16-22 July 2018
Well folks, I had high hopes for FLAMINGO WEEK. Sadly, I was sick for much of it, and the beginning of the week involved an unexpected trip to Edmond and then a day of getting a new tire. So, I just got a little behind what I had meant to accomplish, including blog posts I had wanted to do… this is why I try to get them done in advance. That is fine though. It was more a day of flamingo art than anything, and my Tumblr enjoyed a strong infusion of flamingo images for the week.
Since I’ve been under the weather, I have intentionally done nothing all week. I have a habit of doing too much and prolonging my illnesses, and I didn’t want to do that this time. So, I slept and drank fluids. And sulked a little. But the worst of it came and went quickly, and I’m really excited to get moving on a few projects I’ve been working toward.
I have some collages I have been working on, which I hope I can make more progress on soon. I also have been working on a new series for this blog, and I certainly hope people like it. I should have that going in the next day or two.
Dad’s birthday is Friday, and I’m not sure what exactly to do for him. I had intended to order a gift, but failed to do that! I’ll figure it out. Maybe he’d like to go out to eat someplace. I just don’t know.
I have several things to work on this week. It was over 100º this week, so the 90º feel like a break. I need to finish up planning for my Sunshine Garden (which I will do a post on with details soon), and continue picking up debris in the driveway. I’m not up to the collapsed burn barrel, which is just a mess to try and clean up. Once I get past that mess, then I am into large items to deal with. Most of those things are now trash, but some of the things are worth saving and I need to figure out where to put those things.

Here are a few things that ended up on my Tumblr this week



This is been an interesting week. I’ve been able to think about what it means to be proud, as LGBT Pride Month draws to a close. What is it about being a gay person that is worthy of pride. So many non-LGBT folks misunderstand the whole issue. Pride is not just about loving who you are. That is certainly important, and factors greatly into the concept of gay pride. The other element is loving who you are in spite of the oppression of society at large. It’s about saying that being authentic is more important than letting society’s negative messages dictate the aspects of one’s life. Straight people don’t have to think about it in the same terms. And now I’ve opened up a can or worms.
about saying “not today Satan.” It’s about showing that what other people think of us is not our problem, and it is about expressing our true selves. Because if we stop fighting and stop showing that we exist, we will be slowly asked to get back into the box and hidden away again. Things have been getting better for a while now, and I hope that these recent slips backward are just a blip, but we have a long way to go.

I have never been very much into gardening. I love having things growing around me, but the process of actually putting those things in the ground and taking care of them… no. But I’ve found myself with a lot of need for distraction lately. So, I have turned to gardening. In the heat. It;s keeping my brain occupied, but I also keep remembering something my brother talks about all the time: managing one’s expectations.
I lived for many years in Alaska. I love the climate that promotes lots of beautiful growth, but with lots of shade and very little heat. I would love to have a garden full of cypress trees draped above head, ferns popping out along the bases of the trees, and fuchsias in hanging pots lining the porch. Moss would grown on the roof of the shed and everyday a light rain would keep the soils moist and the plants would grow up around me and there would be flowers in bloom all summer. I want a beautiful deck to enjoy the cool evenings and have people over. Unfortunately, that is not the situation I find myself in. If I was constantly trying to make that happen, I would spend a lot of my time disappointed and convinced that gardening doesn’t work. What I have to do is work within the framework available to me.
I want lots of flowers: Roses. Roses in Oklahoma, well in my part of Oklahoma, require little care and bloom almost all year. Climbing roses tied against the house give a nice shade to the inside and allow for the appreciation of blooms. I also cannot think of a flower that comes in a greater variety of shapes and sizes. I’ve had a lot of luck with roses, so I’ve popped them in strategically around the house.
My days are like that right now. Everything is about Mom. The roses she and I ordered came in yesterday, a week and a half after she passed. On her desk sit the art project she was working on, four 6×6 canvases featuring her with her grandkids. On her doors hang the wreaths she had ordered for summer; they arrived the week she went to the ER, one being only taken out of its box when we were getting the house ready for visitors. I’ve caught family members talking about the pain she was in, which she was. I’ve heard them hint at how she seemed to have lost some of her spirit, which she had. But I don’t want anyone to think for a moment that she had ever given up on living. Nobody loved life more than she did.
Mom’s life had become about pain and struggling through the many surgeries she had over the past ten years. I’ve lost count; she had lost count. But never did a surgery keep her down. She fought through it because she did not want to be an ‘old person’ and never meant to end up spending so much of her life in bed recovering. These recoveries were temporary, and she spent her time either getting ready to fight after a surgery or working on getting back to her life. Being stuck in bed made her feel left out at times, and it was frustrating for her to not be able to join her sister, friends, and other family on various outings and vacations. She wished she could go to church every Sunday, as her church family was so much a part of who she had always been. She wanted to be healthy enough to stay with her granddaughters more often, but did not have the ability lately. But most people didn’t know any of these feelings. Mom did not complain about her plight to people. She didn’t want others to ever feel bad for enjoying their own lives, even if she couldn’t be a part of it.
ER visits had become so routine, so when she was rushed to the hospital on May 18 it didn’t even phase me. I thought to myself that I hoped she stayed through the weekend; the stays in the hospital were often good for her and gave me peace of mind that someone was checking her out. I also felt relieved that I would get a little extra sleep over the weekend. Then they called me from the hospital to say she was being transferred to Oklahoma City. Dad didn’t seem to remember what the doctors had told him, and Mom and I shouted at one another through his speaker. She told me it was her colon and they needed to do surgery. I have no idea what I said to her, but it was definitely not the right thing. There is no way it could have been. It was the last time we would talk to one another. How could I have known, and what words would we have used. She was aware the next day as she slipped from up, and could nod/shake her head. I was able to talk to her then, but it wasn’t a conversation.
This doesn’t feel real. I’ve passed the part when I think I might finally wake up, but now I keep thinking she will come home from a trip she’s been on. But at the same time, I’m empty. My whole world has been consumed by this growing emptiness, and mostly life seems pointless. It’s raw of course, but it is hard to see what meaning I’ll be able to find in life.
This was not a part of my plan. I never imagined I would lose my mom in my 30s; it feels stupid. I was ready to watch movies with her, to laugh with her, and to enjoy the nature around us with her well into my 60s. I deserved that. She deserved that. And now I have to figure out what I’m going to do with my life.
It’s true: Mom won’t be in pain anymore. She didn’t want to give up on life, but she doesn’t have to fight through so much pain. That’s going to comfort me one day, but today is not that day.
Fuchs


This has been a difficult week for me. On the 28th, I lost my kitty Franz who was born in my living room 16 years ago. He has been a part of so many moments in my life. I’m not sure how to express how much he has meant to me, but I can tell you that his absence is very much noticeable. I miss him. I miss him waking me up in the morning, cuddling with me while I watch TV, and greeting me when I walk in the door. I feel guilty that I couldn’t keep him alive, and the whole week has felt like such a blur.