whole lot of things

So, first- head on over to fatrant.com - Joy Nash has posted her third fatrant video- and once again, all us 'bigger girls' out there thank her.

Second- I have been having issues posting lately- actual tech issues. I have made blogger aware of my various and sundry errors as they come up, but it isn't entirely my fault that we've been dead overhere.

Third- I will be out of the loop for a bit. I go in on the 30th to have the faulty uterus removed, so I will mroe than likely not be posting for a bit, what with the hospital and the drugs and all.

fathers' day

Today, I would like to honor my husband, my step-dad, and my father in law.
My father in law was not a great dad to his own kids, but he is trying really hard to be one heck of a good grandpa, and a good father in law. He routinely takes time out of his own life to help us with something around the house, or to help out when I have been recovering from issues related to my uterus.
Hubby- he did not have a dad growing up. When he was 18, he spent two years taking cre of his ailing grandfather, who was sufferring dementia. Hubby does his best by Hermes, Thor, and Buddha- he can admit that he isn't the greatest dad ever, but he is trying, and does more every day.

JazzCat- my step-dad. At 16/17 years of age, he showed me what a father should be. Loving unconditionally, raising and accepting, he not only rasied his two children well, he accepted me and my sister, with our myriad of faults. I did many things in ly mate teens that I know hurt my mom, and him. He has never heald it over my head, treated me badly, or showed anyhting but love and concern for me. He took a messed up teenager and showed her what fatherly love was, when her own biological father was using the love of a father as a bargaiing tool, something to be taken away when she did not behave to his standards.
Thank you to all of them, thank you to JazzCat, and thank you to mom, for being a dad to sistahgirl and I for many years.

I miss reading you

I was thinking earlier about some of the blogs that I have loved, and how much I miss reading them.
My sister has had some awesome blogness in her day, but I don't htink she blogs publicly anymore,and that is fine.
I have had some other good friends leave the world of blogging, either because they left the mortal coil, they left the internet, or they just grew out of it.

Sometimes, It is hard for me to post here, so I can understand why they all went, but I still miss reading them, even when I can talk tothem every day if I wanted to, there is something nice about reading them.

I will work on posting more.
I have been getting some things figured out, as my brain isn't always working the way I think it should, and I have been having much internal monologue readfying myself for when the Dr calls me and tells me that it's time to schedule the hysterectomy. It is almost certain at this point that I will be uterus free by christmas, maybe even before next school year starts for Hermes, and it's a lot on top of everythign else.

sometimes, it's just hectic

I had a friend ask me recently how I was doing, and the only answer I could give her was "Sometimes, it's just hectic".

That's about it for now.

Breath in, hold, now breath out...doesn't that feel better?

First, to my blogroll groups, both fiction and non-sorry that I totally flaked on the last assignments, sometimes life just cannot help but get in the way, and blogging was scary, 'cause I didn't know what would actually come out my fingers.
The older that Buddha gets, the more I realize how far behind Thor is. THen, there are days like yesterday, where everything in the world is wrong with Thor, and I don't know what it is, and I don't know how to make it better for him, because I don't know how he sees the world, and it just kills me inside that I cannot make him feel better. NOte, I did not say make him better, As long as he is healthy, I see nothing wrong with how his world is, as frustrating as it can be, I just wish I knew how he felt things, saw things, heard things, so I could help. He also has started having major abandonment issues whenever he sees anyone leave...anyone, could bethe UPS guy, for all he seems to care.
Buddha is starting to hide how well he talks, how well he does things, etc...I know it's normal behaviour, but it's frustrating.
Hermes is acting out in school some, ebcause he is bored off his ass, and we just cannot keep up with him.
Hubby is alternating between being really helpful, and not being really helpful, which is driving me nuts, I just want some consistancy.
I have no clue how long I'll be able to keep my uterus.
I have no clue what the heck is happening in my head sometimes, but Oh, therapists cost money, something I just don't have enough of at the moment.

I start working the second week in may. I start getting a check the first week in june. That will skew the budget enugh where, if I can just find the time, I can start doing the therapy thing. In the fall Hermes will get in for the G&T testing, so we can have an advocate to help make sure he is getting enough education wise. In the fall, Thor should be starting a preschool program, whichwill help, and I can maybe finally have some one on one time with Hermes so I know my own kid better.

Sorry for the rant, I am fine, really, I just needed to blow some steam.

Non-fiction blogroll assignment

When I become Queen of the World!!

This is actually something that I have given serious thought to, so is not all whimsey. Oddly, for those who don't know him, logically, for those who do, I took a lot of inspiration from Hermes.

First rule of order- Anyone can marry anyone else they want to, with the exception of close blood relations. If two boys want to get married, great, two girls, fabulous, a bay and a girl, great! Also, if any number of people decided that they love one another, want to honor one another, and do right by one another, they should be allowed to.

People will be able to wear whatever is comfortable, gender aside. If a boy wants to wear skirts nad dresses, no problem. If someone wants to wear ball gowns, so long as it doesn't impact their ability to do what they have to do, have at it!

Food will not be eaten according to any rigid schedule. To directly quote Hermes "If it's food, and you east it for breakfast, it IS breakfast food!"

Gas prices-there i no reason whatseover that gas should be as expensive as it is. In the small timeframe between my being made Queen of the World, and alternative fuel sources being made common place, gas will be affordable.

Stay at home moms will earn full social security benefits, based on what their pay would be for their individual daily tasks, cleaning, nanny, teacher, bookkeeper, etc...

"Well, that's the size of a large baby!"

I checked my e-mail and saw that my text books and necesarry suplies for next term have been shipped! Yay. I check the tracking info, and it weighs 9 pounds!! 9 pounds of text! I comment to a friend that I have 9 pounds of class stuff being shipped to me, and I wonder what it is? She asks what my next term classes are. I explain that they are Software Applications for the HealthCare Professional, and the other is Anotomy and Physiology. Her reply was "Well, that is the size of a large baby! Do you think they are sending you a large baby for A&P?"

head meet palm.

blogroll fiction #1

I can hear that car driving up and down the street again. Thumpa-thumpa-thumpa...god, I wish they could turn their friggen base down. I used to be excited when I heard the car, I thought it would be Dominic, coming home. He always listened to his bass like that, although he would thud clasical and swing music, not rap.
I hadn't seen Dominic in years, I don't even know why I still thought of our place as 'our' place, or even 'his'. Old habits die hard, I guess.
Since I am awake, I decide that OJ sounds good. On my way to the fridge I glance out the window. The thumpa-bass car isn't the one that normally bothers me, this one is blue, not red. I don't think I had seen the blue car before, but then, I am notmally not rooting around for orange juice at two in the mornnig anyways.
As I get into the kitchen, I notice the clock on the microwave isn't telling the time, it is flashing 'end' over and over again. I could have sworn that I hit the clear button after making dinner, but I guess not.
After drinking my juice right out of the carton, I decide that it's probably time to go back to bed, hopefully the bass car won't keep me awake. Where is the bass? I can't hear it anymore, must have driven off. I look back out the window, and the blue car is still there, parked, empty, someone is getting a 2am visitor.
As I make it back into the bedroom, there is a knock, on the door...Dominic!

In all seriousness

Normally, if I post about Hubby here, it is a rant, or a simple post about his awesomeness, generally followed by a rant.

I realized something today, while doing some research for a project paper for school about Fat. (Yes, I am writing a brief med terminology paper about being fat). Hubby started dating me when I was roughly 160 pounds. Right about where I should be, according to the BMI, and a little less than I should be according to any reasonably sane, sighted person. Hubby has been with me when I wieghed more than 100 pounds over that (My highest recorded weight ever was during my last pregnancy, when I hit 270, roughly). He has supported me in my efforts to lose weight for my health, he has supported me when those efforts don't always work, almost always because I really, really like food, and frankly, I dislike most excersize. I am blessed to have a husband who seems o find me more attractive when I am heavy. He loves my curves, and makes no bones about it.

He supports me in school, in work, in being a stay at home mom. He is totally holding up his end of the implied sickness and health contract.

He may not be the greatest at cleaning, socializing with other people, or being as articulate as he can be. He is coarse, gruff, cantankerous, and has an off sense of humor. He is fiercely protective of me and the boys, so much so that some people assume he is controlling, when he isn't.

He is also an amazing father, a wonderful husband, and a good person. He is a nice guy, and I am admn lucky to have him.

April Fools blog

So, I had a choice today to right an april fool's post, a post aout my phobias, or a post about the worst hotel I have ever stayed at.

After deciding that I did not want to do an april fools post, and after deciding that I really did not want to relive the worst hotel, I am posting about phobias.

Clowns...don't like them. It was made worse by reading It in the bathtub as a teenager. It was made even worse when, 8 years ago, I am working in Downtown, during the time the circus was in town. While having a smoke on my lunch hour, a fully made up clown asked to bum one, then honked his nose at me. I am convinced they smell fear.

Things with too many legs. Can't really explain it.

Getting caught in a small, bendy, space, with occasional stepped opening that I could plummet to my death through. I know that this combines multiple phobias, but I have a recurring bad dream where, for some reason, I have to fit through a barely big enough space, that has a lot of acute turns in it, making it smaller, and then will have a 5 foot gap I have to cross, or I will plummet.

Being not right. I have always feared that there is something wrong with me. I don't mean that I have a feeling something isn't right, or even that I think something isn't right. Every now and then I will just be hit by a sudden fear that something is wrong. Maybe that something is mental, maybe physical, maybe both or neither. The feeling almost always goes away as quickly as it comes on.

Not having friends. This isn't a phobia, more of an irrational fear. I know I have friends, I cannot imagine life without them, sometimes, though, I think they are gone. They are not, it is just me.

Twilight places. Twilighty places scare the heck out of me, I don't know why.

Meeeeee!

For the blog tour this week, I ended up deciding the topic. That topic is "What I love(like) about myself". I chose that to be the topic, because I think that women, in general, are too hard on themselves.
Now that I have made that statement, my totally self serving blog post begins now!

I love that I can laugh about anything. Often times I laugh at completely innapropriate things, which makes me laugh even more. Laughter is good for you.

I love my eyes. If you ever ask my what my best physical featuer is, I'll tell you my eyes, and I feel so blessed to see those eyes on THor.

I love that I can make things that make others feel warm and fuzzy. I knit and crochet, sew and quilt.

I really like the grown up I am becoming. I differentiate here between adult and grown up. I have been an adult since I turned 18. I only recently, even with having kids, started to grow up, and I like what I am seeing.

I like that I am someone people seem to be comfy talking to. I enjoy being able to help people, even if it's only by listening.

I really like that I can make my kids smile-nothing is better than that.

I love that I am not too old for cartoons.

That's about it for now. There is probably more, but I like the list I have.

stuff, and maybe even MORE stuff!

So, Hubby had an interview today for a much better job. He should be having is second and final interview within a week or so. Lets all keep fingers crossed.

I was supp-osed to have a phone interview today, but that had to be rescheduled, as the flu is going around that company's HR office. On the plus side, the HR director, and person in charge of all final hiring decisions, called me herself to apologize, and to reschedule, with her. Even though I am kind of nervous to be interviewing with her, I am very hopeful, as if she is taking th time to interview me herself, they want me. I would be doing customer service/billing support/data entry for a major company. I would be getting good pay, and I found out that there is a lot of opportunity for advancement, even with their part time employees. Once again, lets keep fingers crossed.

School- Yeah, I aced my rough draft assignment, and my last terminology paper. It's good to be smart, even if I don't always feel it.

Y'all will be seeing many more posting from me. On top of my weekly assignment from my blog-tour group (this weeks will be about why I love myself), I am also going to be doing a fiction blog-tour group. Many of the same people, just a chance to flex our fiction muscles.

Thor is still talking more, expecially if he an sing. We have to figure out a way to slow his speech down, as it will make him more easily understood.
Buddha is still talking more, too.
After my procedure, I will start potty training both of them. I am still working on Thor, we will just be a little more intensive. Buddha is showing many signs of readiness. How sweet would it be to have them both out of daipers soon?

Hermes is still rediculously smart. His conferences went well, and focused on that he is rediculously smart.

I still hurt. It's good to have pain meds, but it sucks at the same time. The meds that allow me to still finction don't take away all the pain, and the meds that take away the pain leave me unable to function, or even speak coherently.

I'm dealing, though.

Helping a firend deal with an impending loss

So roommate friend, also known as the Troll who lives under our stairs (which is even funnier, as the name carried over from when we had a basement) is dealing with some really heavy shit right now.
Troll's mom was diagnosed about a year ago with lung cancer. They underwent a few courses of treatment, they thought it was going away...thought.
The lung cancer was a alrge cell, a particularl agressive large cell, and it didn't go away. Once treatment was on hold, it came back, with a vengeance, and spread into her right lung, as well. About two weeks ago, she was informed that it was time to make the choice between quantity and quality. She could have more chemo, to prolong her time left, but she would be sick for a long time, or she could do nothing, manage the pain, and try and enjoy what, at the time, was looking to be 6 months to two years.
Last night, she started to have major problems breathing, and thought it may be a collapsed lung. She went into the ER, and they found pneumonia, under the tumor. She is on an oral antibiotic for the pneumonia, but it's looking grim. They cannot do any aggressive treatment for the pneumonia, as it could encourage the cancer to spread. They cannot do chemo at all, as it will weaken her immune system, and the infection in the pneumonia will spread.
Her specialist passed down word this morning that between the agressiveness of the cancer, the inability to operate, and the inability to effectively treat the pneumonia, she has anywhere between a few days, to maybe a month or so.
Troll is in his early-mid twenties. He has a younger sister, an older brother (who is being an ass) and a father with heart issues.
I don't know what. other than being a shoulder to cry on, I can do for him, but I am asking that any healing energies, prayers, good thoughts, etc.. be sent his way.
Thank you.

Odd vacation

So, the request has been made that, at semi regular intervals, I will post on any given topic. I know what this topic is, but you do not know until I tell you. Also, others will be writing about this topic, too. I bet if you check out my "Look! Sites I Read!" thingy, over there =====>> you may be able to read others views on the same topic. I will always let y'all know when I am writing about a topic that has been given to me, like I am now.

Strange or weird or odd vacations:
When I was living in Iowa, land of excitement (ok, not really), a group of us decided that we were going to go to AdventureLand for the day, and then camp for the rest of the weekend, somewhere. We decided this at about 6am, and we were heading out at about 6:30am, the same day.
It rained, all day. We never thought to check the weather. We never though to check who was packing what, either. Between a group of five of us, we had three sleeping bags, a few loose blankets, the clothes we grabbed before we left, and a tarp. No tent, no cook stove, nothing to cook with, nothing to do.
We ended up making it work, somehow. We hit a gas station and got some rope, so we could sling up the tarp. We made 'nests' out of the blankets, and luckilly, my mom taught me how to make awesome fires (Goddess of campfires..yeah, that's my mom, in human form-sometime I'll tell y'all about a ranger coming and telling her to make her fire smaller). We had to drive from our campsite into town every day for the three days we camped, in order to get food. We ate a lot of hotdogs, marshmallows, and chips that weekend. We also drank a lot of really warm soda.
We survived the weekend, and headed home, We stopped at a sit down restaurant to eat, halfway home, and realized that for 3 and a half days we had been out in the rain, the mud, sleeping outside, with no shower, perfume, deoderant, not even washing our faces. Denny's manager, we are eternally sorry.

Why enunciation is important

Hermes, as you all know by now, is a very smart child. He is also a very curious child. He also does not speak quite as clearly as he should, nor as clearly as he is able to. I think this comes back to the whole "being smart enough to know to hide it around people who will inevitably freak out over how smart he is" thing.
Anyways, we have learned over the past few weeks a few valuable lessons. One is the importance of monitoring what your almost 6 and three quarters year old child is watching in his bedroom. We knew he was watching cartoons, and educational television. What surprised the heck out of us was that he was watching adult things...things like the news, and more news, and political shows, and unbiased news! Damn, I wasn't ready for that. We also learned the importance of making sure we understood what he was saying before making sure he understood. Let me explain- Hermes will mimic things he hears adults, and other people he cinsiders smart, say. He will also quote, verbatim, passages from books, television, movies, and commercials, if he thinks that it will work in a conversation. He will ask if he knows he doesn't know what it means, but if he thinks he knows, he will not ask. Since he doesn't always speak clearly, this leads to some interesting conversaitons.
I believe I posted previously about the whorehouse. If not, I will give a brief recap of the conversation that, in the five minutes it occured, redced me to tears as I was laughing so hard once I understood what he was asking. What he said: Mom, what's a warhorse? What I thought I heard-Mom, what's a ho'house? What I assumed I heard-Mom, what's a warehouse.
You can imagine the hilarity that accured when I thought he said whorehouse, and was trying to figure out where in the heck he heard that word. Imagine my surprise when he said at school! A school that has no students above the fourth grade!!!
Thankfully, he and I figured out what he was saying before the conversation got too heated.

Yesterday, though, while I was on painkillers at that, he sprung another one on me. "Mom, why is it, that if I need to talk about something I need to know whether or not it is impotent."
IMPOTENT people, my baby asked about impotency when he isn't even old enough to have to deal with being potent, let alone impotent! I asked him to repeat himself a few more times, and then I realized that he was asking about something being important! Ohhhhh!

The benifit of having a smart and very vocal child, is that you have a smart, vocal child. The downside is that you have a smart, vocal, child. I never know what's going to come out of his mouth, and I never know if what's coming out of his mouth is what's in his brain.


In related news, Thor has taken to saying nipple and boob. It started a few weeks ago when he spent about five minutes singing the word nipple, over and over and over. I was certain that I had to be hearing wrong, so aside from giggling at the three year old angelic voice saying nipple, I let it slide.
The other day, we got the sone of nipple, nipple, nipple,(whispered oh so quietly) boob, nipple, followed by a fit of giggles. I don't know if he even knows what nipples and boobs are, but at least he talking, right? Right?

my arguement against inteligent design theory, and a personal update

I have formulated an arguement against inteligent desing. this has nothing to do with fossils, proofs of evolution, or science. This has to do with manufacturer's warrantees.
Seriously, folks, if we were designed by an all knowing, inteligent creator, don't you think they would have tossed in a warrenty? Just a stamp or a peice of paper that we could turn in and have defective parts replaced, free of cost, at any time, or at least during that parts standard operating timeline? Seems like the inteligent thing to me.

So I had my Drs appointment on Monday. On April 10, I go on for a hysteroscopy, a resectoscopy, and a d&c. Hopefully, after getting a better look at what's going on in my uterus, removing the polyp, scraping it out so they can biopsy the fibroids, and getting a good look at the mass that's growing at the top, my body will reset itself, with the help of an oral, triphasic birthcontrol, or the Drs will figure out what is going on so we can fix it. If neither of these things happen, I am looking at a hysterectomy. If the fibroids or the polyp or the mystery mass end up being anything other than benign, I am looking at a historectomy, or ifthere is damage done to the uterine wall, I am...well, you get the gist.

I have at least one polyp, at least two or three definate firbroids, and a mass at the top cavity of the uterus. The fibroids are groing in an odd location (in between the uterine wall and the endometrium), and the appear to be growing rapidly.

I have a lot to wrap my head around right now, but I am working on it, and I have an excellent support system
On the totally geeky side, though, if I do have to have the uterus removed, it will be done by ROBOT!! My clinic owns their own DaVinci surgical robot.

On the plus side to all of this, my ovaries look beautiful, so know matter what, I should be able to keep them.

been a long time since I've rock and rolled

So I haven't updated for a while. It happens, sometimes real life gets in th way.



Totally TMI woman issue warning, men, avert your eyes, I warned you!!!!!!





So I have fallen, once again, into the incredibly irragular period cycle again. It's who whole nasty shebang this time.

After years of being brushed off, being told there is nohing wrong with me, and lord only knows what else, I finally have an appointment with a Dr who is going to try and help. It will be with a male,, wich is odd, as even though all of my babies were delivered by men, I gnerally prefere a female doctor for female issues. I do not mind, though, as apparently this guy is the House of MN odd gunecology issues. Quote one of the women on his team, there may not be anythin wrong with me, but there definately isn't anythign right, and they are going to figure it out.

11:15 on St patty's day, I get to have the first appointment and start figuring out what is going on. I am thrilled, a little aprehensive, but thrilled. Maybe, just maybe, i can get to a point where I only menstruate regular amounts at regular intervals with the regular discomfort, instead of bleeding almost constantly for weeks on end, with huge amounts of pain, only to be told nothing is wrong.

Finally, I may have an answer.

hot

Thor and Buddha are feverish. they are both running about a 102 right now. They have had colds, and been generally icky for the last few days, but the fever, and Buddha's being lethargic came from no where at about dinner time.
We couldn't find our thermometer at all, so I had to drive up to the local store and buy one. Three guys, big burly, scary looking, guys saw what I had to purchase, and let me go in front of them. As I was leaving, one mentioned that sick babies had priority over babies who just needed daipers and jiuce. Never judge a book and all that.

In about an hour, I'll go and check them again. By then, if not asleep, they will be more relaxed, and the tylonal will have had a chance to work.
I hate it when any of my babies are sick, but two at once sucks.

mental health, it's a good thing!

You know, as I get older, and have more on my plate, I really think that therapy is a good thing.
I have long felt that, though a useful and good tool for others, it just wasn't for me. I had nothing wrong, really! I also sometimes think that my general opinion of meds for everyone but me might be flawed.

I seem to suffer from superwoman syndrome. No matter how much I do in a day, or how well I do it, it's never enough for me. I often times take an "all or nothing" approach to things becasue of this, which ultimately results in nothing getting done. That's not good.
Yesterday, Hubby and Roomie cleaned the livingroom. Cleaned. Moved all the furniture out of the room and scrubbed, clean. I in turn, spent the first half of the day driving MIL to all of her doctor's appointments for her six week post op followup. She is doing fabulous. I then tackled the kitchen. It isn't CLEAN yet, but the dishes are done, the stove and counters have been scrubbed. I also got to thaw the pipes and drain for the shower, and clean that room, since it's been out of commision since saturday.
I kept telling myself that the dining/computer room and the bedroom needed to be clean. They weren't, the kitchen should have been more clean. The case in the living room was organized, but not clean. Hubby eventually forced me to sit down when I grabbed Roomie's empty dinner plate, from his hands in order to wash it. He was finished, and on his way to the kitchen sink, but not moving fast enough.
I am very pleased with how I did this term in school, of my two classes, I finished one with an overall 95.10 percent, and the other, harder class, with a 96.67 percent. I know that this is good, I know I should be happy, I am also beeting myself up for not doing better. I know I could have done better. Yes, they are A grades, but the could have been better A's!
I know I need to get these things under control, no matter what.
Add to this the funkiness I get a few times a year that I can only attribute to my Dad nad his families shittiness. Add to this something of a family history of mental health issues, add to this not sleeping well, being tired, beating myself up inside for not doing more, then not just doing something, etc.etc.etc. and maybe it's time I did something about it.

I realized that therapy scaresme. Talking to someone else about my issues, out loud, makes them real. I always try to be the strong one. I try to be the stable one, and admitting that I am not scares me. Hearing that I moght not be "all right" scares me.

Hubby and I have talked. he supports my decision to do this, and is actually encouraging me. He has sensed that things have not been %100 good with me for a while, and is glad that I started talking to him about it some, but he also knows that there are things from my past that I just don't feel like discussing with him, frankly. He is fine with that as well. After we get our tax returns, and I have an idea of how many hours a week I will be doing at my work from home job (I am retraining on my infomercial operator line), I will budget my mental health copays in, and make an appointment.
In some ways it sucks that I have to budget mental health, but then again, it's par with the course.

rememberance, part 1

Just over 13 years ago, two brothers set fir to a duplex in Minneapolis, in the middle of the night. The resulting fire had flames shooting over three stories above the two-level home's roof. In the upstairs, was the home's owner, a friend of my dad's family, a bachelor, and his two dogs. In the basement, was pictures and memorabilia of my dad's family's life. In the main level, my aunt, and my grandma, and memories and relics from my grandfather, like his flag encased in a frame, with five bullets-a memory of his time in the service.
My Aunt had just gone into her room, at the back of the house, after making toast. My grandma had been in her room, in the center of the hosue, for a few hours, and was sound asleep. The fire was set at the front corner. The house was old, with wooden siding, wooden floors, a wooden framed front porch. the front porch had an old couch, an old wicker chair, and lamps, with old papaer and cloth shades. The other side of the front porch had piles of newspaper, ready to be brought to recycling the next day.
The fire spread quicvkly, for even though it was the winter, it had been very cold that year, and there wasn't much snow to act as a damper. My aunt recalls hearing a crackling noise, and smelling burnt toast. When she left her room, and entered the kitchen, the house was full of smoke. She panicked, she thought that the toaster had shorted, and set the house on fire. The house was on fire, but not due to the toaster, no, it was started by two people who had never met anyone who lived in the home.
My aunt was not able to get to my grandma. Someone outside the home saw the flames, and dialed 911. Emergency vehicles were on their way.
The man who lived upstairs was not home that night. His dogs, however, perished in the fire. They believe the smoke got to them before the flames. My aunt, sitting in a bus that arrived to offer shelter, had very bad frost bite on her toes.
The firefighters were able to enter the home, and get out my grandma. She was very badly burned. It was found at the hospital that she had third through fifth degree burns over 85% of her body. In some places, the burning was so bad, you could see charred bone. She was unconcious, at the time, they didn't know if it was from shock, or smoke inhalation. They were grateful for her unconciousness, however, and administered drigs in the way to the hospital to keep her that way. My aunt still though that the fire was caused by her making toast.
By the times the flames were put out, there was really nothing left. Because it was so cold, some of the items in the basement, like the pictures, were encased in ice from the hoses. There was water damage, and some are gone forever, but some still exist. The pictures of my grandfather, of my uncle who passed before I was born, and of my great gramma were all on the main level, and are gone forever.
At the hospital, my aunt found out that the fire was not her fault, that it was arson.
At the hospital, we found out that gramma had severe brain damage. That even if she survived the treatments for the burns, she would probably never function again, and if she did, she would be in constant pain, in a wheelchair, more than likely unable to communicate. Ultimately, the request to stop treatment, and to not allow lifesaving measures was made. We know she wouldn't want to live this way.
Thirteen years ago, on Martin Luther King Jr. Day, she was buried, in a closed coffin ceremony. I had never personally seen a funeral so large before. Everyone whose life she touched was there. MY mom, my aunt, her sister, and my maternal gramma were even there. At this point, my mom had been divorced from my dad for 14 years.
My aunt needed years of therapy. She needed to learn that it was not her fault. She needed to learn how to live on her own. It took almost 8 years before she could make toast, or smell burnt toast, without becoming physically ill.
Shortly after Hermes was born, the brothers who seet the fires finally had their day in court. It took six and a half years for the system to provide any sort of justice. It was found out that they had set fires before, It was found out that the older brother, shortly before burning my grandma's home, had set fire to the trailer where his ex girlfriend and toddler daughter lived. They were charged with the federal offense of arson in the first, and premeditated homicide. They argued that they didn't know anyone was in the home, but legally, if you set fire to a residence, it is believed that the assumption it is occupied is present.

withen the year following, well the six months following, the fire, is when I first lost contact with my dad. I do not know if it was truly a series of miscommunications, if it was the Step-mom's influence, or if losing his mom finally caused him to flake completely.

A month and a half after burying my paternam grandmother, my maternal gramma died in her sleep.

Every now and then, especially around this time of year, it still hurts. I still miss my paternal grandma deeply. I have no way of knowing what her lifespan shuld have been. I have no way of knowing if she would have lived to see her first biological grandsons, or what she would have thought of them.
I still miss her. I still love her. Occasionally, I drive past where the house was. It's a parking lot, now. Much of the old neighborhood has changed, but there are still some people, who if they see me, when I get out of the van, can peg me as being her granddaughter. They all make a point oftelling me how much she loved me, how proud sahe was of everything I did, and that she always knew I would grow up to do great things.
I wonder, if she is looking over me, sometimes. If she sees how smart her grandson's are. If she is disappointed in her son, for letting me go. If she knows that I crochet and knit, like she did, or if she knows that I can make her ham gravy, and goulash. Would she be proud?