it until this morning. It may even be too late now that the weather is getting so much better and things are growing like weeds, especially the weeds, out in the garden. This would be the perfect time to binge watch all the Star Wars movies in their correct order.

          Is there a correct order though? Should I watch them as they were issued? Should I watch them by how they are named, i.e., begin with I and go through what is it VI or VIII? And, what about all the other Star Wars programs that were issued for TV?

          Sheesh, it sounds like a job just deciding how to go about watching all of them. I could do it though. I could watch one each evening and still get out in the sunshine during the day. I’ll let you know how it goes.

          Meanwhile, May the Fourth Be With You…today and always.

ADVENTURING???

         Friday was an adventure day for me, myself and I. I got up showered, went on my daily walk for an hour, had breakfast and then got into my car for a 30-minute drive. I’d say two-thirds of the drive was on roads I used to traverse daily when I had a job. The second third I would use when Greenwood Avenue was too busy, either coming or going from home. Then, I used Third Avenue, which is what I used Friday.

          Not getting out and about very much certainly made me appreciate every single sight that came into my field of vision. There were special homes, yards and locations I hadn’t seen in a long while. I slowed down and looked especially hard at those as I passed. On Third Avenue, I was amazed at how many homes had been removed and replaced by new, more modern ones. When did that happen? I know it didn’t just happen since shelter-in-place became the norm, but not working didn’t provide many opportunities to drive that particular road.  

          My destination was Swanson’s Nursery in north Ballard. This nursery is allowing people to come shop on an appointment basis. You have to go on line and make an appointment. When you arrive, you have to be wearing a mask, as are all the employees in lime green shirts, and check in with the receptionist. After you are checked off, you take one of the clean shopping carts and are free to move about the nursery, but there are signs encouraging you to keep a six-foot distance from shoppers and staff.

          I could have spent most of the day there wandering around looking at stuff, but I believe you are expected to obtain what you want and be out of there within 30 minutes. So, I paid attention to my business. I selected a couple of squash plants, a pumpkin plant, and then sought out the tomato section. I’ve purchased my tomato starts at Swanson’s for the last five years at least and have always had very good luck.

          There are four pots on my driveway, so I chose four tomato plants that will get fairly large. Then I looked for the Tumbling Toms. I couldn’t find them and asked a staff person. She told me they were hiding from me, but directed me to where I found them. Initially, I thought there were only red ones, but I did find a yellow one too. The Toms will go in hanging baskets. I haven’t yet decided if I’ll move them out front to hang from the eves or if I’ll hang them in their usual spot in the backyard.

          In addition to the tomatoes, squash and pumpkin, I also bought Thai basil, regular basil and chives. I’ll plant those in smaller pots. I asked if Swanson’s carried potatoes, because I have two larger pots I’d like to plant with those. They did not, but I have some small red potatoes, so I think I’ll just plant a couple of those in each pot. They’ve worked just fine in the past.

          At checkout, I almost had to laugh. The young woman checking was wearing a mask. I was wearing a mask, but she was definitely into keeping six feet away from me. She told me to stay behind the stand that had the credit card machine. Then she took my cart, counted up the plants and rang them up. When I came around the table that held the credit card reader to get my cart, she backed further away than six feet. Better safe than sorry though, especially since I wasn’t the only shopper she was going to have to deal with that day.

          I took a different route home. I went back up Third and across 145^th to the freeway. I got on there and was amazed at how much work has been accomplished adjacent the freeway for the light rail. It wasn’t all that long ago I was making weekly trips with John, and the work seemed to progress at a snail’s pace. Miss a month…or two…and, wow, it’s coming right along.

          Instead of getting off at the Lake Forest Park exit, I went to the next one for Mountlake Terrace and east on whatever street that is. They’ve (whoever they is) have been working on that street forever, and they’re still not done. I drove carefully past all the orange drums, equipment and people. I believe they’re not just working on the street, but the light rail track as well. That led me to wonder if I’d be alive by the time it would be available for me to use.

A friend was going to come visit at 1:00 pm, but since I’d adhered to the 30 minutes at Swanson’s, I had time to grocery shop, so I did. I carefully parked in the south part of the lot because they had had only the south door open. When I got to the door, there was a sign informing me that door was closed…use the north door. Ah well, that was okay, just more steps toward my daily goal.

Shopping finished, I turned toward home. Not a lot new to see on that street because it’s the one I always use when I go to the grocery store.

This little adventure made me think about how reduced my travel area has become since I retired. When I worked, yes, I did travel the same route to and from most times, but those are routes I rarely use now. Plus, there were often events or errands that would take me out and about to Fremont, Ballard, the University District and other places. My life seemed to loom much larger then.

With the pandemic, my travel and my life have become even more limited. With the exception of Friday, I don’t think I’ve ventured further than 1.5 miles from my house most weeks. When I have to go to Costco, it’s probably three miles, but I only go there maybe once a month. Since some time in March, I’ve had two visitors, aside from my son, his wife and daughter. One yesterday and one the Friday before. I, myself, haven’t been out to visit anyone anyplace else.

Yes, I talk to people on the phone, stay in touch via email and/or Facebook, but it definitely seems as though my life is becoming more and more diminished. This is happening at a time when I seriously expected my life to be growing and expanding with new experiences, places, friends, family and abilities. That’s not happening for me or for the majority of people these days. It doesn’t look like the door to any novel happenings is going to open wide any time soon thanks to the novel coronavirus.

Getting out and traveling about on Friday really was an adventure and I was surprised just how excited and pleased I was to travel those roads and see those sights. I read something recently, or someone told me, about just getting in the car and taking a drive. You don’t need to wear a face mask for that. You don’t have to come in contact with any other people in the process. All you have to do is get in the car, turn it on, and choose a direction. I think in the coming days and weeks, while we’re still sheltering-in-place, I’m going to do just that…plan a little road trip for me, myself and I.

RYTHER, MARRIAGE COUNSELING, MOVING ON

         It’s funny how one post can lead to the next. Yesterday I mentioned Ryther Child Center and the counseling I received there. I didn’t have one-to-one counseling for very long and was then introduced into a group setting. The group was made up of mothers just like me who had been referred because of a tendency for some form of child abuse. The number of participants changed over time, but there was a core group of us.

          We all brought our children who participated in a play group across the hall. I assume they were monitoring the kids to make sure we weren’t abusing them, but I never asked and the counselors never said. I know AJ loved going there and playing with the friends he made.

          Fortunately, this counseling was on a sliding fee scale which was a good thing because I don’t think any of us could have afforded to participate otherwise. We had two counselors, Paul and Susan. Once I figured out that Paul was the counselor who ripped off your scab and Susan was the positive one providing succor and support, they pretty much kicked me out. I guess they figured they’d done as much for me as they could.

          I have to admit they did a good job. I never abused my children either physically or mentally. When I had to use the wooden spoon, it took like six smacks and when the crying ended, I’d go in and we’d talk about how I felt like such a bully and hated to hurt my son, but mommy had tried everything to get the child to do whatever it was…usually disappearing without telling me where to. As far as mental abuse. I was raised with guilt, and no matter how hard I try to guilt my boys into doing something…”Yeah, mom, that’s not gonna work.”

          We met once a week, on a Thursday, for an hour and a half. There were days I stayed in bed until it was almost time to go because I didn’t want to go. I knew it was my turn to have my scab(s) ripped off. I didn’t like that. I also didn’t like Paul telling me that crying so hard I couldn’t talk was a way to avoid dealing with whatever we were working on at that point in time. I persevered because I wanted to be a good mother.

          There are two women in particular I remember from these sessions. One of them had just had her fourth son. She was devastated. She was also Catholic and believed God was punishing her by giving her boys. In high school, she’d gotten pregnant and her parents had pretty much locked her in the attic and forced her to give up that child for adoption. She’d given up a daughter and that’s why God was giving her boys. She also didn’t have a very supportive husband…think he drank…and she was, as we say now, a hot mess. She was still in counseling when I left and I hope she eventually came to terms with herself.

          The other woman had one child and not much of a support group outside of our sessions. She was amazingly talented artistically. At Christmas time one year, she brought us each a cookie that she had baked and decorated. It was the most beautiful cookie I had ever seen. I simply couldn’t eat it and used it as an ornament on my tree until it finally fell apart one year. I wonder if she was ever able to go on and do something with her talent.

          Now, I’ve mentioned that John and I separated and then got back together. Well, things didn’t go well, so we were going to separate again. This time I was the one that was adamant. I told John, “I didn’t want to share the same air we breathed if that’s all we shared.” I gave him a hard date by which he had to move out of the house…I was making enough money by then to make the mortgage payment.

          It was John this time who worked hard to convince me we should not separate. He brought up marriage counseling and wanted to go. I was still involved with Ryther then, so he went to see someone there. He did not like the counselor he was seeing one little bit. So, I asked Paul if he could be neutral enough to counsel us both.

          At our first meeting with Paul, he told us he’d see us five times and on the fifth time, he’d tell us to either call it quits or what we needed to work on to stay married. On the fifth time, Paul told us there was a lot of glue holding our marriage together, but we didn’t know how to communicate with each other. For the next year, John and I went every other week to meet with Paul. Toward the end, we got to where we’d say, “Fine, don’t talk to me now. You can pay $40 to hear it next week.”

          John and I learned how to communicate and communicate well. I was a little worried because he went to Alaska to work for the summer as a carpenter for New England Fish fairly soon after we finished counseling. Since there weren’t any phones where he was, he wrote letters. If I have any of the ones he wrote to me, they’re probably in the trunk in the attic. AJ hadn’t yet learned to read well, so John wrote letters using pictographs. I saved those letters in AJ’s baby book and AJ still has them. They were fun and clever and certainly showed just how much he loved his boy. I think I’d like to read them again as a matter of fact.

          That was right around 1977. Move ahead to 1979. We had finally gotten pregnant…only took five years, but we had a great time getting there. We showed up for our childbirth classes at Group Health. There was a woman there alone. She said her husband was running late. Imagine our surprise when in walked our counselor, Paul. At least he learned from our presence his counseling provided positive results. 

          During childbirth, we found out Paul and his wife had a daughter and had lost another child. I don’t remember if it was at childbirth or later. In any case, their daughter had been an only child for a long time. It was so nice to see him again, but John took exception to Paul’s attitude toward the only child getting a sibling…she’ll need to just get over it.

          I gave birth to Thor on a Friday. I had to stay in the hospital longer than planned because I hemorrhaged after Thor was born. I think it was the day I went home, but suddenly, there was Paul in the hallway…his wife had just given birth to his son.

          A couple of years went by and I was in need of a counselor, or at least some advice. Paul was in private practice, so I made an appointment. I was in a lot of pain because an extremely good friend had a husband who was abusive. He had told her she could not see me again because John had threatened to break both his arms if he ever hurt her again.

          This was someone with whom I spent part of every single day for at least three years. Suddenly, she and her kids could no longer be a part of my life. It hurt and it hurt a lot. Paul’s advice, however, didn’t ease the hurt in any way. He had seen my friend and her husband for counseling (my recommendation) at least once, so he was aware. His advice to me was to stay in touch with her. I was to pretend she was on an island that didn’t have outgoing mail or phones. I should still call and send cards and letters.

          I never saw Paul again after that session. I felt a bit betrayed because his advice didn’t assuage my pain. Eventually, my friend did get a divorce, but moved much further away. I still see her on occasion and when I do, it’s like we just got together yesterday. She’s happy now and I’m happy she’s happy, but it would be absolutely super if she lived around the corner from me like she once did.

          Sitting here at the keyboard, I’m amazed by how my mind has traveled through some of those back years and memories. Pam, begonia; Susan, begonia; Ryther, Paul; childbirth class, Paul; my friend, Paul. I know exactly how Pam and my other friend are doing, but I have no idea about Susan or Paul. I sincerely hope they are having great lives…they added so much that was beneficial to mine.