It's been an odd week here in general. There was a pretty big fire in south Jersey this week (which is now mostly contained and mostly out, determined to be caused by arson according to several news sources) and a second one sprung up around the same area today. (hmm....) And over the weekend, two other wildfires started in my area--one in the mountains near a popular hiking trail and the second the following day in the brushes not too far from the first, but near the end of a residential street. You could smell the smoke from the first fire in my area during the course of the night because of the direction of the wind--made things a bit too close to comfort. And naturally, as local police departments informed us on Facebook about the events, there are always the handful of morons who make stupid comments that have nothing to do with anything--like one worried about it's proximity to a popular commercial farm that is a pretty big tourist attraction (including a corn maze and "haunted hayride") every Halloween. Yeah, because I'm sure that's what residents in the area were concerned about at the time. And the usual small-town rumour mills about how it started (this stupid farmer burns his fields! (leaving out the fact that that "stupid farmer" has a burn permit and the fire department is always on scene during this process) or "that idiot who burns his trees and shrubs in barrels probably started it!" (refer to the permit comment above)
And today the wind is even worse as a cold front comes barreling through the area. So I sit here with my trusty laptop, taking a break from a magazine dated back from February (I'm slowly getting through the pile, but they come every week!) and reflect on the rest of the weekend and upcoming week.
My original plan for yesterday was to skip my 1st dose of twice daily pain medicine so that I could drive to my aunt's house for Easter, like I do every year. I even went out on Saturday afternoon to clean the interior of my car up---take the garbage out, empty the ashtray, wipe the dashboard down, and most importantly, de-fur the seats from Friday's vet appointment before my parents and I showed up looking like we were wearing fur coats. When I woke up at 8am yesterday, I wasn't quite sure that plan was going to work so well, but I put off taking the pill as planned. I learned last week that even if I feel fine and can do basic things like cleaning, laundry, pouring a cup of coffee, driving is NOT a good idea. By 10am, I figured I had about 3 hours to get ready before I had to hit the road, so out came the pocket knife and I cut the little pill in half. In theory, that should do the trick (or at least take the edge off) AND I could drive, right? Not so much. So I finally told my mother that I had no other choice but to take the other half of the pill, just how much pain I was in, and how swollen my joints were (not that the claw like hands and the fact I couldn't even twist my ring, let alone get it off my finger were a clue). She was a little upset, but understood and said it wasn't a problem. In a way it kind of worked out for the better. I learned that about 430 in the morning my dog woke her up gagging and about to throw up, so she had to rush her outside before she harfed in the house. That'd wake anyone up for good in the morning. She'd also been scratching and biting at herself since Friday afternoon, so instead of having to take her with us to my aunt's with at least 5 small children running amok, I could keep an eye on her at home. She was just having a mild, but common, reaction to a vaccine and flea/tick treatment.
It didn't really make me feel any better. Except that whole having to pretend to either ignore or be nice to my brother part while he pretends to ignore or tries to be nice to me. Most family gatherings, the kids run around and play, my aunt and uncle are in and out of the kitchen cooking (unless my uncle is grilling something), my cousins kind of float around the place, my other aunt and uncle sit at the table or at the kitchen island making conversation, my grandmother sits on the couch in the living room with my mother and I nearby and my grandfather has the best seat in the house--the recliner in the corner. On the tv is either a sports event (which one depends on the season), or some cheesy children's comedy. And he never misses anything that goes on, either on tv or in the house. Every once in awhile, we're blessed to hear a story or two about what it was like to grow up when he did, or when my mom and her siblings did, the occasional story about work, the old neighborhood, history. And then there's always the ranting about one sports figure/team or another. Especially baseball and especially the NY Yankees. And it's not a visit with him until you hear him rant about commercials. From how stupid advertisers seem to think we are, to how stupid they portray men, how racist they can be, obnoxious, or how the ads are just a waste of space. I never laugh in front of him out of respect, but I can't help but laugh just the same because my mother and I are just as bad.
I tried not to cry yesterday while I was sitting on the couch thinking about the simple things I was missing out on, including seeing my grandmother again. She wasn't looking so great at Christmas because of some kind of cranial fluid overproduction (I still haven't gotten the whole story), but since her surgery, she sounds a thousand times better over the phone. If she sounds that great over the phone, I couldn't wait to see how great she looked in person. It's not like she lives in the next town over or anything. But, of course, me being me, I did cry on and off yesterday thinking about what I knew I missed out on. It was made worse this morning after I picked my mom up and she told me how, for part of the afternoon, they played old home movies, including my mom's and her siblings' baptisms--all performed by their great uncle. Old home movies of my great grandmother with whom I still dearly miss, even 12 years later... And all because I was in too much pain to even sit in a car for an hour (since my dad was going to drive) and sit on the couch all day if I had to. I was just plain in too much pain to fake that I was even just a little bit fine. No one should ever have to go through that. Ever.
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