I’d have to say that my favorite holiday is Halloween or Samhain.
That’s probably because my favorite season is fall and I love practically everything about fall, including its major holiday.
I’ve loved Halloween for as long as I can remember. The cooler temps, the colors, decorations, the smells… everything.
I remember in my childhood, going to the church beside my house at Halloween. They did a party for the kids from the church and neighborhood every year. They had games like bean-bag-toss and bobbing for apples. It always smelled like cinnamon and apples in there from the hot cider they served alongside the hot chocolate.
I also always enjoyed the idea that for one day out of the year, it was ok to be whatever you wanted to be. A ghost, a hobo, a cartoon character…even a witch.
As an adult, the holiday has come to have a deeper meaning to me as well, including the thinning of the veil and honoring our ancestors, but I’ll never forget crunching through the dry leaves and smelling apple cider simmering.
You hear people talk about “rock bottom”. For me, rock bottom was a nearly three-year period in my life, from 1993 to about the middle of 1996.
In late 1994, I left my first husband and began what would end up being one of the most painful times of my life. Our separation was as ugly as our marriage had become and getting over him and the loss of the life I’d thought we’d share together was painful and long.
The summer of 1995, a friend and I decided to go to the flea market (jockey lot) and walk around just to get me out of the house. I was working three jobs at the time and single parenting Mini-Me. My social life was non-existent and I rarely left the house except to go to work.
While we were at the flea market, we ran across a table with a small tear-drop camper parked behind it and a sign for a reading of the future from the resident gypsy.
At the time, I didn’t know if I believed in all of that stuff or not, but it seemed like a fun idea to see what she’d say.
My friend, we’ll call her “T”, and I figured that we’d go in together and she’d tell us some outlandish crap, we’d get a laugh and a funny memory and be on our way.
As we approached the camper, the door opened. She was everything you’d expect a gypsy fortune-teller to be. Multi-colored flowing dress with a headwrap to match. A dark olive complexion and dark eyes.
She sized us up and down and motioned to T to come inside. I started to follow and she stopped me and said that she would speak to us separately. I thought it was odd because in every movie I’d ever seen with a fortune teller in it, the person getting the reading and any number of friends, family, and relatives pile in around the table with them, but it was her show, so I did as I was told and waited outside.
I’d hoped I could at least hear them, but I couldn’t hear a word. After about 15 minutes, T comes out with an odd look on her face. After exchanging a long look between us, she nodded towards the door of the camper and I hesitantly walked inside.
I guess I expected a crystal ball, but there was none in sight. The lighting was softer than I’d expected in broad open daylight and I found it hard to see for a moment. When my eyes adjusted, I was motioned to sit across a small two person table from the gypsy and I took my seat.
She reached across the table and held out her hand for mine.
After gazing at my palm for what felt like a very uncomfortable eternity, she looked up at me and said,
“The one that you have lost was not the one for you, although your heart believed that he was. You have received what you were meant to gain from that relationship and its time has passed.”
“I see travel in your future. You will travel some distance to find the one that is meant for you. I see a tall man in a uniform. Red hair. He is the one you are meant to find.”
At the time, I was caught off guard but as T and I compared stories later, I decided that although she’d hit the nail on the head about “the one I had lost”, she clearly was mistaken about the rest. I was a single mom with a toddler and three jobs. I couldn’t even afford to pay my whole power bill at one time and still eat. There was no way I’d be traveling anywhere. I promptly put the whole thing out of my mind and went on with my life.
1996 did not start out as a good year. My first marriage had ended once and for all (we did the get back together and split up again thing for a bit before I finally managed to make myself stay away from him) the year before, not long after my encounter with the gypsy, and all of the ugliness that’s associated with people getting divorced who have a child, especially when one seems to make it their personal mission in life to hurt the other person as much as possible, was finally over. He’d done his worst, and I’d survived it, but just barely.
There was a day towards the very end of it all when I found myself sitting in my garden tub crying as hard as I’d ever cried in my life and thinking about how easy it would be to just let myself sink down under the water and not come back up. To be honest, even all these years later, I know that the only thing that really stopped me that day was knowing that my grandfather, who’d come to live with me to help out with Mini-Me, who was two and a half, would be the one to find me and I was afraid that the shock of it would kill him.
I didn’t realize it then, but I was having a nervous/mental/emotional breakdown. What I needed more than anything at the time was for one of the people who claimed to care for me to put me in the hospital where I could get some help, but as is usually the case with people who are suicidal, my family didn’t notice that I was not doing nearly as well as I tried to act like I was.
What ended up happening was that I somehow ended up in another state, standing at the front door of a friend from high school and her husband’s house with a bag, a picture of Mini-Me clutched to my chest and a piece of paper with their address on it. I have no memory of going there. Even now, no one, including me, knows how I got there. I had no car, no money…and no memory of at least three days.
According to my friend, we’ll call her “SR” and her husband “TR”, I spent several weeks in a kind of daze on their couch, barely speaking or eating. I remember bits and pieces of those weeks now, but not much.
When I finally started to pull out of it, I decided I needed to get a job while I figured out what I was doing. I was too embarrassed about just showing up like that unannounced on their doorstep to ask them to give me money to get back home, so I figured a job was a good place to start to get myself back together.
It was a military town, TR was in the Army and was stationed there. They lived off-post in apartments and all up and down the main drag were bars. I ended up landing a job at a little place called the Rock N’ Rave as a waitress, even though I was only 20 and technically not old enough to serve alcohol. I guess the lady that hired me, who I became very fond of, by the way, saw something in my eyes that day and decided I was worth the risk.
I’d been working there a few weeks, long enough to start getting good at my job (I’d worked waiting tables since I was 15, but never in a bar and my knowledge of alcoholic drinks was more limited than you might imagine for 20 year old). I’d started to get to know my co-workers and was even making friends with some of them.
One day I was scheduled to open, which meant that I had to be there late afternoon/early evening before the bar opened so that I could get the tables set up, get the kitchen up and ready and all of the things waitresses do before customers show up.
I was in the main room alone with my back to the door setting up tables when every little hair on the back of my neck stood up and a chill ran down my back. It totally had the vibe of a Final Destination movie after all the characters start to realize that Death is stalking them and some kind of close-call happens.
I turned around and looked at the door to see a soldier in BDU’s standing there looking back at me. He had red hair.
My reaction was instant. I threw a “we’re closed” over my shoulder, spun on my heel and headed for the kitchen where one of my coworkers had gone and immediately told them there was someone at the door, could they please go see what they needed.
In spite of the odd look they gave me, they went out and talked to him and when I finally came out of the kitchen, he was gone.
Mini-Me got married Friday night in spite of what seemed like one problem after
another. Nearly everything that could go wrong did, and yet we still managed to pull off a wonderful wedding for her somehow.
I even ended up getting ordained again so that I could officiate their wedding. I had to let Chicklet perform the actual ceremony though because I could not stop crying.
They spent their honeymoon at Lake Keowee State Park. A beautiful place and their campsite had a lovely view.
We spent some of our Sunday there after having the grandbaby all weekend so that Mini-Me and The Pain could have some alone-time. When we got there, they told us they had rented the site for an extra night and offered it to us.
We weren’t able to stay overnight due to the fact that the air mattress they’d taken sprung a leak Friday night and wouldn’t stay inflated and we didn’t have time before dark Sunday to see if we could find the leak. We stayed until late, a few hours after the kids all left, and it was soothing to both of us after all of the stress we’ve been under lately.
We sat in the pitch black dark by a dying fire with the sounds of the water lapping at the shore and talked about things we’ve been needing to say for a long time and contemplated how easy it is for two people who love each other more than their next breaths, to lose sight of each other in the stress and hustle and bustle of adulting. We reconnected in a way that I’d become uncertain that we ever would again and it was amazing. Rediscovering each other was almost as wonder as when we first found each other nearly 21 years ago.
The hard reality is, we’ve been in trouble for a while. Somewhere along the way, we lost each other and forgot exactly what it was that brought us together. The “D” word has even been mentioned, although no one took any steps in that direction and I honestly didn’t want either of us to. Neither did he, but we’d also both reached a point where it was starting to look kind of hopeless. It seemed like the harder we tried to fix it, the worse things got.
A lot of things can be said in the dark that can’t be said in the light, I suppose, and I’ve had some of my most profound conversations in the dark, I just never thought we’d one day need the dark to be able to communicate with each other. Adulting is hard, ya’ll.
Monday was kind of an easy and playful day. We both knew that since we’d finally broken through the communication barrier, that there were other things we needed to talk over, but neither of us wanted to then. Instead, we waited until Tuesday and spent the day talking while we did things around the house to recover from the wedding/weekend with a grandbaby/day at the lake.
I also spent a fair amount of time Tuesday working on organization and overhauling my budget, calendar, routines, etc. With all of the stuff that’s been going on the last few months as we tried to start pulling everything together for Mini-Me’s wedding, everything got out of whack. The bills, my ability to feel like I was getting any of my “regular” stuff done and even my ability to find time to eat and rest properly.
I’ve barely eaten or slept more than three hours at a time in what feels like months and it was really starting to take its toll on my mental and emotional state, which was taking its toll on every other part of my life.
I’m a creature of habit. Routines are good for me and always have been. Getting too far away from them causes total chaos in my life. That’s one of the reasons the FlyLady system fit me so perfectly.
So, it’s been crazy. Really crazy. I’m going to try to find time to start writing again regularly. I’ve had people tell me for years that I needed to write some of my memories and experiences down and I’ve been thinking about that very thing lately. I’ve especially been thinking about writing down mine and Draco’s story the last few days as I’ve fought to get my life back under control.
At any rate, I’ll leave you with a pic of me and my girls from Friday, right before we all went out for the wedding…
What a week! Things have been even crazier than usual around The Lair this week.
Mini-Me had oral surgery to remove an impacted wisdom tooth and was put under for the first time on Wednesday.
Bless her heart. She looks so pitiful all curled up on my couch and to Dutchess, our pug.
Overall, she handled it like a champ. I got a video of her coming out with The Pain after it was over and a few more of the car ride after where she was laid over on my shoulder, petting my arm and telling me how soft my arm was, lol. It reminded me of when she was little.
There’s been a lot going on with Paul’s job, too. The store manager was at a seminar most of the last week and he was the fill-in manager while she was gone. He worked over 50 hours in five days and finished off the week with nearly 60 hours. Tonight he goes on 3rd shift for a least a few days, possibly for the week while the regular 3rd shift clerk is out with some medical issues.
Tonight he goes on 3rd shift for a least a few days, possibly for the week while the regular 3rd shift clerk is out with some medical issues.
Chicklet had my truck off and on all week since the transmission went out on her truck at the beginning of the week, and went on a camping trip Friday and Saturday and came back yesterday evening. And speaking of my truck, I got a Facebook notification the other day saying we’ve had the truck for a year now!
Having the house to ourselves would have been great, except, of course, Paul’s phone didn’t stop ringing. Sometimes I think his number is the only one those people know!
Yesterday, Paul and I spent most of the day in the kitchen rearranging. We’re in the process of doing a whole house reorganizing and the kitchen was the first stop.
To me, if my kitchen is out of sorts, then I can’t get, or keep, myself together. I’ve been unhappy with the way the kitchen was set up since we moved in. Nothing felt like it really had a home. We moved in in such a rush due to weather issues last winter with it deciding to finally to snow while we were supposed to be moving that we just kind of crammed everything wherever we could fit it. I’ve tried to organize it here and there since we moved in, but I finally realized that mild reorganizing wasn’t going to fix the problem.
I wish I’d gotten before and after pictures but with his phone ringing off the hook and him even having to leave for a couple of hours to go help with something at work, I forgot.
I still need to paint and redo the kitchen table, but just having it organized better and less cluttered has helped tremendously!
This morning while making coffee, I looked out the kitchen window, which has become
kind of a habit of mine and one of our two magnolia trees that are on the property is right outside that window. I noticed that there are the beginnings of blooms all over it!
Of course, I should have known based on how congested I was when I woke up this morning. I have chronic rhinitis and one of my worst allergy triggers is tree pollen, so this time of year, and again in the fall, are two of my worst times for allergies.
Ironically enough, Spring and Fall are my two most favorite seasons for the exact reason my allergies get so bad, lol.
That little pod though, that’s what’s got my allergies in such an uproar this morning!
But, they are beautiful when they bloom (Magnolias and Weeping Willows are my two favorite trees) and allergies or no, I feel blessed to have two rather large ones on our property.
Well, that’s been the highlights of my week. What have you been up to this week? I love to hear from you, so leave me a comment and give me some of the highlights of your week!
If you missed Weeks One, Two and Three, you can find them by following the links.
This weeks prompt is Top 5 Places I’d Like to Visit. This one is hard for me since I can’t really travel much anymore.
Last year, we drove all the way to Florida to see TimberLeaves and the trip was super hard for me. By the time we got there, I was exhausted and in a lot of pain, not exactly how you want to start your visit with someone you haven’t seen in 20 years.
Now, when I think of the places I’d like to visit, I wonder if I’ll ever actually get to see any of them, but it never hurts to dream!
Scotland – It’s beautiful. I’d like to see the lochs and rolling green hills.
Whales – I found out I’m Welsh on my bio father’s side. Explains the red in my hair and the blue eyes, I suppose.
China and/or Japan – I’ve always felt a connection to Asian art and culture and I think it looks beautiful over there.
Titanic – Again, something I’ve always felt drawn to. I’d love to spend some time over where the remains of the Titanic are and pay my respects to those who perished.
New Orleans – I’ve always wanted to attend Marti Gras and walk the Garden District that I heard so much about in one of my favorite Ann Rice series, The Mayfair Witches.
An odd little list, but those are my top five places I’d like to visit one day.
I won’t lie and say that I have a huge Beltane post ready for you today, I don’t. It’s actually kind of snuck up on me this year with all the other things I’ve had going on and I find myself unprepared.
I did manage to get out and do a bit of gardening yesterday, but that’s about it.
The kids were supposed to come over today and get some yard work done and I’d thought we might have a little bonfire to honor the season tonight but I woke up to rainy, dreary skies and a wet ground this morning, so I guess it’ll be more of a personal day with everyone working.
I did realize yesterday, with more than a little dismay, that all of my gardening tools have disappeared over the last two years. At least, I couldn’t find them anyway.
Even so, I managed to get my green onions transplanted into the dirt and out of the kitchen window.
I spent some time out on the porch both alone and sitting with Chicklet. After waking up to my soggy world this morning, I’m glad I took the time yesterday.
Dinner was kind of a throw-together event that mostly featured my harvested green onions.
These are marinated steak bites. A very throw-together kind of main dish, but they were very good.
I’m not sure what it is, but I’m finding a special kind of joy in eating things we grow ourselves and I’m thinking I want a garden again, even if it’s a container garden on the front porch with a herb garden over the sink.
Right now, the apple tree just finished blooming and I’m excitedly watching to see the process of the apples starting to come out since this is the first time I’ve owned an apple tree.
We also have some wild cherry growing out there, too.
Mini-Me and The Pain found several places when we were cleaning up the yard for Easter/Ostara, where blackberry vines are coming up in the yard and I’m more than a little excited about that.
Every time I open my door, I get hit with the sweet smells of honeysuckle and I have found where it’s growing all around the edges of the yard.
I want to look for ways to use honeysuckle before they fade away.
I also think I may have found some wild lettuce growing near my steps. It’s said to be nature’s morphine and one of the strongest natural pain-killers available. If I find out for sure that it is wild lettuce, I’m going to be harvesting it and finding out how to use it as a natural pain alternative.
Here’s an article I found over on Ask A Prepper about wild lettuce.
Something about foraging my own property is appealing to me, just like intentionally growing my own food.
There’s something that I don’t think I’ve mentioned on this blog before, and today’s post seems like the right place to bring it up. Paul and I used to have our own little homestead.
We used to live in a camper in a “friend’s” yard. We shared a communal garden with them and there was talk of chickens, but then the accident happened and my entire life got put on hold. It’s taken two years (it’ll officially be two years on June 13th) for me to even consider picking up the pieces of our old life.
While I’m fully aware that my physical limitations will prevent me from doing a lot of the things I was doing two years ago, I see no reason why I can’t do at least some of those things, just from a more modern-homestead approach.
The few years we spent building our homestead was when I fell in love with making my own things like butter, cool whip, bacon bits, laundry detergent and skincare products.
It was the time when I also learned a lot about using what you have and reusing and repurposing things.
Life has changed a lot in the last two years and there are some things that will probably never be the same, but since Beltane this year is going to be a solo day, I think I’ll spend the day looking back on what life used to be like and making some plans for what’s to come!