Limping along

This return to the house is taking absolutely forever. All I want is to get home. The last time we were in the house we discovered that all of the rooms are painted, inside doors are hung, cabinets were delivered but still in their boxes. Bathtubs are in and all the windows and we have a new furnace and a sump pump to keep the basement from flooding

The kitchen is a very bright yellow. I wanted a shade lighter but the husband wanted the brighter one. So brighter we went and it is bright. The living room is peach... not orange I learned my lesson in the rental house's craft room and its pumpkin color. We have a brown sofa and recliner on lay away which will go very nicely with peach walls.
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My craft room is the absolute perfect blue. A strong mediterrean blue that is the shade I wanted..exactly. My bedroom (the husband and I both snore and if we want to sleep we sleep in separate rooms) is the perfect moss green and the husband's bedroom is a watermelon kind of pink/red. I don't like it, but he does. The basement room are an off white while the bathrooms are a bright white and tile.

We had the dogs with us when we went through the house. They thought it was some kind of playground and went about on their own. We walk into my bedroom and there is Charlie making a poop. In the middle of my bedroom floor (rough flooring the good stuff wasn't down yet.). I guess Charlie was making his mark And Charlie who was so hesitant of steps that he had NEVER been in the basement of the house before the fire was now up and down those steps like he had been born to it. Surprisingly, Kali hesitated doing the steps and only with encouragement from Charlie did she join us in the basement.

THis time last year Chrlie was just recovering from a gastrointestinal infection so virulent that it nearly killed him. He was down to a pitiful 9 pounds, literally skin and bones and he should have been dead. But he didn't die and one day while Josh was frying eggs for himself, the on death's door puppy wobbled his way to him and Josh started feeding him eggs. Charlie greeted us at the door that day that dissolved me into tears. You would never know that Charlie was so sick if you see him today. He's tall and glassy and full of energy.He still takes my arm when he wants to take me someplace and I'm certain a good hard bite from him could break my arm but I know he would never break my arm or bite. He's just a big old cuddly thing that gets so excited each time I come home you would think I had been gone for years. He and Kali have been so good throughout this whole mess tho they are now frightened of fire trucks and any siren makes them freeze in place while they listen. At home, they can really stretch their legs and run, like deer and bark at birds, bees, clouds and anything else they want to bark at without me having to tell them they have to be quiet.

We've said nothing to the rental house neighbors as to when we will be moving. We've been getting the cold shoulder from them so there is no need for goodbyes.

I can't get home fast enough.

I wonder if I keep my eyes crossed till then that it will work magic and we WILL be in the house on the 25th.

Broke m y heart

I think I've mentioned before that the body of a local woman missing for 20+ years was found under the she din her back yard. I knew this woman. Volunteered at school with her, her older son in class with Josh.

I read a follow up today that the defense attorney for her husband wants to re autopsy the bones only he can't because they have been cremated. It had something to do with the coroner and that her sons had handled the bones.

OH MY LIVING GOD. I have this dreadful thought in my head of the sons, crouched beside the exhumation hole holding onto their mother's bones as if they were finally getting to hug her close. Her sons are men now but I see them in my head as 10 and 7 as they were when she tucked them into bed that night and kissed them goodnight only she didn't know she was giving them her last kiss.

This whole thing breaks my heart. I can't even dredge up a roaring anger against the bastard that killed her and burried her in the back yard of the house where he raised those boys!!!! All i can feel is the sorrow of the boys, the heartbreak and the loss of their mommy.

I think of all she missed out on, too. Watching those boys grow. Watching them grow from children to men. Watching them find their way, fall in love, laugh, cry, sigh. Snatching a hug from them, reveling in her pride in them. Touching their faces, smoothing their hair, just loving them every minute of every day.

I suppose the boys holding her bones were loving her as well. Did their tears fall onto the bones? We they reluctant to give them up? Did they remember their mother as they last saw her? Did they pray for her? Have they forgiven their father.

Those poor boys, that poor woman. The horrible situation.

Mary the Hairdresser's Sister Berniece

When the sons were small thay absolutely HATED having their hair washed. I tried everything to make it less of a battle between us. We bought some halo looking rubber thing to encircle their head and keep the water out of their faces. Then there was the spray hose doo dad that looked like a dinosaur. Then I tried to wash their hair while they were sitting up in the tub, laying down with thier head toward the drain, upside down dipping their head into the water as if they were a chip I was dipping. I didn't really do the last one but mostly because I didn't think about it till now.

In stepped Mary the Hairdresser's sister Berniece.

Mary the Hairdresser is a real person. In fact, she was the hairdresser for one of my Aunts. I suppose she had a real last name but she was always known as Mary the Hairdresser. She was as much a part of our extended family as anyone else and she even came to my Aunt's funeral. I have no idea if she had a sister so I gave her one.

Mary the Hairdresser's Sister Berniece sprang into life as a hairdresser herself. The sons would have "appointments" with her and while she washed their hair she talked to them in a Balmer accent rich with Hon's and Stoshes and Mune-i-sip-all buildings and 'gone down the ocean, hon'.
While Berniece chatted away with her stories the boys would become so engrossed in the story that their hair got washed without tears or fussing. Thanks to Mary the Hairdresser's Sister Berneice who just happened to look just like ME!!! What a co-incidence.

And just the other day, when I was ripping apart magazines for my gluw books, I can across a sentence that I just had to have. It read Berneice is not a Hon. Huh?? What??? Holy moley. So maybe Berneice is real.

Who knew? I didn't.