Daily Archives: July 28, 2015

When the Garbo Looks at Your Trashcans and Says Uh, No.

Isn’t that nice? My fire was much more messy and much less separated from the grass around it.

Yesterday, I flexed my biceps and actually sweated while cutting down an overgrown forsythia bush in our sideyard. There are actually two bushes over there and I had intended to cut them both down, but reality.

So, I cut and cut and cut and cut. Gathered. Put some in a trashcan, so clever. It was “IN” the trashcan, except that you apparently don’t count the airspace above the can as “IN.” But at that point, I was optimistic and hopeful that the middle-of-the-night pickup would be staffed by a waste collector who would chuckle lightly and cluck his tongue, “Oh, that Susan . . .” and then would take away the giant mess I had left at the street.

Imagine my response this morning when I looked out my window and discovered that my garbage cans/trees were still right where I left them. I peered up and down the street, trying to determine if maybe for some reason he hadn’t been by yet. Couldn’t tell. Usually, they empty the cans and sling them back to the edge, leaving quite a wake of chaos behind them. I kinda knew when I saw them that I had pushed the limits a little too hard.

So, from the frying pan to the fire. LOL. I dragged all that brush to the back 40 where I tried about 17 times to start a fire, and FINALLY got it to start. Then I burned everything up, worrying the entire time that the fire department was going to see the smoke (they are right over THERE) and come and give me what for. When not worrying about the fire department, I worried about my neighbor’s pool getting lots of ashes floating down into it, but not as much as I would have if she would ever let us swim in it. (Haha.)

In my usual methodical way, I circled the fire, making sure it didn’t jump its borders. Nice thing to have a phone, so I could instruct my daughter to bring me the second trashcan of tree, as I didn’t want to leave the fire unattended. Burning up the brush is probably illegal. I’ll have Tomorrow Susan look that up since I still have another entire forsythia to remove.

The only excitement was when a piece of ash landed on my head, but I didn’t know it until my scalp starting feeling super hot. Got that all tended to by smacking my hair multiple times with my hands, and then without further ado, continued burning up the brush.

Remembering my wilderness tripping days, I made sure to put plenty of water on the ashes and make sure the fire was completely out. Another eyesore in the yard has been cleaned up. Making progress back there indeed.

When an Addict Shows Up at Your Door

My heart sank even as my face lit up when my son burst through my front door this evening. I surely wasn’t expecting him. He was in jail this morning and was supposed to stay there for the foreseeable future. What is early release anyway? How do they decide who to give that to? Why doesn’t the judge get to keep someone from being released early?

I was in the process of putting Kepler to bed, and we happened to be in the middle of a stare-down about whether or not he was going to brush with toothpaste tonight. I was determined he was. He was determined he wasn’t. The usual type of thing, but I knew I would win this one. What I didn’t expect was having to abandon the duel at fifty paces to deal with my addict son arriving.

I saw an unfamiliar car in the driveway, driven by an unfamiliar person. By virtue of the fact that my son gave this guy his name and number, that made me very suspicious about who this person might be, and why he was driving my son out to the suburbs from the downtown jail.

The thing is, as I told my mother the other day, i think my brain is made up of 75% gorilla glue, so when a thought gets in there, it gets stuck pretty quickly. After talking to my son this morning, I was basically depending on the conversation we had had, thinking that I could count on the facts as I knew them. He was in jail. He was going to call me at 6pm. He was going to be transferred to another facility when a bed became available so that he could be assessed for suitability for in-patient rehab. (I can tell them, if they want to know, that he is definitely a good candidate for in-patient). And then, and then, and then, I spend time this afternoon thinking about what book would be good to send him from Amazon, and how we might continue to work on some of the thinking processes we had been talking about.

And then he shows up.

I confess my first response was not “Perfect, what’s next?” or even, “Yes, and,” which are my two favorite responses to unexpected events. Applying them now, I discover the following: Perfect, what’s next? He will see his probation officer in the morning. I will drive him. He may appear before the judge again. She may send him back to jail. If she does, he may be extremely distressed. I will respond to whatever happens with as much grace and wisdom as I can access. Yes, he is out of jail, and that means he has access to drugs and there is nothing I can do to prevent that. I can drive him downtown tomorrow, support him through the process, and feel what I feel throughout.

I don’t have to control this. I can allow the process to unfold.

As the last two paragraphs of the Desiderata poem say,

And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be.

And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.

So Many More Opportunities Today to say Perfect, What’s Next?

When I thought someone was in jail, but they got early release and showed up at my door.

When I decided to tell the truth to someone and it was really hard to do.

When I was running late this morning because of all the details I HAD to tend to before we left.

When my phone would not send messages for some mysterious reason.

When I had to turn off the music I wanted to listen to for several more hours.

When I wondered if the person in front of me was showing symptoms of being high on drugs.

There was a time a couple months ago when I was afraid I might miss a day of blogging, that I might forget or not have anything to post, or just somehow end my habit of daily blogging. I can definitely say that by now, at least 200 posts from the first one in January, I am GOING to blog every day. Different days contain different levels of content that can be assimilated by others, but I’m still here.

I am very, very thankful for the resources I have. And it’s reasonable to be thrown off when something like early release from jail happens, especially under the circumstances. So, tonight, I can basically just pour it all out on my blog and trust that tomorrow is a new day and will have its own adventures.