Getting your husband to fix the dryer ~ a plot

So I hear a thump from the dryer.
Peer inside to see that the drum is not moving.
Hubby looks and says
*Hmmm, belt must've broke.*
Me: *Yup*
Him: *Gonna have to fix that.*

Days later.
Laundry is piling up.
Me thinking evil type thoughts comes up with a plan.

I do the wash and hang it out on the line. His pants, his long johns, and his favorite bath towel...and of course some of my clothes.

Him: *You know I can't stand crispy stiff pants and towels.*
Me: *Yup.*
Him: *So why are you hanging them?*

I shrug innocently and continue to hang out the laundry which freezes and flaps.
Him: *Oh $*&^, the dryer is broke.*

Bingo.
Crispy clothes are great motivators.
[Me...I like the fresh smell and know that after a bit the crispy wears off.
Evil me.

Hope. Cherish.

Hope.
To wish for something with expectation of its fulfillment.

Cherish.
Cherish suggests regarding or treating something as an object of affection or as valuable.

Today was unusual. I helped out a friend that is struggling in her life. She needed a 'pick me up' in the worst way.
On my way to her house I stopped and at a place called Crazy Franks [a cheap store something on the line of a Dollar Store] and picked up a couple of toys for her two Corgis that keep her company.
I figured she'd love those gifts, as she is an animal person.

It lit up her day.
It was getting late in the day and I asked if I could help her with her chores. She was surprised but pleased as no one usually helped her even when her husband was around.

The wind was bitterly cold. I carried warmed 'mash' for her horses in buckets, poured fresh water in the stall buckets, and helped carry hay.
In the meantime the sky put on a pastel display of colors, I whipped my old digital pocket camera out and took a photo of a tree in her yard.

*Oh that yard is so ugly,* she said.
*Stop a moment and look at the pastel sky,* I replied, hefting the bucket I'd set down.
She stood a second, looked up against the raw wind and said.

*Why yes it is.*

We finished chores and I said my goodbyes to her dogs and to her; I was feeling a trifle guilty knowing that she was spending this bone chilling night alone. I cautioned her to please call me at ANY hour. She promised and then gave me a huge hug.

I left as the sun dipped below the horizon and hustled home to make supper and eat it with my husband and dog, and enjoy a quiet evening together. I reflected on how lucky I was.

I pulled up to the mail box and opened it up. With chilled fingers I grabbed the mail and sorted it as I tossed it into the passenger seat.
One envelope was hand written. Yes, a lot of Christmas Wishes are hand addressed. But I had recognized this handwriting.
It belonged to my mother.

Hope and Cherish held in my hand. In an unopened envelope.
I regarded it for a long time before putting the car back into drive and heading down the long driveway.

Hope and Cherish indeed.
...and Wishes can come true.
This I know because I believe...

~In the moments of our lives
Both the joyous and the tragic
If the truth is to be told
We are all pursuing magic~
[Trans-Siberian Orchestra Poetry]

Taking a Drive

[no I was not driving when I took this, I slowed to a stop...it was just snowing so hard and that makes it look blurry...and yes the other photo is crap too, but you get the idea!]




[if you want a thrill press the little thingy in the right hand corner and it'll give you full screen terror...honest, it is worth it...and only takes a second or two!]


So what is it like to drive in really poor conditions?
What kind of idiot does this?

One night~~~fog so dense that I felt like I should get out in front of the car and show it where to go with a flash light.
...taken at a 5mph crawl.

A week later?
Oh a snow storm!

Hubby... *Awww take the truck, it'll be just fine!*
Me...Quaking inside...*Um okay.*

Me...all the way to work, asking myself *Are YOU out of your ever loving mind?*

No plows had been out yet on the back roads. Ever try seeing the rest of the road in the dark, in snow...in head lights?

Thoughts of Hawai'i humming through my feeble brain as I concentrated on keeping the truck ON the road.

Got to work. Boss lady brought extra cinnamon donuts and glazers. Sweet. She made our day!

Thank you to the snow plow guys, you are my heros. The roads were clear by the time it was the end of the shift!

Morris: My Really Yucky Day

My day just started out really really bad.
I got in trouble with the fella when SHE came home.
I heard her car's engine and started to bark and whine and spin in circles like any good dog would. It was early morning and I just wanted everyone to know just how much I missed HER.

I got yelled at loudly. I was sent to my crate where I pouted and felt bad. When SHE came home he let me out to greet her and I acted all sad and wouldn't wag my tail.

SHE got mad at HIM.
Doggy revenge is sweet isn't it?

But then tonight SHE started pulling stuff out of the cubby hole under the stairs. She literally covered up my living room and left me with no where to lay down. My couch was covered up with stuff. She calls it Christmas decorations.

SHE found an old forgotten toy monkey that had elastic arms and SHE was playing tug of war with me while we were spreading out Christmas stuff when
WHAM
she let go of the rubbery arms of the toy monkey and it flew back and hit me in the eye.

I yelped and ran out of the room.
SHE felt very bad.
Two cookies bad. [That must be very bad indeed.]

Being a faithful and wonderful supportive Jack Russell; I did feel it my duty though to sit and watch HER decorate the not real tree. Looking with one eye squinted really worked well, as SHE kept kneeling next to me and telling me how sorry she was and petting me really nice.

This guilt trip thing really works well. SHE cleaned off the couch and I snuggled in next to her sweatshirt.

But I'd rather not get smucked in the eye with a stupid elastic monkey. I think SHE tossed the offensive thing out.

Yucky day, nice cuddles.
And the not very real tree is Christmas decorated now. I guess it looks okay. I don't think I'd pee on it though.

Nite.

Living with PTSD

I've often debated on whether or not to write about this in my blog.
Contrary to some wives, I knew or thought I knew what I was getting into when I married a veteran with PTSD.

I was going to write about it on Veteran's Day...but after listening to a radio program on Wisconsin NPR, I decided to mull it over and then write my piece.
The person interviewed had written a book called Lethal Warriors: When the New Band of Brothers Came Home by David Philipps.

I listened to the radio interview on my drive home from work...and thought
My God, this man has absolutely no idea!

Frustrated, I came home and logged on to Joy Cardin's Facebook account and was going to ask her to ask her guest if he knew what PTSD really was, what it really entailed...what it was like to live with each and every day.
I didn't though.

There is a lot of information out there about PTSD, its diagnosis, prognosis, and treatment. But there is not very much written about living with it daily.
In fact it seems to be a very 'not much discussed' topic.

Imagine if you will, living with a person who appears absolutely normal, sounds normal, looks pretty healthy; a person who acts mostly responsible yet that same person is...
well...
like living with a person who suffers severe depression, has A.D.D., Bi-Polar Disorder, Anxiety Issues...the list goes on.

It is a quiet issue. Only the really bad things make the news. The rages of killings, the suicides...but not the feelings that the veteran has of isolation. He/she hardly wants to make it public that they suffer from PTSD.
I've told others that my husband is a veteran who has PTSD.

Comments?
*Why that war was 40 years ago, why doesn't he get over it?*
People look at you as though you have two heads and wonder why in the heck are you putting yourself through a relationship that tough.

Perhaps they don't know, and I try to explain...is that yes it can be trying at times. But the good times outweigh the bad.

Through adversity one can grow. Together we can help each other. I can help him feel mostly whole.
...and that is why I live with PTSD.

Where do you go?

Arlington by the Wailin' Jennys

Where do you go little bird
When it snows, when it snows
When the world turns to sleep
Do you know, do you know
Is there something in the wind
Breathes a chill in your heart and life in your wings
Does it whisper 'start again'
Start again

Where is the sun in the night
Is it cold, is it cold
Does it feel left behind
All alone, all alone
Does it wander through the dark
Does it wait for the dawn, wish on a star
Does it stray very far
Very far

Where is your home restless wind
Is it there, is it here
Do you search for a place to belong
Search in vain, search in fear
Or is your spirit everywhere
Is your voice every tree
Your soul of the air
If there's no home is there no death
Is there no death

Why do I write these books?

I like playing with my camera. I like making up stories.

One day Morris was just a whalin' on his toys in the living room and I wondered, what the heck do you suppose his toys thought about all that rough-housing?

So one thing led to another.

Now I've just finished the fifth book ...
Seriously, I think I had more fun writing this book and doing the set up for it than anything else.

The worst part about the whole thing?
Was pushing that little button that said 'send to Publish'.

I felt like I was letting go of a project that I didn't want to end.

I was happy while immersed in the making of the book. Now tonight I feel a bit empty and waiting for another brilliant idea to smack me up side of the head like the last two books did.

Here is the preview on Blurb's site, if you care to take a look...

The Trail Tale by Val Ewing | Make Your Own Book

I felt like I was letting go of a project that I didn't want to end.
I put the 'baby' to bed tonight. Now I await its delivery and the excitement of holding it in my hands gives me a feeling of accomplishment.