Rest In Peace.

The chamber secretary (and mom, grandma, friend, sister) died Friday night. It was going to happen, but no one was thinking that it would happen this quickly.

Leave of Absence

My secretary is gone now. We put her on a one-month, paid leave-of-absence with the full blessing of her family. She really went downhill mentally and was unable to complete even one task correctly. She could, however, get herself up, dressed, and to work. I guess when you do something for 25 years....

It all went down on Monday when her son told her the news. We had chamber backup ready to go, but we all thought it was best for her family to tell her instead of having board members show up at the chamber and ask her to go home. She did not take it well. Yesterday she got up and was fully planning on coming into work until her daughter, son, and son-in-law conspired to keep her at home. She got so pissed. Then she started slurring her words, her blood pressure zoomed, and she ended up in the hospital overnight. There is some kind of swelling happening and it's affecting her brain. Cancer, as my dear mother says, sucks.

Her doctor saw her and told her that she had no business being at work. That calmed her down considerably. But it looks like she won't be coming back.

So where does that leave me? Relieved that I can move forward. Sad that it had to happen like this. Overwhelmed with the sheer volume of tasks that need tackled. One of these days it's all going to be running smooth. We have new software and everything! But I haven't had a chance to take the 1-hour online how-to course let alone manipulate it. For now, I'm dealing with my own mess and someone else's monumental one.

I worked on the monthly newsletter today. Another 12-hour day, and the newsletter--with frequent interruptions from calls and visitors--took all of it. It's done, though! So I can tell you what I did at work today. That's good.

Tomorrow I'm off to the airport to decorate it. That's right. You know those big pictures of tourist attractions that grace the halls of airports everywhere? There's going to be one (or more) of Hometown in the nearby regional airport. At least I think. We'll see tomorrow, won't we?

Working for the weekend. Back to Hot Waffles to put in a gravel path (complete with log terrace steps), chop down a walnut tree that's about to fall over, mow, and contemplate the space for the outhouse.

Facebook killed the blogspot star.

I have to admit it--my time on Facebook is taking time from Blogspot. In particular, I spend a lot of time playing Farm Town. Farm Town is awesome! (If you play, won't you be my neighbor? Also, I like trees.)

I went to real farm town yesterday. We all spent the day at Hot Waffles. I cleaned the cabin the whole time--about 6 hours. Kevin weedwhacked and raked around the cabin and burned the offal.

The folks who opened up the ice cream parlor in town came down to visit and seemed to like it! They have lived in a large, brown, Southwestern city most of their lives and are growing used to all things green and lush and humid. They deemed the place a good place to hang out, shoot guns, and BBQ. And that it is. (I hate guns, but I can abide.)

We quickly made plans for an impromptu steak-eating, gun-shooting, tree-felling party today, Memorial Day. And isn't that just the most American party you could ever have?

The thing I like about the ice cream folks is their enthusiasm. Sure! They'll drive out to see your place, on their way to a movie in the opposite direction! Sure! They'll do this, do that, and relish it all. Kevin and I aren't like that, really. We need to be pushed to get out of the door. We need people like that around. Lots of energy!

So, anyway, the cabin is looking great. We even brought a generator so we could shopvac all the dead wasps. It's raining like all heck this morning, but it's supposed to clear up and be much cooler than yesterday. The plan is to clear a bunch of cedar trees from the wooded area (deemed "Butter Patch" by Stevie--the kid has a knack for names!), start a big ol' fire, shoot some guns, and BBQ some great steak and local chicken, asparagus, sweet potatoes, and veggie kabobs. The bread is about to go into the oven. Kevin is out getting Skintastic (downside: ticks), tools, and the lawnmower--we'll at least mow a path.

Kevin said that yesterday was the best day he'd had in a long time. And he spent the whole day weedwhacking and raking. So what does that tell you?

It should tell you that our commitment to fix up the land has kicked in, and yesterday felt like the first day in a long countdown to living out there permanently. It will be a haul. But visible progress can be made each time we go out and work, and that's satisfying.

I think you might be able to guess why I like Farm Town so much.

And back up again!

I stayed up until midnight last night, reading about one couple's experience building an earthship.

An earthship is a completely self-sufficient home. It's typically built with recycled materials (tires, cans) and earth-friendly adobe or a similar plastering material. The south side of the house has a bank of windows. Water is collected from the roof of the house into cisterns, and all water is recycled within the home--from the sink, to planters, to the toilet, to the outside planting area. Electricity is provided by solar panels or wind. You can build an earthship anywhere. You can learn more about them on Wikipedia or at www.earthships.com.

I love regular homes. I'm especially fond of old farm houses with multiple twists and turns and peaked roofs. I also like log cabins. I'm not terribly fond of adobe-looking houses outside of Southwestern settings. But I'm pretty sure that no other kind of home makes a lot of sense for us.

First off, the cisterns. Cisterns = no well. Huge plastic water containers cost thousands, but we have time to look around, and we can buy one at a time. With cisterns you can collect all the water you need for a house and even the garden and animals. The only setback is that you need a building from which to collect the water. But cisterns give me hope.

The second thing that gives me hope is the pay-as-you-go nature of earthships. First, you have to pay to level and ready the building site. Then you pound tires for months until your exterior walls are done. OR, since pounding tires seems like a really hideous process (though one that would burn a lot of fat!), you can use tire bales. See tirebalehouse.com for pictures. Tire bales consist of 100 old tires hydraulically pressed into a 5' x 5' x 2 1/2' bale and held in place with thin steel wires. They can be used to build really thick walls. They are often free--but you have to pay to ship them to the site and they weigh a ton apiece. Still, to eliminate months of packing dirt into tires with a sledgehammer....

Earthships are typically as expensive as a regular house. You have to buy solar panels, lots of glass, insulation, flooring, plumbing, etc. But once you have that stuff--and, again, you can get it over time and do a lot of the work yourself--utility bills are a thing of the past! You have a comfortable home completely independent of the grid. You have an indoor greenhouse. And this is something that is within reach for Kevin and me (over time).

So it's back up the hill.

Kevin's Memorial Day hell is almost over--just five more days of insane hours. We're taking this weekend to completely chill. I'm taking this Thursday and Friday off, too. Starting the weekend after that, we're going to live at Hot Waffles on the weekend. That way we're putting our energy and meager funds towards our own land. Instead of pissing money away here and there, we'll buy the things we need for the land. We'll need to construct an outhouse right away, so we'll buy a toilet seat (does anyone have a used one we can have?). We'll buy or scrounge the materials for an outdoor oven (can't wait for that!). We'll chop down cedar trees, fix the fence, mow, and try to figure out a way to get the animals out there asap. We'll think about chickens again--and pigs!

Hope springs eternal at Hot Waffles.

And...back down the hill.

I laid out the blankets and pillow and attempted to take a nap on the grass with Mark. He, however, thought we were at gymnastics class. It's hard to sleep when a 3-year old is tumbling over your head.

So I sat up on my elbow and started watching the sheep. And thinking. Thinking that I'd probably be getting a lot more done with my day if this grass was MY grass.

This property has so much potential. My mother-in-law has talked about passing this property down. As I've said before in this post, if they do that, and they live a normal life span, we'll be 60 when it's our turn to live here. No thanks.

I look around at the acres that are in pasture and the many wasted acres that aren't. If this was my place, I'd still keep a nice yard, but I'd be slapping fences up left and right, subdividing pastures for rotation, and bringing in a truckload of animals. I had a dream the other night about pigs. I want pigs.

I'd quit my job if this was my land. Quit my job and bring in the animals and dig a huge garden and really make a go of it. My Best Friend Ted could come and live in the house we're in now. Sigh.

But it's not. And there's no settling in because I can't do what I want with it! And why put in more garden beds, or plant asparagus, or build chicken tractors or coldframes or anything else if 1. I have to ask to do it and 2. we won't live here for too much longer (God, I hope).

But we are ill-equipped to move out to our land. No one is going to give us a loan to install a well or a pond. Our lawnmower is hardly sufficient for the mowing we would have to do--even populated pastures need mowed. And no one is going to give us a loan right now anyway. Our entire purpose for being right now should be paying down our debt. And until that's paid off, I'm in land limbo. Itching to get outside and get started, unable to. I am thankful for the animals I have, but you must understand that I am not 'allowed' to manage them--meaning manage the grass--as it really should be. It's a limited allowance. I can have the animals, but if taking care of them--meaning taking care of the grass--means doing anything remotely unattractive--meaning: useful and necessary--or interferes with the fantasy that Little Cousin is going to ride like the wind on her asshole of a horse, I can't. It's almost worse than not having them. I SO wish we had just put an apartment in the shop or bought some little house in town.

On most days I manage quite well. But when I really stop and think about it, this living situation is miserable and I hate it. I have to stop and apologize here for being a spoiled brat. I don't have a lot of patience with this process. When is the shop going to make real--meaning bring it home--money? I'm ready to rent a place in the country, move the animals to the land, and bring them water on a truck.

Better day today!

I planted my free tomato plants that I got from one of the county commissioners. He bought some at an Amish plant auction and came away with more than what he needed. It's not everyday that you go to visit your county reps to ask them permission for something and end up with the permission AND free tomatoes.

Then I planted a whole bunch of stuff in Hot Waffles Online. Farm Town on facebook. It's growing on me.

It's another gorgeous day here. I roasted a couple of chickens, ate them (well, part of one of them), and now Mark and I are going to take a little stroll around the pasture. Mark wants to 'watch horses!' on the internet, so it's time to go.

Going nuts.

Work was super-annoying today, all because of other people. First, there were all the calls. Then, there were all the visitors--two groups of which were researching genealogy. No, I really don't care that your great-grandparents lived here over a hundred years ago, but I'll smile and nod and direct you to the people and places you need to see and go.

Then there were all the calls and visits about the secretary--mostly what she didn't do that she said she was going to do. And now I have to do it when they're already 1/2 ticked off. OK, fine. It's not the time out of the office that's the problem (except for all the stuff in the first paragraph). It's the time she spends IN the office that messes me up. In a nutshell, she's not getting it done and she's not delegating. I don't know where to find ANYTHING, and I need it. And the longer she hangs around, the more hindered I am. If she won't retire, she at least needs to take a leave of absence until the chemo brain is resolved--if it resolves. Yes, it's that bad!

Here's a quick example (among too many): She sent out applications for the parade. I guess this is standard, and it's fine. But the labels she is using are years old because, today, about 12 of them came back to us because the recipients had died, had moved and their forwarded address had expired, or because their business has been out of business for so long that I have never even heard of it! So, either she just sloppily slapped on a bunch of old labels, or she didn't comprehend that she was sending these things to known dead people--and she knows everybody so she would know. Either way....

Then, I picked up Stevie from school. He hadn't turned in his homework for, like, the 4th school day in a row, because he is 'too busy'. I told him--AGAIN--that academics are the #1 priority and there is no such thing as being too busy to remember your #1 priority, especially after many, many reminders.

I call his teacher and tell her that he has a bunch of homework to turn in and she asks me to read what he has and I do and she says, "I made him extra copies of X, Y, and Z and kept him in from recess so he could do them!" And it was completed and in his backpack the whole time. So I get a list from her of exactly what he needs to do and here, at 7:40, he is STILL working on homework. If you are tempted to feel sympathetic about the heaps of homework he must be languishing under, check it. He had to write two short paragraphs about books he's read--that took him 4 HOURS--and now he has to illustrate a story he's already written. But my blood pressure entered the danger zone and so did his little butt. A few minutes ago he told me he was sorry for being so stubborn. Taken aback, I asked him, kindly, where did that come from? He pointed to the frickin' Wii--he was trying to earn back some of the time I took from him! Little shit! I informed him, not so kindly, that apologizing in order to be able to play video games was really lame and nothing more than manipulation. And so we stand.

Kevin is entering the danger zone as well--trying to finish all the promised monuments before Memorial Day. He comes home to eat and help clean up a little and then heads back to the shop until at least 11 p.m. I have to deal with it although I'm not always quiet in my desperation. You might be tempted to think that we're raking in the cash as a result of all this work, but you'd be wrong. The business is in good shape by many standards--we can afford to pay the bills and the customers are pleased. But there is no take-home. No debt relief. No savings. No moving out to Hot Waffles and away from a dad (his) who calls last night in a irritated 1/2 panic because Kevin moved some pecans out of the freezer to make room for the chickens we bought and they could go moldy! And they're expensive! (You know--if they weren't free from the tree in the backyard, but I get it.) And we're both just real tired of dealing with a person who can't seem to deal with people without freaking out. Every time he does that I just want to pull my hair out because I want to live on our land so bad but we can't fucking afford a WATER supply let alone a house, electricity, and all the other stuff that we have, practically for free, now. It makes me want to have a bad habit to escape into. It's a real rollercoaster around here these days.

Monday Morning

I decided this morning that it was time to start working out again. I can work out for months and lose nary a pound but, if I stop, I immediately gain about six. I like food too much.

So I worked out. Twenty-five minutes of walking-based aerobics and 30 minutes on the Wii fit--jogging, hula-hooping (VERY effective) and balance games. It's really quite fun, but they need another version with EXTREME!! levels and more games.

Saturday was so lovely--perfect weather, fun chores, and a great little dinner party. Yesterday was overcast and chilly and I was so, so tired. I laid around most of the day but oh well. Today is gorgeous again and I have a very light schedule this week. Only one meeting! And it's tonight so I'll get it over with. I have plenty to do, but sitting in my pretty office with the window open and a lovely breeze wafting through is an inviting setting for getting work done.

So here it is--another super boring positive post. Maybe it's true that the best art stems from misery. Here is an exception to that 'rule': www.chloehedden.com. (Her paintings make exceptionally pretty computer backdrops.) Enjoy!

Stream of Consciousness

It's raining hard. The driver's side window on my car is off the track and there is a 4" gap. It's been like that for over a week and, of course, it's rained pretty much every day this past week. I like this kind of rain and these dark, grey days. On a day like this there's no going outside (there's lots of close lightning strikes) and you plan accordingly. I don't like little pissy rains that just make everything damp. And, while I'm on the topic, you should know that I don't like being damp or wet or walking in wet grass or having some dog rub its wet nose on my knee or being squirted with a squirt gun. It's just one of the many things I've learned about myself in 39 years of hard livin'.

I was an ass to my kids last night. We've been really slack about bedtimes and even beds lately. The ideal is that both boys are in their respective beds by 8:30. But Mark is afraid of pumas, wolves, and coyotes (why do kiddie horse movies always show horses being traumatized by pumas, wolves, coyotes?!) and sure that they'll bust in and run up the stairs and so, most nights, weasels his way out of having to go upstairs to bed. Stevie has charmed his way into staying up past 9 and, in his weariness, gets all pissy, annoyed, and annoying.

That happened last night and I'd had enough of it. So I yelled like a big, stupid bear and marched them upstairs to their beds and Stevie was already stressed out about all the extra school work that he has to do because he's smart ("I'm not really that smart--why do I have to do all these hard worksheets?!") and he was overly tired and when a terrified Mark tried to weasel his way into Stevie's bed and Stevie started yelling at him to get out I bellowed up the dark stairs and into the dark room and REALLY scared the shit out of both of them. I placed Mark into his bed, went downstairs, and listened to both of them crying while I tried, unsuccessfully, to get hooked up to the Internet. Stevie asked me, "Why do you scare me sometimes?" and I actually answered "Because sometimes nothing else works!" The dear reader should know that I never laid a hand on these kids or called them names or anything, but an angry parent with a loud voice is quite enough to make me look like a jackass on my inner parent-cam and it doesn't do a whole lot to keep peace in my household. I begged forgiveness this morning and vowed to get that impatience worked out.

I've always been quick to blow my top, and I still tend to feel better only after breaking something or kicking something or yelling really loud. Why is that? Is it because the clean-up reminds me that whatever I did to make the mess was a real jackass move? I've worked a lot of anger issues out over the years but, as you can read, not completely. What am I so stressed about?

No, we still don't have any money and that limits our choices and, nearing 40, I'm starting to feel the pinch of time. Kevin comes home for dinner and then heads back to work so I have been a single mom in the evenings. That is fine most times but, as you can read, not all the time. Being overweight and out of shape takes it toll on my psyche and my energy level, but that is a problem with an obvious cure. My jobs are secure and I enjoy them. So what's up? How can I make myself better? Calmer?

Yesterday after work the boys and I walked around the pasture and down by the pond. Stevie was hunting for frogs and he's not allowed in the pasture by himself (cows, horses--nice animals, but I don't totally trust them around the kids and they weigh a LOT). Mark followed him down by the shoreline of the pond and got sucked into the mud. I had to pull him out and he nearly sacrificed a shoe to the gooey mess. But it was fun! And it was a beautiful day and I was so thankful that my kids get to grow up in a small town with room to roam and nature to play with. And then I ruin it with my temper. Where is that place I need to get to? Because the last thing I want to do is pass that temper along to my wonderful children.

On my continuous struggle to get along with all these right-wing Christians....

Stevie has a buddy. His buddy is in TAG class, the accelerated math class, and loves Star Wars. They get along great.

But the buddy and his family don't believe in global warming. Stevie informed me of this yesterday, out of the blue.

"What do they believe in?"

"God."

Shocker! But I know lots of people who believe in God AND global warming. They even believe that humans have something to do with global warming, along with thousands of scientists around the globe. So how does a family just decide to not believe in global warming? Did this decision come after they had exhausted the research and come to the conclusion that there just isn't enough evidence to support the hypothesis that says humans have contributed to climate change? My gut tells me no.

According to Random House's college edition (so it must be right), to believe is 'to have confidence in the truth or the reliability of something without absolute proof'. In that case, I believe in global warming and in the human actions that have led to it or at least made it worse. I've read a few things (not whole books, though) and there is, well, data to support the claim that the planet is going through a significant climactic change and there is even data that supports the claim that humans have a lot to do with it. And have you seen all of those melting glaciers?

In science there is rarely 'absolute truth' but that doesn't mean that scientists aren't trying to find it.

Why is this so politicized? Knowing what I do of Stevie's buddy and his family, I've judged them to be the type of folks who politicize and religiousize issues that shouldn't be either. The solution to the issues can and will have political and religious input, unfortunately, but the issue itself?

Let's take vaccines. What you choose to do with the knowledge, gleaned from scores of years of scientific research, that administering vaccines helps people avoid dread diseases is up to you. Politics weighs in (give free vaccines to poor kids to wipe out polio?) as does religion (choose prayer over vaccines) and personal dumbass decisions (don't vaccinate because Hollywood Moms say it's bad). It's hard to not 'believe' in the effectiveness of vaccines even if there are questions about side effects and whether or not they are necessary.

I'm not trying to say that you should just believe in every study that comes out of mythical Science World. I am pretty skeptical of scientific claims until they become more than a hyperactive blip on the local news; until lots of other scientists come out and say, "Hey! I got the same result!" But I don't like this picking and choosing; this believing in some of the results of the scientific method and rejecting others. And, I strongly suspect, rejecting them because of deep-set religious/poltical views.

That's what I really don't get. Would believing in global warming, an issue highlighted by a not-so-liberal Democrat, make you less of a Republican? Less of a Christian? Does the sanctity of the free market trump all? If you want to have 5 kids and drive around in a huge SUV and believe in the wisdom of dumbasses like Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh...well, I can see how accepting the research-based conclusions of thousands of scientists around the globe who know a helluva lot more about the climate of that globe than you do might rock your center-of-the-universe world.

There is another issue here that is personally more worrisome to me. Stevie has mentioned several times that he thinks very differently than a lot of his classmates. For instance, he doesn't believe in God and everyone else does. Just yesterday we were listening to the news and they were talking about gay marriage in D.C. and he said, "I don't understand why people think it's bad for gay people to get married." It was later that day that he told me about the global warming conversation.

He can get along with these kids just fine, regardless of their heavily-parent inspired beliefs. But what if other moms and dads start asking Stevie questions? 'What church do you go to?' comes to mind. I've actually told Stevie that he might want to keep his atheism under wraps unless he feels it really necessary to spill it. It's ridiculous to me that Christians--esp. the rural mid-Missouri variety--are always carrying on about how they're so persecuted in a society where the majority of people at least believe in God and most of them say they're Christian. It sometimes seems as if this whole town revolves around them and their activities. They say a prayer before City Council meetings here, and I just had to suffer through another asinine 3-minute preaching spot on the local radio station followed by an absolutely hideous 'modern Christian' song. And I worry about my kid saying too much at a sleepover and finding out what it's like to be branded a bad influence.

I told Stevie that his dad and I have some pretty strong views about things, and it's evident that he (Stevie) is absorbing those views. But what we really want to teach him is to think for himself and find his own answers to things, even if they are counter to ours. We've even offered to take him to church and encouraged him to go with the couple of people who have asked him. He has no desire to go. And he believes that we mean what we say about him thinking for himself. He also loves talking about this stuff with us and, I think, he is seeing us more and more as a refuge from the stuff he hears out in the world. I don't want him to have a hard time. I just love that kid so much. Now there's something that you can believe in.

I really, really, really don't want to be at work today.

It's not that I don't like my jobs--I do! But the sun is out, the temp is perfect (mid-70s), and I'd rather be raising pigs.

I planted 12 tomato plants and 3 basil plants yesterday after spending the whole day with Mark. It was highly pleasant. I talked with Mr. Heifer about the importance of saving heritage breeds and how pretty our red cows look grazing on green pasture. I learned that there is Red Poll cheese in England and that a man in Texas wants to make it here in the States.

I've thought many times that I could make a go of raising livestock for the natural, local foods market, which is growing rapidly. Every story about the inanity of shipping food around the globe (or even over the Rockies from California), or the cruelty and stupidity of feedlots (just put the cattle back on the grass instead of plowing up the grass, planting corn, and feeding the cattle corn--duh!), or the better health and taste and economies inherent in local, smaller-scale food production just makes that market grow larger.

People love pigs. Pigs are relatively cheap to buy, easy to raise, and produce 8-12 pigs per litter (a rough average). People love cows. Cows are easy to raise, benefit the grass if pastured properly, and one cow can feed a lot of people. People love chickens. Chickens are cheap to buy, easy to raise, and produce for you dead or alive. Plus, they're just wonderful to have around. A diverse farmyard is every bit of an ecosystem and the more diverse, the healthier and more efficient it is.

I paid off my second cow yesterday (2 down, 2 to go). All four cows are in their 2nd trimester, due in July or August. If all goes well, I'll have 8 cows! And I'm on my way.

So what do I need to make this happen? More time would be helpful. Our own land (and more of it, too, for optimal production). Some startup money. Not much, really. Unless you count the money needed to get us set up on our own land--well ($9,000 minimum), pond for animals ($1000 minimum), a yurt (???). Ai yi yi. It's frustrating to pretty much know what you want to do and not be able to do it.

In the meantime, I'll continue with my jobs--which I really do like, but animals aren't nearly as dramatic--and hope that Kevin's monuments make us rich.

Steal Your Face

I just watched "Ghost Town", starring Ricky Gervais. It was Hollywood Formula-- ghosts walking around with unfinished business, convincing hard-nosed living people to finish it in sappy ways whilst discovering their inner nice person. Still, somewhat enojyable because 1. it's Ricky Gervais and that guy is hilarious--and touching--and 2. I've had half a bottle of champagne and it's Friday night and I just want to kick back and zone out.

Movie is over. I check on Stevie and his buddy, Chandler. The first friend that Stevie has had for a sleepover, ever. It's Friday night, summer is almost here, so what the hell? Let them eat ice cream, pizza, popcorn, root beer. Let them play Star Wars Legos on the Wii for four hours. Now, at 11 p.m., they are finished creating their unique fleets of Legos starships and the battle has begun! Brothers from another mother.

I pee, wash my hands, check out my pores and eyebrows. Why do my eyebrows and nails grow so quickly? A major flaw in the human form. I would've preferred thin, hard callouses at the end of my fingers. Something about nails grosses me out--especially when they're cut at the quick. And I've cleaned up someone else's vomit that was dripping between the spokes of a wheelchair wheel. Knees, too, need some work. They're always blowing out. If there was a god s/he would have reinforced the kneecap area. Mine are alright, though. For now.

Anyhoo, while checking out said pores I thought of the dead people in the movie. Yesterday I took the boys on a little cruise of Hometown; a roundabout on our way to the swollen river. I passed the Catholic cemetery where, soon enough, the Chamber's secretary is going to be buried. Her monument is already there--her husband died over a decade ago. Her name is not on it, but there it stands, waiting. Tom Waits's cold, cold ground. How depressing and weird to be buried; to be placed in a placce completely different than that we occupy as breathers. Seems pretty stupid, really. Burn me and scatter me. Give me over to the wind and the water and the grass.

She is a devout Catholic and is, no doubt, hoping for a glorious reunion with her husband in heaven. My little foibles with her in the office have nothing on death and her contemplation of it. Will it hurt? How long will life drag out--or will it? Will she accept it, or cling desperately? There was a song I thought about the other morning. Of course, I can't remember what it was, but it occurred to me that, when I'm dead, I'll miss it. It wasn't "Wildfire" or anything ripped off by James Taylor.

I've sympathized with her this whole time--or so I thought. But I really haven't until just now. I sure as hell don't want to face those questions anytime soon and I'm sure she doesn't, either. Just when it's time to rest, garden, create a cookbook for her kids, she has to deal with the end of her life. This is no midlife crisis she's dealing with. This is the full-blown shit. I don't give a crap what she says or does until she leaves the Chamber now. I'm finally There. Don't let me off the hook, dear reader. And remind me to tell you about my last living grandparent, whom I adore, and her own struggle with the end of her life, which she is fighting with the last of her vigor. The more we live the more time we have to prepare for death, I suppose. Oh, aren't I just so deep.

Sabotage Update

I've just been informed that at least one dear reader is awaiting an update on the secretary sabotage situation.

She has been at work this week. So, on Monday, I asked her about it. After asking about some work thing I said that I had to bring something up. I told her that two members of the board had heard from two different people that she had said that I was trying to force her out so that I could dissolve her position and get her money.

She denied it.

The look on her face could have been embarrassment at being caught and confronted (however gently). Or it could have been a dismayed 'what the hell am I saying on chemo brain?' kinda thing. She asked me, "Why do people do that? Why do people put words into our mouths?"

I said I figured it was nothing but, if she did feel that way, that this was the opportunity to clear it up. And then we went back to work.

Whether she said it or not, it's bound to be the last time.

But here's the kicker. During our short conversation I spilled the names of the board members who told me! I don't even remember doing it--I didn't have an 'oh, crap, shouldn't have said that' moment. I guess I thought that it didn't matter who told me because they had been the receivers of information as opposed to the spillers of it, and any reasonable person wouldn't kill the messengers, especially two who care about the Chamber.

The next day I heard from one of those board members--one I consider to be my confidante--and she wasn't very happy that I had given her name. (When I gave the two of them an email update of the situation I said that the secretary wondered who would say that to _____ and _____. She figured it out.) And I was flabbergasted because I didn't even remember saying their names and I obviously had not seen the problem in doing so. But the board member was worried that the secretary would now treat her differently.

I'm pretty sure it will come to nothing, but I felt like a right idiot! Here's a woman I have been confiding in for a year and yet, when she gives me a piece of sensitive information, I blab it to the one person who could be a real jackass about it. But this board member is so wonderful; she wasn't mad, and she came to me with her feelings about it right away. Still, I wonder if she'll trust me with certain things from now on. So I geeked out on that for awhile and still have that little grating feeling when I think about it. It's something most of us have done, which is why I'm sharing this uncomfortable episode. And to think that I'm pretty good about keeping secrets. Usually.

Anyway, I'm off to work now. Stevie has a friend coming over to spend the night so I'm definitely cutting out at 3 (still a 7 hour day) and coming home to make stromboli.