The Torn Pages

Archive for 2009

Almost

That’s how long it’s been. Almost. Almost a year. Almost a year since my dad fell, hitting his head on the garage floor and sending himself into the long goodnight. The date sticks in my brain as i look at the calender, already full of birthday and christmas and new years and year -end tastks to be taken care of for the farm. Work has been a complete and utter zoo… not surprising, since it does it to me every year at this time. I wish I worked in a job that didn’t have its’ busiest time at the same time as harvest and holidays. I used to enjoy the holidays, birthdays. Decorating the house… baking cookies… making candy… getting everything special. Now between work and the farm it is all so hurried and shortened that I feel I have no time for actual enjoyment.

Now, besides all the rest… I have dad. Mom is lonely, I know. I try to see her when I can, but it isn’t enough… never enough. Was never enough when dad was alive and is certainly not enough now. I feel the weight of her guilt trips with every email I receive. I hear it in her voice when she speaks to me. Yes, he was a bastard… yes, however, she loved him and misses him. Thank goodness she has a dog. Without the dog she’d be lost. Some days I feel she loves the dog more than me. The dog is there more than I am.

I want to go back and have him alive again. I want to be able to somehow get through his last months or years of fog -of depression. To tell him how he’s wasting it all. His wife loves him. His daughter? His daughter could, given the right circumstances. I think. I hope.

Give me the strength to get through the next few weeks. It will be hard. We’re almost there. Almost to the date when he fell… the 11th. After that? Things became a blur… for a few weeks. Until it stopped. Until it ended. Until I ended it. Me. My decision. Yes, they went along, but it was my decision to move him to hospice. My decision to take him off the feedings. My decision to let him go. Almost.

Almost.

Those Days

Do you ever have one of Those Days. You know. The kind where you wake up and think it is going to be a good day, only to arrive at work to find out that while you were sleeping the world turned and things happened you have no control over, but that somehow you are supposed to be the one to fix it? I thought I had an issue at work that was resolved. A technical issue. Then I got to work and found out that instead of the problem being fixed, it was made much, much worse. Craptastic, I tell ya.

Then I go to get a pop from the machine. I am not a coffee person (love the smell, hate the taste) so this is my morning caffiene. I put in the money… and the damn button lights up to rudely inform me that particular item is OUT. Water just isn’t cutting it.

I decided after days of soul-searching that I need to let one of my cats go away to a new home. It’s been hard. Very, very, very hard. I try not to show how hard it is to my family as they have had other losses as well and I don’t want it to seem like my pain is any worse than theirs. It isn’t, I know, but it doesn’t mean it hurts any less. It is our newest kitty, Cleo. She was the stray that we saved when she was eating bird seed off the porch and was skin and bones but loads of personality. She’s still a sweetheart, and that’s what makes it so fucking hard to say goodbye. Several months ago we noticed ‘someone’ was pee-ing and spraying around the house. Not good. Since we have five cats, it was hard to catch someone in the act. When we finally did, it was Cleo. We took her to be checked for any bladder infections, etc., and she came out with a clean bill of health. She was put on anti-psychotic medicine and we’d thought that was helping for awhile. Guess not. The problem has cropped up again. From all I’ve read and researched, it is an issue that should be taken care of by her being an only child. I put a flyer up at the vet clinic hoping we could get her adopted out quickly, but no one has called. I decided to take her to the animal shelter. We have a local shelter that has a no-kill policy (I couldn’t take her to anywhere that wasn’t.) I call ahead, as daughter has kindly offered to take her over as I’m working… and would be a blubbering mess if I had to do it. Now they tell me they don’t know if they can take her – the person who answered said she’d have to talk to their director and call me back. Damnit. Just when I make the decision and get myself all psyched up… and, yes, say a tearful goodbye before leave the house this morning, now we are in ‘wait and see’ mode.

I’m sure this all seems so trivial in the big picture. I keep reading about all the pain and heartache floating around the internets… and so many people are hurting and suffering, even in my own home. I just sometimes feel the need to scream… ENOUGH.

So, you with me people? …. Deep breath… “ENOUGH!!!”

Feel better? I do.

Farmers

I grew up a town kid, then met and married a farmer. It opened my eyes in a lot of ways. One thing that was a shock to my system was the idea that farmers weren’t all as buddy-buddy as the old movies and all would have you think. It really is a business and as such, there is a lot of competition. There is only so much land – and less every day what with cities growing bigger and more and more farm ground being taken out of production for development. The bits that are left get watched for any sign that they are going to have a change… if a landlord dies, or the farmer himself dies, the landlord decides they want to charge more money beyond what the current farmer can pay, or just someone farming the land isn’t doing the job quite the way the landlord wants. The buzzards circle then and everyone is going after that one bit of ground to make it their own.

I’ve heard horror stories of farmers camped-out at landlord’s deathbed trying to make sure that they get a shot at what is left.

I’ve always been very proud of my husband for not being one of the buzzards. He and his dad farmed for years and now he and my son do, and all the ground they have they have gotten honorably. The landlord has come to them and offered it to them. There was no back-stabbing or weaseling in place to get it. That’s just one of the things about him that makes me very proud to be his wife.

The other? For all the backstabbing and competition that occurs, they have this weird sense of community when someone is injured or dies and there is field work to be done. My husband has participated in many of these “harvest days” including the one that happened when his own father passed away. Today one of these days is happening. A couple of weeks ago a farm friend had a stroke. It has been a trying time for he and his family as he goes through rehab and tries to get back to the real world from the hospital (he may be home next week! Yay!). But in the meantime, the crops are ready to be harvested and the stress from knowing they are sitting in the field instead of at the grain elevator or in the bin isn’t helping. So today, as of last count, they had 18 combines lined up and I don’t know how many trucks and other support vehicles. My hubs is taking his semi-truck over and spending the day – or as long as it takes. Usually, you get that many rigs and it doesn’t even take a whole day. The rain held off that was predicted, and it appears they’ll have a good and productive day.

It is things like that which make me very proud to be a farmer’s wife.

Dear Writer

There are some bloggers out there who are amazing writers. Truly amazing. They can say things that get to me. Deep inside of me. Whether it is reaching down and touching a memory or giving me a giggle, they can get to me.

I know it is silly, but when one of those bloggers comments on my blog or sends me an email I suddenly feel like I have been seen. That I’m Ally Sheedy in “The Breakfast Club” and you have fussed over me and made me pretty and accepted and … seen.

I’ve never been one of the ‘cool’ kids. When I was in school I loved the work, the learning, but hated the rest. I sat in the back and barely spoke unless directly called upon. I got good grades because studying was interesting to me and important to me. I enjoyed the challenge.

Growing up I thought I wanted to be a veterinarian. We lived near to a large state university that had great vet med program. I took all the math and science I could cram in… then realized I hated it. I liked the idea of the animals and helping them, but to actually do all the rest? Not so much. The final blow came when I went to visit a relative who was a veterinarian and he let me watch him stitch up a cat that had been in a bad fight. Faint? Yeah. As a teen, that was soooo embarrassing.

Somewhere along the way my English teacher noticed I enjoyed writing. Then they offered to let me take an independent study course of creative writing. I’d get credit for doing something I did all the time anyway… and actually liked? Cool.

Of course, my parents thought that going from a veterinarian to a writer was a huge mistake. Just one of the many mis-steps I was going to have in my life, according to them.

One thing led to another which led to … well, life. I never did go to college. Never did get that degree. Never did turn into a ‘Writer’.

Still? It gives me warm and fuzzy’s when the big kids like something I’ve said. Or, to even realize they’ve been here. I wonder if they realize how powerful they really are? How their very prescence here makes me feel validated.

Thanks guys. It means a lot.

No, I’m not going to name names or link. If you think you might be ‘that person’, you probably are.

Thank You

Thank you to all veterans today. It doesn’t seem enough for all you have done.

Having Fun Yet?

Sorry I’ve been missing. Partly it has been an issue with the evil forces of the internet. You know… those stupid virus-maleware types again. Thanks again to Brad for fixing me. Sheesh. I wish that would just stop. It really gets annoying. Hope none of you got infected. It upsets me on so many levels. Mainly because I’m afraid it will scare off all two of you who are still reading this.

The other reason for my lack of posts is the season. We are full-swing into harvest now. Among other things my sleep patterns are all messed up. Yesterday morning I was wide awake at 3 a.m. Then I worked until 7 p.m. only to turn around and be wide awake again this morning at 4 a.m. I mean, c’mon! We are so busy and then my brain just seems to not want to shut off. Glad this is only a seasonal thing. If it lasted year-round I’m sure I would have a melt-down. I feel sorry for those people who have these kinds of long and stressful days every day. I couldn’t do it.

Last, I just once more want to mention that no matter how much I rant and rave around the internets… my heart knows just how lucky I really am. I have seen so much loss, hurt, sorrow, pain… there are people hurting all over the blogosphere and in my real life and I feel for them. I suppose I should just shut up and quit whining, but then what would I blog about? KIDDING. (Sort of.)

To those of you who are hurting or have loved ones who are hurting… you know who you are. You know that I care. To those of you who have things going pretty good right now? Take a minute to acknowledge that… be it to your God, the Universe, or just to yourself.

He Could Break a Stainless Steel Ball with a Glass Hammer*

Yesterday was not a good day in my husbands' world. As most of you know we farm. The weather has been very uncooperative this fall getting the harvest done and yesterday was one of the few nice days they've had to work on it. This week and for a couple more, my brother-in-law has taken vacation to come out and help.

He managed… how, we have yet to figure out… to drive off the edge of a drive-over auger with a fully loaded semi-truck and somehow he tore a drive-tire and ripped off part of a fender. The kicker? He's a professional semi-truck driver.

We're looking at $500 tires, who-knows-how-much for the fender repair, plus the time and labor put into the repairs. It took hours yesterday just to get the tire off and a temporary replacement put on – just to get the truck unloaded! Today it is raining, so they'll hopefully have time to get the tired replaced the right way, but the fender has been patched back together and it will probably be a much lengthier process to get it fixed when harvest is over.

Part of it is that my hubs is very particular about his vehicles. He is one of the rare farmers who wants his equipment clean and looking good and he takes a lot of pride in being noticed for having nice equipment when he pulls into the grain elevator. So this has him really bothered. Not just for the expense (which, BIL may find missing from his final paycheck) but the esthetics of it all. Plus, they really did not have the time to be messing with that yesterday when conditions were right for harvesting.

Oh, and then the last thing Hubs found out about last night? The combine has been running for two days without a fuel cap. Who was the last person to fuel it up? Guess.

*This is a line my father-in-law used to use when talking about his youngest boy, said brother-in-law.

If You’ve Seen My Mind… Send It Back

No, I'm not really losing my mind… not in the normal sense of the word. I am just having pangs of mortality. I'm not THAT old, but I find as time goes on I'm having more and more brain farts. You know, you have something on the tip of your tongue – or the edge of your brain, more likely – and it just won't come out.

I have always been fairly quick-witted and pride myself on the amount of won't-make-me-a-dime trivia I have always known. Life lint. The itsy bitsy little things that somehow get stuck in the crevices of my brain that I have always been able to pull out at a moments' notice. Now? Not-so-much. I have to stop and think about it… or start playing the 'relationship' game with my spouse or one of my kids. You know, "they were in that movie with what's his name "… and his name starts with a "D". Then they say something else that triggers the name to pop out of hiding.

Lately, I find myself depending more and more not on my own brain, but on the internet. It is so much easier to google the movie I thought they were in or the one I'm currently watching to remember what else they've been in or "where have I seen them"…

I have turned into a cheat.

Even with all that? I am losing it. The other night I was watching a show with my daughters and I was so sure that one of the characters had played a certain part in another show that I bet my daughter $20 on it. I looked it up.

I was wrong.

Do you know what that did to me? I mean, seriously. Me. I'm the one who knows these things. Now it isn't just about the speed of response, or the fact that I even am aware of the connections that are there to be made… now I am wrong even when I'm SURE I am right.

How depressing.

Cranky

So, I realize I'm rather cranky these days. This cold is getting the best of me. I get the tickly-scratchy coughing spells that end up with me gagging, eyes watering, nose running. Well, let's just say I never knew a head could hold so much snot. I mean, seriously. You blow and blow and blow… and there is still more? WTF?

This is the time of year I'm working a lot. I'm supposed to be at the top of my game. It's the superbowl of my business. I'd be lucky to be picked for a farm team. Ugh.

In spite of it all, I realize how lucky I am. I see so many people in the blog world and the real world who are having such a hard time right now. Emotionally, romatically, financially, physically. I am so very very lucky. This is not being said to rub it in… I just need the universe to know I realize it.

“Eyes”

A couple of years ago a friend of mine, Michael Eberhardt, (I won't link his blog since he doesn't really blog anymore) wrote a book. It is an appropriate Halloween type book full of short stories. Go buy it now. You won't be disappointed.