I’ve been kicked out of the house, but I don’t know where I will be going yet.  I have a call out to someone who I hope can put me in touch with someone who can help.

Therefore, there won’t be anymore blogging.  I’ll leave the blog up in case I actually find a safe place with internet access, but I have a feeling that may be far off in the distant future.

Thank you for tagging along with me, your company has always been a source of joy in my life.  Light and love to all of you.




Lately, I have noticed men stopping and staring at me as if I was the most beautiful thing they had ever seen.  This is strange for me, and other than pondering the rampant peril of widescale myopia, I’m not sure what to think of it.  I haven’t changed, other than having a few inches cut off my hair; I still wear the same old clothes and no make up.  The only thing I can think it could be, is how vulnerable I’m feeling, perhaps these men are responding to those vibes unconsciously.  It reminded me of something a male friend had said long, long ago when he called me “Kathryn the man magnet”.  It made me sad, because I am anything but a man magnet, hence my perpetually single state.  I was feeling this vulnerability at that time period as well, only I was younger, prettier, slim, and wore nice clothes and makeup.  Yesterday, one fella nearly ended up in the flower pot next to the front door… it was sort of sweet, if awkward.

I’ve been doing a little knitting, a few rows on the pink and grey sock, and a few inches completed on the circular scarf with the woven cable pattern.  The canvas is now covered with paint with my most recent painting, and I am contemplating my next step.  I was thinking of adding a boat in the foreground and maybe some storm clouds at the horizon line, but we’ll see.  I should look up some pictures of various skiffs, since my mental image of a boat looks more like a dutch clog.  I can hear it now, “Why do you think she placed a wooden clog here in such a prominent place?”

It seems like

Everyone has something to say about the death of Robin Williams.  The first thing I thought of when I heard, was remembering watching Mork and Mindy with my sister.  Wearing those rainbow striped suspenders, while trying to get the eggs from the refrigerator to fly, he was a comic genius.

It grieves me to know how very unhappy he was, a man who brought light and laughter to so many people worldwide.  I read it was an apparent suicide from asphyxiation, and that he had been severely depressed.  I know what being severely depressed feels like, and it breaks my heart to know how he suffered.  If we as a society cannot save our best and brightest, what hope is there for the rest of us?

The death of Mr. Williams brought back the pain and horror of losing my cousin to suicide, it wasn’t that long ago; even those who are dearly loved by many, are not immune to the soul-crushing despair of depression.

I wasn’t going to write anything, given my own emotional state, and yet I keep thinking of my sister and how she would have mourned Robin Williams death if she had still been alive herself.  It’s not that I have a point to make, or a message to get across, but rather I think I am trying to process what his death means to me in my current state.  He really had everything, he followed and achieved his dreams, and yet, he took his own life.  In time, I imagine more information will come out regarding his struggles, and the medications he was taking will come under scrutiny.  It really makes one ask themselves, “What is worth living for?”  It’s a sobering question to ponder, what gives meaning to our lives, what takes it away.

not sure what to think

Mom’s not going to the care center, Dad caved in at the last moment and isn’t even looking into long term care for her.  I told him I’m done.  I’m going to see if I can volunteer with the library near here, if only to get out of the house.  I read my cards using a “Where am I heading?” type spread, Death came up for health and Tower came up for spiritual matters, it looks like I am heading for a nervous breakdown if I am reading them correctly.  If I were ill, then it could possibly represent a recovery, but other than some bruises and sore muscles, I am healthy as I can be.  At any rate, the cards point to a drastic, sudden, change in my health.

The spread had a placement for love, and the Knight of Coins showed.  It made me laugh, and I found a gif to represent what that card means here:


One of the perks of being single, we get to use funny gifs instead of all the sweet and sappy ones out there.  The rest of the reading was okay, a new creative endeavor is in the offing, though I’m not sure what it will be.  I don’t have plans for anything new, just finishing up current and old projects such as the painting and the socks.  I had to cancel my creative cloud subscription, so unfortunately I cannot edit the photos of projects I took in RAW format.  I’ve switched to shooting in jpeg so I can use the free online photo editors.  I mention this because I finished a pair of short socks, but I cannot edit or upload the photo I took.  Obviously, the bobble scarf was shot in jpeg… the photo turned out okay I think.

Anyway, the only reason I’m posting is to share the tumbleweed gif.  I find motivation in strange things.


I had some idea that this end of life business was going to be difficult, but somehow the enormity of it only settled in recently.  It’s one thing when you are caring for someone who is genuinely a nice person, but a whole nother thing when caring for someone who is not.  Her short term memory is failing rather spectacularly, which only makes her more aggressive.  Yesterday, Dad took her for a drive because she wanted to get out of the house.  They took the dog along.  When they returned, Mom was obviously exhausted, so we tried to get her comfortable as quickly as possible.  15 minutes later, she had completely forgotten they had gone out, and was shouting at Dad “let’s go!  I’m tired of waiting!”  The situation quickly escalated, my arm is all bruised up from her hitting me; I was trying to get her to stay in the wheelchair, because she was very unsteady on her feet and kept going too close to the basement stairwell.  Funny, I can take the physical abuse better than the emotional pain.  This morning, she put her diaper on wrong and was leaving a trail of feces wherever she went.  That was fun to clean up, as was the subsequent pounce and wrestle required to get a clean diaper on her (properly).

I managed to put some time into the new painting, which makes me feel a little better.  It’s storming fiercely, wind, rain, and hail.  It’s impossible to hear anything over the noise.  It would be a good time to read, except my father keeps interrupting me every 5 minutes… oh, he wanted me to hear how loud the hail was.  Yeah Dad, I hear it.  I haven’t had much time for knitting or crochet lately, though I do play video games when I get some time to myself.  Immersing myself into an imaginary world occasionally, helps me from completely losing my grip in the real world.  EA gave away the Sims 2 Ultimate Collection for free through Origin, so I’m downloading that.  I think I will make a happy, little, Sim family, though I’ll need to look up the cheat codes.  It’s been so long since I played, I have forgotten them all.  I’m still playing the MMO, hit the 4500 achievement mark yesterday, I’m aiming for the 5K one.  There’s good loot for that rank, gold, gems, and stuffy-stuff (laughs).  The new content has been enjoyable, I’ve been making sure I log in for each release to get it unlocked for free, rather than have to pay for it later.

Hopefully, I will finish up the circular scarf and long socks over the next week or two.  I’ll post about them when I do.


The Prelude

There’s been good days and bad days.  Mom’s had 2 bad falls and several minor ones since I last posted.  Her mood goes from hateful to sweet, with no apparent trigger, and her body is getting weaker by the day.  She’s confused and she hardly eats anything.  The good days are when she eats and allows us to help her with her needs.  About 1 in 4 days are what I would call good.  On bad days, I keep my distance rather than endure the torrent of verbal abuse.

I started to reread the Prelude by Wordsworth, it’s a book I had to read for an honors course I took at college.  It’s already inspired a new painting, all I lack is a bit of peace to get started.  My back is acting up on me again, I strained it trying to lift mom, and as a result I spend much of my time sleeping when I can.  I felt much better when I did my yoga routine the other day, so I may try to start that up again.  It’s hard, seems like my days consist of pain, tears, and sleep, there’s not much left for anything else.  I do want to work on that painting though.

I had a dream the other night that I had found a job that consisted of finishing dollhouses.  There was a partially built one on my desk, and another on a shelf, my boss was a stranger I recognized who works in broadcasting.  He kept having me do other things like paperwork and answering phones.  The office was shabby and dated in appearance.  I interpreted the dream as a message from Spirit (broadcasting) that my “job” right now should be about building relationships, particularly ones that were started but not “finished”.  I assume since there were 2 houses in the dream, there are 2 relationships that need work.  Unfortunately, there were no other clues as to which relationships I should direct my attention towards.  The one on the desk could point to the relationship/s currently on my mind, while the one on the shelf could be indicative of the ones I have “shelved”.  All in all, it may be that I simply need to be at peace within my self in regards to these relationships that did not work out.  Dollhouses are often seen as representing idealism, and perhaps the dream means I have to accept the endings for what they are and quit hoping for a happy ending.  Now that I think about it, I owe someone an email… she’s in the dollhouse and miniatures business and wrote to me to see how I was.

mom’s home

We were able to bring Mom home from the hospital today, hospice will come in to help us care for her.  She’s not going to get better.  We were told that hospice only comes in when the doctors believe the patient has about 6 months left to live.  Sometime people beat the odds and live longer, but it is uncommon.

Saying I’m upset is an understatement, and my father is dumping everything onto me.  I don’t think I will ever smile, ever again, at least that is how I feel right now.  The stress is making me sick, my insides hurt too.  I just hope I don’t throw my back out when getting her in and out of the wheelchair and the bed, I don’t have the strength I used to since my injury.


I was supposed to report for jury duty this upcoming week, but the trial was cancelled.  My cards suggested it might be, and I am very thankful that it turned out to be the case.  With the way mom’s health has been, I would have been worried sick the entire time I was there.

Been doing a boatload of cooking, I made a roast chicken with a celery stir fry, then the next day, made chicken soup from the leftover chicken.  Another day I made omelets for breakfast, it’s been an age since I made those, so I had to follow a recipe.  Those turned out well, I filled them with aged white cheddar with chives.  Another night I made broiled seasoned pork chops with sweet potatoes, I wasn’t thrilled with those, the pork was tough.  Unfortunately, my folks bought a huge pack of them from Sam’s Club, so I will have to come up with at least two more meals using the chops.  They’re thick enough to stuff, so I may do that one night.  There’s been few, if any, leftovers since I’ve been doing the cooking, and mom seems to be responding well to the food.  She’s been feeling much better, even cleaning her plate, which almost never happens.  She’s always been a picky eater.  I even made another mango cake and she’s been eating that too.

Tonight I decided to take the night off from cooking, I’ve been exhausted all day and couldn’t bear the thought of doing much of anything.  So dad went and got tacos for us all, they’re sitting in my stomach like a brick but food is food.

I finished off the ice cave painting, there is just a bit to go on the edge painting.  It has to be dry to the touch before I can move it to the spare room to finish curing.

Not much crafting has been going on, though I might as well shift to a yarn project while I wait for the painting to dry.  I have a sock on my needles, the beginnings of a sweater, the neverending circular scarf, and of course, the purple pillow and afghan.  I did get the basic shape of a pair of panties crocheted, just need edging and a waist band.  I wanted to see if I could make a pair, and now I know I can.  100% cotton too!  I doubt I will make any more of them, they will likely be something I wear on laundry day.


The other night I dreamt I was standing in a gallery, paying for a painting I already owned.  I was holding a white rabbit up near my throat with my left hand, it’s paws rested on my right shoulder.  The rabbit was relaxed and calm, content to be held and not bothered by the people around.  The gallery was in the middle of being repainted.  I noticed a music box on the counter while I was writing out the check, and I commented to the clerk about how I had one very much like it at home.

The dream was indicating a fresh start (the paint), having paid my dues (checks and balances as indicated by the checkbook), paying for the painting may represent earning the gift or talent.  I now have something to say with my art.  Holding the white rabbit near my throat indicates vulnerability, gentleness, and sensitivity, needing to express the desire for care, love, and tenderness, to be touched, held, and cared for.

I had forgotten about the music box, until much later in the day.  I spied it sitting on my bureau and realized I had forgotten what melody it played.  I walked over to it and wound it up, the mechanism was stiff with age.  It played… Memory.  I cried.


Not a sound from the pavement
Has the moon lost her memory?
She is smiling alone
In the lamplight
The withered leaves collect at my feet
And the wind begins to moan

All alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
Life was beautiful then
I remember
The time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again

Every street lamp
Seems to beat a fatalistic warning
Someone mutters and the street lamp flutters
And soon it will be morning

I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
And I mustn’t give in
When the dawn comes
Tonight will be a memory too
And a new day will begin

Burnt out ends of smoky days
The stale cold smell of morning
A street lamp dies, another night is over
Another day is dawning

Touch me
It’s so easy to leave me
All alone with my memory
Of my days in the sun
If you touch me
You’ll understand what happiness is
Look, a new day has begun

T.s. Eliot;Andrew Lloyd Webber;Trevor Nunn