keelyblog

We have had a rocky start to our return to the PNW. Here is a breakdown:
Not nice things:
1. Apt in sub-human living state after leaving it in the care of my husband for 5 months. Urine encrusted toilets–need I say more?
2. Several crying jags since coming back. After feeling pretty okay with the idea that some people enjoy this climate, I have found myself dreaming of “I Hate Seattle” bumper stickers again. Sometimes I feel like this climate is killing my soul.
3. Had 4 drinks (3 beers and 1 cocktail) since getting here less than a week ago. Lonely and missing my freedom to tool around town whenever and hang out naked in our back yard and see friends and have friends visit.
4. The cold sunshine still depresses me. My husband walked to the bus stop and let us have the car all day on Tuesday. We took advantage and went on long adventures both in the morning and afternoon. That morning was only mostly cloudy. Anytime the sun peaked through I ran over to try and stand directly in the rays. Nothing. No warmth. :,(

Trying to improve:
1. We ordered a reptile light for me to stand under 5 minutes at a time a few times a day. Hopefully this will help my mood as well as my bodies reluctance to process vitamin D supplements.
2. I cleaned the apartment.
3. We made tortillas this morning and had quesadillas for lunch!! I used this recipe: http://homesicktexan.blogspot.com/2007/03/and-end-to-my-quest-flour-tortillas.html
4. My husband has been talking more about next year when we will all be home in Austin. I love our home in Austin. Also, we are talking about home remodels and improvements to our land there :)

Jason Robards will not be calling me in the middle of the night to meet my 15 year old son, and neither will my Dad. I am not sure how to feel. Sad, yes; but not crying my eyes out. I have known for some time that this was coming–long before the doctors released him for hospice care. There are only so many years you can be a chain-smoking alcoholic before it catches up to you.

I have not seen my father in 5 years. He did not come to my wedding, although he was invited. I have talked to him fairly recently, but it was painful to hear his almost non-existent voice over the phone. It is really almost less painful to know that he has moved on than to be keyed into his pain–both physical and mental.

In 2005 I wrote him a letter telling him that I would not be able to continue to watch him drink himself to death. I was pregnant with my daughter at the time. Previous to this time, just talking on the phone to him would have me crying for a week. Maybe I have already cried all the tears I can for him. Maybe there are a few more.