Harbinger of Death

Another fun filled family extravaganza. We had Thanksgiving over at the Baron's mother's house. It went fine. There's always plenty of food, plenty of laughter, lots of family, and many bottles of wine.

But the Baron's family has one tiny little quirk. They don't talk about bad stuff. Ever. They don't acknowledge a lot of things, and prefer to ignore the elephant pooping in the corner of the room. You all know me. I have no filter. Pour a few glasses of wine in me, and it's like truth serum.

This leads to a lot of uncomfortable moments. Particularly with Auntie C. I love Auntie C - she's kind, sweet, caring, and very sensitive. But the family really only gets together for holidays, so Auntie C, her husband Uncle E, and their kids get left out of the loop during the year.

You see where this is going, right? Me in tears at Easter 3 years ago telling her that we had lost our first baby, BT. Me in tears at Thanksgiving 2 years ago when she said how good I looked for 6 months pregnant, explaining that we had lost our second baby, MP a few weeks before. Her in tears this past Easter, when I explained to her that the Baron's father passed away a few months before (while everyone else cleared out of the kitchen, I was left consoling her).

And today. Explaining that we had to leave early because we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow helping my Mom move out of the house. The second I said it, I saw the look on Auntie C's face. She looked confused. She wanted to ask why my Mom was moving. But history has taught her not to ask me the tough questions, even though it was killing her.

For the first time in my life, I took the easy way out. I put on my coat and refused to make eye contact. I wasn't going to be the one to tell her anymore bad news. I couldn't do it. I watched her corner my Mother in law in another room a few minutes later and ask her.

Nothing like a family holiday to once again make me feel The Harbinger of Death.

Nevermore! kaw, kaw

Happy Thanksgiving!

This is what I do every holiday morning. I always intend to make pies the night before, but get lazy and wind up making pies for my family and the Baron's family first thing when I wake up. And for those who are curious - oh yeah, I got mad baking skillz. That's my pie, not a random photo. Homemade crust.

The funny thing is... I don't like pie. It's 3 hours worth of work, and I don't even take a piece. It's just my job for the families, I enjoy the process, I enjoy being a little special - The Bearer of Pies. I learned how to bake apple pie from my Grandmother, and it's been my role for about 10 years.

What I do love about baking a pie from scratch... Little Sisters. Sillies - I don't mean relatives, I'm an only child! It's a family tradition, born from Depression Era grandparents - how to ensure you use every last bit of usable food. You take the leftover dough from the pie crust, roll it out long and thin, slather butter on it, sprinkle with sugar and cinnamon, roll it up, cut in to little cookies, and bake for 10 mins.

The upside to always putting the pies off until the holiday morning... we always have Little Sisters for breakfast.

Pic below was taken approx 30 seconds after they left the oven. I put the pan on the stove, grabbed my phone to take a pic, and half of them were gone already.

Have a Happy Thanksgiving, and hope it's filled with all of your favorite goodies!

Always Look on The Bright Side of Life...

Pretty much sums it up these days. I know, I know... I haven't returned emails, phone calls, but it's taking pretty much everything in me to get up and shower in the morning.

Here's what's going on. Gram was in the hospital for a week with pneumonia, heart attacks, and her general declining health. Both of you who read the blog know that I deal with all of the phone calls when it comes to her health, and tried to be a good girl and visit every other day, taking Mom with me several times. Not fun. She was at the same hospital Dad died in. Mom did okay, but it was really tough on both of us Gram made it through, and she's back at the nursing home.

Meanwhile on the homefront, the Baron and I had a complete relationship meltdown. Epic proportions for a few days. I was having anxiety attacks for a few days, and wound up working from home at least once because I thought I was going to stroke out.

Oh yeah, and if you watch the news, read the paper, or don't live under a rock... you also know that the company I work for is in serious jeopardy - not a good time for me not to be putting in my best performance at work. Terrified I'm going to lose my job.

So I backed off from Mom and Auntie for a few days, trying to straighten my life out and get my head back together. Mom was so good about it, but the visits to the hospital to see Gram really through her out of whack. Flash forward a week, and Mom hadn't really slept or eaten since I saw her 6 days ago. Not good. We hugged, we cried, we took medication, finally got Mom to sleep, with the promise that she wouldn't stay alone in the house for a few days, she'd go down to my other Aunt's house to stay.

And yesterday when I talked to her (3 days after the meltdown) she had been at my aunt's a few days.... and she's decided that's it. She's not sleeping at her house ever again. She's officially moved. I knew it was coming, but I just didn't expect it to hurt so much. My parent's house is never going to be my parent's house again. Pretty soon she won't own it any longer. I can't stop crying about it. I may be pushing toward 40, been on my own since my early 20's, but dammit, Mom and Dad's house was always home! I won't be able to just swing by when I have a bad day. I won't be able to just let myself in and raid the goodie cabinet.

And the worse part is, the part that my head still can't wrap around... I'll never see Dad sitting on the oversized chair watching t.v.. I'll never see him at the computer playing his games on Pogo. I'll never again kvetch with him about work acquaintances, or how the whole place is going to hell in a hand basket. I'll never see any of his tacky Christmas decorations hung all over the house. It all finally seems real, and I can't stand it.

All this whining, and that stupid Monty Python song is ringing in my ears. Come on everybody, whistle along with me...