Down But Not Out

I haven't blogged for weeks, haven't signed on to messenger. Neglected the laundry, the vacuuming, the entertaining. I've been down again. With the dreaded hunting widow loneliness hanging over me and blustery winter gray skies ahead, I've been in a funk and a half.

What do you do when you're in a funk? I blame it also on PMS and a message board thread of random confessions from housewives like myself, but I feel so blah. The housework isn't getting done. Clutter is taking over. Day in, day out it's the same thing, same routine. I want so strongly to believe that I'm not falling back into depression- that's why I'm calling it a funk. I know I can pull myself out because I've done it before but for the life of me, how? And after typing it all out, it probably just sounds pitiful, but I don't think people around me recognize how low I am because I must put on a seriously convincing facade. I will apologize now for the negative energy this post may bring but it really helps to get it out. Like anonymous (and not so anonymous!) confessions on that thread. Each one like a dram of poison reluctantly swallowed, then suddenly regurgitated, rushing to the surface in an explosion of relief...no longer sickening.

A little later, the same day...

It does help just knowing that I'm not alone. I really should buck up and tell DH because he seriously has no idea! He just gripes about me being on the computer too much and not getting any housework done. Since I posted, I got two big boxes of stuff ready to drop off at the Goodwill and pulled the boys' summer clothes out of their drawers and boxed it up. It's not much, but it does help.

Later still...

Well I've talked to the husband about it now, briefly by phone. He says he noticed I've been withdrawn lately. As always, he is willing to help me through this. I already knew that but needed his reassurance. Needed to hear that he noticed. I also talked to my best friend and she will be coming into town this weekend so we can spend some girl time. We both need eachother's company right now so this ought to be soothing for our souls. Slowly the day has gotten better. When you're really low, there's only one rational way to go, right? That's back up.

Book Buddies

Weston was so excited when I picked him up from school today. He won a contest. Last night at the school open house, the boys entered a drawing. Weston's name was drawn, one of just three names drawn out of 175 entries received. He won the change to pick a new book every month for the remainder of the school year! He got to visit the library and pick his first book today. Well the little sweetheart did something very unselfish, a magnanimous act of love towards his little brother. He used his very first book choice to get Connor a "Go, Diego, Go" book. The boys have already taken turns reading it to him. A shining example of brotherly love.

2,996 Honoring the 9/11 Victims

Graphic courtesy of Ginger at GinMom2TrevTris@aol.com

September 11th, 2001. There was a man across the United States living a life distinctly different than my own. On 9/11, we both woke up to face the day. I probably skipped breakfast that morning. Michael Lepore enjoyed cooking. Perhaps he had scrambled eggs and croissants with fresh coffee. I can picture him sitting with a view of his perfectly manicured garden. I changed a diaper or two and stepped on some Legos to get to the kitchen to pour some Cheerios into melamine bowls and splash them with milk for my children. Michael prepared for a day at work, as a project analyst in the technology division at Marsh & McLennan. His partner may have cleared the table of dishes. It was a typical day in that we were both in the company of loved ones.

I can remember exactly what I was doing during the terrorist attacks of 9/11. I was in my pajamas and I'd just sat down at the computer to read the Yahoo headlines that a plane had crashed in the World Trade Center. I remember at that time I wasn't phased. I didn't know the implications until I flipped on the news. I wore my pajamas all day. I cried. I made phone calls. I was glued to the breaking news for days to come, as I'm sure folks all over the nation, all over the world were.

That was five years ago to this day. My children won't remember what happened that day, but I will never forget, and neither will Michael's partner of 18 years, David O'Leary. When I signed up for The 2,996 Project, I cringed at the number. I wondered what God was thinking beckoning 2,996 angels to the gates that day. I sought out every piece of info I could by searching for Michael Lepore on the internet. I wanted to know anything and everything I could so I could pay a special tribute to Mr. Lepore. I craved detail. I wanted to get past the numbers. What I left with was an overwhelming feeling of gratitude.

I read that Mr. Lepore was very giving- went out of his way for strangers. He might have told me to call him Michael. He was a dedicated family man, taking pride in his relationship with David and making his house a home. He and his partner were restoring a Usonian ranch in Yonkers with a multitude of windows overlooking a terraced garden. He had three cocker spaniels and a collection of mission-style furniture. He adored his mother Jean Lepore-Carlucci and the adoration was mutual. It seemed like many family events centered around Michael, his home, his cooking. He was just 39. Michael and David were just getting settled into their careers, on the brink of enjoying the fruits of their labor together. 39...

My thoughts go out to Michael's family at this time. David, I wonder how five years has treated you; if Michael crosses your mind when you tend to the garden or stroll through the train station. May you always be blessed with thoughts of the best times you and Michael spent together. I am ending with a thank you for the gift that Michael's story has given me, and that is appreciate every day. Surround yourself with loved ones and express your love to them often by doing small things like cooking a homemade Italian meal or sharing the garden's bounty of eggplants. This is a rich, blessed life. R.I.P. Michael Lepore. You will always be missed. To all the families affected by 9/11, we will never forget.

Your actions appalling
My respect stalling
In the middle of

the game of life

Your freedom to love
My freedom to stray
Every right to leave what's fake

all behind, executing

selective ignorant bliss


MLD

Wanta Fanta-sy Football? Don't You Wanta?

I've joined the once testosterone-laden ranks of Fantasy Football. As it turns out, I wasn't the only woman in attendance at the draft. What's wild is that I have enjoyed the whole process so far- in part because my dear husband and I have now another thing in common, and in part because I have the chance to whoop up on a bunch of unsuspecting men and walk out with some moola. I drew first pick so I confessed my adoration for Peyton Manning and snatched him up first thing. Today I contemplated my starting line-up, scouring pages of rankings, stats and recommendations. The first game is tonight and we are ordering pizza because it just goes with pigskin. It's time to get my Fantasy Football on.

R.I.P. Steve Irwin, "The Crocodile Hunter"

Crikey! I didn't realize I was so strongly mourning the loss of Crocodile Hunter Steve Irwin until someone mentioned how empty the Irwin home must feel, where there once was a person so full of life. He loved his family and was devoted to his work. While his actions seemed at times daring and fearless to us, he was wildly excited and passionate about what he was doing. To him, that WAS normal. He WAS comfortable. He died doing something that he loved and chances are not a whole lot of people end up going that way. My thoughts are with his family.

Mosquitoes UNcontrolled

A fairly new mosquito control building was built at the end of town. The parking lot is never full. I don't think I've ever seen more than a car or two there and those were likely employee vehicles. It has one of those in-and-out parking lots that are nice for turning around so today when we saw the doughnut shop was closed, we continued on to turn around in the mosquito control building parking lot and noticed it was landscaped with a s t a n d i n g p o n d. What moron was in charge of that one?