Happy Birthday

Dear Rick,

Today is your 21st birthday, and Teddy's 20th. I wish you were here so we could celebrate it.

I miss you so much. You'll never know just how much. You don't know the hole you left in my soul.

I try to be happy for you--happy you're no longer in pain, no longer ill, no longer having to fight for your life. I just wish you could be all those things, but still be here. With me. With your Mom.

They say that in time, I'll feel better. So far, time has only served to make things worse. So far, absence has made my heart grow fonder. You're out of sight, but not at all out of mind.

I miss your smile. I miss your laugh. I miss your sense of humor. I miss your passion. I miss your goodness. I miss the way you kidded around with everyone--especially Brandt. I miss harassing you about your stupid Cubs and Bears. I miss the way you loved me. I miss holding your hand in the way we always did. I miss rubbing your head. I miss hearing you sing. I miss everything about you.

I want you back. I want my baby back. I just want you back.

All my love,

Mom

'Tis a Puzzlement

I was listening to Rep. Ray LaHood this morning on Jim Leach's radio program, and one of the issues he addressed was Iran's development of nuclear weapons. I will never understand where we as a nation get off telling other soverign countries how they can or cannot defend themselves. Who are we to insist that any country--Iran, Iraq or Fiji--not defend herself?

What criteria do we use to decide who we will and will not allow to have a national defense? And most of all, where do we get the moral authority to determine other countries' fates?

If other nations tried to stop us from defending ourselves, we'd arm ourselves more fully than we already are. If other nations tried to get us to destroy all our nuclear weapons, we'd create more and more dangerous and powerful ones. Why should we expect anything other than that same response when we try to force our desires on sovereign nations?

We are so hypocritical. Do we try to block "rogue states" from possessing nukes because we're afraid they might actually use them? If so, why is it OK for us to use these weapons, but not for anyone else to? We are, after all, the only nation in the history of the world to use nuclear weapons on our enemy. Why was that OK, but it's not OK for anyone else? Who in the hell do we think we are?

If we are capable of blowing our enemies off the face of the earth--which we are; and if we use that threat to try to control our enemies' behavior--which we do; then why can't our enemies respond in kind? Why should they not be able to defend themselves effectively against any form of attack, including nuclear?

I don't get it.

When I Grow Up

In a few short months, I'll turn the half-century mark. I guess it's midlife crisis time, but seriously, what have I accomplished these past fifty years?

I've raised three great kids, though one died last year. I've been married to the same man for half my life. I plan to be with him the rest of it as well. And I love him more than I ever dreamed possible when I was young and stupid and married him 25 years ago.

The marriage, the kids, great accomplishments? I think so. But what else have I done?

My "career" hasn't been anything to write home about. Or even to blog about. I've done retail since I was 18. I currently work in a small, family owned art gallery. I like the work, love the people, but the pay's not much and there are no benefits. I didn't go to college until I was 38. Though I graduated with a perfect 4.0, my major was music, and I have only an AA degree. So professionally, I can't do anything with my college training.

I suck at office work. All those papers and forms and such are so bothersome. The things I do well aren't very marketable. Or maybe I just don't have the drive and ambition to make them that way.

I love to talk. I love to talk to groups. I write well when I sit down and really write--not that you can tell that from this blog. But to make money at those things, I'd have to have something about which to talk and write. That would require more schooling, which isn't entirely out of the question. It would just be hard finding the time to get back there.

A lot to mull over this 50th year of my life.

Kia Pet

I bought a car Monday. It's the first new car I've bought in twenty years. The last new new car I bought was in 1986, and it was a Hyundai. Monday, I bought a 2006 Kia Spectra. It's deep midnight blue and has a five speed manual transmission.

I like manual transmissions. They make you feel like you're actually driving. They offer a sense of control that sissy automatics don't. They're much better on snow and ice--not that we've had much of those this winter. But with a ten year bumper to bumper warranty, I'm sure snow and ice will come into play at some point during the life of the car.

My old car--a 1991 Mercury Topaz--is on itslast leg. The transmission is about to blow, the brakes are shot, the car squeaks, the suspension is on its way out, and something smells like it's burning whenever the engine is on. But hey, it's fifteen years old. It's time to put it out to pasture.

So I've named the car, "Kia Pet". My boss gave me the idea. I've applied for a license plate that says "Kia Pet 1". It's a great little car. It runs well; it's quiet; the emergency brake works, so I can park on hills again. It still smells new.

Kia Pet doesn't quite feel like mine yet. But I'm quickly getting attached to her. She's my little car. She's my little Kia Pet.

Sad day in television

I just got finished watching tonight's episode of "The West Wing". Then I came to the computer and signed on and discovered that NBC (Nincompoop Broadcasting Company) is CANCELLING "The West Wing" after this season. This show is a million times better than that stupid "Commander in Chief"--a show through which I've never been able to sit for an entire episode. Geena Davis is no president. Any cast memeber on WW would be a better prez than Davis.

WW is television at its finest. It's thoughtful, insightful, entertaining, humorous. All problems don't resolve themselves in sixty minutes. Some are never solved. I'll never understand how people can be glued to the likes of Donald Trump or all those stupid single people who try to find sex in out-of-the-way palaces. And yes, sex is what they're looking for; not love. Really now. How many of you found the love of your life by competing with a couple dozen other people for the same person and spending months in secluded, elaborate hide-aways going on expensive outings that neither one of you had to pay for?

May 14th will be a sad day in television. "West Wing," I will miss you.

Ne wYear

New year. New focus. New ventures. New way of life.

Why am I not looking forward to it?

Some may say that I should be glad, even excited, that this new year will not be spent primarily in hospitals and on I55 North headed to Chicago for Rick's medical treatments. Some may say I should be thrilled that John and I can plan things again. Little things. Like going out to movies or dinner.

Yes, those are great things to have happen. But the bottom line is that those things are happening because Rick is gone. They'd mean so much more if they were possible because Rick were alive and well and cured.

New year without my Richard. New focus not on Richard. New ventures without Richard. New way of life--a life without Richard.

Big whoop.

It's been awhile

It's been a bit since I've blogged. I don't know how people find time to do this every day. Things are very hectic, as is typical for this time of year. It's made worse by the fact that I've chosen this week to repaint my bedroom and get new furniture. Probably not the greatest planning, but it's our Christmas gift to each other.

This is our first Christmas without Rick. It sucks. I just want it to be over. Not that things will really be any better after the holidays. I'll still miss him horribly. I'll still feel a huge hole in my soul. I will still give anything to have him back. But I still want this whole holiday crap to be gone. Maybe next year will be better, but I'm not holding my breath.

Rick loved Christmas. He was always the first one up Christmas morning and couldn't understand how his brothers could sleep so late on such a glorious day. We're doing things a bit differently this year. Some would say we should go about the holidays like normal. But the truth is, it's NOT normal. Rick is dead. He won't be here phyisically to celebrate with us. It's unlike any Christmas we've ever had. Trying to act normal and like nothing has happened is just stupid, if you ask me.

So we'll grin and bear it. And be grateful when it's January.