Wow. Where to even begin? It's been a bad time, I cannot lie. A lot of good has happened, but it seems like so much more bad has happened, too. Much has occurred since I was last on here. So, there are updates a-plenty. Many of them are not great, so apologies in advance, dear reader.
First off, I've still been taking Dad to the ENT doctors, and he's still been getting stabbed in the ear with long, angled, scary needles. He's now had his fourth stabby stab, and he's doing better, but he will very likely still need a hearing aid in one of his ears. However, we won't be certain until I take him back for his "final" hearing test in October. We have about a month and some change before that has to happen. Of course, he's freaking out and worried, which then, in turn, freaks me out and has me worried. So, that's been super fun. But, I will say, the silver lining has been getting to spend so much more time with him during the weekdays. It's been nice being able to spend time with him after he's off work or when he takes a day off during the week for these appointments. We get to go on a bit of a drive -- only about 45 minutes or so -- and jam out in the car like the good ol' days. We listen to so much music from the 80s we both love. He got me into ELO for one of the first times as an adult. And we talk and laugh and cry about Mom. It's been really, really nice. I feel like it's been healing in a way, and not just for his sad little ear drum. For both of us.
Second, work has been a bit of a circus lately. I'm not typically very busy, because I work ahead a lot to make sure I have time to assist other departments. And by other departments, I mean spend time with my coworkers that I actually like while I'm on the clock -- Which does usually entail actually helping them with real work. It's just a lot more enjoyable because I love them. In fact, I very recently went to another work location with my maintenance-working pal strictly to be there for emotional support while he replaced a toilet seat that a different coworker sat on and cracked in the pubic bathroom. While I did laugh hysterically both while he informed me while we were there and while he was physically installing a new toilet seat, I most certainly did not need to be there for any reason other than for moral support. Throughout the time we spent there, we did get a lot accomplished. But the moral of the story is, I work hard all the time so I can do stupid shit with my friends at work without consequence.
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| The New, Not Cracked, Toilet Seat |
An obscene amount of other odd things have been occurring at work, as well. There is a new supervisor in our area for a different department that seems to very much enjoy talking to me, and he's very funny, so I'm rather pleased about it. One more person to suffer with us in the workplace is never bad, especially when they're funny. If I'm not laughing at work, I'm usually crying, so his humor is much appreciated in such a drab, dark, depleting place. (I swear I do love my job, and I know it's important and that I do important things... But, come on. I carried toilet seats to a location an hour away. Seriously.) Additionally, Ive also been hosting a lot more meetings and leading a lot more groups, so that's cool. I'm getting a lot of good experience, and I'm getting to know important people that can hopefully help me in the future, wherever I land in our silly little company.
On a more positive note, I've been reading a lot more. I have finished several books, some being graphic novels, and some also being bajillion page books! I've now finished the fourth book of the Dungeon Crawler Carl series. It was amazing and one of my favorites so far, other than the first and original. I also, reluctantly, signed up for my local book club again. It'll be the first time I have gone back since my Mom passed away. I had specifically been avoiding it for that purpose. I don't want all the sad eyes on me, and I don't want anyone's pity. I don't want her passing to be the center of attention. Not that she doesn't deserve it, but I hate when people solely focus on me and my problems, especially in a public setting. I don't like the attention or the looks or the "Awhs," and "I'm sorrys." I've been doing that for exactly five months now -- In fact, it's five months to the day today. Anyways, the book we are reading for book club this month is actually just porny smut, and it's called The Ritual. I'm over halfway through it, and it's been amazing so far. And it's on those beautiful, crisp white pages I love so much in a perfect font. It smells brand new (because it is). It has a gorgeous cover. I have no idea why I'm telling you this. It isn't important what it looks like. I'm really just avoiding the real issues here.
I miss my Mom, and I miss her more than normal. Just the other weekend, at one of our regularly scheduled Sunday Dad Dinners, I decided it was time to go through some of her t-shirts so I could finally have the t-shirt blanket made that I'd been wanting (you know, so I could cozy up and cuddle in shirts that she used to love and wear all the time, so it'd finally feel like I was surrounded by her comfort just a little bit). Spoiler Alert: I did this. I did not get a blanket. I instead had a small breakdown. I found a small business that I liked that I trusted and wanted to have make this blanket for me, however, she's in the UK. This wasn't going to be a problem for either of us. We chatted and DMed on Instagram and TikTok where I had initially come across her work She let me know that she has shipped back and forth from the US more than once. Everything seemed perfect. She was so kind and thoughtful and understanding of my situation, as she normally created small memory blankets or baby blankets out of newboarn clothing and things of that nature. I even asked if she'd be willing to make me a larger blanket rather than the smaller ones for the kiddos she normally did as keepsakes. She agreed to all of this, was so sweet and very thorough with all the information we gave to each other. But, here's the plot twist: my best friend freaked me the hell out about it. He immediately said, "Well, even if you pay for USPS protection or through UPS or FedEx, that protection just means you'd get your money back, not that they'd make sure they found your Mom's shirts if they got lost in the mail." I very quickly panicked and decided not to send them via the mail to the UK. Ever since, I've been looking all over for someone local I can physically had these shirts to for fear of losing them. I've only found a couple people, and I still haven't pulled the trigger on it. I'm not sure what exactly is stopping me, but no matter how bad I want the blanket quilt of shirts, I can't seem to give them up just yet.
I also took several of her shirts I knew couldn't be made into a a blanket because the designs on them were too big for a certain square on a quilt, so I kept them for myself to wear or sleep in or just hold on to. I recently wore one of these shirts to work because it was a Caitlin Clark shirt, our favorite WNBA player, and Team USA was playing China in Berlin for the FIBA Cup. I wanted to show off some support and wear something of my Mom's to do it. Turns out, that was a problem for my stupid little brain. Apparently something that I knew and had completely put out of my mind was the smell of my parent's laundry detergent. They both use the same shit. My Dad had always done the laundry because my Mom had trouble going up and down the stairs with her prosthetic leg. I see my Dad all the time. We go to concerts together, we have Sunday Dinners together, I take him to his appointments. I just don't think about it when he gets in the car and I smell his laundry detergent on him. But for some reason, putting on that clean shirt that I knew was my Mom's that smelled like her really ate me up inside and out. I cried, I yelled, I screamed, I freaked out, but I eventually realized it sort of felt like a hug in a way. It made me feel more like I was at home than ever, even though I haven't lived there in a handful of years and never really did my own laundry there. Those shirts, knowing they were her's but putting them on my body, both really hurt and really helped me. Maybe that's why I haven't gotten the quilt made yet. I'm not ready to give up the smell of home that I so closely associate with her. I'm not ready to let go yet, even though it's been five months now.
But, I suppose not everything has been all that bad. Like I mentioned before, I've gotten to spend some more quality time with mi Padre. I've been getting out of the house more and spending more time with friends and family. I even had lunch with my Grandma, Cousin, and Aunt a week or two ago. We had a wonderful early lunch and spent the day thrifting at a couple different stores around town. We were all able to find some really cool stuff. I even got a really cool and vintage papasan chair! I loved it so much I didn't even care how much it cost! Turns out, it was only $29. And then, the wonderful lady running the antique/thrift store we were at told me she refused to sell to me for anything more than $15 because a small piece of the wood had come unglued. She fixed it, but didn't feel like it was fair. So, for just a mere $15, I got a fancy new chair. Only... It isn't my chair anymore. I've only been able to sit in it maybe twice because my cats have overtaken it. I haven't even been able to clean the cushion yet because they won't leave it alone long enough for me to wash it or find a good cover for it. But, Pumpkin and Marshmallow seem to really enjoy it, so I suppose it's still a big win for us all. A happy cat makes for a happy life.
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| Pumpkin in HIS New Chair |
In addition to this update, I also ended up with a lot of Starbucks giftcards and blessed the masses (AKA my fav coworkers).
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| Thanks, Padre, for the Free Starbies! |
The same day I got fun, free Starbies for my pals, I also did something absolutely heinous. I forced my coworkers to try those horrid Busch's baked beans that were dill pickle and apple pie flavored. I put them in little baby crockpots in my office, and then I let them cook all day long. My office smelled both wonderful and disgusting at the same time. The dill pickle ones smelled exactly like a freshly opened jar of dill pickles. I'm pretty sure that in order to make them, all they did was put regular ol' pickle juice into a normal can of baked beans and let it stew. Then they canned it and sold it to the general public under the guise of it being for the Fourth of July. Same with the apple pie beans. They smelled so fantastic, and I had such high hopes for them because I thought they would be more sweet and savory, sort of like more normal brown sugar baked beans. Boy, was I wrong. I don't know that I've ever been more wrong about something in my entire life. They were disgusting. They were so much worse than the dill pickle ones. I didn't enjoy the dill pickle ones, but I also hated the apple pie ones so, so much more. They were absolutely criminal. The human or humans that had created these should be incarcerated.
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| Traitorous Beans |
I was not the only one that had these feelings. Every coworker I forced into trying these felt the exact same. We all collectively decided that if we had to eat one, it'd be the pickle one. In fact, I stated very clearly that if I only had to eat one of them every day for the rest of my life, I'd sooner end it all than have to continue eating those horrid apple pie beans. I'd eat the pickle ones all day every day if it meant I never even had to imagine the apple pie beans ever again. They were so disgusting, I am still in the midst of attempting to forget about their existence. However, bestie boy has decided that since he was not only not present to try these, that we need to try them together again, AND on top of that thinks we need to try the bomb pop flavored ones that are supposed to taste like a popsicle. Why on God's green Earth would anyone want to even so much as sniff at a can of baked beans intended to smell like a popsicle? I can't fathom the thought, but he's very serious about it. We'll see if and when that ever happens. I'll be sure to let everyone know whether or not they kill me!
On the bright side, after the traitorous bean incident of 2026, I did however force my friends to have dinner with me later on in the week after some more bad days in the office. I even got them to try a new restaurant they'd never been to with me. We went to a cool local spot called Rhythm Kitchen. They have some of the best food in the city that I'd ever personally had. They often have a black bean and sweet potato chili that I find absolutely fantastic. I ate an entire bowl of it, and I also ate an entire salad. It was such a gorgeous salad, too. For once in my life, my phone did eat first because it was so beautiful I couldn't just dive right in. It needed to be photographed. It's perfect.
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| Just Look at this Magnificent Bitch! |
After we left Rhythm Kitchen, we galavanted around the city a bit in search of good (and by good, I mean absolutely shitty and full-of-sugar) wine and whatnot. We had a wonderful evening at a friend's, in which I both bested everyone at Uno and lost a piece of my soul whilst losing an additional game of Uno. We drank, we laughed, we played games, we had so much fun, and nearly all of us passed out on various couches. We woke up and immediately left, left over liquors in hand, for a day of nonsense. I slept like a small child and napped at my bestie's house just to wake up and do it all over again. We had a big birthday bash to attend that same evening, and we did it up real big! I made an extra large vat of macaroni and corn at the request of the Birthday Girl, herself. We also brought fun games and lots more booze to celebrate! We all had great good, laughed until we cried so hard it hurt, and we also consumed copious amounts of liquor. It was probably some of the most fun that I've had in a really, really long time. We also got to spend time with some friends that will be moving out of state soon at this party, which was great. Getting to see them again was wonderful, and we're already planning on doing it again soon, even after they move. We'll travel all over just to spend some time together when we're all free.
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| Before the Shenanigans |
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| During the Shennanigans |
AND THEN, I finally got to take my sweet and silly Dad out to a good lunch at Cerno's. He loves it there, and I finally got to take him there and actually pay for it myself. It was so gratifying, and he had so, so much fun. It was so nice to take him out somewhere nice and spoil him. It was also during Hog Days, so we got to go up and buy pro chops after the fair was over. We got to eat all sorts of yummy foods, trapse around the fair, buy heaps and loads of pork chops to fill our freezers up for the winter, and I got to feed him some delicious foods at one of our favorite spots. We got a giant order of fried mushrooms, I had a huge buffalo chicken wrap, my husband had a big PBR burger (what they're the most famous for), and Dad got a ginormous tenderloin. Everything was so great, and we just got to sit around and yap together.
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| Father with a Spongebob Fish Filter |
Most importantly though, I was finally able to finish up my Dead Mom Tattoo Saga. First, I had my favorite Dark Horse girlie Liz tattoo my Mom's original tattoo on my left leg in the exact same spot she had it done when she was younger. According to her, it was a gift "from me," as her daughter, for some birthday or holiday or something. It was her first ever tattoo, and she got it in some mall somewhere. Apparently it was from me, despite me being around three or so. But, it was her first and her favorite tattoo. I had the same one recreated with her name added, because her original only had mine and my sister's name in the banners. After she passed, one of the very first thing I did when I learned to breathe again was get a near exact replica. Liz at Dark Horse did a fantastic job. Easily one of my all time favorite tattoos, just like it was my Mom's.
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| Replica #1 |
I got this reinvention of her tattoo very close after her death. However, at the same time, I had my mind set, and I had also decided that I wanted the newer, upgraded version of what she had, as well. A couple years ago, well after my Mom got her left leg amputated (in which she said all she ever asked was that they not cut above her original tattoo), she wanted a new, revised rendition of her tattoo. We had made appointments with one of our other favorite artists who formerly worked at Dark Horse who moved to another town. She was guest spotting at a different local tattoo shop, and we knew immediately we had to see her. I got some sweet, silly little tattoos from her that day, but my Mom got a revamped version of her original tattoo. Sweet, sweet Devan did it for her, and it was beautiful. It was a recreation of the original in a more traditional Sailor Jerry look. It still had both my name and my sister's intertwined with flowers, but it looked newer and more traditional. It was the perfect vibe for all of us. Devan had done such a good job then, that I decided after getting my Mom's original tattoo of our name, that I had to have both. Her tattoos left this earth with her, and I couldn't bare to think that they'd cease to exist. I had to have both of them. The latter, I did not get in the same spot as my Mom's because I already have ink on my left inside wrist. But, I thought, what better than to have them each on my legs across from each other. So, the first. is on my left outside calf. And, now, thanks to Devan, who once again knocked it out of the park, I have the other on the outside of my right calf.
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| Replica #2 |
Now, all I have left to do is to think of something special enough and meaningful enough to me that I can get some ink with her ashes mixed in. The trouble with that is that artists always let you know that they may not heal perfectly. But, I don't think that I'll ever care. I know I'll always and forever be a part of her and her a part of me. She's my Mother. I have her DNA. She created me. She birthed me. She housed and loved and raised me, and not just for the first 18 years. But until her last breath, she let me know how much she loved me. So, no, I don't particularly care how a tattoo with her ashes heals. I just want it to be a part of my skin. In my blood. Forever. I'll carry her with me always, already. She and I had plenty of other silly little matching tattoos together. We loved getting inked together. We both have a sweet little cat on a broomstick. We each have a matching Mother/Daughter Celtic Knot. We also each have a Gilmore Girls tattoo. But, I like to think mine is extra special because it's in her handwriting. At the end of the show, when Rory graduates, in her speech, she says "I don't know if she ever realized that the person I most wanted to be was her." I have it on my left arm in my Mom's handwriting. She was so freaked out when I first told her I wanted her to write it out, but hand written tattoos are one of my first and deepest love languages. I have several. And I had several before I got this one. But I can honestly say it's one of the most meaningful of them all because she was, and always will be, the most important person in my entire life. For the most part, the general population gets along with their parents unless there are very unfortunate extenuating circumstances. But, what is more rare than having a good relationship with your parents, is actually being best friends with your parents. I can honestly say that my entire life that both of my parents have always been my best friends. My Mom will continue to be, even in death -- Mainly because I know she's still haunting me (just like I made her promise she'd do). And I know my Dad will be my best friend for the rest of both of our lives, now more than ever.
Even though the past few weeks have been really rough emotionally and physically, I still tried so hard to find some light in the dark. I did it with the help of friends and family. I didn't even have to ask. Thankfully, my army knows me well enough by now to know when I'm not doing well. And they could sure tell that the past few weeks haven't been great. I'm hoping and praying that going forward in the next couple of weeks, things can only possibly look up. I'm not sure how much lower I can go, so I'm hoping that up is the only way out.
Xo,
K
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