Nightmares

When I got pregant in late 06 my nightmares stopped abruptly. So it has been almost a soild 2 1/2 years since I have woken up screaming or crying. It was really really nice. I felt somewhat normal. After having nightmares since as long as I could remember, it was really relieving to sleep without waking up so much at night to snap myself out of whatever hell my mind was replaying.

Friday morning I pop awake at 6 am absolutly terrified. Donald recognized the signs and hugged me but it did not help. He had to go to work in less than five min so I found myself sobbing at my coffepot. My mom was picking up Nikki, as prearranged the day before, so at least I could have a day to process by myself instead of shoving it to the side.

I started drawing with pencils, something I have not done in years. Just shades of grey. I wound up doing three drawings that day and they were so far out of the norm of what I normally do, the pictures came out incredible. Esp for not having any formal art training at all. And typically I suck with faces.

What makes them so is the blank white eyes in the woman and the monster's eyes. I am thinking if I get it out on paper then maybe I can sleep again without the dreams bothering me.

Continued Swirlies

I feel sorry for the guy at Sherwan Williams paint. I asked for the premix of joint compound, the large one and he told me they have a box of it. I agreed it would work and he asked what it was for.
Texture.
How are you doing the texture?
With my hands.
Well, yeah.... but how?
With. My. Hands.
...oh. Like -makes gestures of patting the wall.
No. I am doing swirlies.

I got an incredible blank look. Poor guy. I felt for him but then my dingbat side kicked in and I started chattering about my kitchen and how it cost 11$ to texture a large wall. At the exact same time I handed him 21$ to pay for the joint compound that cost 10.81
He paused. "You gave me 21 dollars."
yeah.
"The cost is 10.81."
yup.
"But you said 11 dollars."
(The back of my mind is screaming with laughter)
So I repeated the entire paragraph about my texture and ended it with it cost 10.81 so I handed your 21 so I will get a 10 back with some change.
"oooh."

So I got to terrorize someone for the day and make him wish he worked somewhere else. But when a lady comes covered in little paint spots, torn jeans, flip flops, and a tank top that is COVERED in paint, you run the risk of her messing with you.







Don't mind the clutter or mess, I am still in the process of creating new storage space.
I am thinking of painting the inside of the bottom cabinets purple instead of green. I cannot decide.
When I pulled the bottom cabinet away from the wall I discovered afun filled fact from the past builders. My floor did not reach the wall. So after I pulled the section of paneling off that has been driving me crazy for years I found the 3 foot long 1/4 inch wide acess point for the lizards and large creepy bugs that have been getting in.
I fixed it with adhisve caulking and cereal box cardboard. I also had to fix a couple of bad spots in the sheetrock. Joint compound and cereal box cardboard. it is very soild and cheap, cheap.
I am thinking about painting the original Cheshire Cat on one of the swirls on the east wall. Of course with the quote "we are all mad here.."
It's fitting.

Attack of Giant Birds

We have giant woodpeckers that live around our property. In 11 years they have never ever entered the garden area in serch of food. Appearently the drought is so bad that my handmade swingset and trellis held the best bugs. It looks like someone took a hatchet to both.

Happy Fourth!!!

Hope everyone had a good fourth of July.

To the people that caught the woods on fire down the road from my house- kiss my ass.

Randomized late night thoughts

Tonight must be the night to just type what is in my head. A little over a week ago a random quote came from (ironically) my own blog.

It is a quote from Lewis Carrol. Alice comes to a fork in the the road and asks the Chesire cat which one to take. He responded that it does not matter since she does not know where she is going.

The actual quote, not my abbrevated one, has been running thru my head everyday since I laid eyes on it. Tonight is is screaming for attention.

My subconsious is telling me to just go and do something. Stop trying to figure out what you should be and just be. Your job does not make you who you are, you make you who you are. Your hobbies are who you are.What you read, do, plan, create is what and who you are.

I had forgotton this over the last year or two. I am a wife and mom. I am also a gardener and artist. If I really want to do something then nothing is actually stopping me but my own inhibitions.

My stories for example- I should just finish the current one and self publish then sell it online. Ava will go to a regular publisher because the story- ha, book- is only a quarter done at 26K words.

Maybe I should be an online researcher. I can find thurough information within hours of a question and no less than a day. And not some little half ass one line answer, I double check everything and I read so fast and retain what I read it gets annoying when I hear someone talk about *random topic* and it takes a ton of will power to NOT butt in and give my informed two pence worth.

What is my mental issue with wanting approval but trying not to stand out? It is aggrevating as hell.

Now I am looking thru ads for real estate because the market is killer it seems and finding the right place is pretty easy. My only thing is comming up with the down payment and all that crap. I know it I can get two rent houses then I will be set on turning other ones or have the base to redo the hurricane ones that are selling for under 20K. And I could redo them cheaper than the going rate. I have it in my head, it is just figuring out how to balance raising my toddler and dealing with my husband, who is now the one breaking down.

He gave me the ok to file for disability on him. He is hurting that bad. He is getting worse by the day. So my hope is to get a decent paying job, beg and bribe family to care for Nikki and then have the down payment on the houses. Then I can get one or two more and have enough going that I can leave my job and concentrate on my family. Hopefully have all this done in six months. I do not think I will make it-- Murphy's Law.

Pained Days

Donald's pain is not getting any better. He is getting worse and watching my husband deal with constant pain is just awful.
I worry now. He is in his early forties and might have another forty years left. Can he live with this much pain for forty more years? Will the good days outshine the bad days? Can his liver handle the constant stream of painkillers or will I watch him slowly fade away?
He is already a different person from before he got hit. Some days he is so quiet it is eerie. That's when he is hurting. When he is hurting really bad he just goes into his room and watches TV for hours. He cannot remember anything some days and other days he mixes everything up. The meds are not working unless he takes more. The chiropractor told him that surgery is an option. This last round of chiro only helped for a day.
And he cannot understand that three doctors have told him he will be like this for the rest of his life.
Forever. That word has a whole new meaning.
This one has a new meaning too.
Suffering.