My last post was in April. Things have changed. They have gotten harder in some respects, easier in others. I have gotten stronger. My relationships have gotten stronger. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed and almost crushed but still resolute in what I am doing.
I have never been so responsible for a person before. I have thought that I was, but now, I truly am. Myself and Aaron are so responsible for my grandmother. I watch her sometimes when she is sleeping. I brush the hair off her face. Sometimes when the light is not that good, I have to watch her for a minute or so to make sure she is still breathing.
These are things that people just don't talk about in everyday casual life. People don't talk about morbid thoughts at the grocery store. Not normally I don't think. They don't talk about this sort of thing out in the open. It's whispered or something. I don't hear anyone else talking about it. Of course, I don't know anyone else taking care of an older person.
Don't get me wrong. She is not in "bad" situation. She is not on the brink of death or anything. But its just like anything else. It changes day to day. She changes day to day. I love her, and sometimes I have to remember who she is. Sometimes she is far away from herself and from us and I have to remember who she is so that I can remind everyone, including her.
That is the hard part. Watching someone you love, someone who raised you, lose the ability to do everyday things, including show any emotion about it all. It is different when it is in your house and you can't ever get away from it, even in your head. I have to separate it from myself to a certain extent. I don't talk so much about it at work; little odds and ends that are funny anecdotes. That's it. I need to have a place just for me sometimes or else it consumes me; she consumes me.
I could worry all day, and I will not live like that. But sometimes it helps to talk about it. Maybe it helps to write about it.
So there has to be some separation. And I need to be happy. I am happy. I just...I have never encountered something that affects my life so much, that I cannot come up with a valid way to fix or better the situation. I just have to accept it. That is the hardest part. I am a fighter; a person who figures out a solution. I think outside the box. I think of alternative after alternative after alternative. But there is no alternative to getting old and ultimately dying. There is no alternative for it. I push and I push because I don't want to accept that. I don't know when you are supposed to reach that point. When are you supposed to say, "This is enough."? I constantly question:
Are we doing enough?
Are we doing it the right way for her?
Are we doing it the right way for us?
What would other people be doing?
Is their way better?
What if we screw up?
But you know, all of these questions are things that parents ask themselves as well. There are different things involved when you are dealing with an adult. We have to ask: when do we not push her to do something for her own good? when do we let her decide? What is the consequence of such a decision?
Wow. It's tough. It's tough to help her make those decisions and sometimes to override the decisions she makes. She is almost 50 years older than me. I think Aaron and I do a great job. I really do. And I am still happy to do it. I love having her here. I wouldn't want her to be any other place. And I am proud of us all. We have all made a lot of adjustments these past couple of months. There will be more to come, I'm sure.
Thinking about it now, I love every part of my life. I would just like to make hers a little easier. But I really do have to work on accepting the fact that sometimes there is nothing I can do but just let things that I have no control over, happen. It's so hard to figure out what those things are though.
Monday, December 7, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
P.S. You suck for dying
On March 3rd, I got a phone call at 8 in the morning from my grandfather. He asked me if I could get a flight into Baltimore so that he could go to the hospital (He was having trouble breathing) and he wanted to make sure there would be someone there to take care of my grandmother. Of course I could get a flight but I wouldn’t get there until about 5-7 hours later. I told him this and asked him to call my mother, who only lives 12 minutes away from him. He said that he wouldn’t call her because my mother didn’t care and had barely talked to them since Christmas. I said I would look for a flight and call him back. So, I called my mother and asked her to please go over to their house since he refused to go anywhere unless someone was there with Nanny.
I talked to him around 3pm that afternoon. I called him and he was at the hospital. He said that he had aspirated and that’s what was causing the trouble with his breathing. The doctor was giving him medication to get the liquid out of his lungs and they said it should be no problem and he would leave that night or possibly the next morning. I asked him if he still needed me to catch a flight. He said no, that he was fine and there was no need anymore. I told him I loved him. I told him I would talk to him later about moving to Texas again. I had been asking him and my grandmother to move here for the past 2 years or so. After this situation, where they wouldn’t even call the rest of my family for medical help, I thought it would be a good time to reiterate that they might be better off here, with me.
My mother called me at 6:00pm to tell me that my grandfather had had a cardiac arrest and that they had been performing CPR on him for 20 minutes and were still trying to revive him.
I can honestly say that I have never felt so crushed in my life. I have never had anyone close to me die before. I have always felt closer to my grandfather than my own parents. Whenever I was upset about something, I would call him. I can’t think of one time that he wasn’t there for me when I needed him. How many people can say that about someone?
I wasn’t just upset that he died. I was upset that he left me. I was upset that he left my grandmother. And I was upset that everyone else in my family didn’t love him the way that we did. I was upset that the last words that he said about my mother to me were that she didn’t give a damn about him or my grandmother. I was upset that families don’t communicate and then they can’t get past things and then it’s too late.
I know why my family harbored negative feelings toward my grandfather but I never cared. I'm not even supposed to know the reason anyway. I realize I'm being somewhat evasive on here. I apologize. The point I'm trying to make is that my family has been really good at saying that everything is ok when it is definitely NOT okay. The problem with this for me, is that it really COULD be ok. It could be okay if people would talk about their skeletons and try to work it out amongst themselves. I would talk about it but it's not my skeleton. It's not my foot that has to take the first step toward healing. I just feel bad that the biggest as well as the tiniest secret can belong to one person and it can break down a family, like a disease.
Sorry to get off topic so much. We all have anger sometimes.
After my grandfather passed away we took all the steps that people take when they have to handle situations like this. We called every place that we could find paperwork for around the house to see if we could settle accounts. My grandmother found out 3 years ago that she has macular degeneration and she is currently legally blind. Because of this, she gave my grandfather control over all of the finances and she really had no idea what accounts they had or didn't have.
We all knew my grandmother couldn't stay in the house on her own any longer. My fear, as I was flying in from Texas, was that she would refuse to leave and I would have to tell Aaron that we would have to move back to take care of her. She was given options though and my grandmother is a smart woman. I expected her to be more stubborn but she proved me wrong. She could move to my mothers house and stay close. She could move to Virginia with my Aunt. Or- my sister could move into her house and take care of her there. She could also move the 1400 miles with me and make Texas her new home.
She actually chose to live with me. I was comforted and surprised. My grandmother has never been further than West Virgina. Living with me would be a huge move for her.
She's been here for almost a month now. I was scared before. I know that Aaron and I can take care of her but I was scared. Don't get me wrong, I was so happy that she chose to stay with us. I know in my heart that we are giving her the best quality of life. I am so happy to be able to see her everyday again. I'm still learning so much from her, about her, myself and where I came from. It's good to have more family around me. It's still scary though. It's so much responsibility. Like I said, she's about 80% blind. She also has mobility issues and at our insistence has only been using her walker now for the past month. I'm pretty sure that she also has numerous health issues; hypertension, diabetes, COPD, Emphysema, osteoperosis. This in itself wouldn't be too hard to deal with, but my grandmother was making no efforts to take any medicine or anything before. She has always been a stickler when it came to seeing a doctor. She's never taken medication or gotten medication for any of these things. I am working on getting the health insurance situation together now so that we can take her to a doctor in Tx. It shouldn't take too much longer. I'm just waiting for the paperwork to get here.
Aaron is being amazing. He is the best man I know. Not just because of this though. Because of how good he is to me as well. Because he was happy to have my grandmother come here so that he could have a grandparent now too. He is gentle and kind and light-hearted with my grandmother. I knew he would be but regardless of what I knew, he is still so amazing to me. I could not imagine a better man.
I'm more tired now than I have been in my whole life. I am exhausted...all the time. But it's good because I know it's not for something stupid. I know it's for a good reason. I wish I could feel well rested more though.
I went to class this week and got out as usual around 8:30pm and started walking home. I reached for my phone and started to press 5 so that I could call my grandfather and tell him about what I learned in class that night. I always called him after every class. I stopped my thumb from pressing the button. I realized what I was doing. I started crying and shaking.
I got home and sat on the porch, waiting for my tears to dry up and the redness under my eyes to disappear.
It's been a little over a month now that he's been gone. I've never even gone a week without talking to him. After I got my license I would ask my mother if I could go over to my grandparent's house to visit them. She would say no and I would ask if I could run to the store. She would say yes and I would drive to my grandparents house just to give them a hug and a kiss and tell them I loved them and I missed them. Then I would pick up some milk on the way home. My grandfather was always there for me. He always told me that it would be alright. I knew it would be. I just needed to hear it from him. I hear him saying that now, but now it just makes me cry more.
I miss him and it hurts like nothing else.
My dad is the other person I call when I'm upset. He says it will never go away; it will just get easier. I know it will.
I stood over Poppy's (my grandfather) casket at the service and said things to him in my head and later out-loud, to the sky. I wrote the eulogy for him but there were some things I couldn't say. I tried to make it touch everyone and some things are too personal for a whole room full of people. These are the things I have been saying to myself when I'm alone, hoping he hears me:
I miss you everyday. I wish you could give me advice now, more than ever. I see parts of you in myself though, and it's comforting to know that you're still here in that way. I hope you have found some peace. I know it was hard. I wish you could have shared the burden with me, or even with Nanny, but you never did. I wish I could have taken some of your hurt away. I wish you didn't have to carry it around with you for so long, thinking you were this person that didn't deserve love. I hope all that has changed now. I hope you have forgiven yourself. I hope you know that a man is made up of more that one thing; one time in his life. I know I promised to take care of Nanny and I am happily keeping that promise. I wish I could hug you and give you a kiss goodbye. I'm sure that wouldn't be enough though because I'd want more time than that. You are a wonderful, caring, compassionate, strong, giving man. Thank you for being with us for this long. I love you.
I talked to him around 3pm that afternoon. I called him and he was at the hospital. He said that he had aspirated and that’s what was causing the trouble with his breathing. The doctor was giving him medication to get the liquid out of his lungs and they said it should be no problem and he would leave that night or possibly the next morning. I asked him if he still needed me to catch a flight. He said no, that he was fine and there was no need anymore. I told him I loved him. I told him I would talk to him later about moving to Texas again. I had been asking him and my grandmother to move here for the past 2 years or so. After this situation, where they wouldn’t even call the rest of my family for medical help, I thought it would be a good time to reiterate that they might be better off here, with me.
My mother called me at 6:00pm to tell me that my grandfather had had a cardiac arrest and that they had been performing CPR on him for 20 minutes and were still trying to revive him.
I can honestly say that I have never felt so crushed in my life. I have never had anyone close to me die before. I have always felt closer to my grandfather than my own parents. Whenever I was upset about something, I would call him. I can’t think of one time that he wasn’t there for me when I needed him. How many people can say that about someone?
I wasn’t just upset that he died. I was upset that he left me. I was upset that he left my grandmother. And I was upset that everyone else in my family didn’t love him the way that we did. I was upset that the last words that he said about my mother to me were that she didn’t give a damn about him or my grandmother. I was upset that families don’t communicate and then they can’t get past things and then it’s too late.
I know why my family harbored negative feelings toward my grandfather but I never cared. I'm not even supposed to know the reason anyway. I realize I'm being somewhat evasive on here. I apologize. The point I'm trying to make is that my family has been really good at saying that everything is ok when it is definitely NOT okay. The problem with this for me, is that it really COULD be ok. It could be okay if people would talk about their skeletons and try to work it out amongst themselves. I would talk about it but it's not my skeleton. It's not my foot that has to take the first step toward healing. I just feel bad that the biggest as well as the tiniest secret can belong to one person and it can break down a family, like a disease.
Sorry to get off topic so much. We all have anger sometimes.
After my grandfather passed away we took all the steps that people take when they have to handle situations like this. We called every place that we could find paperwork for around the house to see if we could settle accounts. My grandmother found out 3 years ago that she has macular degeneration and she is currently legally blind. Because of this, she gave my grandfather control over all of the finances and she really had no idea what accounts they had or didn't have.
We all knew my grandmother couldn't stay in the house on her own any longer. My fear, as I was flying in from Texas, was that she would refuse to leave and I would have to tell Aaron that we would have to move back to take care of her. She was given options though and my grandmother is a smart woman. I expected her to be more stubborn but she proved me wrong. She could move to my mothers house and stay close. She could move to Virginia with my Aunt. Or- my sister could move into her house and take care of her there. She could also move the 1400 miles with me and make Texas her new home.
She actually chose to live with me. I was comforted and surprised. My grandmother has never been further than West Virgina. Living with me would be a huge move for her.
She's been here for almost a month now. I was scared before. I know that Aaron and I can take care of her but I was scared. Don't get me wrong, I was so happy that she chose to stay with us. I know in my heart that we are giving her the best quality of life. I am so happy to be able to see her everyday again. I'm still learning so much from her, about her, myself and where I came from. It's good to have more family around me. It's still scary though. It's so much responsibility. Like I said, she's about 80% blind. She also has mobility issues and at our insistence has only been using her walker now for the past month. I'm pretty sure that she also has numerous health issues; hypertension, diabetes, COPD, Emphysema, osteoperosis. This in itself wouldn't be too hard to deal with, but my grandmother was making no efforts to take any medicine or anything before. She has always been a stickler when it came to seeing a doctor. She's never taken medication or gotten medication for any of these things. I am working on getting the health insurance situation together now so that we can take her to a doctor in Tx. It shouldn't take too much longer. I'm just waiting for the paperwork to get here.
Aaron is being amazing. He is the best man I know. Not just because of this though. Because of how good he is to me as well. Because he was happy to have my grandmother come here so that he could have a grandparent now too. He is gentle and kind and light-hearted with my grandmother. I knew he would be but regardless of what I knew, he is still so amazing to me. I could not imagine a better man.
I'm more tired now than I have been in my whole life. I am exhausted...all the time. But it's good because I know it's not for something stupid. I know it's for a good reason. I wish I could feel well rested more though.
I went to class this week and got out as usual around 8:30pm and started walking home. I reached for my phone and started to press 5 so that I could call my grandfather and tell him about what I learned in class that night. I always called him after every class. I stopped my thumb from pressing the button. I realized what I was doing. I started crying and shaking.
I got home and sat on the porch, waiting for my tears to dry up and the redness under my eyes to disappear.
It's been a little over a month now that he's been gone. I've never even gone a week without talking to him. After I got my license I would ask my mother if I could go over to my grandparent's house to visit them. She would say no and I would ask if I could run to the store. She would say yes and I would drive to my grandparents house just to give them a hug and a kiss and tell them I loved them and I missed them. Then I would pick up some milk on the way home. My grandfather was always there for me. He always told me that it would be alright. I knew it would be. I just needed to hear it from him. I hear him saying that now, but now it just makes me cry more.
I miss him and it hurts like nothing else.
My dad is the other person I call when I'm upset. He says it will never go away; it will just get easier. I know it will.
I stood over Poppy's (my grandfather) casket at the service and said things to him in my head and later out-loud, to the sky. I wrote the eulogy for him but there were some things I couldn't say. I tried to make it touch everyone and some things are too personal for a whole room full of people. These are the things I have been saying to myself when I'm alone, hoping he hears me:
I miss you everyday. I wish you could give me advice now, more than ever. I see parts of you in myself though, and it's comforting to know that you're still here in that way. I hope you have found some peace. I know it was hard. I wish you could have shared the burden with me, or even with Nanny, but you never did. I wish I could have taken some of your hurt away. I wish you didn't have to carry it around with you for so long, thinking you were this person that didn't deserve love. I hope all that has changed now. I hope you have forgiven yourself. I hope you know that a man is made up of more that one thing; one time in his life. I know I promised to take care of Nanny and I am happily keeping that promise. I wish I could hug you and give you a kiss goodbye. I'm sure that wouldn't be enough though because I'd want more time than that. You are a wonderful, caring, compassionate, strong, giving man. Thank you for being with us for this long. I love you.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
Ooooh that smell....
You know the Lynyrd Skynyrd song, "That Smell"? Well, right now, I feel a huge pull toward that song. It's swimming in my head at the moment. I know what you're thinking. You're thinking positively. That's why I like you. You're not a sarcastic curmudgeon like myself. But no, this is not a "positive" smell. No baked cookies or puppy breath. Not at all.
Let me start off with a list, a picture list if you will, since it's prettier to look at. Then I'll get to my point. As I was smelling "the smell" tonight, I went over this list with Aaron. I asked him, "Honey, I'm a good girlfriend, right? I put up with a lot of things other girls wouldn't, right?" "Why would you do this to me?" And the list begins:
See, there was this bear head from a black bear. It ended up in the house. Of course everyone knows that in order to get the flesh off of a black bear skull you have to boil it my canning/crab pot. Then you leave for a couple of hours and your girlfriend is in the house, smelling cooked bear meat until you come home, late. And the whole house reeks of it. Did I mention how much it smelled? But the girlfriend definitely shouldn't turn the stove off since it might not be finished and if it isn't, it may have to be done again. Please, no.
There is currently a dead (by natural causes I believe) cardinal in my freezer, in a plastic bag. What kind of woman has a dead cardinal in her freezer? The kind whose boyfriend wants to commemorate the bird's life by stuffing it. There are also other random plastic bags in my freezer as well. They are shaped like animal heads. I would advise you not to look in them.
After the bear head had been partially worked on, meaning that it was worked to the bone, the brains had to be taken out. Of course this happened to take place in our living room. I was watching a movie with a friend and I got up to get a glass of wine. Lo and behold, there are bear brains stuck to the bottoms of my bare feet. lovely.
One of the skulls. I have to say they do turn out well. But they are all over the house. Maybe next we can start collecting ears or fingers, just for a little diversity?
Ahh..soap. See, this looks harmless. But lets say you want to make natural soap...with natural boar fat. You boil it down, for hours, so that the air in the house is literally heavy with it. Then you can't find the lye you need to finish it off. Ah...let's just set it outside....for about 2 weeks...in your girlfriends beloved canning/crab pot. Until one day, your girlfriend says that maybe, until you find some lye, you should throw this batch out. You agree. You throw it away on the side of the tree next door, for the raccoons to eat. Then you let your dogs out to use the bathroom. The next day, your girlfriend comes home and discovers boar-fat-dog-vomit all over the house. Seriously. Not a room was spared. And you could actually tell where one of the girls had thrown up and the other had eaten the throw up and then thrown up herself. Good times.
And finally, tonight's piece de resistance!
That's right folks: skunk. Some poor skunk got hit by a car, ended up in my car, then in my yard; the lovely smell of skunk wafting through my house, on Aaron's clothes, skin, etc. I cannot get it out of my nose. Aaron has been banned from the house until he washes the clothes he's wearing and himself. Twice.
I remind myself sometimes that I moved to Texas of my own free will.
Let me start off with a list, a picture list if you will, since it's prettier to look at. Then I'll get to my point. As I was smelling "the smell" tonight, I went over this list with Aaron. I asked him, "Honey, I'm a good girlfriend, right? I put up with a lot of things other girls wouldn't, right?" "Why would you do this to me?" And the list begins:
See, there was this bear head from a black bear. It ended up in the house. Of course everyone knows that in order to get the flesh off of a black bear skull you have to boil it my canning/crab pot. Then you leave for a couple of hours and your girlfriend is in the house, smelling cooked bear meat until you come home, late. And the whole house reeks of it. Did I mention how much it smelled? But the girlfriend definitely shouldn't turn the stove off since it might not be finished and if it isn't, it may have to be done again. Please, no.
There is currently a dead (by natural causes I believe) cardinal in my freezer, in a plastic bag. What kind of woman has a dead cardinal in her freezer? The kind whose boyfriend wants to commemorate the bird's life by stuffing it. There are also other random plastic bags in my freezer as well. They are shaped like animal heads. I would advise you not to look in them.
After the bear head had been partially worked on, meaning that it was worked to the bone, the brains had to be taken out. Of course this happened to take place in our living room. I was watching a movie with a friend and I got up to get a glass of wine. Lo and behold, there are bear brains stuck to the bottoms of my bare feet. lovely.
One of the skulls. I have to say they do turn out well. But they are all over the house. Maybe next we can start collecting ears or fingers, just for a little diversity?
Ahh..soap. See, this looks harmless. But lets say you want to make natural soap...with natural boar fat. You boil it down, for hours, so that the air in the house is literally heavy with it. Then you can't find the lye you need to finish it off. Ah...let's just set it outside....for about 2 weeks...in your girlfriends beloved canning/crab pot. Until one day, your girlfriend says that maybe, until you find some lye, you should throw this batch out. You agree. You throw it away on the side of the tree next door, for the raccoons to eat. Then you let your dogs out to use the bathroom. The next day, your girlfriend comes home and discovers boar-fat-dog-vomit all over the house. Seriously. Not a room was spared. And you could actually tell where one of the girls had thrown up and the other had eaten the throw up and then thrown up herself. Good times.
And finally, tonight's piece de resistance!
That's right folks: skunk. Some poor skunk got hit by a car, ended up in my car, then in my yard; the lovely smell of skunk wafting through my house, on Aaron's clothes, skin, etc. I cannot get it out of my nose. Aaron has been banned from the house until he washes the clothes he's wearing and himself. Twice.
I remind myself sometimes that I moved to Texas of my own free will.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Here is me teasing Bob
But first I have to mention that I had a great day today from about 3:30pm to 6:00pm, at my friend Bob's house. If you ever need to get away and go somewhere where coolness just rubs off on you, it's Bob's house. He's so damn chilled out and mellow that's its contagious. I needed that today and I was also planning to visit Bob anyway so that I could work on the garden with him. Today we planted onions, English peas, spinach, mustard greens, turnip greens and strawberries! The strawberries will be around for a while and the others, they will start to die off right in time for tobacco and tomato and squash and all the other stuff to start growing. We also discussed getting a beehive so that the bees would help with the garden- and give us free honey...and also to help save the world, one little pollinating bee at a time. Bob used to have bees when he was little so he knows some stuff about them and he's going to look into getting a hive which is awesome. Otherwise, here is me teasing Bob:
Bob, you know you want it. Imagine how much the cats would love their very own chicken coup. And those tiny little chicken eggs you love...they could be yours...
The rain this week will be great for the garden. Can't wait. Next week I will take pictures so that I can document it this year. Fun Fun Fun.
By the way, if you do ever need to get away and clear your head, hanging out with Bob is awesome, but I've got dibs and us Yankees are hard as nails...you wouldn't want to mess with me in a dark alley, comprende?
Bob, you know you want it. Imagine how much the cats would love their very own chicken coup. And those tiny little chicken eggs you love...they could be yours...
The rain this week will be great for the garden. Can't wait. Next week I will take pictures so that I can document it this year. Fun Fun Fun.
By the way, if you do ever need to get away and clear your head, hanging out with Bob is awesome, but I've got dibs and us Yankees are hard as nails...you wouldn't want to mess with me in a dark alley, comprende?
Saturday, February 7, 2009
Let me apologize first
It's important to apologize first to anyone who might be offended. Had it been a different time in my life, I would be offended myself. Not so much any more. I am aware at least that other people may be. So, I'm sorry, try to keep an open mind, and let me explain before you shun me forever.
Aaron works as a tanner at a tannery. Being a girl raised in the suburbs right outside of Baltimore city and then moving to Philly, I had no idea what this meant. Tanner? what is that?? So, here is what happens: Rich or not so rich person kills an animal, any animal, and brings it in to where Aaron works. Rich person probably went to a reserve of some sort where the animals are kept in pens and then released to be shot. Rich person pays for this and wants it as a trophy. Sometimes Rich person actually makes use of the meat, sometimes not. These "trophy" animals range from deer to the exotic. Aaron has tanned zebra's, lions, animals shipped here from Africa, India, etc. Now let's talk about Not so Rich guy. Primarily he kills an animal that is not exotic and uses the meat. He does not do this on a reserve, he does it in the wild. I am guessing though that the animal is probably used as a trophy as well, on display in his living room.
Aaron gets the hide and works it so that it can be used for taxidermy (to make a stuffed replica of the animal). Without working the hide, it will essentially rot. It needs to be preserved in a certain way. Plus the hair needs to be cleaned and brushed and all that jazz. Then, back to the person, or back to taxidermist.
He does this all day. I know what you're thinking. How? How could he do this? I know. It seems horrible. And if you think that, regardless of what I may say, it may always seem horrible to you. I won't even defend it because people tend to have such strong views about the whole thing. But, I'll state my opinion:
My opinion is that it has made Aaron a more reverent, thoughtful man. He respects these animals. He gets upset when he gets an animal hide that has been taken care of poorly, not because it may make his work harder, but because it shows that the person who gave him the hide does not respect the animal enough to take care of it better. He gets upset at the people who kill animals strictly for sport and are wasteful when the animal could feed a family. I agree with him on all of these points. I personally find nothing wrong with going hunting, killing an animal, eating it and using it's other remains for the betterment of your family or friends. Before we all became "civilized" and started keeping animals penned up just to go to the slaughterhouse, this is how it was done.
So, while I was away this past Thanksgiving, Aaron was riding his bike to the store. On his way, he found a beaver on the side of the road who had been hit by a car. It was dead. He did not leave it to be picked up by roadside clean-up and thrown in the trash, he instead picked it up and brought it home. He skinned it, could not use the meat as it was not certain on how long the beaver had been dead, but saved the skin. He tanned it at work. We are going to make a hats out of the beaver skin. I didn't see the whole beaver of course, but the pelt is beautiful. There are coppers and other colors in the hair that I wouldn't have thought this creature had. I hope the beaver had a fruitful life. If someone could use some part of me, after I die, I would hope that they would. That's why I'm an organ donor. I realize this is not exactly the same, since the beaver didn't actually say, "Yes Jennifer, I want some of myself to live on, make a hat out of me," but nothing is ever perfect. Anyway, I have reverence for the animal as well as Aaron. The following pictures may not seem so though. We also don't take ourselves or anything else too seriously.
Because honestly...We had to see what a dog mixed with a beaver would look like. Wouldn't you?
So, if you get offended by pelts or skulls (which he cleans at the house also) Sorry. But, this is part of my life, so take it or leave it, it's me. I think it is pretty neat. If I could live on a ranch, grow things, have animals, make cheese and wine and wear a hat made from a beaver instead of bought at Sears or Old Navy, I'd be a happy camper. And I think it's great that it takes all different kinds. The world is an amazing place.
Aaron works as a tanner at a tannery. Being a girl raised in the suburbs right outside of Baltimore city and then moving to Philly, I had no idea what this meant. Tanner? what is that?? So, here is what happens: Rich or not so rich person kills an animal, any animal, and brings it in to where Aaron works. Rich person probably went to a reserve of some sort where the animals are kept in pens and then released to be shot. Rich person pays for this and wants it as a trophy. Sometimes Rich person actually makes use of the meat, sometimes not. These "trophy" animals range from deer to the exotic. Aaron has tanned zebra's, lions, animals shipped here from Africa, India, etc. Now let's talk about Not so Rich guy. Primarily he kills an animal that is not exotic and uses the meat. He does not do this on a reserve, he does it in the wild. I am guessing though that the animal is probably used as a trophy as well, on display in his living room.
Aaron gets the hide and works it so that it can be used for taxidermy (to make a stuffed replica of the animal). Without working the hide, it will essentially rot. It needs to be preserved in a certain way. Plus the hair needs to be cleaned and brushed and all that jazz. Then, back to the person, or back to taxidermist.
He does this all day. I know what you're thinking. How? How could he do this? I know. It seems horrible. And if you think that, regardless of what I may say, it may always seem horrible to you. I won't even defend it because people tend to have such strong views about the whole thing. But, I'll state my opinion:
My opinion is that it has made Aaron a more reverent, thoughtful man. He respects these animals. He gets upset when he gets an animal hide that has been taken care of poorly, not because it may make his work harder, but because it shows that the person who gave him the hide does not respect the animal enough to take care of it better. He gets upset at the people who kill animals strictly for sport and are wasteful when the animal could feed a family. I agree with him on all of these points. I personally find nothing wrong with going hunting, killing an animal, eating it and using it's other remains for the betterment of your family or friends. Before we all became "civilized" and started keeping animals penned up just to go to the slaughterhouse, this is how it was done.
So, while I was away this past Thanksgiving, Aaron was riding his bike to the store. On his way, he found a beaver on the side of the road who had been hit by a car. It was dead. He did not leave it to be picked up by roadside clean-up and thrown in the trash, he instead picked it up and brought it home. He skinned it, could not use the meat as it was not certain on how long the beaver had been dead, but saved the skin. He tanned it at work. We are going to make a hats out of the beaver skin. I didn't see the whole beaver of course, but the pelt is beautiful. There are coppers and other colors in the hair that I wouldn't have thought this creature had. I hope the beaver had a fruitful life. If someone could use some part of me, after I die, I would hope that they would. That's why I'm an organ donor. I realize this is not exactly the same, since the beaver didn't actually say, "Yes Jennifer, I want some of myself to live on, make a hat out of me," but nothing is ever perfect. Anyway, I have reverence for the animal as well as Aaron. The following pictures may not seem so though. We also don't take ourselves or anything else too seriously.
Because honestly...We had to see what a dog mixed with a beaver would look like. Wouldn't you?
So, if you get offended by pelts or skulls (which he cleans at the house also) Sorry. But, this is part of my life, so take it or leave it, it's me. I think it is pretty neat. If I could live on a ranch, grow things, have animals, make cheese and wine and wear a hat made from a beaver instead of bought at Sears or Old Navy, I'd be a happy camper. And I think it's great that it takes all different kinds. The world is an amazing place.
I like bruises, scars and bloody stuff
Let me preface this by saying this is all Elizabeth's fault. Before I moved to Floriduh back in 2004 I could not watch a scary movie on my own. I didn't even really like to watch them with other people. All that blood and gore really wasn't attractive to me. I was scared to walk through my house without all the lights on...oh wait, well, that still scares the shit out of me(seriously, there could be a psychopath behind my bathroom door, you never know).
But then I became friends with Elizabeth. She of course, loves that stuff. I would go over to her house for scary movie night and watch extremely gorey, extremely bad horror flicks. Basically we would make fun of them the whole time. Being able to use my sarcasm to battle all the scary moments got me used to the gore. It was pretty fun.
Then I would dog sit for her while she was away on vacation. Sometimes and for hours, I would peruse through her encyclopedia type book of serial killers. Totally mind blowing stuff that people do to each other. Definitely not good, but very interesting.
Anyway, I like gore now. I like scars. I like huge bruises. They're like tattoos. They all have character. They have a story. They're also more natural. They are specific to a person. And Aaron got a good one this week. I haven't seen a dark one like this in a while and I had to take a picture.
There is s story that goes with this of course, but not an entirely happy one. I'll sum it up in a couple of words: Alcohol,Confrontation, Drumstick to the chest, All forgiven and better now. Nuff said. But isn't that a kick ass bruise? I so want one. It's like a battle wound. Cool.
But then I became friends with Elizabeth. She of course, loves that stuff. I would go over to her house for scary movie night and watch extremely gorey, extremely bad horror flicks. Basically we would make fun of them the whole time. Being able to use my sarcasm to battle all the scary moments got me used to the gore. It was pretty fun.
Then I would dog sit for her while she was away on vacation. Sometimes and for hours, I would peruse through her encyclopedia type book of serial killers. Totally mind blowing stuff that people do to each other. Definitely not good, but very interesting.
Anyway, I like gore now. I like scars. I like huge bruises. They're like tattoos. They all have character. They have a story. They're also more natural. They are specific to a person. And Aaron got a good one this week. I haven't seen a dark one like this in a while and I had to take a picture.
There is s story that goes with this of course, but not an entirely happy one. I'll sum it up in a couple of words: Alcohol,Confrontation, Drumstick to the chest, All forgiven and better now. Nuff said. But isn't that a kick ass bruise? I so want one. It's like a battle wound. Cool.
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
This past weekend and Seth's face
So, just so's everyone knows...I made cheese. That's right- my first real cheese. It was super easy too; Ricotta. In South Philly they always pronounce it "Ra-gute". They also call spaghetti sauce "gravy". Back on subject though, my ricotta is creamy and delicious. It turned out just right. I have to say the best part was watching my thermometer and waiting for the point when I'd see curds. Then of course I felt like an old Italian lady, hanging up my cheese over the sink, wrapped in cheese cloth of course, letting the whey drip out of it. But you know, a sea slug could make ricotta if it had hands. I need more of a challenge now. On to Mozzarella! Since I still don't have a cheese mold, I'll have to settle for mozzarella since it doesn't require one. My next adventures in cheese making will definitely involve a camera so that you can see the process. I also learned that the whey produced from hard cheeses is used to make ricotta and the whey from the ricotta can be used as plant food or mixed with the girls homemade dog food.
Which brings me to this; I have yet to post pictures of our lovely girls.
this would be the lovely Uvy. AKA Black bean, stinkfest, purple potato, Uvy Goovy, etc. She can sit, shake, lay down, do your taxes and make you pancakes...all at the same time. Well, maybe not. But she will walk right next to you, wherever you go, without a leash on. She can also be pretty expressive too. You definitely know when she's pissed at you or if you hurt her feelings. She's 4 and part lab/pit.
This is Madi. I keep trying to talk her into getting a job but all she wants to do is paint her nails and hunt cats. Lazy. She is trouble, but she's also a super model and a huge lover. Most people take her the wrong way but she is all licks and no bite. She's 4 and a Catahoula Leopard Dog.
Alright, enough with the corny puppy loving stuff. I don't want anyone to think I'm a sap- Both those beasts up there are ferocious and drink at least 4 quarts of blood a day...easy.
On to the rest of the weekend. Besides taking the girls out for a nice jaunt yesterday I also happened to purchase what was needed to make homemade wine. So, pictures of that soon. Aaron has already started the process of making rice wine while I will begin the fruit (grape probably) when he finishes up.
And last but certainly not least, Seth's face. Seth is my neighbor, friend and surrogate younger brother, whom I adore picking on- oi...and hanging out with. Yes, I know, he's a sweet guy, I shouldn't pick on him, but hey, I have no one to call ass-knob. I need to let it out somewhere. Besides, Seth is a great sport and I think he's even starting to dish it out back at me. Coming from my family where most conversations are battles of drunken wit it certainly doesn't hurt to practice the sport sober. I think I'll have the upper hand at that next family reunion. Anyway...am I rambling?....Seth's face. For some reason or another, Seth inspired me. For weeks I ribbed him about his always coming over to my house and saying at some point that he was going to eat dinner. When I asked him what he would be eating that night, he always said " a sandwich". So, I made a collage for Seth. there are other things that are funny to me, or us but the sandwich one is the only thing I feel like explaining here. Some things are better left unsaid...in writing...you know? Enter Seth (aka Ass-Knob):
If you didn't notice, there are flying sandwiches in the sky. Crappy photo of this. It's 36x24 on canvas though. Also with some mixed media oil paint and pastels.
next collage project is Aaron. He will be a ringmaster at a circus. I just need to take a picture like the one below but with his whole body in it. I already have some awesome pics cut out...like a lady dancing with a dog...and men flying in the air with propellers strapped to their backs. Should be fun.
Which brings me to this; I have yet to post pictures of our lovely girls.
this would be the lovely Uvy. AKA Black bean, stinkfest, purple potato, Uvy Goovy, etc. She can sit, shake, lay down, do your taxes and make you pancakes...all at the same time. Well, maybe not. But she will walk right next to you, wherever you go, without a leash on. She can also be pretty expressive too. You definitely know when she's pissed at you or if you hurt her feelings. She's 4 and part lab/pit.
This is Madi. I keep trying to talk her into getting a job but all she wants to do is paint her nails and hunt cats. Lazy. She is trouble, but she's also a super model and a huge lover. Most people take her the wrong way but she is all licks and no bite. She's 4 and a Catahoula Leopard Dog.
Alright, enough with the corny puppy loving stuff. I don't want anyone to think I'm a sap- Both those beasts up there are ferocious and drink at least 4 quarts of blood a day...easy.
On to the rest of the weekend. Besides taking the girls out for a nice jaunt yesterday I also happened to purchase what was needed to make homemade wine. So, pictures of that soon. Aaron has already started the process of making rice wine while I will begin the fruit (grape probably) when he finishes up.
And last but certainly not least, Seth's face. Seth is my neighbor, friend and surrogate younger brother, whom I adore picking on- oi...and hanging out with. Yes, I know, he's a sweet guy, I shouldn't pick on him, but hey, I have no one to call ass-knob. I need to let it out somewhere. Besides, Seth is a great sport and I think he's even starting to dish it out back at me. Coming from my family where most conversations are battles of drunken wit it certainly doesn't hurt to practice the sport sober. I think I'll have the upper hand at that next family reunion. Anyway...am I rambling?....Seth's face. For some reason or another, Seth inspired me. For weeks I ribbed him about his always coming over to my house and saying at some point that he was going to eat dinner. When I asked him what he would be eating that night, he always said " a sandwich". So, I made a collage for Seth. there are other things that are funny to me, or us but the sandwich one is the only thing I feel like explaining here. Some things are better left unsaid...in writing...you know? Enter Seth (aka Ass-Knob):
If you didn't notice, there are flying sandwiches in the sky. Crappy photo of this. It's 36x24 on canvas though. Also with some mixed media oil paint and pastels.
next collage project is Aaron. He will be a ringmaster at a circus. I just need to take a picture like the one below but with his whole body in it. I already have some awesome pics cut out...like a lady dancing with a dog...and men flying in the air with propellers strapped to their backs. Should be fun.
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