Buzzards

Today just can't seem to get off the ground. The buzzards are circling overhead, so I'll try to write some of it out. Supposedly if you put it on (metaphorical) paper, some of the demons are slain. I am worried, and there is low level anxiety that has been building up for weeks. My husband will have open heart surgery in three weeks. My son needs outpatient sinus surgery as soon as we can schedule it. One of my dogs, who had successful surgery on his right leg in April, needs to have surgery on the left leg before it totally breaks down or puts too much stress on the right leg. My house, the state of which I know I irrationally make too much of, is still too cluttered for me to be at all comfortable with the idea of people visiting. I have made progress in that - about six weeks ago I hired a cleaning service to come once a week until David's surgery, then bi-weekly after that. I marvel at them. They have cleaned 99% of the dust and dirt out of the house, helped rearrange and organize where they could, and if I would declutter about three or four more places, they will have 100% of it gone. And they do it in two hours a week. Obviously there is something lacking in my home training.

I am going to a reunion of people I grew up with and haven't seen, mostly since 1972, which is entirely my own fault. When I moved away from Birmingham, I didn't ever want to go back, and I lost touch with all the people I knew there. Some of them found me on Facebook, which is a good thing, so I'm going back tomorrow to see if there are any who remember me, or I them. That's going to need a pill. Even the anticipation of good things can cause anxiety, so it gets me whether I'm up or down. Then there is the voice that whispers, "you're making this up, just get up and do what you have to do!" That voice sounds suspiciously like my mother. There are all the cute little posters about "you are in charge of your own happiness" and "exercising self-control." Screw that. I did that for 48 years and then something broke. I know I have more blessings in life than I deserve. I know that as a family, we are better off than 99% of the rest of the world. I'm not complaining about any of that. I just don't want anybody trying to tell me what I'm doing wrong and trying to fix me. I have a psychiatrist and pills for that, thank you.

Well, the buzzards are still there, but they're perched in trees now, just watching. Maybe I'll actually post this, although it's more than I usually tell people. May all your buzzards disappear, whoever you are.

Anniversary

I usually am not the type of person to remember anniversaries of traumatic events. However, this city lost so much and so many in the tornado last year, that you can't get away from it. It's in the paper, on Facebook, in emails, and along the roads where there are huge empty places where houses and businesses used to be. There are still places where the debris has not been torn down. Our home did not suffer any damage. We were out of power, couldn't use cell phones, and a tree from our yard went down and fell across the street. A mere inconvenience. It was still traumatic. My younger son was home from college. Watches and warnings were all around us that afternoon. I took my purse, a radio, a lantern down to the basement "just in case."
When we started seeing the first warnings for the tornado that came through Tuscaloosa, we started moving downstairs. One of our dogs has hip problems and bad knees, and will not go down stairs. My son picked up that 85 pound dog and carried him down. We sat in my husband's "office" downstairs and watched the live videos of the approaching storm on television. My husband and son are both ham radio operators, so the radio was on.  I should mention that my husband was at work in the Emergency Management office, so we were hearing reports from them as well. Then someone at the office said "tornado directly over EMA" and there were no more messages from them. I didn't know it until later, but at that moment the two story building where Tuscaloosa environmental services and emergency management were housed was having it's top story ripped off, vehicles in the parking deck were being smashed into a corner, the sanitation trucks and recycling facilities outside the building were being trashed, rubble was falling over the entrances and exits on the first floor, and water was starting to come down into the EMA office. Their 'new' EMA office that my husband and many others had worked so hard to get prepared and had such great facilities for communicating with other agencies, seeing city-wide camera views and having space for volunteers to come in and help out. Gone in seconds. I didn't know any of that until the next day when my husband came home briefly. I didn't know the full extent of it until weeks later.
At home, we were still watching it on TV. Then the storm noise outside picked up, the power went out, and we heard the tree fall in the yard. We sat there in the lantern light for a while, then my wonderful son went out to check our immediate neighborhood. He has had so much safety and EMA training, I didn't really worry about him going out. The dogs and I stayed in the basement and found a local radio station that was still able to broadcast, and the news wasn't good. So many cell towers went down that getting a call out to anyone or receiving one was about a 1 out of 5 tries thing. Our neighborhood had some damage, but not devastation. Immediate neighbors were all okay. We came out of the basement, opened windows to let some air in and spent the rest of the night listening to the radio coverage (those guys did a great job) and occasionally dozing off. My older son, who lives twenty miles out of town, got a call from his wife that she was okay, but the roads out were blocked by downed trees. He drove into town, picked up his brother, and they went off with a chain saw to help. They got about a mile before they ran into impassable streets and it took a couple of hours for them to get back to our house. They weren't able to help that night, and others cleared the road around my daughter-in-law's workplace. I think she actually got home before my son did.
The next morning my husband came home to shower and change clothes, and took my younger son back to help him at work. They had set up a temporary working space in some of the facilities at Bryant-Denny stadium.
The story goes on and on and on and on. It has been going on for twelve months now. It will keep going on.
This 'event' that took place in minutes took away so much. It continues to affect us. I read a blog post this morning from a friend whose house had to be rebuilt while they lived in an apartment. All the details and frustration that accompany that are incredible. He wants it to just be over.
I agree with him. I want it all to be over. Better yet, I want it to never have happened.
I am so grateful that my husband is alive.
I am so grateful that my son was at home with me.
I have many friends who had major damage to their homes. I am so grateful that it was only their homes, and they are still alive.
I did not know any of those who died. It doesn't matter that I didn't know them. Their deaths still are such a big part of the communal grief here.
We are all ready for this to be over.
We all wish it had never happened. 

Inspiration arrives on an irregular schedule

Know what happens when you don't post to your blog regularly? You forget your username and password, and spend about ten minutes jumping from place to place to get a replacement sent to your alternate email, that's what. Now I'm not in the mood to write anything fit to read. I'll go calm down for a while.

Awake at 2:36 am

The frequency of thunderstorms coming through Tuscaloosa is just enough to keep my neurotic dogs from calming down. I have two huskies dogging my every step with a wild look in their eyes. We made waffles about an hour ago. They enjoyed them very much.
I am avoiding reality. I agreed tonight to be president of one of my clubs next year. I told them I would do it with the understanding that they knew the prospect scares me spitless. (Why would Google think spitless is not a word? Where have they been?) I have a dentist appointment in the morning - no, actually about 8 hours from now. I'm one of three hostesses for a club meeting next week - note to self, find that box of table decorations. I've volunteered to type recipes for OLLI Friday morning, so I have to actually be functional at 9am. I've volunteered to help organize ETRC meals for relief workers on two weekends. I've agreed to do the yearbook for my club. My therapy for Friday has been cancelled until further notice as Melissa had to have surgery. Plus she is leaving at the end of April.
I need to duct tape my mouth shut and quit answering the phone.

Wide awake at 1:42

AM, unfortunately. At 1:42 PM I was trying not to fall asleep. The days and nights are different on my home planet. Just finished my first of three (or four?) one hour prayer vigils for the folks doing a Kairos mission at the Bibb Correctional Facility. Reading the list of team members who went on this mission, I realized that I know several of them, not just our priest. That's some awesome dedication there. I know "with God all things are possible," but I would need a huge boost of courage to do what this team is doing. At least with my weird hours I can take some of the "wee hours of the morning" stints when everyone else is sleeping.

Robbie Burns night, southern style

Just returned from the local St. Andrews Society Robert Burns Night. Yes, it was supposed to be in January, but hey - it got done. Already knew a few people there and met a lot more, most of whom seem to be related in some fashion to David. Guess that's what happens when your ancestors have been in the neighborhood for close to 200 years. There was a haggis presented to the audience, with bagpipe accompaniment, and displayed on a table, where it was extolled with RB's ode to a haggis, performed by the society president. Personally, I stuck with the pecan crusted chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, and almond ball dessert. As I said, RB Night, southern style. With toasts to the President, the Queen, and all the lads and lassies, an auld lang syne to you all.

2 AM

Still awake. Just finished a knitted rose in Vanna's Glamour. Purple of course. Managed to get all the ornaments off the Christmas tree today. Have to get David to help take it apart. Discouraging to find I don't have the strength in my hands to do it myself. Went to calligraphy class this afternoon. The instructor wants us to learn her calligraphy alphabet before we create our own style. I keep wanting to jump ahead. Getting harder to focus on calligraphy or knitting and then re-adjust when I look up. Getting used to fuzzy vision during transitions. Red Hats tomorrow for lunch, then two OLLI classes in the afternoon. Have to get started on my handouts for the cooking demo on Monday - "Breakfast Strata - or How to Use up Stale Bread!" Cookbook committee meeting Friday afternoon.
Stress is when your mouth keeps saying "Yes" when your brain is screaming "No."
Melissa is leaving at the end of April. Am I still in need of therapy enough to break in a new one? Another unknown.