Almost Home? - A Photo Essay

Writing Station

By placing my blue tray table with laptop between the white tray table and the white drawer on the couch I created a 'desk' that is a little wider than my spread out arms.  The tables are collapsible when not in use tho I seldom collapse the blue table.  

When I started making the couch into a bed at night a bit over a week ago I put the drawer under the white table.  And a couple days ago I moved the white table between the blue table and the couch so that it could be my bedside table at night and the drawer underneath as a charging station for devices.

Below is a better view of the couch from late August right after it was unboxed:

 

Blue Suede Couch

Notice the empty shelves?

This is why:

It is hard to recognize it but that is the same corner as in the top photo and the same shelf unit in a jumble on the floor after it collapsed and avalanched books, electronics and office supplies all across the front room nearly wall to wall in late August.

I had just finished loading the World Book Encyclopedia set and the first few volumes of the Britannica Great Books set on the top shelf (not counting the tippy top) and noticed that the shelf was no longer flush with the same shelf on the unit to the right containing the rest of the Great Books.  I pushed on the top right corner and the entire top right quadrant folded towards me and most of the horizontal and vertical pieces popped out and the contents fell out around my feet in a large puddle with some of the smaller items including my desk toys aka fidget toys bouncing and sliding across the floor.

I messaged my sister and she brought her son over and the two of them finished removing contents from what still stood, took the entire unit apart and put it back together.  Then having learned what were my probable mistakes in putting it together in the first place took a look at the first unit and pronounced it unstable as well so they unloaded it before they left but it was a month before they returned to rebuild it.

That is why there has been such a long hiatus in my blogging about settling into my new place.  That incident followed by the heatwave the next week took the oomph out of me and not having the shelves available wrecked my schedule for getting the stuff going on them either unboxed or moved over from Mom's.  It was soooo discouraging.

But eventually I got with the program again.

Wheeled Carts

These are two of the wheeled carts containing mostly crafty stuff.  The single-wide on the left stood by my fiber art station at Mom's and contained everything to do with yarn, thread and sewing.  It is currently empty after I distributed its contents among the shelves near my current craft station.  There was no sense in having the fiber art paraphernalia clear across the room from where I would be needing them. Yes the cart was on wheels but there was no place near where I'd be crafting to place it that wouldn't create a trip hazard.  

That cart will now hold electronic devices and their assorted accessories.  As well as be one of several charging stations for said devices.  Once I get those items sorted into those drawers I'll have at least three more cubes on the black shelf units available for books.

The double-wide cart holds other crafty stuff including graphic arts and papercraft and various found items that give me ideas. But also several misc aka junk drawers.  I will be distributing any items related to fiber arts over on the shelves designated for them.  

I have a vague notion that some of the drawers on the right will be used for small kitchen miscellany.  Or I might switch the carts around and use the single-
wide for kitchen stuff and split the double-wide between electronics and graphic arts.  Still a work in progress.

Moving on to the right now facing the kitchen:

Shelves

The wooden bookshelf in front of the breakfast bar contains my DVD collection.  Between that and the blue shelf unit is a charging station hidden behind the fan.

The blue shelves contain the bulk of the fiber art tools, reference and materials except for the large WIP kits and the unassigned yarn stash.  The navy cloth closet in the far corner is stuffed to the gills with said yarn stash and large WIP kits.  So stuffed the zipper is pulling away from the fabric.

This was the same wall before the black shelf collapsed and I urgently needed the wooden bookshelf for the Encyclopedia and Great Books sets.  Temporarily as it turned out.  But by then I'd found new and better homes for the clothes.

90 degree turn to the right:

Craft and Sort Station.

This is the tall 3 foot square table that was Ed's that I use for projects that I need to spread out or work at standing up.  Like sorting or large WIP in fiber art and writing/research.  Tho I've not had time for the latter yet.  NaNo is coming tho.  Fast like a freight train.

The grey shelf unit on the back wall is still a mishmash and may be for some time.  The far left column contains small to middling containers for organizing larger containers, shelves, cupboards, drawers, closets etcetera.  The middle to far right is all fiber art stuff still in flux.

Under the big table is another wheeled cart facing out.  That contains office supplies and vision aides and more junk drawers.  Behind that wheeled cart facing the other wall is a plastic dresser full of small to middling crochet WIP.  And left over yarn and thread from finished WIP.

The white shelf unit next to the front door contains outerwear accessories.  Hats on top.  Scarves in the middle and Shawls on the bottom.  My shoes are in a shallow box that slides under the couch.  My jackets and favorite handbags hang on the back of the door.

Next the self-care station aka bathroom:

Sink

HABA

Clothes

It is hard to tell in that last pic as it is such poor quality but that is 8 folding boxes on four shelves over the toilet tank.  They contain the kinds of things I might need to get dressed after a shower when I'm not planning to leave the apartment: T-shirts, sweats, pajamas and grunge.  That way I can get showered on an impulse even on a cold morning or evening without having to hunt clothes out and without having to heat up the whole apartment as the bathroom has a very toasty heater.

There is still a lot of work to do to get my clothes, HABA (Health and Beauty Aids) and self-care miscellany sorted and organized but the 'homes' for the items are in place.

On the way out of the bathroom we encounter:

Read Watch and Listen Station

That's the beanbag chair atop the mini-tramp that becomes like a recliner where I watch videos, listen to audio books, music and podcasts.  When I'm just listening I'm also crocheting now.  That is new this past week.  I am on the third project. since picking it back up 9 days ago.

The same listening activities can accompany mini-tramp workouts.

Next the kitchen:

Food and Drink Prep Station

Visible are the blue toaster oven above the electric tea kettle, crockpot and red microwave.  Next to the microwave are the knife holder and spice rack.

I turned all my plastic crates into kitchen storage for the space between the fridge and the back door.  I made them stable by using bungy cords to snug each to its neighbor above and beside.  They contain:  Pots and pans too large for the other cupboards, mixing bowls, small appliances and produce that doesn't need refrigeration.  

And I left a space in the back corner for the mop and broom.

This was a recent development.  Like last week.  It was a major step in making the kitchen workable, preventing that corner from being a junk collector and also established homes for the empty crates that I'd been schlepping from place to place whenever the place they had landed was needed otherwise.  I was beginning to wonder if I needed to give them up.  But I was planning to try them inside the closet for clothes organizing before deciding but I have other options for that and I'm liking this better every day.

So the answer to the title question?

I think maybe yes?

I'm still ambivalent about it because most of the time it doesn't feel so but evidence that it is so is in these facts:

• My days for at least two weeks now have been more about daily living than about the moving in tasks.
• I started crocheting again
• I started serious reading again
• I started writing again.
• Last week coming back from grocery shopping with my caregiver I was startled to see we had arrived and I spontaneously asked 'Are we home already?'

So yes, almost home.

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Book Review: Odyssey of Ashes by Cheryl Krauter -- Includes Author Interview

 

Odyssey of Ashes: A Memoir of Love, Loss, and Letting Go by Cheryl Krauter 

 Publisher: She Writes Press, (July 20, 2021) 

Category: Memoir, Grief, Loss, Healing 

Tour dates: August-September, 2021 

ISBN: 978-1647421328 

Available in Print and ebook, 168 pages

 

Joy Renee's Review of Odyssey of Ashes by Cheryl Krauter

What a raw and intimate story of loss and grief, of letting go of what must move on while holding on to the essential self and discovering a resilience rooted in vulnerability.  Reading this memoir of widowhood as a recent widow myself my emotions are still riding the turbulent currents of her story as I try to sort out the mix and mingle of my own emotions from hers.

She answered one of my burning questions tho.  How long?  Forever.  Grieving is not a task that has a definitive end like making a meal or writing a book.  It is as much a lifetime commitment as the marriage itself was.  Grief is transformative and as it transforms you and your life the experience of grief itself will transform.  Grief is like the weather and rivers--wind and water rushing over landscapes at times turbulent and stormy and other times placid but always a part of the landscape of your soul.  And never the same two minutes in a row let alone two days.

Cheryl Kruater plays with the extended metaphors of the River and the Weather throughout Odyssey of Ashes.  Having lived the life of a student of fly fishing for the duration of her marriage to an avid fly fisherman, she has a visceral understanding of both rivers and weather.  She knows in her pores and her bones what it feels like to be buffeted by the wind or the waters of the stream while standing beside or in it.  Now she takes that understanding and imbues her memoir of sudden widowhood with images and emotions evoked by her intimate relationship to river landscapes as she stands in her new personal landscape buffeted by the brutal winds of grief.

And then as she went in her husband's place on the guided tour of Montana rivers he won in a raffle half a year after his death, the interplay between that metaphor and the actual rivers and weather began to work healing magic on her grief, transmuting it into something she could carry into her future instead of fearing being carried off by currents of consuming loss. 

In having the courage to share this intimate memoir, Cheryl Krauter has contributed no small gift to fellow grievers.  I can testify to that having found comfort and hope in reading it as I approach the end of my first year of widowhood. 

Don't miss my Interview with Cheryl Krauter below the author photo.

Don't miss the book giveaway via the Rafflecopter link found near the end of this post.

Description Odyssey of Ashes by Cheryl Krauter

Odyssey of Ashes: A Memoir of Love, Loss, and Letting Go begins with the sudden death of Cheryl Krauter's spouse. Five months later, in a stroke of irony and magic, her husband wins a long-desired guided fly-fishing trip in a raffle and Cheryl decides to go in his place, fulfilling a promise to scatter his ashes by a trout stream. Part I of this memoir is an account of the first year after Cheryl's husband's death, where she becomes an explorer in the infinite stream of grief and loss, a time traveler between the darkness of sorrow and the light of daily life. Part II concludes with stories of the poignant and humorous adventures she had during the ensuing year. Tying it all together and woven throughout is Cheryl's account of the creation of an altar assembled during the three-day ritual of Los Das de los Muertos. Poetic and mythological, Odyssey of Ashes is a raw story of loss and the deep transformation that traveling through darkness and returning to light can bring.

 

Advance Praise Odyssey of Ashes by Cheryl Krauter

Cheryl Krauter's latest memoir, Odyssey of Ashes, is both a moving tribute to her late husband John and the celebration of an emergent woman who finds herself "being carried on great winds across the sky" in a cradle of intermittent sorrow and enlightenment. Written in an enjoyable flowing format with chapters divided between two main sections, Krauter's book will break your heart while channeling habits of self pity toward doing a greater good.. You'll find good examples of ways to carry on.. Krauter shares personal, interesting anecdotes. I highly recommend this book for those who've lost a spouse and want to understand how one woman is working through it  - Shawn LaTorre, Story Circle Book Reviews 

 In this engrossing memoir, Krauter shares her journey through the deep waters of grief. Her graceful writing reminds us that the cycle of love and loss is as natural as the river current, and it is only through fully embracing the force of the waters that dry land can eventually be found.  -Allison J. Applebaum, PhD, director of the Memorial Sloan Kettering Cancer Center Caregivers Clinic and editor of Cancer Caregivers

What a moving book about loss and mourning. Cheryl finds solace in, among other things, trout fishing, rituals, Buddhist wisdom and, luckily for us, writing about her experiences.  -A.J. Jacobs, editor-at-large of Esquire magazine and author of Thanks a Thousand: A Gratitude Journey 

With profound insight, Cheryl explores the spiritual nature of life and death, the sacred connection between love and loss, life and death. A work of depth and infinite caring, this book is ultimately a gift of love, hope, and survival.  -Cindy Rasicot, author of Finding Venerable Mother: A Daughter's Spiritual Quest to Thailand

Cheryl Krauter
(c) Nan Phelps

Interview with Cheryl Krauter and Joy Renee

Joy Renee: Let me begin by saying I'm so honored to have read your story and to now be asking you questions.

You mention that you were raised in Washington State as was I so I'm curious if either you or John ever fished any of the rivers I've lived near.  I was born and raised in Longview which is where the Cowlitz river meets the Columbia.  I also lived for more than a decade in the Rogue Valley Oregon where my husband was born and raised.

Cheryl: I was born in Bellingham, Washington in 1951 and, of course, have no memory of my short infancy there. My father was in the FBI and was transferred to Richland where he must have been involved with the Hanford Project in some capacity. I have wondered if the aggressive breast cancer I was diagnosed with in 2007 was in some way impacted by my life as a toddler in this area, playing outside in the dirt, drinking the water, and so on. Richland was known in the 1950’s as “The Atomic City of the West” and held festivals celebrating nuclear energy with pride. We moved to Mercer Island, Washington when I was about four years old where I lived until I was eleven years old when my family moved to Los Angeles, California. I have a great affinity for the Pacific Northwest and my oldest friend, Bill who still lives in Seattle, shows up in many pages of Odyssey of Ashes: A Memoir of Love, Loss, and Letting Go. 

We have fished the Hoh River on the Olympic Peninsula. I know that John fished the area of Rogue Valley. We fished small streams in the Dunsmuir area of Northern California as well as the Sacramento River, and streams in the Lake Tahoe area of California.  Odyssey of Ashes features fishing adventures in Montana, together in 1988, and then my solo journey in 2017 to scatter John’s ashes by the Madison River. 

Joy Renee: You noted on your visit to the mortuary that there were no sacred symbols.  Seen through the lens of a business model catering to a community with multiple traditions this seems obviously sensible.  Let the griever bring their own tradition and narrative to a blank slate.  But it is also becoming more common in our culture for people to have become disconnected from their sacred traditions of origin without replacing them and thus their encounter with the blank slate mortuary becomes their experience of the rituals surrounding the death.  Do you think the presence or lack thereof of a sacred tradition, narrative and symbolism plays a significant role in a griever's ability to process what is happening to them?

Cheryl: American culture has a profound absence of ritual around death. I suspect some of this relates to our insistence on praising a culture of youth above recognizing the wisdom of the elders. The historical foundation in America of Judeo- Christian traditions promises entry into Heaven or a deep fall through the Gates of Hell and personal stories or beliefs are seen as a rebellion against traditional religious doctrine. Throughout history any waft of a pagan spell could mean ostracism or death. Women who practiced rituals were labeled witches and suffered the flames of fire. I also think that a pervasive denial of death creates a sterile, hasty attitude that sanitizes memorial services. The oppressive attitude to quickly get through a period of mourning and move on is cruel to those who are grieving. People feel ashamed to weep, to be “out of control” when grief arises. There is an odd pressure to be stoic as if that symbolizes strength and courage in the face of loss. I was instructed prior to one memorial I attended that it would not be sad occasion but a celebration, a party where we wouldn’t have to feel bad about the death. Native traditions allow for more of a journey and speak of visitations or visions of the dead. Western culture tells us to look away from our mortality and to shield younger people from this reality, robbing them of the experience of being with loss and learning resilience.  When personal beliefs are not encouraged mourning becomes a “rush job”, something to “get through” rather than to authentically experience. 

In Part II of Odyssey of Ashes, scenes are woven between the creation of an altar during Los dias de los Muertos and, in this way, shows how ritual can offer a way to acknowledge and honor the dead while giving those of us still living an opportunity to be present with our own thoughts and feelings. Throughout the memoir, there are meditations, myths, and rituals that speak to the deep expression of grief as personally transformative.  

Joy Renee:   As you were describing the role of the River Guides in flyfishing tradition and the importance of the etiquette developed by their enclave over the centuries, it occurred to me that the terrain of grief is also a wilderness of mysterious shoals and treacherous weather in need of rules of etiquette and River Guides and I was trying to formulate a question as to whether you had found such help on your journey but then it occurred to me that it is memoirs like yours that have become my River Guides.  This extended metaphor opens up so many questions and caveats I'm not quite sure how to ask.  I am sure that though it has been of great help the memoirs haven't been enough and that is probably because text on a page can go only so far. So maybe it is truer to see the memoir writers as the Izaak Waltons which would give the 'River Guide' role to something more hands on.  

This privilege of reaching out with my questions to the author does add something helpful to the experience but I'm aware that it is a rare privilege and it is still text on a page.

Could you riff a bit on that extended metaphor of grief being a terrain in need of rules of etiquette and guides and whether you found such help and if so, was it enough and whether you think our culture could do a better job of providing it.

Cheryl: As a therapist, I am a River Guide, a Sherpa, a companion who travels the terrain of grief, the caverns of darkness in which the soul can get lost without being accompanied by someone who knows how to hold the light.  Sometimes I see myself as a minor with one of those headlamps around my head leading the way. Sometimes I am only a breath ahead, sometimes I am walking alongside, occasionally I am behind, but always with my eyes on the person who I am guiding along their way. The River Guide knows the river, where the fish lie, how the currents are running and, most essential, studies the hatch that the fish are feeding on so that the flies used in casting the line will match the tasty treats a trout will devour. A River Guide has lived with the river, is familiar with its waters, its twists and turns, yet also knows that the river is constantly changing and will not be the same one she waded yesterday. 

I do not believe that is enough to read a book about grief, yet I feel that memoir, as well as other books on grief, may help the reader feel less alone in their pain. Sometimes the reader feels less “crazy” in hearing about the experiences of another. We are talking about take-away from the written word as a possibility to soothe heartache or maybe even evoke it as a way to connect within the aching heart and find a deeper, meaningful expression of grief. The landscape of loss is explored and discovered by each of us in our own time and in our own unique way. I do not have a formula, I have no map, no GPS.  Those techniques are better left to those who guide people who need that type of structure. In the end, there is no right or wrong way to travel the terrain of grief and loss. 

Those who read Odyssey of Ashes: A Memoir of Love, Loss and Letting Go will travel with me on my own journey from the moment of my husband’s sudden death to the rivers of Montana, through storms and tears, live with me in my daily urban life, and, hopefully, gain some solace and peace for themselves.

Joy Renee: OK This question isn't inspired by your story but rather personal from one griever to another and I keep going back and forth on whether it is appropriate to even include it.  So, I'm going to leave it up to you whether you wish to answer and if you do whether you prefer, I left if off the published interview:  Either before or during your own grief journey have you noticed that our culture treats some grief as more legitimate than other grief?  I can think of two categories but there may be more.  Infants not carried to term or born too sick to thrive is one.  Another is those who passed due to either intentional or negligent self-harm.  I witnessed the first in the past and am living the second as my husband was an alcoholic.  I'm wondering if the experience of feeling pressured to move on quicker, to feel relieved or even grateful rather than devastated and shamed if you persist is common to our culture or unique to my family and/or faith tradition.

Cheryl: To devalue and delegitimize any grief is inhuman. Unfortunately, it does happen but I am seeing this start to change as people are more open to expressing types of losses that may previously have been invalidated. The loss of a child through miscarriage was often overlooked in the past but now is recognized as a painful experience. The loss of a child at any stage of life is unbearable for many people to acknowledge and the grief from that type of death may remain a silent wound. The stigma of mental health fuels the difficulty of acknowledging a suicide. People tend to be terrified of this type of death and, indeed, often are judgmental due to that fear. Again, this bias has begun to slowly shift as more people are willing to courageously come out with their stories. I have also counseled people who felt shame that they were, in fact, relieved, when someone who has been difficult dies. The death of a beloved pet can also be minimized even when that pet may have been the most important companion to the person who is grieving.  As grief work is moving out of the shadows, I believe some of these previously “unspeakable” losses can come to light. 

Comments I find particularly insensitive have to do with elderly people dying. “Oh, it was their time.” “They had good life.” Those who mourn that person are then expected to shut up and not feel their grief. 

I have spoken to the culture pressures of “getting on with it” in response to the other questions. Individual family cultures and particular faith-based cultures have their own restrictions on personal expression but that would be unique to each person. 

(You are welcome to share these thoughts on your blog if you want.)

Joy Renee: Thank you so much for your story and for giving attention to my questions.  I hope the blog tour has really given your story wings.

Cheryl: Thank you, Joy Renee. I appreciate your questions and the opportunity to write something for you. 

About Cheryl Krauter

CHERYL KRAUTER is a San Francisco bay area psychotherapist with more than forty years of experience in the field of depth psychology and human consciousness. A cancer survivor, she is the author of Surviving the Storm: A Workbook for Telling Your Cancer Story (Oxford University Press, 2017) and Psychosocial Care of Cancer Survivors: A Clinician's Guide and Workbook for Providing Wholehearted Care (Oxford University Press, 2018). She lives with her personal assistant, a cat named Amie. 

 Website: http://www.cherylkrauter.com/ 

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/tellingcancerstories 

Twitter: https://twitter.com/CherylKrauter

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Sunday Serenity: Wallowing in Gratitude

 

My Happy Place Became My Wallowing Place

After encountering some grief grenades last week followed up by heat whammies and exacerbated by incipient blisters across the bottoms of both feet forcing me to stay off them for several days, I've spent the last ten or more days in a wallow.  With the lights out and the windows and blinds shut tight to lessen the heat impact, it would still top 90 degrees by late afternoon with the fan on high.  I could never open up the windows until after sundown and most nights the air outside did not start to feel cooler than the air inside until midnight.  So after several weeks of go, go, go related to the move, I was suddenly forced to put the brakes on and wait for the red light to change.

The books I read for the read-a-thon last weekend provided the grief grenades and without the distraction of the physical labor of the moving tasks, I had to sit with the feelings in the dark.  Those feelings started to taint the feelings of joy the move and been generating with the sadness of missing Ed and not being able to share my joy with him.

I tried and for the most part succeeded in distracting myself from the grief for periods of time with videos, video games, or ebooks and audio books on devices that did not generate heat. Or even sleeping.  But several times at seemingly random intervals when I was completely entranced by what I was doing--or even asleep--I would be slammed by a sudden vivid memory that transported me into a 3D movie with soundtrack of a moment in time that took place in Ed's apartment during one of our sleepovers. 

This happened at least half a dozen times before I realized the train was always blowing its whistle and rumbling past as it often did when I spent time at Ed's whose apartment was just a few blocks from where I now live.  

After I figured out the trigger, the memories continued to be delivered by the train's passing but they started feeling like gifts rather than gut punches.  They were all from the time before things fell apart again, during the height of the hope in late 2019 and early 2020 when he had been sober for months.  I realized I had been burying those memories as if what had happened later had invalidated them and thus they generated feelings of shame in myself for 'falling for false hope' yet again.

I've decided that is the wrong attitude because it has me second guessing hope on principle and hope is a necessary component of serenity, faith and joy.  And once my thoughts started down this path I eventually stepped into gratitude and regained a healthier perspective on several of the dark thoughts I'd been wallowing in. 

Like:

The Shelves I Built with my Britanica Great Books Set in Place

So what if 95% of my books are still over at Mom's.  I built those shelves and they are still here and my favorite set of books is showing off their glittery spines.  

Don't look at what isn't there yet but rather at what is.

The Blue Shelf Unit I Built Displaying My Crafts

So what if the beautiful blue shelf unit I built out of the parts of two units and then spent hours lovingly organizing, is now going to have to be broken down into two smaller units to make room for the couch being delivered later this week.  

The couch is necessary and beautiful too and once I have it I won't have to sleep on the floor anymore.

My Desk with a Mr. Roger's Neighborhood View

So what if my desk is still jerry--rigged with boards across cardboard boxes.  It has the beautiful and serene view I've always dreamed of having for my writing station.

So what if I have to keep the blinds and window tight shut on hot days.  That is temporary.

Pantry Cupboard 1

So what if it is too hot to cook my favorite meals this week.  I have a full pantry, fridge and freezer because I have a caregiver that took me shopping and a sister who did a Cosco stock up for me and a community that provided food stamps and commodities.

Fridge and Freezer

So I have plenty of food available that doesn't need cooking....

Pantry Cupboard 2

...and plenty more available just waiting for the cooler days when anything is possible.

My Aqua Baking Pan Set

And meanwhile I have the toaster oven and microwave.  And four of the pans in my beautiful new bakeware set fit in the toaster oven for those nights it cools down enough well before midnight to wake up my ambitions along with my appetite.

So what if most of the work I put into making my wallow comfortable and functional for the duration of the heat and blistered feet will have to be undone or reworked.  It was not wasted effort as I had begun to bemoan but rather lessons in what works for a specific set of circumstances and proof that I can create cozy and functional spaces designed to see me safely through a specific episode.

I'm going to miss this cozy nest as it now exists but what happens next is not loss...just change. 

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My Brain On Books XXIX

 

 

I am reading for The Office of Letters and Lights the folks who bring us NaNoWriMo today as I love what they are doing for literacy with their Young Writer's Programs and because I've participated in NaNo every year since 2004.  I have been blessed to have it in my life and would like to give something back if only kudos and link love.  I'm putting this plug at the top in hopes some who stop by will check out their site and see all the great things they do to foster love of reading and writing and story in kids. 

This post will be organized like a blog inside a blog with recent updates stacked atop previous ones. I may be posting some updates on Twitter @Joystory and the Joystory fb fanpage. But this is where I do anything more than a line or two.  Including mini-challenges that don't require a separate post..   

Be sure and see my tribute poem to Dewey and the Thon she birthed at the bottom of this post

5:05 PM Saturday - Wrapup

I stuck with Saturday Night Widows for the duration.  Why.  Why did it take me so long to engage with this book?  Because finally I'm finding one of the things--maybe the one thing--I've missed in my own widowhood experience: validation for a grief over the loss of someone some have judged as less worthy than others.  In Becky Aikman's support group there is one loss to suicide and one loss to alcoholism.  Yet the group rallied around these two without hesitation or judgment.  No implying that their grief must be easier or must be over sooner or suffered in silence and secret like a guilty vice since after all their loved one was begging for it, was making poor choices, was not a good person, did not treat you right, maybe deserved it and isn't it a relief really aren't you glad to be free of all that?  Nope none of that.  Those two women and their grief are embraced by the group with equal compassion and their loss given equal consideration.

3:03 PM Saturday - Now I'm going to run out the clock on the novel I mentioned in the opening meme:

Saturday Night Widows

The Adventures of Six Friends Remaking Their Lives 

by Becky Aikman

Six marriages, six heartbreaks, one shared beginning.

In her forties – a widow, too young, too modern to accept the role – Becky Aikman struggled to make sense of her place in an altered world. In this transcendent and infectiously wise memoir, she explores surprising new discoveries about how people experience grief and transcend loss and, following her own remarriage, forms a group with five other young widows to test these unconventional ideas. Together, these friends summon the humor, resilience, and striving spirit essential for anyone overcoming adversity.

Hmm.  Somehow along the way I either missed that this was a memoir not a novel or forgot.  Well, it is just as well as I already have too many novels in the works.  So I'm still going to spend at least an hour with this and then decide whether I want to move on to one of those novels-in-progress to close out the thon.

2:44 PM Saturday - Started reading soon as coffee in hand 9:30ish haven't stopped to update or explore the thon activity

I have several items in my Libby library on my Nexus 7 that are coming up due and/or very close to finished and that is where I put my focus this morning:

Rage by Bob Woodward

It's OK That You're Not OK by Megan Devine (about grief)

27 Essential Principles of Story by Daniel Joshua Rubin

Conversations With the Divine by Caroline Myss

I finished Rage.  Finally after starting it 42 weeks ago.  But I just read at least half in one sitting.  The last half of course.

2:44 AM Saturday - Can't keep my eyes open.

Not surprising since I began the thon with nine hours awake behind me.  I spent the last six hours browsing in the ebooks in my Libby, leaving comments on the Dewey thon hour posts and on some reader blogs.  My eyes are rebelling big time.  I must sleep as I've been rereading the same sentences over and over for the last thirty minutes.

11:11 PM - Here's the biblio scoop on the audio I spent the last hour or so with:

The Essential T.S. Eliot by T.S. Eliot

A selection of the most significant and enduring poems from one of the twentieth century's major writers, chosen and introduced by Vijay Seshadri, performed by T.S. Eliot, Vijay Seshadri, Daniel Halpern, Willem Dafoe, Natasha Trethewey, Meghan O'Rourke, Natalie Diaz, Frank Bidart, Joy Harjo, Rosanna Warren, Emily Jungmin Yoon, Tracy K. Smith, Nicole Sealey, Jorie Graham, Kevin Young, Louise Glück, Eileen Myles, Carol Muske-Dukes, Campbell McGrath, Robert Hass, and Monica Youn.

This audio book was supplied by Libby via my local library.  It's about 4 hours long and I just listened to the second hour.

9:33PM - Going to fix a snack and return to my beanbag chair

I think I will give my eyes a break with some audio.  Probably a T. S. Elliot collection I've got checked out from Libby in which the selections are being read by renowned poets of our era.  I'll add the correct bib info later.

8:55 PM - First Finish

Just finished Odyssey of Ashes by Cheryl Krauter. What a raw and intimate story of loss and grief, of letting go of what must move on while holding on to the essential self and discovering a resilience rooted in vulnerability.  Reading this memoir of widowhood as a recent widow myself my emotions are still riding the turbulent currents of her story as I try to sort out the mix and mingle of my own emotions from hers.

She answered one of my burning questions tho.  How long?  Forever.  Grieving is not a task that has a definitive end like making a meal or writing a book.  It is as much a lifetime commitment as the marriage itself was.  Grief is transformative and as it transforms you and your life the experience of it itself will transform.  Grief is like the weather and rivers--wind and water rushing over landscapes at times turbulent and stormy and other times placid but always a part of the landscape of your soul.

4:44 PM - Intro Meme I'm setting this to go live at 4:44 PM but it may be well into hour 1 before I check in again.  I'll be reading my first pick sitting in my beanbag chair.

1) What fine part of the world are you reading from today?

Kelso Washington USA.  Across the Cowlitz river from Longview where I grew up and had been living with my elderly mother since 2013.  I moved into my 400 square foot efficiency unit less than a month ago.  The last several posts have been about the move.  This will be my first read-a-thon in my new place.  This is also the first time I've ever lived alone.  Takes some getting used to.

2) Which book in your stack are you most looking forward to?

Non-Fiction: Odyssey of Ashes by Cheryl Krauter #OdysseyofAshes #NetGalley.  An ARC I'm reading for a blog tour for which my review and interview day is September 3.

It is the memoir of a widow whose husband won a coveted Montana rivers fly fishing trip nearly a year after he died.  She decided to go on the trip in his place and spread his ashes in the places he loved.  The account is a meditation on grief and loss and starting anew.

It's been five years since I participated in a blog tour.  As a recent widow myself I could not pass this one up.

Fiction Memoir:  Saturday Night Widows by Becky Aikman  a fun chcklit novel a memoir that I keep checking out on Libby but then never getting to.  I think I have been resistant to a light-hearted take on widowhood before now and might be ready for it.  (edited later: oops.  somehow I got the wrong idea about this book and mistook a memoir for chcklit fiction and wrenching emotional depth for lighthearted?  Don't know how that happened.  But I may have remembered the parts of the blurb that emphasized the humor.  And there is plenty of that.  Humor and heartbreak go together like cheese and crackers.)

3) Which snack are you most looking forward to?

Watermelon

4) Tell us a little something about yourself!

Widowed last September

Legally blind with RP aka tunnel vision

Diagnosed with high functioning autism six years ago this month

Have a caregiver who comes in twice a week to help with chores and errands I can't do alone.

I proved during this move that I have more volume in fiber art supplies than in clothes by at least thee times.

5) If you participated in the last read-a-thon, what’s one thing you’ll do different today? If this is your first read-a-thon, what are you most looking forward to?

The fact that I'm living alone in my own place for the first time in my life has already been covered.  So I'll add that I'll be spending the majority of reading time for books that need eyes on my new beanbag chair atop my new mini-tramp.  When I have to be up and about doing unavoidable tasks or I want to exercise on the mini-tramp I'll switch to audio.

Ode to Dewey

by Joy Renee

vote, fav and share for Dewey

We Miss You Dewey

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Playing Musical Places

 

The Bed Alcove
showing the back wall cleared for the shelves and the table moved in for the build

The last ten days has been a hectic blur of shifting stuff from one place to another.  At one point as I was moving things from one shelf to another for the fifth or sixth time for those items, I said to myself, 'This reminds me of musical chairs.  Without the music.'  So I started thinking of it as 'musical shelves' but soon I realized it wasn't just shelves, it was every conceivably nameable place: wall, corner, cupboard, counter, box, bag, floor, table, chair, tramp, tub, sink...

All that shifting of stuff wasn't random but always part of a preplanned project with a goal that was, I hoped, possible to reach before time for the next event that required me to have the area(s) affected returned from chaos to functional.  Events like time for meal prep and eating, time to prepare for the arrival of my caretaker to help with mundane chores and errand running, time to stop making noise that could disturb my neighbor, time to lay out my mattress or  even just time to stop and take stock of my surroundings to confirm that I'd left a clear path between wherever I was standing and both doors and the bathroom.  That latter is an important self-care habit that I try to remember to do as frequently as every twenty minutes because my vision impairment puts me at risk of nasty jarring incidents if not outright falls.

What's Wrong With This Picture?

The projects that required all this shifting of stuff were of several categories.  There was the unpacking of boxes and bags, the unboxing of amazon orders, the building of shelf units, the experimenting with the placement of furniture sized items and the sorting, purging and organizing of a category of items.  The projects must likely to take longer than anticipated and thus have negative ripple effects on the functionality of the places and myself were the shelf building.  They required having enough floor space to spin the unit in place with room for me to walk around at least one end of it.  In other words I needed an approximately six foot diameter space.  The only way to get that was to shift a lot of stuff to the front wall of the living room.

Three Happy Places Smooshed into One
making room for the shelf build in the bed alcove

All of this shifting around played havoc with my happy places.  Those areas of calm and functionality I established in the first days.  I kept having to compromise one or more in minor or major ways.  For the three days it took me to build the 5x6 cube unit for the back wall of the bed alcove, I had to smoosh three happy places into the 6x4 foot space in front of the front room window so that I could move half the huge bags of crafts into the front room and move the table in there to build the first two layers.

The three happy places smooshed into a space equivalent to a queen sized mattress were the tramp, my desk for reading/writing/viewing and my bed.  When the mattress was on the floor I had to walk across it to get to the tramp or the desk, when the mattress was folded it had to be on the tramp.  I had to live with this set up for two full days and the first night I had worked long past the cut off for potentially noisy activities trying to make sure I could have my bed in the bed alcove.  By the time I gave up the sky was already pale and by the time I had my bed made the three windows viewable from my pillows were bright and there was no way to turn my back on all three at the same time.  Between the light and the pain in my back and feet and the fretting over needing to be awake in four hours to prepare for the arrival of my caretaker (the 7th new girl in under 5 months) I could not sleep.

Tho I didn't sleep I made myself stay put with my eyes closed until my alarm went off at 9 and then got up to prepare for the arrival of my caregiver at 12:30 by making a list of the things I needed her help with while I drank my coffee, making sure the floors were clear in the kitchen and living room for sweeping and mopping, gathering all the cardboard boxes needing to be broke down and stuffed in the bins, placing all the dirty dishes in the sink, and getting a shower.  I was going to do up all the dishes except the crock pot which I'd dropped three times when I washed it after pulling it out of the box from the 2013 move from the Rogue Valley. But I ran out of time.

But then it didn't matter after all as the caregiver did not show up.  It turned out she got lost trying to find my place and because I was so busy watching for her at the window I did not think to check my Google Voice mail for messages from her boss until 45 minutes after she was due and by then it was too late.  I was so tempted to put my bed back down and sleep away the heat of the day but the issue of the window light and the neighbor noise made that unappealing.  So I returned to work on the shelf.

Not sure that was wise tho as I made so many mistakes I am sure I doubled the effort with half the return.  I kept having to undo and redo things.  Things put in backwards or upside down.  Things put in off center.  Things put in before realizing that the thing below it was not secure so it had to come back out in order to get at the loose piece and secure it.

So it was unsurprising that I was unable to finish the shelf in time for bedtime Tuesday night which came as soon as the window light was minimal enough--around 8:30.  In spite of the pain in my back and feet being worse than the night before, I slept hard Tuesday night right through until the light from the kitchen window filled the front rooms around 7.

The Portable Yarn Closet Returned to Its Place After Spending Three Days Cat-a-Corner

I finally got the shelf unit finished Wednesday late afternoon in plenty of time to experiment with its placement and the placement of other large items.  In preparing the space for building the shelves I'd concluded that the portable closet I'd set up beside the hall door which held all the never-been-on-the-hook yarn and thread was not going to fit with the shelves so I'd moved it to the opposite corner of the alcove by the window.  But that was before I'd decided to combine the pieces of three kits for units three cubes wide into one unit 4 cubes wide by 6 cubes tall.  Now the closet would fit and that was where I preferred it so that meant pulling at least a dozen 11 gallon and 22 gallon bags out, piling them in the living room, moving the closet and putting them all back.  The reverse of what I'd done Monday afternoon to prep for the project.

The Yarn Closet and the New Shelf Unit In Place

Once I was happy with the placement of the closet and the shelves and the bags of craft stuff destined for those shelves, I could put the rest of the alcove together according to the plan I'd had for over a week.  I moved the tramp in under the window and then spread the fleece rug in front of it to mark the space for my bed and stood the folded mattress up against the shelves.

The Bed Alcove With Tramp and Bed Space In Place

Now I was free to recreate my read/write/view happy place in the location I'd been envisioning as it's long-term home ever since I first toured the unit over a month ago: The front wall with my desk placed so I could look out the window while I wrote.  I would be putting it together with boards across cardboard boxes, a bit flimsy and far from the ideal I have pictured but functional enough and a right proper reward for the last three days of chaos, pain and fatigue.

My Read/Write/View Happy Place Re-Created Now In Its Home Space

After I got that set up I fixed a salad and ate while watching MASH and Gomer Pyle.  That was the first time in a week that I'd been able to stay awake for the final scene of a sitcom tho I'd made watching one part of my bedtime ritual.  Maybe it was only because I was sitting in my office chair with food in my hands instead of reclining with the DVD player on my belly.  But it was at least partly pure exhilaration. 

It was while enjoying my replaced happy places Wednesday night, that I conceived the plan to spend as much time there over the next three days as I'd spent on my feet over the previous four of five days.  In light of the anticipated heat wave with temps expected to hit triple digits it seemed a wise plan and not just self-indulgent.  Add in the fact that incipient blisters on the soles and toes of both feet were making standing and walking excruciating and it seemed insane to expect myself to continue the work at the same pace.

My new caregiver agreed with me Thursday afternoon and suggested I needed to stay off my feet as much as possible for at least three days to allow those hot spots on my feet to heal before they became real blisters and thus at risk for infection.  She also coached me on the protocols for surviving an exceptionally hot day without air-conditioning: hydration, closing windows and blinds before the air warms up in the mornings and keeping them closed until the air outside is cooler than the air inside, frozen wet towels, minimize exertion..  Most of which I was well versed in after living for decades in the Rogue Valley where triple digit days were common in July through September.

The thermostat on my fan read in the high 80s by mid afternoon Friday and flickered between 89 and 90 several times before 10:30 that night when, just out of curiosity I opened the front door to see how warm the air was outside only to discover that it was much cooler with a nice breeze already.  That seemed to indicate the heat dome had moved on or broken up.  It was a nice marine air flow and I opened up all the windows.

The Front Room
I Can't Wait to See My Books Fill Up Those Top Two Levels

Nothing is the same as It was Wednesday evening or even Thursday evening when a few of these pics were taken as I continue playing musical places.  For example, my sister brought the blue six cube shelf unit I had at Mom's since 2016 over on Friday and Saturday I discovered it's parts were the same as the 9 cube unit I had yet to assemble and I decided I'd combine them into one larger unit 3 cubes wide.  I finished that Saturday evening and today, Sunday, I unpacked four large bags and two large boxes of the craft stuff that had been on shelves or in drawers or bags at Mom's.  Now both of the shelf units I built in the last week are loaded up.  But I'm going to have to unload the blue one tomorrow to fix several spots on one level where I put pieces in upside down and one pipe that came loose from its slot.   I'll probably move it all over to the top two levels of the two load-bearing bookshelves on the opposite wall which I just got cleared off in anticipation of bringing my books over from Mom's.

And so I continue to play musical places

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