Green Jean Granny

I’m such a freaking baby. I have fought tears (fought nothing – I’m bawling like an idiot) all day over the stupid postage for a box to California. I can never afford to send stuff in such a way it’s a joy to open the box. I feel like such a fool to let it get to me like this. I had to repack my box and squish the contents to be able to mail it at all and forget the priority mail. The postal clerk assured me the box will be late – asshole.

I can’t see my baby or her babies and the toys and things I lovingly made and gathered just don’t feel the same coming out of a box they are smuched into. Dammit. Just dammit. I hate feeling like this. I promised myself I will never stop trying to do the things I want to do for my family, but I have this internal shut down valve over stuff like this. It’s no one’s fault but my own…

but still. It sucks. $15 is so precious.

We took out a title pawn to pay off a title pawn this morning and couldn’t get a handful of extra dollars. In another month, the bank says Steve can have a signature loan to pay off this title pawn. He gave notice to the newspaper on his route this morning to keep working for them as a substitute… maybe the money will be better. I’ve had tiny nibbles on the job front, but nothing offered except selling Insurance. My enthusiasm is pouring out all over the place.

Our diet has gotten worse and worse (way too many carbs)- my weight is going up – walking is more difficult every day with the the joint pain – no air conditioning – I swear it’s hard not to think of getting older and having nothing. This damn depression is just about all I can stand.

Food stamps reloaded today. I bought groceries and went with a list. Clean eating. $246 and half the stamps left to take us through till next month with prayers the renewal will not be screwed up so they delay the next months stamps by A MONTH like they did last time. I am sick of people’s comments about public benefits. I would much rather have a job and not need them or the rigamarole necessary to get them. Something else I can’t control.

On my list to get –
1. a baby pool for my sweet dogs so they can stand this heat.
2. new glasses so I can exit the ‘can’t see shit’ club.
2. Clothes for G for school and his dues for his senior year.
3. Dentures befor the last of my bad teeth abcess.

It’s not that this isn’t a good day. It’s as good as it gets and that’s what knots my emotions. I think I need a nap. Haven’t had caffine for 2 days and I’m about to loose it.

Oh yeah, I’m knitting a teddy bear to put on Etsy.

with the feeling of having all my things trashed. It was mean spirited and cruel and can’t be undone. My insides just hurt. I’d been waiting to put my home back together. It sits on my mind like a weight. Hard as I try, I do not understand this level of deliberately hurting someone you love. It’s a bridge burned and that is so undoable, so final. The hate and anger she spews with her fingers – not saying it with her voice but with her hands –
V said she was sorry the arguement got so ugly. Yes, UGLY…the perfect word.

UGLY.
Damn.

I feel the need to restructure. Re-nest. My things were all sentimental items. How do I redo sentimental? My sea shell I found on Jekyll Island, the ornaments I’d hand stitched for our tree, my indian things – my feathers, my diary, my genealogy papers and letters from my great grandfather, the pictures of all my kids growing through the years – Baby books, my grandma’s quilts and cast iron skillet. Vanessa’s wedding calender, kaiha’s birth pictures, Geoffrey’s baby book. A poem Greg had written for Vanessa right after she was born. A baseball card Steve tucked in G’s favorite book. A book Kansas wrote in for me. Geoffrey’s drum. MY birth pictures. Pictures of my gramma, of my mom and dad. I guess I need to write this stuff down. There were towels, blankets, dishes, pots and pans, our coats, our clothes, the cords to my computer storage, the teapot Taryn helped me pick out, all of our DVD’s and CDs, my printer – our Christmas stockings I’d made, my doll, the jewelry box Steve gave me, the jewelry I’d made, pictures of my grandkids, and all my craft stuff. Buckets of yarn, clay, items I’d made to give to people, things I intended to sell, too.

I HURT. I am angry and hurt. I have lost my things, and my precious daughter and grandsons. I feel like someone has died. FUCK. Brenda said move forward and be a warrior. HOW?

I don’t want to be a warrior.
I want somebody to fix it.

You know how you get so low on things in the kitchen that you are trying wierd stuff to make meals? Come tomorrow, I get to figure out what really needs replacing and what doesn’t 🙂 Steve said it’s getting to him how we can’t buy milk or butter or eggs without EBT. It’s time to renew our food stamp information so we can keep getting them.

Today, as awful as it sounds, I am hoping a pink velvet cake mix, 2 eggs and a can of cherry pie filling will be snackable. I have a feeling G will eat it for breakfast.

I have some frozen cheese tortallini, a can of Hunts Spaghetti sauce and some fetta cheese I am praying will be ok tasting for dinner. I have chicken livers too but the thought of anything but frying them gags me. Maybe they can be lunch. There’s a box of chicken/fish fry coating mix Steve brought home I can dredge them in. Asian seasoning should be interesting. lol

Dogs had cottage cheese too old for people for their breakfast and a cup of dry food each.

It’s raining too.

The guy who bid on my newspaper bags on ebay hasn’t paid for them. How do I get so lucky? This is twice there has been no follow through from buyers.

Steve just walked through the door with bread, half and half and vegetable Spread – butter substitute. He spent his 3 dollars. The beggars can’t be choosers comment made me angry but I didn’t say anything. I’m trying to just accept that this is how things are for a while.

Please Goddess give me strength.

So today I got blamed for not letting anyone know that cared about Kansas, that his parole could be coming up. All they asked me was whether I’d let him live with me, and I said no. They wouldn’t even let me know where he was. AND, everything I left behind was donated. I have no right to feel anything about anything.

I live with this extreme weight because I can’t please anyone. I am going to have a huge cry and release my children to the Goddess. I cannot keep my heart exposed to the two of them. May She protect the innocent babies. I am done with this.

But it hurts like hell. I didn’t choose to give up my children and my grandbabies. I didn’t choose to go leave my things forever. I chose to undo leaving my husband and thought I could go back for my things. I thought my daughter loved me. Yeah, there are consequences. I just didn’t expect this.

My oldest wrote me a note to tell me how sorry she was and that I didn’t deserve this. It means more than she will ever know.

I enjoyed a good long talk with my sister this morning. She’s doing ok and hoping Friday’s tests show an improvement in her cancer. She’s shedding now so I mailed her hats. She fears loosing her hair because it means she has to tell Emmee and Allee about the cancer. We laugh about stuff but it’s far from funny.
I also mailed Haskell’s dragon hat and 3 hats to Lavonne. Her hair is coming out, too. fuck cancer. I’m sending a hat to another friend, and need to make a couple more.

My daughter asked me about the pizza job. I wasn’t able to do it. Why did I feel like such a looser when I had to say I couldn’t do it? I can’t stand for hours and they can’t accomodate a chair. Degenerative discs are no fun. Steve and I are going to change newspaper branches and see if we can get routes closer to home. I am going to list my gemstones on e-bay in small batches and see if I can get some of that money back.

Still waiting on potting soil to start the seeds – and time.
And V sent me a precious picture of Lex in the blue hat I made Haskell. I love that he is using it.

G came home happy and talkative from his theatre class. he got to see Singing in the Rain during class. His final monologue will be Scene One, Act 3 of Othello. He said “you know I will play a Moor.” And I asked if he knew what a Moor was. Yep. He did.

I’ve been hired by Domino’s as a driver. I keep putting the exclamation mark on that sentence… fake it till you make it, right? We have no gas money for the 2 weeks it will take to get a check. TIPS. I get tips before I get a check. It will work. I keep blocking the thoughts that bring tears, but they are certainly part of what’s inside of me. I keep praying for better and this is what comes so I am trying hard to accept the blessing and not feel negative. My insides are knotted. If I let down and say anything that bombards my mind, I am ungrateful and negative and unappreciative and don’t deserve anything. So here is my exclamation mark, AGAIN.

I have been knitting like crazy. Thing is, I’m learning new stuff, new stitches. The first ones are never perfect. I know that perfection is important to people.

However, I have a sweet pair of hand warmers that aren’t the exact same length. I have a friend I think will like them anyway. I have to raise postage.

I have beautiful, perfect hats, scarf, wrist warmers for my sister, made from yarn a dear friend sent me – waiting on postage.

I have almost completed an Anemone hat – so cute. Not perfect, but I have another friend I think will like it. Postage again.

I made a precious dragon hat for Hack, but V doesn’t think he’ll wear it. I thought he’d think it was a toy and wear it with his dragon tail. It sits on the wig stand. A kimono I made for lex needed clear snaps to finish it off. It’s tiny tho and by the time I get postage, he’ll be grown out of it. Damn.

I am crossing my fingers that Kay has brought my things to GA. I have no way of knowing, but no gas money to make a trip from Atlanta to Warner Roberts. I don’t know why I am crossing my fingers except that hope and good intentions are all I have right now.

I can’t give up my hope or my good intentions just because we are poor. I guess if things sit, they will still be appreciated whenever I can scrape together a big envelope, a couple small boxes, another skein of yarn, and money for postage.

I am so envious of my friend who flew out to SF to see our new grandson – my grandson’s other grandmothers get to go see them and I fight tears because I want to so badly. Wanting to is not enough. I know that from when my own were little. I always wanted to _______. Fill it in. When you are poor, all you have is what you want. I fight my inner gramma voice – want in one hand spit in the other and see which gets full the fastest. What the hell am I supposed to do? I want to make a difference, I want to work, I want to hold my grandchildren. I want to help my husband. I want this freaking pain to ease up. I want to have insurance but nothing covers our expenses because we have to spend down our deductible which we can’t do. It’s all fucked up. My clothes are so ragged and so are Steve’s. G hasn’t had new clothes in years. These things aren’t important, but they are. We had routes close to home and we stood on principle and didn’t sign the new contracts because they were enslaving us and we were working for free. Honestly, we were paying them for our efforts because of the way the contract was drawn up. 2 weeks of it before signing showed us it couldn’t be done, so we didn’t. Tonight Steve was saying at least we were closer to home – but he’s so tired working 7 days a week. Just …. umh.

Steve is trying so hard and now things are on him completely. He’s talking about going to work in fast food – maybe McDonald’s. We’ve borrowed $70 for gas that has to be paid back when we get the check. The animals are being fed day by day. We’ve had to front the gas money for a daily commute of 80 miles to throw this darn paper route. We(I) put in applications, and no one calls. I am sure the demand for any job is still huge for those needing one. The check Steve gets is going to be for one week. We have to hold onto enough money for gas for another week. The house payment is due, all utilities, G’s computer payment, the Internet, the State tax payment. You’d think a family could bring in enough to just manage the minimum. It’s not happening. So we plan for things, work around our pain as best as we can, and keep on.

We still have Sam’s house to clean once a month – this coming Tuesday.

I spent the first 50 yrs of my life not making plans because plans always ended up being wants. Dammit. I try so hard. I feel like someday, when I die and someone sorts my things, they won’t know who the stacks of things I’ve made are for. Eithne, Celtie, Heather, Hack, Andee…hell, my sister could die before I get postage money.

I’m having a hard time trying to figure out what I can do so my wants and intentions can manifest. How can I manifest what I need? I think I need to go back and figure out something from an idea someone gave me in 2009. Why did I wait? I guess the lessons that come have their own time of unfolding. OK…I’ve talked this out. I think I’ve settled on a plan. it’s time to manifest. 🙂 I will never put the shit out without figuring out what to do with it. That’s an old “self promise”.

WRITE down my ideas.
Form a plan of action.
Begin NOW.
Immediate goal: I need cash.

I think I’ll use Ebay to sell bits of my gemstones and the blue newspaper bags I have. I’ll get some listings up. That’s a beginning. I can set out a table in the front yard and sell baby plants. I’ll get 4 pks of seeds and a bag of potting soil. I can form pots for them from newspapers and call them biodegradeable; start the seeds and see what happens. If no one buys them, I’ll use them for us. I need a small repeatable kind of project to sell as well – there is where the idea from my friend comes into play. I’m going to print out her email and use it as a blue print.

Well alright…I’m not crying anymore. My gramma was a smart woman and she guides me all the time. The Cherokee teaching I always embrace is that we are our own ancestors. Things really do come back to her sayings…want in one hand spit in the other and see which gets full the fastest; and life is about change. OK gramma. I get it. I’m just hard headed. I want to work from home – it’s time to get working because I’m sure as hell home.