RETURN TO ME MY LOVE

In intense moments my heart cries ‘return to me!’

Return to me

With your strong arms

That wrapped round me

And pulled me against your chest

Where I feel safe and secure

Where I can rest my cheek

And feel your heart telling me, that …

No matter what chaos is going on around me

In your arms, all is calm

There is stability.

Return to me

And let me listen to your heartbeat

Until I feel reassured and know – always,

As long as you are beside me

That my world is good

And would always be good

Because you were in it.

Return to me

With your smile that lights up my world

And brightens my days

Let me feel your smile

And let my world be serene again.

Return to me

With your beautiful eyes

And your slow sexy smile

Meant only for me

That carried promises

And caused butterflies to flutter in my stomach.

Return to me

Take my hand in yours again

Wrap your fingers around mine

Comfort me.

Return to me; my Beloved

Hold me

Touch me

Love me

Dance with me

Put your hands on me

Kiss me

Surround me

Make me feel alive.

I long for you

My heart beats for you

My mind wanders to you

And replays memories of you & me –

Memories of what was

And what could be

If

You could return to me.

All around me, life hums and vibrates

And I die inside a little each day

Because I don’t have you any longer.

We are gone

And it is just me here on this earth

To try to live

To try to breathe

To try to walk

Alone.

Return to me

If only in my dreams

And let me believe

That between dusk and dawn

We are we again,

And no matter what chaos is going on around me

In your arms, all is calm

There is stability.

FLYING THE EAGLE

It was quite a morning while I was dealing with AT/T & Red Canoe, A.G.A.I.N. – as well as UPS.

Apparently, the money was shifted to the correct account last week: so, the bill has been paid. The AT/T rep said that she didn't know why I haven't had any service since Monday 12'noon, but it is straightened out now - thinking it was a software glitch. And, I had to CHANGE MY PASSWORD A.G.A.I.N. I let her know that I am getting tired of doing that too; it's stupid when she is talking to ME, and it has been CONFIRMED THAT I AM ME. I am running out of things to think of to make those morons happy with their stupid "laws" - both at AT/T & Red Canoe. I did get feisty and {saluted} them both before I came back home: Bob always hated me doing that, but ... sometimes you gotta fly the eagle when every other expression fails to get your point across.

Then it was over to UPS; where, again I got feisty.

All I wanted to do was mail 2 pairs of knit & crochet slippers to my granddaughter to keep her toes toasty now that it is Fall ... and UPS wanted to upset the whole thing and charge me $20! According to the girl who waited on me, UPS has new rules which make it {unsafe} to use your own boxes and brown mailing paper to send your packages through UPS. So, she wanted to charge me $7 for the meager weight (homemade knitted or crocheted slippers weight little more than airy fluff) - and on top of that, she told me she could tear off the brown mailing paper with the address on it and ship the shoe box the with the slippers in it WITHOUT WRAPPING with a UPS Mailing Sticker on it. Is she for real??? I told her that was not acceptable - it would look tacky and not stand up under the travel from here to there (I have SEEN how the drivers treat their entrusted packages! They just chuck them into the back of their trucks: it would get destroyed enroute). So, she said, "Well I can transfer your box into one of our boxes ... but that will cost you and extra $10, plus mailing fee." I JUST LOOKED AT HER LIKE SHE WAS AN ALIEN FROM MARS. I said, "Are you telling me that the way my package is wrapped is 'unsafe' ... but if your hands make it 'safe' by simply touching it, lifting it, and moving it into a UPS box, THAT will run $10? THAT is insanity to the nth." And she said, "Well, that's what it will cost. And it will cost about the same at the P.O." So, I shook my head, picked up my package, did the flying eagle thing, and came back home.

At that point, I didn't much care if Bob would have been embarrassed or not with all the finger play happening this morning. I was pissed.

The slippers will get delivered to her the end of October, when I drive to Sauvie's Island - she can pick them up there - it really doesn't get cold in the PNW until the end of October anyway.

At least I am not cooling my heels in jail for slamming heads together ;-)

But, I sure kept my Guardian Angels on their toes this morning ...

I COULD LEARN TO HATE CLEANING HOUSE ...

Today Bob's dresser drawers and hanging closet organizer was cleared.

His underwear went into the trash can - I had hung onto them, even though my eyes would dart around the room when that top drawer was opened if I needed to retrieve something - like a password the kids were asking for and I thought maybe Bob had secreted it away in that drawer. His private drawer. I kept the underwear and socks because they were the most intimate things that had last touched his body - and I needed to KNOW there was STILL a tangible substance that held a semblance of his essence. They were of no value to anyone but him. And me. But, into the trash can they went this morning. I kept the socks - those I can use ... and though they are several sizes too big for my feet, I will MAKE THEM FIT my feet: and in this way I will feel that in this small way, Bob is still present with me:

Then I moved 1 drawer down and removed his jeans ...

This was the hardest thing for me to do. I don't know why; but it was. Perhaps it was because in my mind's eye I could still see the way he walked ... and I liked watching the way the jeans moved when he walked. Bob was of Finn & Asian background, so he didn't have much of an ass; but what little he had, looked pretty fine to me. And I LIKED watching those jeans flex and move when he moved. But, this morning, I gathered them up in a bunch and put them in the trash. Without a tear. I was afraid to cry - crying might be my undoing: and I had things to do.

Like completely cleaning out the dresser; and what little was still in the closet.

In December, following Bob's graduation, I had cleared the closet immediately of Bob's shirts, jackets, and coats - even the shoes - because I knew if I didn't, I would have died a thousand deaths every time I opened the closet doors that first week of Widowhood. Bob's youngest brother and his son came when I called them, and took everything that was hanging on hangers; or on the floor, out of Bob's side of our closet. BLESS THEM!

But, we forgot about the hanging clothes organizer.

That still needed clearing.

I grabbed the brand-new jeans that hadn't even had a chance to get washed or worn yet before our world was tilted last August and shattered beyond repair September through December 14th, 2018. But they didn't fit any of the guys in the family ... and organizations that have their hands out for everything else, didn’t want them either. They didn't {fit} anywhere anymore. So, into the trash can they went. Brand new. And no longer a needful thing. And Bob's #27 football shirt from his High School days went into the trash can too - it really needed to go; it was literally disintegrating: it was, after all, 55 years old - and had been used hard. Again, I kept the extra socks he kept in the hanging organizer.

Mitts and gloves I knitted for him were also grabbed and tossed - at this point my mind had been shifted into neutral: I wasn't thinking. I didn't want to think. I was acting on instinct, and I NEEDED to keep moving. In neutral.

I am keeping his Lemmon's Trucking baseball cap. It still SMELLS like him ... I haven't sniffed all of his personal manly odor out of it yet; I have been frugal with my sniffing. I know how weird that sounds, but I am a weirdo. I am not ashamed to claim my weirdness in this my new life - my widowhood. My weirdness is what keeps me sane in my currant upside down life. That baseball hat and the odor associated with it vibrates with Bob's essence. I am keeping it until it, like his football shirt, finally disintegrates.

This morning I cleaned house.

I think I could learn to hate cleaning house ...

SEVERING FRAGILE TIES

Yep ...

Listening to my BIL and MIL try to tear Bob down at his Celebration of Life a few weeks ago, all I could think was, "Assholes. Thank God, I will never have to see, or hear, either of them ever again."

I will always be "Bob's wife" - but I will NEVER AGAIN have to be around those 2 miserable lemon-suckers.

Unbeknownst to them, they gave me the gift of true freedom when they opened their mouths and commenced to severing the fragile ties that bound me to them while Bob was walking beside me on Earth.

Both are poor excuses for human beings. MPO

Neither will be missed in my life from that day forward.

And I am sorry Bob had to witness thier shame.

IT'LL COST 'YA

Longview has set the month of September aside as ‘2019 City Beautiful Month’. The kicker is that MOST OF WHAT NEEDS TO BE CLEANED UP IS NOT ALLOWED TO BE PICKED UP BY THE CITY “for free”. True to form, the old adage {if it advertises for free, it’s gonna cost ‘ya} rings true during this {free} city beautification month:

It was ‘dumpster day’ at the Park today …

… so, into the back end of my car I wrestled the kitchen stool I don’t need after our kitchen remodel – and loaded the paint cans the previous owner left for us to take care of; and went looking for the drop-off location. I find it, and THERE IS NO LITTLE TRAILOR for the paint deposit.

I go to the Office to ask if there is another drop-off location, and am told, “No; but the little trailer is at the dump in town.” This is the mentality we, here at the park, have to deal with on a daily basis.

I just look at Candy. I want to say, “You’re kidding, right? We only have a very small window to drop this stuff off (exactly 2 hours in the morning), and you’re sitting there telling me the trailer is still in town. At the dump, instead of being here, where it is supposed to be?” But, I don’t open my mouth to say those things – the LAST THING I WANT TO DEAL WITH that early in the morning is Candy’s crappy attitude.

I get back in my car, drive to the dumpster locale and leave the paint cans there, by the dumpster, with the kitchen stool:

The stool is practically as tall as I am – and dumpster is at least 6-7 feet tall, so there is no way I can heave the stool into the dumpster. And the little trailer isn’t even on Park premises: LET CANDY DEAL WITH the fallout if there is any; I can’t put my life on hold just because Candy can’t coordinate a simple thing like having the trailer on premises AS PROMISED so that park residents can dispose of refuse – AS PROMOTED BY LONGVIEW AND THE PARK MANAGEMENT.

When I get back home, and am taking off my coat, I saw that my White Christmas Cactus had a blossom on it – the only bright thing in my day so far ;-)

While in the bedroom, I finally tackled ‘the yellow pencil’: this pencil was the last thing Bob used before he went into the hospital last August 29^th, 2018. As you can see, there is quite a dust build-up on his wooden dresser Valet he inherited from his Grandfather Smalley in 1981, after Henry died. I have avoided touching, moving, or using Bob’s yellow pencil during these 12 months; I didn’t even dust the Valet. Every time I got close to the dresser – or passed it as I walked through the bedroom, my eyes would deliberately avoid looking directly at the pencil. I just couldn’t. I didn’t want to think about the last time Bob touched that pencil.

But, this afternoon, I touched it.

I used it.

Laying ghosts to rest is gonna cost ‘ya. To effectively lay ghosts to rest, you have to look the past in the face, deal with it, and start living in the present. It sounds easy-peasy – but it isn’t. That pencil was the last thing Bob touched before Ron Cook & Candy Scott tore our lives apart with their insane egomania.

It took a tremendous amount of willful determination to touch it, pick it up, and use it.

It cost me.

Eventually, the Valet will get dusted, now that it is no longer taboo …

I made some calls inquiring about Bazaar dates and table fees too, and those calls got through … but ALL calls stopped after those calls because a heavy cloud cover moved over the sky directly above our home and reception was practically nil:

Around Suppertime, 2 big helicopters flew over the house, so low under the heavy cloud cover that shrouded the sky, that the roof vibrated. It looked like they were headed towards Willow Grove; they flew back over the house about 35 minutes later; don’t know if this was a military drill, or if someone drowned at Willow Grove. All I know for sure was that the helicopters were L.O.U.D. when they passed by …

MY BABE IS STILL GIVING ME LOVING MEMORIES ~PRECIOUS

CRYFEST HAPPENING.

I was curious what was in this file on Bob’s laptop, and was surprised to see these pictures of my beautiful wolf, Precious.

I have been thinking of her lately, when I think of Bob.

I had no idea he had these pictures – I thought they were lost forever when my old laptop died:

The home we lived in in Lexington, WA before we bought our current home. Precious was 10 years old in this picture. She was 1/2 Timber Wolf & 1/2 Gray Wolf. She was a wonderful companion.

I loved my pretty girl. And I loved Bob for letting me have her (he did nix me having a cougar cat though ;-))

We had to have a choke collar on her when we took her out in public because she was considered "a dangerous exotic animal", even though she was the most gentle creature we had ever known, or owned. Actually, though, she "owned" us ... and she could somehow make her head smaller and slip right out of that collar when she had a notion to: in temperament she was a lot like me - she didn't like feeling trapped in her surroundings.

Precious on a camping trip with us to Millersylvania State Park in WA. She would have been about 2 years old at this time.

Bob & Precious about 6 years ago. I want to say this was taken at Trillium Lake in the Mount Hood area in OR. ... but, this could be around the new Spirit Lake in the Mount St. Helen's area - I am not sure, and Bob didn't label the picture.

Off the leash, and "in her element" at Trillium Lake about 6 years ago. Mount Hood area in OR.

Precious was about 6 feet long (stretched out) & 120 pounds. She was 10 years old in this picture. I had to put her down when she got foot cancer at 12 years old - it was almost as hard as letting Bob go ... Precious left our life, and Elohim sent us a grandson: a true miracle.

Precious lived in-house with us, and slept in our bed until sleeping 3 full grown adults in a Queen-sized bed got too crowded. LOL Then, she slept on a floor pillow in our bedroom.

She went everywhere with us because wolves are pack creatures and suffer extreme anxiety if they are separated from their pack - if she wasn't welcome where we were going ... we didn't go there. She was with us always. Precious even went to church :-D

I brought her home to live with us when she was 6 weeks old - just weaned. I admit that when I saw her father, I was a little nervous and questioned my ability to control her as she grew; but once it was established that I was alfa-female, she obeyed me.

Plus, one night when Bob was driving truck - around midnight, Precious got feisty - so I did what Ravenwolf told me I might have to do to get her to behave and recognize me as alfa-female leader ... I steeled myself and bit her lower lip, forcing her head down to the floor. IT WORKED! I didn't get bit either - of course, Precious wasn't very old at that point in time, but still, if she wanted to bite me, her teeth could have done some injury because I was literally "in her face".

About a week later, talking with Ravenwolf, he asked me "How's the wolf you got from me doing?" So, I told him, "Well, she got feisty one night, so I did what you told me to do - I bit her lip and forced her to obey me."

RAVENWOLF NEVER EXPECTED ME TO ACTUALLY DO THAT! He said, "You did WHAT? Wow, I never anyone who ever did that before."

I said, "Well, now you do - I did it; and it worked." ;-)

Dogs always scared me: getting a dog in the first place as a birthday gift for our daughter on her 18th birthday (which we ended up raising!) really was a big step for me - I had been terrorized by scottish terrors as a young child; and my brother Sam had been bit in the face by a german shepherd we knew and grew up with; dogs to me, always seemed like a crap shoot I didn't want to try. But, with Tyson, I came to love and enjoy a dog. Then we inherited a Chow - I loved Cody too.

But Precious was a wolf - A LOT DIFFERENT THAN A DOG.

But I loved her, and once she realized I was supreme being in her life, she loved me too with a fierceness that was reciprocated. Everyone who came in close contact with Precious loved her. She loved babies and kids - in the wild, Precious would have been the 'babysitter' of her pack: she certainly was in our pack ;-)

Precious died from foot cancer 5 years ago.

MAN! I miss my man … who just keeps giving and giving, and giving me good memories.

I LOVE YOU BABE.

Forever & Always.

OX

FIRST DAY OF FALL ~I MISS YOU BABY

I miss my Babe.

A lot.

I also like Etta’s music; rumor had it that her father was Minnesota Fats – the world-famous pool player.

My father played pool with Minnesota Fats: Bob & I watched him on the TV.