Farewell to Our Gidget, My Little Love and My Life

How in the world do you say goodbye to someone as sweet as my baby girl... There have been too many losses this year, but none more devastating to me than the loss of Gidget. My poor baby... my heart is irretrievably shattered. I can't even look at her picture without sobbing. She was such a good girl.

Gidget was 6 years old when she came to us 3 years ago. Was it really only 3 years ago? Seems like she was always with us... and it seems such a short time as well. Gidget was a puppymill rescue. I saw her little face on the internet and fell in love with her immediately. Steve and I drove an hour and a half through a monsoon to get her from the Corinth-Alcorn County Humane Shelter. I knew she was a gem... and she was. They called her Noelle, but she never had a name, so she took to the name Gidget very easily.

The poor dear was strutting around her cage like a showdog when we walked in... or so we thought. We found out later that she was terrified of thunderstorms, by how she acted during them. She would scramble around, trying to find a place to hide, even if it meant walking on my head. It was annoying, but understandable since she spent her first 6 years in a cage outside. She needn't have worried... I'd never have left her in the elements, but I couldn't get that across to her. Anyway, there she was, strutting around in that cage. She was so tired out and frightened that she slept almost all the way home. When we got her home, we opened the cage door and let her out. The little darling ran around on her butt in circles because she didn't know that her world was bigger than a cage. Gradually she began to explore her world, always scampering back to me for comfort. We put her up on the couch, but she didn't have enough strength in her hind legs to jump down, so we got her some stairs. She was always going up and down those stairs to be wherever I was. If I moved to the bedroom, there she was. If I went to the bathroom, she was right behind me. I would put up a finger and say "I'll be right back", but she still followed me wherever I went. I got used to it and would wait to hear the jingle of her tags outside the bathroom door. I'd open it and say "You want to come in?" The answer was ALWAYS yes. She would just sit on the rug and wait patiently for me to be done before we left the room.

Gidget didn't make much noise when she first came home. As she grew stronger and more confident, she would bark a little, going "Bur... bur... bururururur..." Her eyes grew bright and her legs got strong. She would go for walks on a leash, always trying to keep up with Gizmo. What a darling she was... she had a habit of pottying on the floor, so I took it upon myself to help her a little in the past couple of months. I would take her outside and tell her to make potty. When she squatted, I would make a big fuss saying "OH GOOD POTTY!!! Such a good girl! Big potty! Yayyyyyy!!!" and I clapped like a fool. She loved it.

What else did she love... tater tots with cheese... treats... even the pill pockets I had to use to get her to take her medication once we found out she had a heart murmur. She had started coughing all night long and I took her to the vet to find out the cause. That's what it was. So she went on a medication regimen and I made sure she got her medicine every morning and night. I even made up her pill pockets in advance if we were going out of town. She always had plenty of food, water, fresh air and sunshine. She had toys to play with, and a wonderful playmate in Gizmo. She loved to give kisses... and I miss those kisses. She had a mommy who loved her beyond comprehension.

She loved to run through the house. It was so funny watching this little dog that used to run around on her butt hauling ass throughout the house. Steve used to call her a runaway featherduster because her tail was so bushy and it went everywhere when she ran. She really hauled too! It was adorable to watch. And I loved making her happy.

She got really weak in the last couple of weeks and started looking like something was really wrong. She would put her nose up in the air and her eyes were really wide. She had two episodes... one a couple of weeks ago (from which she recovered) and then one the day before she died. She had a rough night that last night. Her cough was weak and she wouldn't settle down. She still had that strange look on her face. The next evening, Sunday December 19, 2010, she was lying next to me on the couch like she had done so many times before, and I told Steve I wanted a picture of her in her Santa outfit. He fumbled around a bit and I said to hurry before she dies. We took two pictures... the last one with Gizmo in it as well. After the camera flashed, she pushed away from me with her hind legs, as if to get away. I eased her on the cedar chest, saw for a split second that she looked at me, and then she collapsed. I watched as her tiny body struggled to live, although I told Steve and the boys that she was dying and to get my stethoscope. Listening to her brave little heart told me the story. Her heartbeat was faint... then I heard BUMP BUMP BUMP... then sinus rhythm, which was impossible because she had stopped breathing by then. I gave her two little breaths to ease the transition. Her heart just slowed and stopped. I knew she was already gone before I heard her heart stop. All the while, I whispered "Go now... Go... go home... don't worry about me...". She literally jumped out of my arms and into the arms of God.

We buried her in the backyard next to Shelby. It seemed fitting. She was still warm when I laid her to rest. I had to put her in... I couldn't just let her lie in the house... the rest of our pets were upset. Now I wear her collar around my wrist and can't seem to take it off. I don't know what I'm going to do without her. She was here for such a short time... and yet she was my whole world. I will always love you, Gidget. You made such an impact on me. You made me a better person. I know it was your time, but I wasn't ready yet. Please wait up. I'll be along shortly. I love you. Always, Mommy.

Na zdrowie'

Paczki Puta

UPDATE: Steve just reminded me at our Christmas Eve dinner how Gidget would wake up every morning just as if it was Christmas every day. That's a thought I'm going to take with me forever.

CHRISTMAS MORNING: Those we love sometimes pass beyond our present sight,
Leave us and the world we know without their radiant light.
But we know that like a candle their lovely light will shine,
To brighten up another place more perfect, more divine.
Merry Christmas Gidgie, my little love.
I love you and miss you. Mommy

DECEMBER 27, 2010:
It's been a whole week... don't know how I've gone this long without you. I woke up this morning, expecting to pick you up, take you outside and watch you stretch. I loved watching you stretch when you woke up. It was as if you were saying "Ahhhh... this feel so good!" Every morning was Christmas morning to you and I loved you every single minute. Last night I was remembering taking you for your walks, and you would have to check out every place that Gizmo pottied. You tried to potty in the same places that he did. He misses you as much as I do. I'm watching for your sweet spirit to come back, Gidgie. We all are. Love, Mommy.

Saying Goodbye to a Dear Friend, Our Beloved Shelby

Our dear darling kitty was put down yesterday. She passed away at 3:51pm on October 18, 2010. Although it is a time for grieving, I want to remember Shelby with all the joy she gave us.

Shelby came to us through the Humane Society, just a few short weeks after we had to put our older cat, Ginger, down. At first, I brought home a white cat with black spots and named her Lexie. Lexie was playful, and we needed to have a healthy, playful cat in the house after tending to Ginger's ailing body for so long. The mood in the house lightened a little, but Steve was still suffering Ginger's loss, so I went back to the Humane Society looking for a brown tabby to bring home.

Once at the Humane Society, I went to the cats and saw a big cage with about 10 cats in it. There were several tabbies, and for some reason, this little, very thin cat stole my heart. They called her "Twiggy" there because she was so thin. She had a small head with big round eyes that looked a little startled when you looked at her. She had lived on the street, which was why she was so thin. I took to her immediately and named her "Shelby" right there on the spot, vowing that she would have a new life to go with her new name, and never have to forage for food again.

When I brought Shelby home, I let her out of the carrier, and she ventured out very cautiously. Lexie came bounding over to her and began to lick her up one side and down the other. Lexie was thrilled to see her. They got along famously and became great friends. Steve came home from work to see a brown tabby, just like Ginger, except for the long hair on the tail. He took Shelby in his lap, sat down in his recliner, and seemed to be more comforted now that there was a brown tabby in the house again.

Shelby went on to grow and eat as if she would never see food again. She spent many hours at the table, begging for scraps, and there were many times when she would tap Steve on the back as he was eating, as if to say "Hey! Don't forget about me!" Steve told me last night of the times when my back was turned, when he would say, "Shelby! High Five!" and she would raise her paw up to touch his hand. She would "bark" at birds she saw out the window, but when we let her into the backyard, she would skitter toward the door, afraid she would be left on the street again. Her trips to the backyard were infrequent because I didn't want her to be afraid.

Shelby loved Thanksgiving and was always in attendance when I was cutting up the bird. She got her fair share of the little pieces and loved every single minute of it. She would follow Jason when he had cereal, as she knew he would put his bowl down for her, with the last bit of his milk in it. She lapped it up eagerly. Shelby grew to 20 pounds, and we were happy to see her enjoy herself so much. At one point, we started calling her "Speed Bump" because she was so big and laid in what seemed like the middle of everything.

Jason in particular became very close to Shelby when she got big. It seemed to him that we were all ignoring Shelby because of her size, and in part, he was right. But whatever the reason, he got very close to her and she knew and loved him well. Jason would lie down on the floor next to her, and she would reach her paws out to touch him on the head. She purred her loudest purr whenever he was around her. You could hear her purr across the house. It was obvious that she loved him as much as he loved her. Shelby would find solace during a thunderstorm under Jason's bed, and as much as we didn't want to admit it, Shelby was definitely Jason's cat. They had a bond closer than I've ever seen with any of our animals, and they were best friends.

In the last couple of years, Shelby had started to pee in the laundry room but not in the cat box. We thought maybe it was because the cat box was dirty, and made every effort to clean it more often. But then she started peeing in more areas of the house and it became necessary to do away with the carpeting to help make cleanup easier. She began to lay in the cat box for no apparent reason. It was obvious that Shelby was suffering from kidney disease, just as Ginger had.

Shelby had started to deteriorate a little at a time until the last two weeks. Then her descent was rapid and could not be stopped, no matter how much love we gave her. She was drinking copious amounts of water, but began to refuse food. We gave her whatever we thought she would eat, and began to lace her water with cranberry juice and Gatorade to keep some electrolytes in her rapidly thinning body. When she started to refuse even the foods she loved, we knew she was nearing her end.

When Ginger was dying, we tried to keep her alive through force-feeding. After she was gone, I swore I would never do that to an animal again. However, this past week, it became obvious that Shelby was refusing food, and I didn't want her to die of starvation. I made that promise when I adopted her... that she would never want for food again. Jason and I began to give her syringes of very soft cat food, the kind the vet said they would give to very sick animals when they refused everything else. It didn't matter. Shelby was too far gone and we couldn't get her strong again, so we took her out into the backyard to let her lay in the sun, while we petted her and talked to her, knowing we had to make a very painful decision.

Shelby was stretched out on the grass, and her breathing became shallow. I told Jason that she was going. We kept petting her and told her it was okay to go and that we would always love her. But Shelby wouldn't let go. It was Jason who made that courageous decision, and I'm so glad he did. I couldn't do it. When Ginger was dying, I knew it was time. When Rebel was dying, I knew it was time. This time, it was Jason that knew. He saw in her eyes that she couldn't take any more pain. Shelby was suffering, and as much as I didn't want to admit it, we had to let her go.

Jason called Steve at work, who came home immediately to spend a few more moments with our beloved Shelby. A call was made to Dr. Pearce, who said they would wait for us to come. During the ride to the vet, Shelby's breathing was extremely shallow and her eyes indicated there was no one home. Steve thought she wouldn't even make the trip to the vet. But, fighter that she was, Shelby just wouldn't give up. We took her in and I held her as her breathing stopped. It didn't take long. The injection wasn't even complete when it stopped. She was finally out of pain and our pain began.

We have all cried for Shelby. We cried for ourselves. We cried for the pain she suffered, and we cried for the joy she gave us that we will never have again. We brought her back to the home she loved, to place her in a special spot in our backyard. We placed landscape stones on top of her shallow grave and will put special paving stones and a cement planter there to mark her spot. Ginger is buried nearby, as are our canaries and the gerbils we loved. We have been readying the house to be sold as soon as I finish school, but I'm not in as much of a hurry now. I would have to leave Shelby, and I'm not ready to do that just yet.

We won't be getting another brown tabby to take Shelby's place. No one could take her place. She was one of a kind... the most gentle soul I have ever known. We have 4 dogs and 3 other cats to love and learn from, and we know that we will have to know this pain another 7 times. Even as we feel the pain now, it would be wrong to close off our hearts to try and protect it from the pain to come.

My darling Shelby... if love could have saved you, you would have lived forever. Now you live forever on the other side. Wait for us, Shelby. We'll catch up with you. We'll love you forever... until we see you again.

Nazdrowie'

Paczki Puta

New Blacktop and Memories from Oglesby

The City of Memphis did a wonderful thing recently, one of the few things for which I have to give them kudos. They constructed a new addition to the Greenway, which my family and I love to ride our bikes on when the weather and our schedules cooperate. This new addition supposedly stretches from Germantown to Midtown Memphis, which is quite a haul. It backs up to our house, a mere 4 blocks away, so you know we have to take advantage of it!

Steve and I had ridden the trail a few nights ago, and I was really pooped from a long day of studying. (Funny how using your brainpower really CAN wear you out!) We rode, but not as far as I wanted to, because I wanted to make sure I could make it back. I wanted to go out riding yesterday and no one would go with me. So today, faced with the same situation and beautiful temperatures outside, I went alone.

But I wasn't alone. Even though the trail is not "officially" open until construction is complete, it was riddled with bikers, runners, walkers, and occasionally a biker who toted a double stroller on the back of his bike. I smiled as I passed them, gave them a chipper "Good Morning!" and kept going. Alone with my thoughts, as I smelled the new tar laid on the asphalt, it brought me back to when my birth family and I lived on Oglesby Avenue in Calumet City, Illinois, in a much simpler time.

It was a lone block of starter homes, all of them with 3 bedrooms, one bath, living room, kitchen and a basement. Everyone knew all their neighbors, and even if you didn't quite see eye to eye, you still lived together in relative peace and harmony. I loved living there, with the trees in the front and back yards and nothing but prairie behind our backyard. We spent many a day running and playing in the prairie, but one of our greatest joys was riding our bikes up and down Oglesby (and occasionally to a different street). My mother always had a fit when she found out that I would venture off Oglesby and go to visit my cousins on Bensley or my great aunt Evelyn on Clyde. We would also visit what we called "The Little Store", which was about 5 or 6 blocks away from home, and mostly we went there to turn in pop bottles for the 2 cents we would receive. We never brought home the money, but spent it on penny candy or a new bottle of pop, should we have returned enough bottles to get a free one! I loved those days of freedom. When I rode my bike, I felt like I could fly!

I didn't always have a bike. I wanted one, but my parents said I had to learn to ride before they would get me one. HUH? Let me get this straight... I have to learn to ride a bike which I don't have before you will get me a bike to ride??? My parents were not known for their logic. Anyway, a kind neighbor let me use her bike to learn on (thank you Tammy!) and learn I did! I showed my parents one day and then the next Christmas, Santa Claus brought me a brand new sparkling teal bike! How did he know? *wink* Anyway, I rode that bike whenever I had the chance. I rode it everywhere except school, which was a lot farther away than The Little Store.

One day, we found out that the village was blacktopping an extension of Oglesby, which would take you from Dolton Road/State Street to Sibley Boulevard. Our block would be extended by two whole blocks! It seemed like the world to me, and my brother Wayne pledged to ride that blacktop until he had put 5 miles on it. Well, I don't know if he actually counted the blocks he rode, but I know that the new blacktop had bikes on it all the time. In those days, there was no such thing as a 10-speed or God-forbid, a 16-speed. You had several speeds to choose from, and you got to them by pedaling faster and faster. All bikes were the same except the boys had a bar across theirs and the girls didn't, which makes absolutely no sense at all considering the boys have body parts that can be easily damaged by coming in contact with that crossbar. But I digress. I rode and rode my bike up and down that blacktop, and think it's a shame that this younger generation doesn't know the freedom that we had in those days.

As I took this trip down memory lane this morning, I realized my legs were getting a bit tired and wondered about how far I had gone. I went past the Wolf River, past I-240 and under another viaduct, which I think was White Station Road. I went a bit further, which I estimated to be around Mendenhall. When I added it all up, it came to about 5 miles one way and 5 miles back. I was gone for an hour and burned 931 desperately needed calories, but I didn't notice on the trail. All I noticed was the sun, the wind, the quiet and the green around me. Yes, life can be good! And somewhere in the other realm, Wayne is smiling.

Nazdrowie'

Paczki Puta

One Week Down

Last night I completed my first week at college! Wow... I didn't know exactly how crazy I was for taking on so many class hours this semester. I am taking a total of 17 hours, in order to complete my bachelors degree in 3 years. To all the naysayers... Oh YES I CAN! I'm on top of my work and have another 3 days off this weekend to get ahead. I've got it all planned out, and barring any complications, I should be ahead of the game all semester.

I decided to take a concentration of Physics, Anatomy & Physiology, Medical Terminology, Psychology and English Composition. Next semester, I'm going with A&P II, English Comp II, History, Music Appreciation and... and... um... I don't know what else! OH! College Algebra! If I make it through this semester, I'll take another 17 hours next semester and that will give me 34 hours at the end of my first year instead of 27, and that cuts out almost an entire semester of classes after completion of my AAS.

In case anyone is wondering, I'm going into Physical Therapy. Do I think I can do it? Hell, YEAH! I do! I'm juggling a lot right now... college, home, taking care of my health and hopefully work if I can get a decent part-time gig at a PT clinic. If I can't get a paying gig, I'll do a little volunteer work to get my name in the mix. But yes, I can! I'm doing it. Gonna fly now! Flying high now! I'm a Pluskota. I'm a scrapper!

Nazdrowie'

Paczki Puta

Goodbye, Norma Jean

Sounds like a song, doesn't it? It is, but is also what I had to say earlier this week when my sister (in-law) ended her battle with ovarian cancer. She was in her second phase of chemo and had just received the last dose. It was that last dose that killed her, not the disease.

Norma was a tiny little thing for most of her life, interested in health and wellness. She spent most of her years as a vegetarian, and for two years, I followed her lead and then decided that I liked meat, so abandoned that lifestyle. In retrospect, maybe it wasn't a bad idea to go back to meat. Norma's body developed some allergic reactions to the foods she was accustomed to eating and had to take meat into her nutrition plan later in life. I'm not sure, but my uneducated mind says that a change of that kind is harsh on the body. Who knows what happened. All I know is that her body started to reject her usual lifestyle and she had to eat meat. Then all of a sudden, she had an "unwelcome visitor" (her words) that led to an emergency room visit and removal of 8 liters of fluid from a tumor that was pissed. Chemo to shrink the tumor followed, and then surgery for removal of it. The doctor said he couldn't get all of it and additional chemo should take care of it. Boy, did it. It killed her.

Goodbye, Norma Jean. I wish we had longer together. I wish we had taken that fishing trip that you and Bob didn't want to go on. LOL! I wish we had done more things together. We were so different, you and I. You were the country girl who went to the city. I was the city girl who loved to get her hands dirty in the country. But somehow we got along. There was a period of time when we didn't speak, but we came back together in the final years of your life. I am grateful for that. I don't know how I'm gonna do the next 30 years without you... I haven't spend ONE hour since your passing when I haven't thought of something I wanted to share with you. Sometimes sisters-in-law are closer than sisters. We were. And I will always be thankful for it.

Yes, I will take care of Michele for you. That's a given. She can come to me for anything and I will be there. The same for Darrell. I think they need us now more than ever. We're here. We're family.

Nazdrowie'

Paczki Puta

All We Are Saying... Is Give Peace A Chance!

Family in disarray... again. It seems it always happens to this family. I have to wonder if it happens in others. He said, she said, he did, she didn't... please stop!

Everyone thinks they're right. Everyone is wrong. Dead wrong. You know how I know? Because everyone can't be right. Posting expletives and derogatory comments on Facebook for the world to see is wrong. You want to have an argument, but you want to let the rest of the world see your anger. I get that. So start a blog. Write letters. Pick up the phone. It's so easy to write things and then say "But that's not what I meant" or "I was just reacting to what was said to me". Let me tell you folks... you're all wrong.

"Cuss words are just WORDS", I was told. Words are powerful. They wound deeply. What you say to someone matters. What you write matters even more. Didn't you ever hear that if you write a letter of complaint (or praise) to a company, you will receive a response, even though you might not get one from a phone call or email? It's true. The written word... more powerful than a sword to cut people to ribbons. More than one person is at fault here. Everyone needs to take a step back, take a breath and then give each other some space to heal. The reason I took people off my list is so I don't have to read the garbage anymore. You are what you read. Garbage in, garbage out. I choose not to have garbage go in.

Now... for those of you who, like me, desire peace... And this goes for my siblings too...

We are painting the rock on August 6th and going for a beer afterwards. You already know where. If you want peace or just to open communication, be there. If you don't, then stay away and let us have our time. The choice is yours. We are going to heal, with you or without you. Bring paint.

Nazdrowie'

Paczki Puta

UPDATE 10:00pm: Since no one has the intention of stopping their ludicrous behavior, forget coming to the rock. You stay in your world and I'll stay in mine. Deal?

Get Off Your Butt and Start Moving!!!

These are my instructions to myself this morning. I've spent way too much time waiting for myself to get moving. Sound familiar?

I'm usually a doer, but lately have found myself waiting. I hate to wait. It's like the kiss of death. We ordered our flooring almost 2 weeks ago, and I'm itching to get started. Our dining room and front hallway have been sitting naked for 2 those 2 weeks, but we've had no choice. The carpeting and its nasty smell HAD to go, so we have had naked concrete. We have 1000 square feet of wood coming and I can't wait! Grrrr... I hate waiting.

Another way I have had to kick myself in the rear is my hatred of cardio exercise. I absolutely hate it. But nothing positive is going to happen in my health unless I start... so I got on the ellyptical a few minutes ago. I'll get back on it every hour or so for the rest of the day and do between 3 and 5 minutes each time. Hey, it's a start. With the new floor in the gym complete, and insulation about to go up, I have to start practicing what I preach. The trouble is, the ellyptical is in the office, which is crammed full of what I had in the dining room. I thought I would be done with the floor by now and everything would go back to "better than" normal. Since it hasn't happened that way, I cleared some space and got on the ellyptical anyway. Three minutes. Shameful. I'll do better in an hour or so.

In the meantime, I've got some other things to do. I have to work on more paperwork for the next grant for school, study and workup the next workout. I also have a couple of gift cards to send out for, order a few items of clothing, look at insurance garbage, and and and... Oh good grief. Can I just go back to bed now?

Nasdrowie'

Paczki Puta

It Is What It Is

I find it amazing... that people who claim they want nothing to do with me talk so much about me behind my back. Maybe it's supposed to hurt my feelings, but it doesn't. My siblings have always been a bunch of backstabbers. If they ever looked in the mirror, they probably still wouldn't see it. But it's perfectly whatever. They have to deal with themselves, I don't. They are the ones who will develop cancer, I won't. I am perfectly at peace. However, there are others that I care very much about that aren't.

To those people I want to say this... find peace. The reason I have so many people on my block list is because I seek peace. If someone brings garbage in my life, it's up to me to decide if I let the garbage stay. Generally, I don't. So my block list is a mile long. A few people have recently made my illustrious block list and I would like to elaborate on it a little.

One of my cousins made my list yesterday. I also blocked his wife and daughter, but not because they are related to him. I make it a policy of mine to not allow someone to be able to check up on what I'm doing, what I'm writing, etc., once they've been blocked. Liz, you and Maggie are great people, and this was not a slam against you. It's merely me covering all bases, just like I've always done. I don't even care that this cousin is particularly pompous and likes to spread it around. What bothered me for a split second was that he actually thought he had a perfect right to do and say whatever he wanted to, even though the issue in question was none of his business. Let me tell you right now... BUTT OUT!!! Having a big degree doesn't make you a big person. It only makes you more educated. You are no better than anyone else. But YOU think you are. Personally, I had nothing against you until the other day, but I was watching you closely because of what I had been told previously. Yesterday was the perfect time to block you from my list because you proved out what other people had told me.

Now... as for a couple others... Joe, you are not my brother. You were wrong when you said we cannot pick our family. I have done so. I pick the people with whom I will share my life. If you ever got over yourself, you'd be faced with a reality you're just not ready for. So go... live on... and find peace. I don't care if you talk about me like you did today. You rarely cross my mind anymore. When I came back from my father's funeral, the first thing I did after putting down my bags, was to take all pictures of that side of the family and put them away in the attic. I have nothing here to remind me of you. Please know that you are not discussed in our house. We talk about positive things and having a conversation about you is a great waste of my time and energy. My family does not want to know you. So go find peace. We are perfectly fine and at peace here.

If anyone who has made it to my block list ever thinks about calling me, let me tell you right now... please don't. Save yourself the humiliation of being hung up on. No one here wants to talk to you. Take it to the bank. We have said all we ever have to say to you. If I wanted you in my life, you would be in it. I have gone my own way and am happy having done so. And if you think otherwise, you are deluding yourself. If and when my family moves north, we have no intention of seeing you or socializing with you. We are merely opening another chapter in our lives.

Life goes on, folks. It may not have gone the way you or I wanted, but it is what it is. I'm going to be happy in spite of you, or maybe because of you. But whatever... you are just a footnote in my life. My family is my life. People like Steve, Jason, Rhys, Dennis, Tracy, Aunt Pat, Uncle Jerry are my family. They've earned it. What have the rest of you done?

Nazdrowie'

Paczki Puta

Bringing It

Now that I'm back in town, it's time to get back to work on improving my health. I have decided to kick it up a notch and do the impossible, which is to get into good enough shape to feel the way I did when I was young. What a challenge the aging body is. When I was young, I had to deal with the changes brought by puberty and hated the monthly bill when it came due. But now that menopause has claimed my body and nothing works the way it used to, I have been investigating ways of improving my health and quality of life.

Not being able to do my weight training during the winter (due to extreme cold in my gym... which is on my list of things to correct), I started walking at the campus near our house, got an ellyptical and a training program called P90X. Okayyyyyyyyyy... so maybe I bit off more than I could chew here. But I'm gonna try it. I'm on Day Four and hurt in places I never knew existed. I have worked out for years, and conventional programs don't even come close to what I'm doing now. This program is extremely intense (hence the "X" in the name) and is definitely not for anyone with any kind of chronic injuries or illnesses. I probably shouldn't be doing it either, but I figure if I don't try it, I may never progress beyond what I was able to do on my own. I'm learning how very difficult this is for someone my age and body composition.

So... this program is heavy on pull-ups. I can't do a single one. How embarrassing. Fortunately, I'm not failing in front of anyone I don't know. My boys are taking turns making sure I'm not doing something stupid and overdoing it. Case in point... on Day Two I decided to try the Ab Ripper workout. Jay sat down to babysit me, and after I started it, he got this look on his face that clearly said "This is not going to end well." Boy, oh boy... It's 15 minutes of pure rip and I could only do 10. Again, embarrassing. This particular session is scheduled to be done after an upper body session, which I had done the day before. Oh. You mean RIGHT after it. I couldn't even MOVE my arms after the upper body workout. How was I supposed to work the abs?

So I did what I could. I'm taking this first week or even two weeks to get familiar with the program and what kind of equipment to use, as well as familiarize myself with the nutrition aspect of the program. I have ordered a pull-up bar and some other necessities for this program, and can't wait until they arrive. For those of you who, like me, can't do a single pull-up, you can use a chair at first to get you up to the bar and steady you as you build the upper musculature necessary for this exercise. I am giving myself a drop-dead date of April 1 to begin the entire program in earnest.

Can I do it? I'm going to go out on a limb and say yes. I've come a very long way from where I was 18 months ago. At that time, I could barely walk and had a bodyfat composition of 44.89%. Today I'm not only walking, but pushing it, and bodyfat has gone down a whopping 11%. I've got a long way to go, but it's a journey. Do I have a goal? Sure. I want to be strong, healthy and flexible and at 20% bodyfat. Did I give myself a date to do it by? Nope. But I'll settle for a 1 or 2% drop in bodyfat per month. At that rate, in another year I will either have reached or almost reached that goal. Just gotta keep bringing it. Film at 11.

Nazdrowie'

Paczki Puta

Now Back To Our Regularly Scheduled Programming

Since my post yesterday (which was not supposed to get pulled to FB), I've received a lot of hate mail and been dropped by my cousin, or my "so-called cousin" (his words, not mine), so... am making some changes.

It's long been a rule of mine that when I'm dropped from someone's friend list, I block that person so we may go our separate ways and not check back in to see what the person is doing, writing, etc. I am keeping with that. But now I am also blocking their immediate family members, especially since I read that this particular person is telling his daughters of how he didn't want them affected by the "poison" that I write. So, I have decided to make it easier on them and block them.

What does that mean for the future and for the vacation we have planned for July? Right now I am not planning on going anywhere. I want some privacy, and I am not going on chat, have blocked phone numbers and am generally not answering anyone for a while. I have a family here that needs my attention, and we're going to do the best we can with 4 less people in our family. If more people drop from my list, so be it.

Goodbye, Pete. I hope you find your birth mother and I wish you and your family the best.

We now return you to our regularly scheduled programming. Over and out.

Nazdrowie'

Paczki Puta

Why Suicide Is Stupid

I just got back from a funeral in my hometown and have a few thoughts I'd like to jot down.

My cousin's stepson killed himself last week by hanging himself in a closet. What a waste. This guy had the world at his feet. He was on a full scholarship, had a job, a girlfriend and a family that loved him. But that wasn't enough. He also had friends who adored him. As I watched them in mourning, I thought "What an incredible asshole to wreak this kind of pain on people." There are people who would say he always had a smile on his face, and he wouldn't do this to people. But he did. He went on a drunken tangent, wrote a 4 page letter, posted some goodbyes on Facebook and then checked out. Did he care about all the people who would be affected by his death? So some things didn't go as planned... so you didn't have as good of times as you did as a kid... so you've had some losses in your life. The meaning of life, plain and simple, is to GO ON!

There is no good reason to commit suicide. None. No matter how bad things get, they can always get worse AND if you stick around long enough, they WILL get better! There are enough good people in the world that will listen if you need a shoulder, and if you can't find any of those, there are self-help groups, books and government programs. You learn from it, do what you have to do and make the best of things, no matter what. I come from a long line of very crusty people who went through hell to be in this country and have the best life they could, and most of them lived to a ripe old age. What is it about today's youth that thinks life is too tough and that they have a perfect right to disregard the sanctity of life by killing themselves? What makes them think they have a right to hurt people this way? Live fast, die young, leave a good looking corpse is only a line in a movie. In real life, it hurts people. It leaves an indelible mark on their souls and a hole in their hearts that will never fully heal. Your parents are grieving. Your siblings are grieving. Your friends are grieving. Is this what you wanted? It was the most selfish thing you could ever do.

What an asshole. What an incredible asshole.

My apologies to any of his family or friends who read this. This is not meant to hurt you or destroy your memories of your loved one, but only to express my opinion.

Nazdrowie'

Paczki Puta

While My Ticket Makes Its Way to Minglewood In Someone Else's Hands...

I thought I'd write a little while I'm stuck at home this evening. My ticket to Tora Tora is on its way to Minglewood in someone else's hands, courtesy of a killer sinus headache that came on me this morning. I knew there was something wrong when Steve and I went for a walk on the campus, and my legs felt like lead. I had been sneezing a lot the last 24 hours and wanted to push a little to see if I could just push through it. I was wrong. So I made the ultimate sacrifice and gave my ticket away. =( Goodbye ticket! Have fun without me!

So while I'm wasting time waiting for modern medicine to alleviate this vice my head seems to be in, I made some observations that I wanted to get down on "paper" just for the record. For example, in between answering various messages from my cousins, I noticed how close we all seem to have gotten... the Pluskota cousins... other than my siblings. I wonder why that is. No, I don't... I know the answer. It's the simple fact that these are real people, who see through the superficiality that pervades my siblings' lives. Oh well. I'm glad to have these relationships now. I might never have gotten close to my cousins if my father hadn't passed away a year ago. But we are thick as thieves and better.

First... Tracy... I love you more than I ever thought possible, and we are closer than I ever was to any of my siblings.

Second, Dennis... you're a nut and I still love you after all these years. I will never forget you trying to drown me and being there when we found old Busia and Dzia Dzia's gravesites. It's amazing how close we still are. We'll both get through the hardships we now face and life will be better soon.

Third, Pete... I'm so glad to have you in my life, even if I didn't get to see you when I was in town over the holidays. You've got a good heart, and I hope some of the investigations I'm doing for you bear fruit. You can't have peace until you have all the pieces. Troy Dunn said that... the man your mom had contacted about finding your birth mom. I'll keep trying, and I'll write a letter to Troy as well. Everyone deserves answers.

Fourth, Amy... you may not answer the phone, but you tear up the airwaves with texts, and I'm grateful to have had time with you in January. We've got some catching up to do!

Fifth, Sue... you may not know it, but you have been missed all these years. It warms my heart to see you and you are very well loved by me.

Uncle Jerry and Aunt Pat, you have no idea how it warms me to know that you still care about this worn out Chicago reject. You're the best! Hang with me a lot longer, will ya? We've got some hanging to do.

In the next couple of months, I'm planning on making major strides in my health care and am hoping to be in decent shape when I see you all in Wisconsin in July. I'm starting school for physical therapy in August and will be pushing hard until I get the degree in my hand. After that's done, I look forward to us all spending a lot more time together when I get started up north in my practice.

Anyway, there's the plan... anyone think it's possible???

Nazdrowie'

Paczki Puta

Silver and Gold, and Everything In Between (or How I Spent My Winter Vacation)

Every now and then, when life gets to be too much for me to handle, I have to go home to Chicago to remember who I am. I spent a week there recently, visiting with my aunt, uncle and cousins on the Pluskota side. Such a good visit too. It was a trip of memories, of tears, and of laughter.

First on the list was the visit to Bobak's, a traditional Polish deli on the south side, just a mile or two away from Midway airport. I had never been there, and was astounded to see the butcher cases filled to the brim with all kinds of lunchmeats, cheeses and sausages. With all my knowledge in health and fitness, I gasped when I realized that, for years, my family has been filling myself with these delicacies... and all the fat and heart disease that goes with them. That's when it all started... the flooding memories. I remembered my parents, grandparents and great-grandparents, and how they struggled with their health issues. Now I clearly see the path that they were on, without the knowledge that it would hurt them someday.

As Uncle Jerry loaded up his cart with all the wonderful things from his childhood, I noticed him. I mean REALLY noticed him. I realized that this wonderful man, who I have known since he was a teenager, is living hard. I saw the silver of his hair, the lines in his face, and the light from his eyes, fading but not gone. It made me sad to think I have missed so much of his life, and how much he has missed of mine. We had not always been in contact... but each knew the other was there in a pinch. He grieves, like I do, for a happier time when we were all young, full of piss and vinegar, and always had family to come back to. Time had no meaning. Now it means everything. As I choked back tears in remembrance, Uncle Jerry, Aunt Pat, Dennis and I sat down to lunch at Bobak's. They all had some of the traditional foods, and me? I was so boring with my chicken, rice and vegetables. *sigh* Dennis teased me relentlessly about my choice of lunch, and that's okay. Dennis wouldn't be Dennis if he didn't give me shit about something or other. We are family that doesn't take offense to something the others say, and don't hesitate to let someone know when a line is crossed. I came to Chicago specifically at this time because I knew Dennis would be there as well. (I love you, cuz!)

The next day was Monday... and that meant a full day and Monday Night Football. But before we could sit down and enjoy the game (or not, depending on how the Bears are playing), Dennis and I had planned on an excursion to two cemeteries... both to pay our respects and to find the graves of our great-grandparents, Felix and Mary Cieslak. I was thrilled when Uncle Jerry and Aunt Pat let me know they were coming too. I hadn't asked them previously because I didn't know if this was something that would upset them. I knew what effect it would have on me. It was to complete a circle. So, first up after breakfast at IHOP was Holy Cross Cemetery, and paying our respects to my grandparents, Joe and Sophie Pluskota, who were Uncle Jerry's parents. We trudged through about 8 inches of snow to get to the site, which we all knew by heart. We cleared the stones of ice and snow and stood in tears of remembrance for the two people who had meant so much to us.

We went further... with Dennis and I going in opposite directions to find the stones of Sylvester and Arlene Pyrz, my Uncle Pete and Aunt Shirley. And we DID find them. Only after surveying stakes in the ground that had been numbered according to plots. We were clearing off stones... me on one side, and Dennis on the other. And we found them. Right between one stone I had cleared on one side and one that Dennis had cleared on the other. This was after I had been told to get back in the truck... it was too cold... the snow was too deep... but I kept going. I wrapped my scarf around my head and neck and kept going until we found what we came for. I had never seen my Uncle Pete's headstone. He passed in January of 1967 and the ground was frozen at the time. I loved him to death... and still do.

We had some remembrance time there and got back in the truck to drive out. I wanted to show them my family plot on the Kruczynski side, so stopped at the St. Michael's section and cleared off a couple of stones for Dennis to see. My grandmother, great-grandmother and great-great grandparents are all there. If there is an open spot, (which I haven't found out yet), I will ask if I can have it. Or not. But it's a nice thought.

Next up was the visit to St. Michael Polish National Cemetery in Highland, Indiana... or is it Hammond... never did quite figure that out. We found it though. It's a very, very old cemetery, with an iron gate and a road that hadn't been traveled in quite some time. I said "Do you think we should go in?" Uncle Jerry said "We can handle this." And with that, he put his truck into 4-wheel drive. I said, "We're all going to hell" and we drove in. There is a reddish brown chapel on the left, about in the middle of the cemetery, and my memory of the place as I saw it in 1981, was not reliable. Dennis had been a pallbearer for our great-grandmother, Mary Cieslak (Old Busia, we called her), and remembered vaguely that they had to lift the casket over standing headstones. Uncle Jerry went to the end of the road and turned around. He crept the truck ever so slowly, until Dennis said "I see LAK". He was out like a shot. I looked from my angle and saw "IESLAK". I jumped out and we both ran over to the stone. There it was. Felix and Mary Cieslak, our great-grandparents, who we knew and loved well. The stone is about 3 feet tall (maybe a bit less) and is an orange-brown color. But there is stands. We were SO lucky to have found it. More memories flowed for all of us... more tears... and more happiness. I drew a heart in the snow on top of the stone. We got back into the truck, and Uncle Jerry said "I need a beer." We all agreed that our next stop would be Kilroy's, where we met up with my cousin Tracy, and all shared our memories of the day and the wonderful people we were all privileged to have had in our lives. Right here I would like to mention that Tracy did not know me growing up, but we are soul-sisters in just about every way. We connected on a very deep level, and that girl will always have a special place in my heart.

Our next stop was the clinic where my cousin, Sue, works. She did not know we were coming, and may not have even known I was coming into town. But we waited patiently for someone to come to the front desk, and then waited unpatiently... then I shouted to get someone's attention. A woman came in with her child (obviously the next scheduled appointment) and just as Sue rounded the corner, I said "Whose butt do I have to kiss to be seen here?" She came around the desk and gave me a huge hug. I hadn't seen Sue since my father's wake a year earlier, and I have resolved that it won't take another funeral for me to see these people again. We told Sue about having a Monday Night Football party and she said she would come. She didn't disappoint. I was thrilled to see her, and everyone who came that evening. We had a good time, and it ended much too soon.

The next day was Tuesday, and Dennis had to catch an early flight back to Texas, which is his current residence. It felt empty with him gone, and I have only seen him twice in 20 years... both times in a six month period. DON'T do that again, Dennis! I won't live that long! Rant over. Tracy and I met back up at Uncle Jerry's place in Lynwood and we all talked about what we would do for New Year's Eve at her house. In the course of our planning, I don't know who said it, but it was decided that Tracy and I would come to Uncle Jerry's place and make Busia's pierogi recipe in the morning (since I'm the only one in the family who had it... my brother Don THINKS he has it... haha) and Uncle Jerry and Hank would make fish in the afternoon. Then we would bring it all to Tracy's house and have some drinks with Amy's family. So... Tracy and I went in search of ingredients. We went to several places to find dry cottage cheese and came up empty. What we did find was farmer's cheese with Polish writing on it at a local market in Cal City. We bought up all they had. I kinda figured we had more than we needed, but I wanted to be sure we didn't run short. I remember pierogi going very quickly when we were young. Anyway, after finding our ingredients, we met up again at 2pm at Popolano's in Lansing to see Alfreda (Fritzie) Kurz and Mitzie and Bernie Stone. Fritzie is my grandmother Sophie's first cousin on her father's side, and Mitzie is my father's first cousin, but we all grew up knowing each other, so it's all good. I didn't know if I would recognize Fritzie, but as soon as we got there, I saw her getting out of her car and knew her immediately. I said "Where are you going, young lady?" and she gave me that Cieslak smile that reminded me SO much of Busia.

The next few hours were spent reminiscing with Fritzie, Mitzie, Bernie, Uncle Jerry, Aunt Pat and Tracy. Oh and here's the weird thing... while there, the waitress called my uncle "Uncle Jerry". I looked at her and then at him. He went on to tell me that they (Grace and Dave) had a place across from my parents' place in Wisconsin. She looked at me and said "Wait... are you LYNN???" She went on to tell me that my mother talked about me all the time and they were Grace and Dave LUCK, who I had gone to school with! Oh. My. God. How small this world is getting. (Thank you for the reminder. I will write Grace this evening.) We all got to talking about the spirit world and how my grandfather (Dzia Dzia) saw his parents after they had passed years earlier. I was telling them how I've had visitors as well, and one of the ways I knew was that I would put my glass of iced tea down in a certain spot and it would shatter. Just then, I picked up my water glass and it broke about and inch and a half from the bottom, for absolutely no reason. There was no seam at that spot. The glass was not too cold and the table was not too hot. It just shattered. While the waitstaff hurried to clear the mess, we all sat there in amazement, still shocked at how I had said it and it happened. If there was ever any doubt, it's gone now. Once lunch was over, and before Fritzie got away from us, we moved to the bar area and took a group picture. I will never forget that luncheon, and everyone agreed not to let so much time go by without getting together again. Mission accomplished.

The next day was Wednesday, and I finally got a chance to have some downtime at JJ Kelley's. It's a nice little place, with great food and lots of atmosphere. Tracy works there and it was just like being home. By the way... for the record, JJ Kelley's has a much better fish platter than Popolano's... just in case there was any doubt.

Thursday... and time to make the pierogi. I did the mixing... Tracy and I did the taste testing. I had to alter the recipe due to using farmer's cheese instead of dry cottage cheese. Once we were satisfied that the filling was exactly as it should be, I made the dough... and BOY did I make the dough! I did 4 batches of it... used up all the flour and eggs I could find (went out and got more). Tracy did the filling and pinching (thank God... I was never good at that part) and Aunt Pat did the boiling. We saved the frying for later on that night at Tracy's. And BOY were they good! The only thing that was better was sharing them (and the fish!) with the family. Oh man. What a feast! What great company! What a way to spend New Year's Eve... with people I had not ever thought I would see again all in the same room... bullshitting like we used to. Old friends... good friends... new and old memories... all golden.

Amy and her husband came, and I got to meet Arly, who I knew only through Facebook at this point. Arly is named for her grandmother, my godmother, Aunt Shirley (given name Arlene). Arly is a delightful girl... smart and inquisitive. I also got to meet Rylee, who is Tracy's daughter. Rylee is also a very bright girl and a delight to be around. In the course of the evening, I had given out some amethysts, which were in my purse, but are not normally. I knew there was SOME reason for me to bring them with me, and I knew that reason was my family. The stones were meant to be given out. At one point in the evening, Hank said "We have something for you." I said "Okay" but Hank again said "Lynn, we HAVE something for you!" Tracy came out with Busia's afghan in her hands and put it in mine. Tracy and I both cried big crocodile tears. I remember watching Busia make that afghan in the late 60's or early 70's. It's heavy... made of wool, not that fake wool crap. It's an old lady's afghan... made of granny squares divided by black yarn... and now it's in my home. Again, Tracy and I have a very special bond. It's not going anywhere anytime soon. We all spent the evening talking about old and new things, memories and spirituality. When midnight came, we were all safe in our own homes (in my case, in my room), away from the drunks on the road. I couldn't think of a better way to end the old year.

I was still there in Chicago for two more days, but honestly, other than visiting Amy at her home and having her cut my hair, and sending all my assorted goodies (kielbasa, White Castles and Fannie May candies) back to Memphis, I can't tell you what I did... because I really don't know. The time came and it went. My flight back to Memphis was a saga in itself. But no more for now. I have crops to harvest and Mafia to wipe out. Haha... I love Facebook.

Nazdrowie'

Paczki Puta

P.S. Tracy will get the afghan back when I pass. I love you, Tracy!!!