MOD VIOLA CROCKPOT DUSTCOVER

Viola trim - top view. I like it :-D

Today was a busy day.

I am really enjoying the 45 minute exercise thing in Castle Rock :-D But, I am noticing strain marks on my neck and collar bone area:

Red strain marks – the result of upper body strength exercises, using weights (3 lbs), look like freckles. They should disappear, eventually.

 

I like using weights … 5 years ago, I was easily weightlifting 120 pounds overhead from an overhead position on my weight bench – Bob didn’t believe I could lift that much, until he spotted me one afternoon. But 3 pound weights are all the Senior Center has on hand, so I have been using 2 at a time – in each hand. Eventually, I want to bump that up. Not having grandchildren … or great-grands to lift, cuddle, heft as they grow … and pretty much vegging out, and not doing anything more strenuous that lifting a coffee cup since becoming a widow, has weakened my upper body. Hence the strain marks on my upper body area. From 6 pounds in each hand! It’s pathetic.

But my skin has always been quick to show strain marks. Strenuous sneezing from hay fever or a cold, or coughing from an asthmatic flareup, can make strain marks on my face that makes me look like I’ve gone through a meat grinder. Once, when we were newlyweds and Bob snuck up on me in a playful mood – spinning me around quick and throwing me over his shoulder in a cave man mimic … I was dangling down his back as he ran around the house with me, being silly – and me squealing, equally silly: I could feel the blood rushing to my face, and I told him to put me down. He eventually did, but the damage was done, really as soon as he threw me over his shoulder and my head was in a downward position. Strain marks immediately marked my face, eyelids, neck: it was awful. Poor Bob; he felt so bad. He never did that again.

So, when these freckly marks showed up on my neck the other day, I knew the weighty exercises had caused it. As my muscles get used to being worked though, that should go away.

After my session this morning, I went to Keenager’s and had a good time of easy convo and good fellowship.

After that came to a close, I picked up the Kelso SC Itinerary, grabbed some kitchen garbage bags & door hooks at the $ Store; and met up with Bob’s youngest brother Kerry, in town, for a few minutes before heading home.

Back home, I finished up the crockpot dust cover I have been working on.

I chose Johnny-Jump Up violas for the trim; I like these flowers, and let them pretty much run wild outside: they reseed very easily, and are very pretty little flowers. I also put them in my green salads – so they should have a place in my Spring-theme Dustcover lineup ;-)

I decided on a stripy sc pattern

I used DC stitch on the final upper lap

Edged with a picot edging

MOD Viola Crockpot Dustcover. FINISHED!

Dustcover finished, I put my bath hooks in place:

Spare Bath Hook: pretty high up, for me … but I need the stretch to stay flexible, so I’m not complaining too vociferously ;-)

Door protected by adhesive-backed, cushioned Door Bumpers.

I had to haul my kitchen step-ladder into the bedroom to figure this latch out. I refused to feel stupid. I prefer to consider the activity, “educational” ;-)

I had intended to put a hook on the Master Bath door, too, but there was not enough overhead clearance – the hook’s hook kept coming up against the molding when I tried to shut the door.

So, I grabbed the hammer and a small pair of pliers that would fit my hand comfortably, and went to work pounding, and tweaking the hook’s hook until I was satisfied with the new shaping. I also stuck adhesive-backed Door Protectors on the back of this hook too. No matter where we lived, ‘resell issues’ are always in my mind when adding things like this hook – I don’t want to mar the doors with unprotected metal.

The hook may look weird where it’s at, but it works for me – and it’s not a permanent fixture.

We hadn’t had time to fully move into our new home, here on Earth, before Bob went Home beyond the clouds: Bob only lived with me here for 18 months, before the next-door neighbor’s paranoid bitching killed him …

Repeat Posting from July 30^th, 2019

Last year was pretty much a blur.

A painful blur.

A scary moving forward blur.

Disjointed and surreal.

This year – now: today – is still surreal most days, but then there are days like today … where I’m living in the moment, and bringing life to the home we bought together and started setting up together.

It’s small ‘life’.

But it’s life, just the same.

I mentioned earlier that I had stopped at the $ Tree to buy garbage bags while downtown – well, I also bought 2 glass vases and 2 bunches of silk flowers: keeping with the Spring Flowers theme. Silk flowers are the safest thing right now; last year I had bought a couple house plants … and they died from neglect because my brain kept misfiring. I cried a lot last year – but the houseplants didn’t get watered. So, I think I’ll stick with silk flowers to brighten the place up until my brain finds balance again and I can stay on track with living things.

Master bath

Kitchen

I’m making an effort to try bringing a small bit of life back into our home, this year.

All the boxes that hadn’t been unpacked yet before I was planning a Celebration of Life for the love of my life, have finally been unpacked.

There are still 2 boxes left to unpack form the disastrous November 2019 proposed move down south. Those may take time to get to – when I look at them, the pain of that ridiculous ordeal washes over me again … and I walk out of the room. I tend to procrastinate doing things that have pain attached to them. I am a wuss when it comes to pain; physical or emotional. They will eventually get unpacked, but for the moment, I am ignoring them. There’s nothing in them that I need now – in the moment: it’s just stuff.

What I need is to continue moving forward, with peace of mind.

And that isn’t easy.

This house was to be our last hurrah. Our retirement ‘island in the stream’ where we would, finally, be able to slow down and enjoy peaceful golden years. The low-maintenance place, where Bob could kick back and relax. The home “where the heart is”.

Instead we were – against our will – pulled into a nightmare scenario; the end result being my husband’s death.

My heart is with Bob; his embrace was my home.

This humble castle is nice … Bob did good buying it … but, it is not a “home”, in comparison to Bob, who was my real “home”.

I have to let go of that kind of thinking. I know I do.

But, it’s hard.

So, I let go in small steps.

I have kept a bare minimum of all the tools Bob had: I’ve kept just enough to keep home maintenance and management going smooth – they are pieces of our life together; things my husband’s hands touched. Things my husband showed me to use properly and effectively. When I use them, I feel close to him, close to the life we shared. The life I don’t want to let go of. These things hold memories of a lifetime once filled with love and life. Bob’s son from his first marriage took some tools before he removed himself from my life; and I gave the rest to Kerry.

I know that to move forward and live my new life successfully, I need to clear things out and keep only significant treasures. But ALL of Bob’s things are significant to me. All of his things represent his life. Half of them represent his life with me; his love for me. I have given a lot of stuff away, and I have cleared a lot of stuff out. I know that I can’t build a future living in the past. I also know that finding a happy medium is a hard task to undertake. Figuring out how to hold onto pieces of our life, while trying to pave a road forward is frustrating because every thought and every action is tripwired with a lurking emotion.

And yet, I am noticing that with the dawning of 2020, the frustrations are couched in positive ambiance.

The wrapping up of 2018, and the incoming turbulence of 2019, had me overwhelmed with all the sudden changes. Indecision ruled for 13 long and hard months.

Now, in the 3^rd month of 2020, I am looking around our home that has unequivocally morphed into my home … and I realize that I am walking through it with a lighter step that wasn’t there a month ago. I am thinking of the house in terms of ‘my home’ when I think of it now – when I speak of it now. The outlook, the thought, the talk warms my heart: and breaks it at the same time. Sometimes I still lapse into “our” and “we” when talking with friends about home, life, and the pursuit of happiness. But I noticed that in the now, as the calendar days move forward through 2020, I am speaking a lot more in terms of “me”, “mine”, “I”. My present is a LOT more present.

I still miss seeing Bob when I walk into a room in the house.

I still miss hearing his voice; his laughter.

I still miss feeling his touch.

And I always will miss those pieces of my life in my new life.

But I also know that Elohim is my husband now.

It is HIS strength, and His love that I must draw on now.

So, when the past calls to me, and I feel my thoughts slipping into melancholy with the missingness of Bob and the happiness he gave me … I will lift up my head, look at the Spring flowers blooming (outdoors and in yarn creations), munch on prolific violas; and focus on the love, faithfulness, provision, and securities of Elohim. My husband in my new life.