The party continued today and got bigger. My dad's friend's daughters wanted to go ATV riding, so I ended up driving with them around for over 2 hours. We went down to the stream, visited the cows, hiked down to the lake and skipped rocks, visited a big scary ostrich next door, played with the dogs, and talked. I also let them take home some bones from one of our favorite cows, named Patches, who died in the valley a few years ago. They're going to show the bones to their teacher.
They said they wanted to be here every day, and they wished they could stay overnight. It just warmed my heart that they were having so much fun. My dad was beaming when he saw us coming back together, and their dad was smiling and taking pictures of us riding.
I also spent a lot of time comforting my dog, who was afraid of all the strange people and their dogs. He needed somebody to keep him company and make him feel safe, so whenever I wasn't riding with the girls, I was walking around with him and giving him lots of attention.
I'm exhausted, sore, dusty, sunburnt, and I've got bruises from the time I almost fell off the ATV, but this was a profoundly good day. I'm glad those two little girls had fun.
My 9 year old daughter texted me yesterday, 'Best idea in my life! You'll see when u get home'. While I was away she took every blanket in the house and proceeded to turn the entire living room into a fort. Priceless!
My 9 year old daughter texted me yesterday, 'Best idea in my life! You'll see when u get home'. While I was away she took every blanket in the house and proceeded to turn the entire living room into a fort. Priceless!
This thread has been dead for too long. SO here's a new dose of happy to toss onto the pile.
I've mentioned my son and his disability a few times on this forum. Well, just last Saturday, we were finall able to remove the feeding tube from his stomach. No more rashes or swelling around the tube, no bad stomach acid smell, no close calls with an inquisitive toddler trying to pull it out. For the first time in my son's life, he is now cord free!
To add some good news to the pile, my holiday has started. I'm six weeks off of work, today I'll be going on vacation for a week and ever since the holiday period started, I no longer thought "I wish my life was over" on a daily basis. Though I love my work, volunteering with the 'job' I love most in my life, 7 hours a week of work is very taxing and not having any obligations is a great lift to my depressions.
I had 2 cactus flowers this year and my outdoors fig tree survived a Canadian winter with little shelter. My goji berry bushes look mostly scrubby, but one has some blooms.
As I might soon (maybe, hard to) be posting something in the unhappiness thread about my burn injuries, I thought I would post something that made me feel good today for a start (a little more rare as of late).
I was at my gym last night, doing my usual 'give it all or go home' workout, when a younger man ( 30's I'd guess) asked me my age. I said I will be 50 next year (just turned 49 this week). He then surprisingly goes on to say that he hopes to look that good when he gets to 50.
The gym is the one place I usually don't dress to cover my scarring. Anyway, I enjoy the gym for the mental and physical effort, with the calm feeling for a little while afterwards. It's still something I rarely hear after my injuries, when I am open with showing them, at least not until someones gets to know me better. Some are partly disguised with tattoos (all related post injury as reminders of something or other). Over time, I have come to think scars are tattoos of a sort as well.
For a moment I was stunned, (almost defensive with my other related issues going on ) and my mind for a second or two wondered if he was being genuine. He seemed pretty sincere and comfortable talking to me, going on to ask other questions about my background as well, in a general friendly sort of way, and not about the scars. I would imagine he noticed, kinda hard not to, depending on my clothing (a refreshing conversation during a rest break). Often some just stare and don't say anything at all, or steer away. I can understand that I suppose, even to me sometimes, my scars can be quite jarring to myself in the right light.
Anyway, a small thing, but I felt pretty good about it and it made my day a little better, even if just for a short spell.
I had 2 cactus flowers this year and my outdoors fig tree survived a Canadian winter with little shelter. My goji berry bushes look mostly scrubby, but one has some blooms.
I take much joy in growing strange plants.
We just moved into a large single family home after living in townhouses for the last couple decades. There's a big fig tree in the front yard and a persimmon tree in the back yard. I can't wait 'til they're ripe.
I just finished submitting a glowing evaluation for my awesome math professor and our tutors. I take the final exam in two days, but I'm not anxious. This has been the best math class I've ever had. For the first time ever, I've been able to do math problems on the computer, however many I like, see if I've gotten it right within seconds of sending an answer, and talk directly to a tutor if I get stumped.
Plus, I learned how to do the "Koo-pa" combo in Smash 4. Which is also nice.
I've eaten 1 Canadian grown goji berry, lost a couple to birds and have a coupke rippening... they finally started blooming mid-summer. They're young, 2nd year grown from seed, but most have flowered now. Eating blackberries and inane amounts of kale. But kale is good imho, and the blackberries are delicious! Poor pear tree seems to have taken the year off.
We had strawberries, but the plants got too old. This breeds frustration, and suddenly you have no strawberry plants as you give up. We have a few solitary berries to try next year. Hoping to get a few buckthorn's, loaded with healthy oils... nothing could be as tempting as greasey berries!
I...no. Well I...naw not that either. Hmmm, let's see, nope, pretty much drawn a blank for this thread recently. Shoot. It is good to see some folks are finding happiness, especially with small things, it really is, in all seriousness. I spose that means all is not 'on mute' in the world. Reading these helps to a certain extent, I think, speaking of myself. If it only brings a small smile, a laugh, or a fond memory, it's something more than before. So maybe, in way, it can spread. Thanks.
@mlnevese They needed a tin foil hat or something like that, to really make it snap, just to keep the humans from reading their minds of course.
Looks like they are not too far apart in age, thats good. My boy is a couple years older than my daughter. I remember he went with me to get her vaccinated and he stood in front of the doc tellin him not to hurt his sister, heh. Course they fight like cats n dogs to, but have each others back when it's needed.
@Zaghoul they are 1 year and 2 months apart. And the way you described your kids is exactly how I expect they will behave when they grow older
Don't worry about anyone reading their minds by the way. They are full blooded Martian telepaths. Unfortunately they will be locked in human shape until their shape changing abilities kicks in in later puberty, it was the first shape they saw when they were born, you see...
I have started with skateboarding again after 23 years,forgot how fun it was.Powell Peralta and Santa Cruz have made almost all the reissues from the late 80/90´s we skated on as kids,love it,skate and die.
I just finished a game my brother got for me called Night in the Woods, I found a whole bunch of new Undertale animations on Youtube, and I'm looking forward to finding a whole bunch of new Night in the Woods fan art, just like I did for Undertale.
Plus I found my favorite animation from Night in the Woods. AAAAAGH! wiggly wiggly wiggly Gregg is so happy to see you!
I mentioned my grandfather's passing last month, and I just got back from the funeral on Saturday. I had been looking forward to the service so I could hear everyone talk about him, and I found that a lot of people felt about him the same way I did.
Before it began, I wandered the halls of the little white church and found pictures from a scrapbook that Jeanne and Deena had put together in my grandfather's honor. It was a long tale, beginning with photos from his childhood on the farm, so long ago that the ink in the photographs had faded and lost its contrast... ...but then growing and turning to color as he started his own family and traveled the world to spread the Gospel. South America, Africa, India, and Asia—he made friends across the planet. They called him a "prayer warrior," this man who prayed for everyone, even random people he had met by chance (and would remember everything they told him when he saw them again years later). My aunt Jeanne said that when her father passed away, she felt naked, and didn't understand why.
Then she realized that what she felt was the mantle of her father’s prayers being removed from her shoulders. She had never known it, but that mantle had been covering her since the day she was born—and for the first time in her life, it was gone. Ron asked us to pray for each other as Grandpa did, and fill in the big shoes that he left behind. Grandpa always did have the biggest feet in the family.
More than anything else, they spoke of my grandfather’s love. That was why he made so many friends in so many places, and that was why Source of Light blossomed when he was the director. He radiated love, and people couldn't help but love him back. Uncle Ron read a list of messages that Grandpa's friends from all over the world had written about him in the wake of his passing, but Ron couldn't even read them all. There were too many!
The service done, we all went out to see the scrapbook and talk, and after the reception, we changed out of our formal clothes and headed down to the lake where all the Dix children had learned to swim. The adults hung out and talked while the children went out to the dock to row around in a canoe or paddle around in a little paddle boat… until the kids decided to figure out what would happen if they started ramming each other, prompting a shout from the adults: “Hey! No bumper boats!” and a groan from the kids: “Aw, man…” and then more laughter from the table.
I saw a lot of people I hadn’t seen in years. My younger cousins were growing like weeds. As I told some people at the funeral, “People are only young for so long. But they stay old forever.”
I didn’t even recognize Ashlyn, who somehow had become a near-duplicate of Larissa (even Larissa’s mom Deena got them confused once or twice). When my dad told me it was Ashlyn, I rushed up and hugged her—it had been so long, and we had missed each other. We became very close around Christmas three or four years back, but I hadn’t seen her at all since then.
Here is me with my aunt Jeanne, sitting by the campfire. She was one of my favorite targets for practicing my hugs. We hung out by the lake until it grew dark and the kids starting trying to catch the insects fluttering around in the yellow light. Finally, we went home to eat cookies and tell Grandpa stories. As the night grew long, we branched out into Deena stories, Jeanne stories, Jimmy stories, Chrissy stories, and Johnny stories (my uncle Johnny always came up with the craziest pranks). As Jeanne said late in the night, the storytelling tradition that Grandpa established would live on, through us.
Deena and Jeanne were always spectacular storytellers in their own right. I managed to get a reaction shot with them telling a story at the same time... ...as well as Deena portraying her mother when Jeanne once stood atop a milk crate and braced herself from an attack by a ferocious mouse, wielding a roasting lid in her left hand and a tennis racket in the right. That way, if it went left, she could trap it under the roasting lid. And if it went right, she'd "serve it into next week!"
I spotted a cockroach crawling over a bed and informed the family, thinking my brother or Uncle Bill or someone would go in and get it. But instead, the kids all jumped up, shouting “Cockroach Hunters” and pouring into the bedroom to hunt it down. Ashlyn in particular was a big ham—“Tonight on Cockroach Hunters, we have a very special guest!”—and got to the bug first, cornering it in the closet and smashing it with a shoe. Ashlyn always had lots of energy.
Late at night, we passed around family photos and the parents in the room pointed out faces and told the kids who was who, making fun of Rayna’s pouty face or my dad’s hair from back when he looked like a hippie (these days he looks more like Vladimir Lenin). I liked seeing our family's history in the photos. Young children who suddenly grew up and had kids of their own; blonde hair that turned brown with time or sometimes vanished (probably because the kids stole it from Dad); and a sea of blue eyes that marked the Dix family.
And as I began to understand down by the lake, when I saw all these people gathering together and having fun—I realized that this was it. This is what Grandpa wanted for us.
Catching bugs, telling stories, running around outside, playing by the lake, sharing photos of the people we loved…
@semiticgod Sounds like a wonderful gathering of remembrance. Our loved ones may die but their memories will always live on, to make us smile, cry, laugh, get mad, be sad, be glad, inspire, persevere in hardship, and sometimes, just to sit quietly and think, as long as we have stories to tell. I know it's not the same as having them with us but, it's something, and sometimes 'that something', can be just enough to carry us through. I'm glad it went as well as things can in that situation.
Finally got the phone call this morning that all pre-employment verifications have been completed and I am no longer jobless! Fortunately it was only 3 weeks since I got laid off so things didn't get too bad, and the new job is remote work for more money!!
@Shandaxx Glad to hear that. I dealt with similar issues in my own... well shoot, still dealing with them but practice and experience does help. I think our own minds can shackle us more than other people after a while. Darned if some people and experiences sure do give us a rough start sometimes. I'm definitely not one that has the answers , but one step at a time, (those first few are real doozies ) I'm hearing ya on that. Keep on truckin'.
Comments
They said they wanted to be here every day, and they wished they could stay overnight. It just warmed my heart that they were having so much fun. My dad was beaming when he saw us coming back together, and their dad was smiling and taking pictures of us riding.
I also spent a lot of time comforting my dog, who was afraid of all the strange people and their dogs. He needed somebody to keep him company and make him feel safe, so whenever I wasn't riding with the girls, I was walking around with him and giving him lots of attention.
I'm exhausted, sore, dusty, sunburnt, and I've got bruises from the time I almost fell off the ATV, but this was a profoundly good day. I'm glad those two little girls had fun.
It feels good that I made them happy.
My 9 year old daughter texted me yesterday, 'Best idea in my life! You'll see when u get home'. While I was away she took every blanket in the house and proceeded to turn the entire living room into a fort. Priceless!
This thread has been dead for too long. SO here's a new dose of happy to toss onto the pile.
I've mentioned my son and his disability a few times on this forum. Well, just last Saturday, we were finall able to remove the feeding tube from his stomach. No more rashes or swelling around the tube, no bad stomach acid smell, no close calls with an inquisitive toddler trying to pull it out. For the first time in my son's life, he is now cord free!
To add some good news to the pile, my holiday has started. I'm six weeks off of work, today I'll be going on vacation for a week and ever since the holiday period started, I no longer thought "I wish my life was over" on a daily basis. Though I love my work, volunteering with the 'job' I love most in my life, 7 hours a week of work is very taxing and not having any obligations is a great lift to my depressions.
I take much joy in growing strange plants.
I was at my gym last night, doing my usual 'give it all or go home' workout, when a younger man ( 30's I'd guess) asked me my age. I said I will be 50 next year (just turned 49 this week). He then surprisingly goes on to say that he hopes to look that good when he gets to 50.
The gym is the one place I usually don't dress to cover my scarring. Anyway, I enjoy the gym for the mental and physical effort, with the calm feeling for a little while afterwards. It's still something I rarely hear after my injuries, when I am open with showing them, at least not until someones gets to know me better. Some are partly disguised with tattoos (all related post injury as reminders of something or other). Over time, I have come to think scars are tattoos of a sort as well.
For a moment I was stunned, (almost defensive with my other related issues going on ) and my mind for a second or two wondered if he was being genuine. He seemed pretty sincere and comfortable talking to me, going on to ask other questions about my background as well, in a general friendly sort of way, and not about the scars. I would imagine he noticed, kinda hard not to, depending on my clothing (a refreshing conversation during a rest break). Often some just stare and don't say anything at all, or steer away. I can understand that I suppose, even to me sometimes, my scars can be quite jarring to myself in the right light.
Anyway, a small thing, but I felt pretty good about it and it made my day a little better, even if just for a short spell.
Plus, I learned how to do the "Koo-pa" combo in Smash 4. Which is also nice.
We had strawberries, but the plants got too old. This breeds frustration, and suddenly you have no strawberry plants as you give up. We have a few solitary berries to try next year. Hoping to get a few buckthorn's, loaded with healthy oils... nothing could be as tempting as greasey berries!
It is good to see some folks are finding happiness, especially with small things, it really is, in all seriousness.
I spose that means all is not 'on mute' in the world. Reading these helps to a certain extent, I think, speaking of myself. If it only brings a small smile, a laugh, or a fond memory, it's something more than before. So maybe, in way, it can spread. Thanks.
My little Martians
Looks like they are not too far apart in age, thats good. My boy is a couple years older than my daughter. I remember he went with me to get her vaccinated and he stood in front of the doc tellin him not to hurt his sister, heh. Course they fight like cats n dogs to, but have each others back when it's needed.
Don't worry about anyone reading their minds by the way. They are full blooded Martian telepaths. Unfortunately they will be locked in human shape until their shape changing abilities kicks in in later puberty, it was the first shape they saw when they were born, you see...
Plus I found my favorite animation from Night in the Woods.
AAAAAGH!
wiggly wiggly wiggly
Gregg is so happy to see you!
Asriel is such a cuddly little fuzzball.
My fig tree started producing.
Also, in Florida, there's a chainsaw wielding nun.
That one makes me happy both for the content of the story and the fact that I got to use the phrase "chainsaw wielding nun."
Before it began, I wandered the halls of the little white church and found pictures from a scrapbook that Jeanne and Deena had put together in my grandfather's honor. It was a long tale, beginning with photos from his childhood on the farm, so long ago that the ink in the photographs had faded and lost its contrast...
...but then growing and turning to color as he started his own family and traveled the world to spread the Gospel. South America, Africa, India, and Asia—he made friends across the planet.
They called him a "prayer warrior," this man who prayed for everyone, even random people he had met by chance (and would remember everything they told him when he saw them again years later). My aunt Jeanne said that when her father passed away, she felt naked, and didn't understand why.
Then she realized that what she felt was the mantle of her father’s prayers being removed from her shoulders. She had never known it, but that mantle had been covering her since the day she was born—and for the first time in her life, it was gone. Ron asked us to pray for each other as Grandpa did, and fill in the big shoes that he left behind. Grandpa always did have the biggest feet in the family.
More than anything else, they spoke of my grandfather’s love. That was why he made so many friends in so many places, and that was why Source of Light blossomed when he was the director. He radiated love, and people couldn't help but love him back. Uncle Ron read a list of messages that Grandpa's friends from all over the world had written about him in the wake of his passing, but Ron couldn't even read them all. There were too many!
The service done, we all went out to see the scrapbook and talk, and after the reception, we changed out of our formal clothes and headed down to the lake where all the Dix children had learned to swim. The adults hung out and talked while the children went out to the dock to row around in a canoe or paddle around in a little paddle boat… until the kids decided to figure out what would happen if they started ramming each other, prompting a shout from the adults:
“Hey! No bumper boats!”
and a groan from the kids:
“Aw, man…”
and then more laughter from the table.
I saw a lot of people I hadn’t seen in years. My younger cousins were growing like weeds. As I told some people at the funeral, “People are only young for so long. But they stay old forever.”
I didn’t even recognize Ashlyn, who somehow had become a near-duplicate of Larissa (even Larissa’s mom Deena got them confused once or twice). When my dad told me it was Ashlyn, I rushed up and hugged her—it had been so long, and we had missed each other. We became very close around Christmas three or four years back, but I hadn’t seen her at all since then.
Here is me with my aunt Jeanne, sitting by the campfire. She was one of my favorite targets for practicing my hugs.
We hung out by the lake until it grew dark and the kids starting trying to catch the insects fluttering around in the yellow light.
Finally, we went home to eat cookies and tell Grandpa stories. As the night grew long, we branched out into Deena stories, Jeanne stories, Jimmy stories, Chrissy stories, and Johnny stories (my uncle Johnny always came up with the craziest pranks). As Jeanne said late in the night, the storytelling tradition that Grandpa established would live on, through us.
Deena and Jeanne were always spectacular storytellers in their own right. I managed to get a reaction shot with them telling a story at the same time...
...as well as Deena portraying her mother when Jeanne once stood atop a milk crate and braced herself from an attack by a ferocious mouse, wielding a roasting lid in her left hand and a tennis racket in the right.
That way, if it went left, she could trap it under the roasting lid. And if it went right, she'd "serve it into next week!"
I spotted a cockroach crawling over a bed and informed the family, thinking my brother or Uncle Bill or someone would go in and get it. But instead, the kids all jumped up, shouting “Cockroach Hunters” and pouring into the bedroom to hunt it down. Ashlyn in particular was a big ham—“Tonight on Cockroach Hunters, we have a very special guest!”—and got to the bug first, cornering it in the closet and smashing it with a shoe. Ashlyn always had lots of energy.
Late at night, we passed around family photos and the parents in the room pointed out faces and told the kids who was who, making fun of Rayna’s pouty face or my dad’s hair from back when he looked like a hippie (these days he looks more like Vladimir Lenin). I liked seeing our family's history in the photos. Young children who suddenly grew up and had kids of their own; blonde hair that turned brown with time or sometimes vanished (probably because the kids stole it from Dad); and a sea of blue eyes that marked the Dix family.
And as I began to understand down by the lake, when I saw all these people gathering together and having fun—I realized that this was it. This is what Grandpa wanted for us.
Catching bugs, telling stories, running around outside, playing by the lake, sharing photos of the people we loved…
This is it.
This is Grandpa’s legacy.
I'm glad it went as well as things can in that situation.
...
LIFE IS SO UNFAIR!
...
Wait... wrong thread...
Oh, can I borrow your bolt cutters?