It's been over a year since my last post. Some things have stayed the same in my life. Many things have changed. Some good. Some bad.
Stuff that is the same. Cherub is still unemployed. And driving me insane in the process. Moppet is a sweet wonderful little girl, who if she keeps growing the way she has in the last two years, won't be so little anymore! She's grown 8 inches in the last 2 years! Ack! I'm still working part time, but without the in-laws continued financial support we'd have lost the house months ago.
Stuff that is different. I've gained weight. A lot of weight. I know out weigh Cherub by 40 pounds, and he's no lightweight. I've stopped looking in the mirror, because I'm so ashamed of how I look. 'nuff said. Baggins (our oldest mutant Cabbit), ran away from home in late summer. two doors down from us is a nice couple, two ladies who foster the local cat colony, and Baggins seems to be much happier there, he's lost weight, his fur is glossy and he's still alive. We have a new kitten. Her name is Kelda and she's pair bonded with ME!?! She's a calico/tabby cross and she's an imp. She's driving Precious (our oldest) tortoise/tabby cross absolutely nuts!
My mom was admitted to ICU the weekend of Aug 8 because she was having difficulty breathing. Turns out she had multiple pulmonary embolisms (also known as blood clots in the lungs), and DVT (aka clots in her legs and abdomen). They put her on blood thinners right away, but no before she came very close to a heart attack. She pulled through okay, but that resulted in the cancellation of my 40th birthday party (my decision), and she is on the long road to recovery. It was a sobering realization that my mother is getting older. When she was 40, my grandfather was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, and she spent a lot of time taking care of him and ensuring that his final wishes were followed. My mom came very close to death (more than 80% of people with pulmonary embolisms are diagnosed on the autopsy table), and I was turning 40. The parallels were impossible to ignore.
I've been knitting a lot lately, but have had a major case of startitis. I have multiple projects on needles, waiting for me to continue, or finish, but I just can't seem to get motivated to do so. And Moppet's school is having a Spring Bazaar as their major fundraiser, and I've booked a vendor table to sell my chain maille jewelry. Anything to get some bills paid at this point in time.
I have spent a lot of time counting my blessings. I have many. A happy, healthy little girl. A (mostly) healthy husband. Both who love me very much, as I love them. We have food on our plates, clothes on our backs, and a roof over our heads. The friends that we have are loyal, trustworthy and doing their best to be supportive in our difficulties. The being said, we have no money, we're drowning in debt and there are times when I want to drop kick my husband out the door to dig ditches, so that something is coming into the house besides what little my minimum wage, part time job brings in.
I'm feeling angry and frustrated, depressed and defeated. I'm 240 pound of useless blubber, and wonder where the healthy vibrant active woman went who used to inhabit this body?