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03 December 2013
Tuesday - December 3rd and I didn't get out of bed until 6am today. This was a first in a long time (sans usual nature calls for both Mushy and me) as I'd gone to bed at 9pm. Whether it was exhaustion or because, in a weird sort of way I felt Cutty was back with me as I brought his ashes home from the funeral home yesterday or because I ate a cup of fresh stewed Bella-Chili followed by yogurt and berries just before bed and was in a food coma. Maybe a combination of all three. Nonetheless, the peaceful sleep was definitely appreciated.
It's a bit odd to accept that an entire human body, a full life, a legend, can fit so compact into that small box. It's with a little bitter resentment that I have had to recognize the passing of man with so many friends and associates has yielded one 'delivered meal' and two real sympathy cards. Was it because of the absence of a funeral service or has time and tradition changed so much that the old ways of paying respect have gone the path of most good manners?
Cutty loved to send flowers. You've seen photos of many I posted in my journals that he sent to me but he would have me send them to his friends in the hospitals, sick, grieving their own losses and just 'day brighteners'. He even sent them to the mother's of his friends when they were ill. I find myself thinking 'I won't tell Cutty about this ... nothing from his best friend Phillip... it would only hurt his feelings.' I haven't yet ordered my own poinsettia but I may do it today. And I will pray that God continues to give me the strength to be gracious and uphold Cutty's traditions of respect rather than reverting to a bitter resentment and withholding displays of caring. I truly believe in Karma ala 'what goes around, comes around.'
Of course, in my usual narcissistic ways where I make things 'all about me' I wondered if it is because they have so little respect and affection for me. My self loathing and insecurities have always whispered to me that it was always about 'Howsie' and I was just the curtain pulling stage hand.
These actions by others, or rather, lack of actions, are feeding my subtle paranoid predictions about the days and months ahead with regards to our businesses. As Cutty's health declined, we had to switch roles. While he was still ultimately 'The Godfather' I had to step in to 'be in charge' and he became my 'consigliere'. I can practically hear him whispering to me right now, "The first one to come bearing gifts at this late hour will be the one to suspect."
Enough of that. I want to share something else: some clarity. I know the past few journals have taken the tone of Streisand's "the way we were" ala 'what's too painful to remember, we simply choose to forget.' I think that's what always happens as it's wrong to speak ill of the dead. But I know via personal messages I've received that I have friends here who struggle in their marriages as I struggled in mine and want to offer a little balance to the 'bigger than life' stories.
Let me begin that while I may seem to have been a wonderful wife keep in mind it could be because I control the keyboard here and as I have been working so hard this year to love, nurture and respect myself I tend to let my 'faults' take a backseat when it comes to journaling. I had, have, and will continue to have many unendearing traits.
While our marriage did indeed have incredible moments and amazing memories, and I've only touched the tip of the iceberg in these recent journals, it did have some very cold and rocky times, as most marriages do.
It began with me marrying Cutty under false pretenses. While I did love him, I was well aware of him having many traits I did not like but it didn't matter to me because.. yes, here it comes, I never expected our marriage to last. As I mentioned a few days ago, even at 40, he was still very flighty. He'd moved here from another state on a drunken birthday whim. He had absolutely no respect for finances. And he had two failed marriages and four very dysfunctional children. And that's just the big stuff about him that rang the reality alarm loudly and clearly. The picky list could fill several pages.
But, as I also shared a few journals back, I'd grown up watching all of the women in my family burn through loser men with no respect for the institute of marriage. Having been left on the doorstep of an orphanage when I was a month old and raised being bounced around to the home of 'short straw drawer of the month' I truly felt 'men can't be reliable and everybody leaves'. Hence donating my body to science as young as 18; I never expected anyone to be around to take care of me or my remains.
So it didn't matter that I wasn't 100% truly deeply accepting of 'all things Cutty' as I did not expect him to stick around. So, sure, what the hell, with this ring I thee wed. And when he would threaten to 'pack up all his stuff and just leave' repeatedly even within the first year of marriage I would think 'well, good, you can confirm my beliefs that no one takes this stuff seriously, no one is dependable. Go.'
In my April 29th journal I shared that on our 7th anniversary, preceded by six years of tragic recognitions of our wedding day, he said he wanted a divorce and walked out. He passed out in his truck, still running, but of course, no spoiler alert needed, he didn't leave.
Our very frank discussion (lest you think this is a belated death bed confession, no, he was fully aware of all that I'm sharing) included my own admission of the part I was playing in this farce of our marriage. I recognized that short of going thru the motions I was not really emotionally invested in our marriage because I expected it to end at any given moment. I told him to choose: stay or leave. But he had to do it that day while he was sober. He stayed.
That wasn't the end of our rocky years though. Ten years later we were teetering on the edge of divorce once again. In the spirit of 'opposites attract' and that truly being the case for us, we did share one very dangerous unendearing quality: foolish pride. In a 'chicken or egg' manner we found ourselves caught in a very risky game refusing to be the first to blink. The more he ignored me when I was around, the less I came around. The less I came home from the corporate travel and apartment, the less he made time for me when I did. We were the ultimate 'ships passing in the night, just going through the motions of marriage.'
And then, he got really sick. He'd already had one bi-pass but recovered to independence. This illness took him down hard. And yes, I could make myself crazy with blame that the worry of 'losing me' or the frustration of 'not being able to get me to be the one who filed the papers' resulted in stress induced illness. But I don't. I honored the vows of 'in sickness and in health' and adjusted my career and stayed. And in that time, we made peace. Not constant, lovey dovey all things are wonderful peace, just peace about our marriage and found our unconditional love.
As the continued to grow sicker and sicker, he recognized and acknowledged to me that no one has ever shown him the love and care that I did. I found that so sad but definitely identify. Along the way, throughout the years, I found myself shifting from 'marriage is disposable' into the position that 'I will be the first woman in my family who's marriage did not end in divorce.'
After all, I'd already been the 'first' of many other things. I was the first woman to graduate high school, then college. I was the first to have a 'career' not just a 'job'. I was the first to own homes. And I was the first to retire at 50 to run my own business. And now, I'm the first to see a marriage through, for better or worse, all the way to the end.
So, it wasn't a 25 year endless love affair. As much as I tolerated and found my balance with Cutty, I'm sure he had double that on his end to love and accept me. But we made it. He gave me and taught me much. And I him. It may not be the things of which movies are made but it is our story.
Make Peace with Myself
02 December 2013
Monday Morning - December 2
Awake since 4am. I watched a DVD in bed hoping to be bored back to sleep but feelings of hunger were distracting me as well as the urge to paint. So I drank a bottle of water, took a cup of coffee into my 'studio' and painted an abstract - the first time I've painted in months.
So odd and almost unfamiliar is my home now. Quiet. Alone. My pendulum of emotions continues to swing from anger to acceptance. Grief and relief. Fear and excitement. Yes, I said it, relief and excitement.
I loved Cutty, there should be no doubt of by anyone. But as I remembered over the past year I needed to love myself as well and that means welcoming these changes with acceptance. Cutty spoke of my changes - the calmness and patience I'd acquired to deal with frustrating issues, the painting, gardening, art, healthy eating, etc.
He voiced several times 'I'm so relieved to see you finally find a life besides just work.' He shared that one of the things that attracted him to me was I was constantly in motion. Very true as when we met I was working one full time and two part time jobs plus two weekends of volunteer commitments as well as going to college in the evening.
Throughout the years of our marriage though my motion shifted. I remained a workaholic but with only one or two jobs at the most. Volunteerism and college were placed on a back burner.
And as his health declined and my responsibilities included full time caretaker leading to coordinating even the most simple of errands outside our home becoming complicated, I grew stagnate. It was of my own doing, lack of my own focus, but it still happened. Many, many, many times I voices I felt more like a servant than a wife. More like an employee than a woman.
I know Cutty felt it too - could see it on my face. He was so happy to see me begin to say things like 'I don't know how it will turn out, I'm just going to try' with regards to projects. He laughed at me last Monday, the last lucid day he had, and said 'do you realize you've used the words 'molly bolt and graphite all in the same week?'
While I cannot know for sure, it felt as if all of these things I'd been doing were giving HIM peace. The ability to know that I'd be fine. I'd not drink myself to death in mourning. I'd not eat myself to bad health trying to bury emotions. I'd be able to climb up on a step ladder to change a light bulb. And I'd be able to find something to do besides work night and day in the shop just filling the time.
I've been moving around my home these past few days feeling as if I'm back at 'that corporate apartment' I did so enjoy on a temporary basis for it's quietness and the fact that it actually reflected 'me'. I've been moving some plants into his bathroom (their presence denied there in the past), enjoying the scent of candles burning, (another verboten) relaxing in the silence of a TV free area, (never - if I walked into the living room and sipped a hot tea at midnight to help go back to sleep, the TV in the bedroom would be turned back and, loudly, and would remain so long after I returned to bed and attempted to regain my sleep) and watching both the washers (clothing & dish) fill so much slower.
But the corporate apartment was just as recognized above - temporary. I'd always return home and to my role as wife and housekeeper weekly. Washers full of dirty dishes and clothes, counters to be wiped, even stopping on the drive home from the airport to grocery shop as I knew the fridge would need to be refilled. That - the return - isn't happening now because I am home.
I'll be reopening our shop today. Time to return, I think. I do recognize the arcs of the pendulum of emotions are beginning to decrease but I'm not sure if that's only because of my solitary days or if I'm truly achieving acceptance. Today will be my first test of interacting with customers and visitors.
As I've spent practically the past ten years being addressed as 'Howsie Doin?' as that was the first greeting anyone ever offered me who knew him I'm steeling my emotions for days of it. I've been venting my rage, anger and sadness on a schedule the past few days - something akin to the way 'Jane' would schedule her daily 'breakdown' in the movie 'Broadcast News'. I remember viewing that movie with friends who laughed and pointed at me comparing my OCD, control freak, no holds barred ways to the character. I'm thinking of her an envisioning the way she walked into that control booth the first time she was designated to 'produce the show'. Back straight, head held high, moving slow but deliberate. This will be my mannerisms today. Probably tomorrow and for a long while.
Have a wonderful day my friends. Thank you for stopping to read me and continue to offer your support and kind encouragement. You've been a blessing to me.
Make Peace with Myself
01 December 2013
Sunday Afternoon - December 1st
Alone all day so far. Interesting phone conversation with the Varmint Step Daughter up north (the one who created so much havoc in August). She began by phoning Cutty's cell phone last night. I am not sure what she was expecting. I discovered it today while I was cleaning out his 'bowl of prescription meds'. I phoned her back this morning and began the conversation by reminding her to phone the shop or my cell to reach me - both numbers she has but never used.
She wanted to know 'what happened'. I asked 'what do you mean?' She acts as if his death was an unexpected shock to her. I know, as you've shared, even though I myself knew it was coming, I'm still grieving. I'm praying for compassion for her (and me) so that I can forgive and forget with her as well. It's difficult. I wanted to say, "I suppose it could be as you've only talked to him TWICE all year" but I bit my tongue trying to be compassionate but honest.
She asked 'did he talk about me as he was dying?' and I side stepped that answer by saying 'he said he was relieved you phoned and apologized on his birthday.' I just didn't tell her that was nearly two months ago. I'm trying very hard not to say the mean things I feel; nothing to regret later. When she asked, if all things, 'what about you & me now?' I was stunned. This girl is still phoning Cutty's cell phone rather than me but wants to know if our 'relationship' will continue? I answered 'you are and will always be one of Cutty's children and you may phone me anytime you wish.' I did make it clear, answering the question unasked by any so far ... relaying that Cutty had no life insurance; there will be no inheritance forthcoming for anyone.
That may seem like poor planning on our part but we didn't look at death as the ultimate lottery for the survivors. Hence the lack of funeral - another thing with which she took issue. She couldn't believe I didn't hold him and wait for people out of town to come view him. Again, this is the gal who changed her flight six times and had me pick her up at midnight when she was coming for a planned visit?! Like I needed that nonsense this past few days. I reminded her that both Cutty and I had donated our body to science when we married (well, I actually did my paperwork when I was 18) and the only reason he changed his mind in the last month was he wanted to avoid me having to deal with that 'will they take him or not' at the last minute. He didn't want to be 'on ice' for anyone. He and I shared the same philosophy of 'if they want to see me, come do it while I'm alive. Not hanging around for a party I can't even be a part of.'
I'm wondering when his son will start in on me as well. I imagine the he and the varmint are conspiring to double team me as I write. I told her the memorial will likely be January 10th but I'll be more specific within the next week to allow plenty of time for them to get an inexpensive airplane ticket, rent cars for travel to and from the airport, and make hotel reservations. And just in case there was still any lingering doubt, I said 'and you will be responsible for that travel. I have spent the Kings Ransom this past month making your Father's last days comfortable. I cannot be responsible for your travel expenses.'
If this reads callous, so be it. These 'kids' are in their forties, married, children, etc. And neither have been any assistance or comfort to their father, ever, especially as he grew ill.
Other topics. Food. I felt as if I had too much chicken soup last night from the number of times I dipped and scooped but never felt a 'too full' feeling. Later I was craving sweets - probably a reaction to the carbs in the cornbread? I had an apple and a grapefruit. All better. But when I woke again, I wanted chocolate. I opened the box of 'white chocolate dipped oreos' that had been delivered after Cutty passed. 100 calories each. Crazy. I had two and a small bowl of frozen yogurt. Today I finally had a bacon and egg quesadilla about around 1pm and my stomach is growling in hunger again. I think I'll go heat up some of the leftover soup; no cornbread - gave that away.
Last Monday I was so depressed I nearly ordered myself a poinsettia. Cutty was still with me but so sick he couldn't do it but I knew in my heart if he could, he would have. He used to send me flowers and plants all the time. That was why I worked so hard to give him a beautiful garden in the back yard. When I started going through my mail today one of those 'wine & cheese country basket' type catalogs caught my eye and I thought 'yeah, that would be nice...' but then I reminded myself 'really? A tower of food you really shouldn't eat?' I wouldn't mind if it were just cheese - I like cheese. I eat cheese. Cheese is to me like chocolate is to others - my tiny little pleasure. Maybe I'll join a 'cheese of the month club' but I sure don't need to be receiving 'chocolate, crackers and snacks, oh my' right now. I'd just give them away to the grandsons.
In the midst of all of this day (more cleaning, more discarding of all of his signs of illness) I was trying to figure out a way to put both of the adjustable beds in the bedroom on one remote - couldn't... so I decided to just use both remotes and get one of those bed joiners with a mattress top and make it into a solid king but now HIS bed isn't working at all. It's not the remote because if I switch it to the frequency on MY bed it works. Something in the motor or wiring. I hope I can find a service tech tomorrow as the head of the bed is raised a bit. Weird. I feel like Cutty is shaking his finger at me with 'that's what you get for messing with my bed'.
Going for soup now. Thank you.
Make Peace with Myself
01 December 2013
Sunday Morning - December 1st
The emotional flips continue to bounce between grief and relief, anger and acceptance. As I told the salesman at the furniture store when we finally decided on the loveseat for the SD only to find it was out of stock 'let's see what else you have because I have a short shelf life on decisions these days - need to strike while the iron is hot or I'll forget it all together.' In that case, it worked, because as we continued to look we actually found a better piece but it too was out of stock. His daughter, knowing me, dragged him up to the counter and had him write up the order with no money down. She wanted her furniture.
I'm wondering if I need to go out and google 'appropriate mourning etiquette for the grieving widow' and then again I may tell my SD to 'bite me'.
I decided instead of going out to a restaurant yesterday I'd just do whip up a homemade chicken, tortellini soup with bruschetta, pesto, spinach and mediterranean vegetables. We put up the folding table and ate like a family again. Three times in one week. That's more than the last ten years. This served as a dual message to me. One: I do need to continue to keep 'food' in the freezer for last minute decisions like that. Two: I'm staring at my living room off and on thinking of a way to put that loveseat I'm considering over on a wall to make room for a permanent table should these spontaneous meals continue to occur. As the TV is now no longer the focal point the furniture doesn't need to be arranged with theater sitting.
The reference to etiquette was because during the meal she pointed out I was wearing a plain gold wedding band on the wrong hand. I am not sure if she's sensitive or clueless, or if I am. I've NEVER worn MY real (good) jewelry around the house, especially when cooking. This was a practiced hammered into me back on my very first wedding set as advised by the jeweler.
Cutty loved to give me jewelry, real jewelry, good jewelry. He would not allow me to wear costume jewelry. I'd explain that there are some pieces of costume jewelry that are vintage and actually more valuable than gold and diamonds but he stood firm. The ONLY compromise he made was earrings because he knew how easily I'd lose them. He actually bought me five, yes FIVE, wedding sets BEFORE we finally exchanged our wedding vows. He just couldn't make up his mind. Another wedding set on our 10th anniversary. Many diamonds, sapphires, emeralds, etc., throughout the years. A huge 4ct ring we appropriately dubbed 'ZsaZsa' for the 20th. Heaven only knows what would have come on our 25th next April. I'm wondering if Bart at the jewelry store is building something as I write.
Ever so often he'd comment 'why don't I ever see you wear 'that ring' or 'this ring' and I explained when I wore all of the rings at one time people wanted me to read Tarot cards and predict their futures.
But as I explained to the SD upon her admonishment, "I know which hand is correct and I know what I'm doing."
Twenty years ago I bought Cutty a gold chain link bracelet. He always wore it on his right wrist because his watch was on the left. As he grew sicker and could not get his own rings to slide comfortably onto his swollen, curled fingers, he told me his bracelet was his 'wedding ring' Each time he went to the hospital I'd remove it; each time I replaced it on his return home we referred to it as 'putting the wedding ring back on.'
I'm wearing his bracelet on my left wrist. A plain gold band on my right ring finger. This is around the house, where I never wore jewelry period. A long explanation to share that I have given this much thought. I'm not sure what I'll do tomorrow when I begin my return to 'public life.' I am still trying to figure out the 'rules for Widows'. Maybe there's a 'Widows for Dummys' short version out there.
Last night I searched on line for a 'theme' for the first real Christmas tree in years. I don't actually have any of the old 'cherished' decorations as we gave them all away when he just couldn't tolerate all of the trappings of a holiday in which he couldn't participate.
Again, feelings of 'timing' and trying to make his world special. Last year I did put up a 4ft table top lighted tree in the living room. It was one of those 'surprises' I mentioned where he came out one morning and found it and because it was small, contained, minimal it was acceptable and appreciated. I am not sure if I can explain that in writing but will try: it showed I was trying to give him a little bit of Christmas without OUTDOING it the way he would have done if he'd been able to get to the store. Shopping online was never Cutty's thing. The knives purchased this summer off TV was a reminder. He liked walking and looking and touching and filling real shopping carts, not virtual ones. Those knives are in storage bins for now. Not sure what the future will hold for them.
But after seeing him accept the Christmas tree, I continued it for several months - different trees for the holidays not typically recognized with trees. I decorated trees with themes for Valentines Day, Mardi Gras, St. Patrick's and Easter. And of course, he had a 65th Birthday tree. I could probably pick up a few bucks if I decided to take orders for that Valentine tree. It was a small white artificial lighted tree; I went to the dollar store and with another $20 or so in various puffy red and pink hearts, garland and silk roses it was so pretty that every man who visited him offered him a $100 for it to give to their 'wives' as it was something so unique they knew it would be appreciated.
Cutty LOVED Christmas. We'd started dating in November and I was conflicted with joy and dismay to watch him fill my townhouse with Christmas decorations - back then too, for the first time ever. I'd NEVER gone to that much effort for 'just me'. The other conflict was I knew he was spending almost his entire paycheck to do so and this sort of financial frivolity did not bode well with my penny pinching ways. Centerpieces, napkins with rings, candlesticks, train sets and more. As his health declined to the point he could no longer go into the stores to see all of the 'really cool neat things that we could finally afford without hiding from the car payment' so did his enthusiasm. My buying it and bringing it home to him just didn't have the same joy.
I'm trying very hard to 'find myself' without 'buying it all'. I don't want to replace 'caretaking' with 'retail therapy'. As we walked the aisles at Lowes and looked at the carousels and Nut Cracker Suites and more, I fought the urge to fill the cart ala Cutty. I have always loved carousels and have many with music boxes now accumulated via gifts from him throughout our marriage. So as I couldn't decide a theme last night, I began rejecting the idea of the tree altogether.
I was reflecting on one year when funds were so tight that we did go out and chop down our own tree off our own land. He made the stand. I cut up a couple of table clothes and tied them into ribbons and bows for the branches. A quilt for the skirt. No lights. Someone had given me a box of candy canes at work. That was the entire, simple, zero cost but endearing tree.
This morning I'm looking at pewter type picture frame ornaments. As our marriage preceded the 'digital cameras and Iphone' period, we accumulated thousands of photos already printed.
I slept last night. Medicated but nonetheless, slept. I'm a little more rested than I have been for days but a bit dismayed because of the dreams. In my dream Cutty was telling me he really wasn't dead and that I needed to catch up the payments on two properties he owned but I didn't know about. This is likely my subconscious working because he did always have a couple of surprises up his sleeve or things going on he forgot to tell me and I'm wondering who'll climb out of the woodwork now with their palm outstretched. Like the time we were driving on the last true vacation we took together nearly 10 years ago and he says, 'Oh, by the way, I'm building a racecar.' So the conversation about 'Uh, I thought we agreed major purchases would be a duel discussion' ensued across a whole state.
I'm frustrated with the dream because it's the same one I've had for 15 years since my Grandmother passed. She's in my dream, telling me she's back and I need to catch up the payments on her house. I've never known what it meant and now it's happening with Cutty. It did make me think, just maybe, we had credit life on the ranch mortgage and I may need to look at that. That would be nice.
Cutty did not have any life insurance. Not a dime. As I explained to my step daughter before AND after his passing: "Dad's death isn't the lottery for anyone, not even me.' I'll still need to step out in the shop every day. While our building and hers IS paid for, allowing that should times get even harder I only need to earn enough to pay the annual taxes and insurance (and of course, utilities and general expenses of life) I still need to pay for the other commercial buildings. But that ranch mortgage, that would indeed be a relief financially. Guess I have a project for the weeks ahead.
I continue to be touched by your endearing patience and support. This journal allows me an open forum to write, monologue, and move on. And then you come here and read and comment. It's so needed, so appreciated. I'm avoiding the phone and people in real life because, as usual, I'm finding myself listening to them rather them to me. I get it, as I've always been the listener. Maybe that's why I do write so raw, honest, expressive? This is the only place I get to proceed without interruption or having the conversation steered back toward their agenda. And I so appreciate the space I have here and the friends I've made. I'm truly blessed.
Much love, and even a small hug and an air kiss,
Make Peace with Myself
30 November 2013
Saturday Afternoon - November 30th. Despite the frequency and length to which I journaled in the past I feel the need to do so much more right now. This week has been a blur; recording these details will help me later I'm sure.
After submitting my journal this morning I found myself at loose ends. My energy has peaks and valleys. I realized I was hungry and wanted to dine out again - something that I haven't been able to do with any spontaneity or convenience for so long. I also wanted to spend some time with my grandson's so I phoned them and said 'If you can get up and be here in 15 minutes I'll buy you breakfast at Cracker Barrel - they were here in 5. The promise of food to two growing boys - get's 'em every time.
I can't remember if I mentioned this but WoodWick has incredible candles. They flicker like a fire and the scent of a medium candle fills the house. Another first in a long time - burning candles in the home. Any scent like that, even a warming pot, caused Cutty even greater difficulty breathing.
After breakfast we went to Lowes. My backyard has taken a backseat the past few weeks. Several freezing temperature days in a row and my mums are all gone. I picked up a flat each of purple and yellow pansy's. I will plant them either this evening or tomorrow. I remembered thinking how Cutty will enjoy them when he looks out the bathroom window. I still forget.
Soft little timing bells continue to ring. When Cutty turned 65 on his birthday in October I was able to enroll in his insurance; it became effective the first day of November. And he reminded me constantly to take care of it until I did. He knew.
Many people in town often joked that Cutty was the equivalent of 'The Godfather' so in honor of him I put the DVD on today and invited the grandson's over. My SD refused but later appeared saying 'can't be home alone right now.' Did I ever mention Cutty's TV in the living room has a 73 inch screen? It's like a private theater in here. The bedroom TV is 62 inches; we call it 'the small TV'.
Breakfast at Cracker Barrel was 'Mama's French Toast' and hot tea. Obviously my two little munch monsters don't wake with as great an appetite as they display in the evenings. I fully expected them to finish off the other three slices of my toast; they didn't. Neither did I. I just had Orville Buttered Popcorn for the first time in nearly a year with a Seagram's Blackberry Sparkling Water. I'm craving Italian food thanks to the movie. I may go out for dinner again.
The funeral home phoned to tell me Cutty's cremains (what a word, aye) were already returned and available to pick up. I thought it took weeks. I'm not even going to scatter them until January 10th (the day we got engaged).
I found a Christmas tree I liked at Lowes but watched the last one be snatched by another family. Ahh well, that's why there's online ordering. It's 7.5 feet tall. A life size tree in my living room for the first time in nearly ten years. I haven't decided a theme yet. One day at a time.
Thank you for stopping by. Bless you.
Make Peace with Myself
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