Starting Fresh

 Out of all of the moves I've done, this last one was the hardest. I'm sure a lot of it had to do with the circumstances, since I hadn't planned on moving by the end of April. But God always has a plan for me that I might not see at the time, but looking back I certainly see His hand in it all. Although I wasn't planning on moving: He knew I had to get out of that house.

Not that it was a bad house. It certainly served its purpose while we were there. However, it had gotten to the point where, due to unforeseen circumstances, it was like a spirit of oppression, or depression, began to permeate the house. I'm pretty sure I know where it came from. But digging that all up isn't the purpose of this blog post.

I had been under so much stress for the past three years or so. It seemed to affect every facet of my life. I lost a lot of weight. I wasn't sleeping. My dietary habits dissolved into chaos. I became very introverted, not going anywhere and putting friends on pause. I didn't even look the same...And this was without even bringing covid into the mix!

Long story short: I believe God finally decided that enough was enough. If I wasn't going to try to change things, He was going to make things change. So the next thing I knew: I was looking for a new place to live.

Once I got over the shock, I decided that this was a good thing. It was forcing me to get out of my funk, and do something about my own situation. If the sale of the house didn't get me out of my inertia, I don't know what would have. But trust me: this did it!

And as I went through the house, purging a LOT of stuff, I felt lighter. As we started moving stuff into our nice new place: I began to feel like me again. And I hadn't felt like this in a long time. As I felt better, I realized I was looking better too! The closer it came to the day I'd totally walk away from the old house: the more I started to recognize the person in the mirror... 

This past Saturday was the very last day I had to go back to the old house to do one more walkthrough. Schmoop-dog was with me. There was nothing left but empty rooms. No life, no echoes, no indication that I had ever lived there. He went out the front door to his vehicle. I stood in the doorway, whispered a goodbye and thanks for the memories that were good, and locked the door for the last time. As I headed for my car, I noticed poor Schmoopie had burst into tears. He said even he had so many memories there, and it was tough knowing he would never be there again. Personally, once I knew I was never going back, I felt great! No more oppression, no more depressive mood and now the world could be my oyster! I got in my car, blew a kiss and drove away without a backward glance.

Gabriella said that once I was out of that house, my entire life would change for the better. She was right! I'm sleeping so much better, my food issues are gone, and when I look in the mirror I like what I see. Dark circles are almost gone, my skin looks and feels great, and Gabriella wants to know where I have gotten the really nice dresses I've been wearing to work. Don't worry about it and don't touch them! I'm feeling good so I want to really look good too! Plus I'm much closer to work now 😀

But the best thing that happened: a call from my brother in Texas on Saturday was a life-changing experience for me. What we talked about is personal, but suffice it to say God was written all over it. 💖

So I'm starting fresh in a number of areas, and feeling so good about it. I can't wait to see what other great things are in store for me. Letting go and letting God have his way in this is going to be amazing! So stay tuned!

Behind the Music: Murder or Suicide?

A couple of days ago, I heard a little snippet of music on a commercial. I immediately recognized it as the Roberta Flack / Donny Hathaway hit "The Closer I Get to You". I had forgotten all about that song, which used to be one of my favorite slow jams. So of course I had to immediately download the song lest I forget it again, and reminisce.

But that's not what this post is about. 

Roberta Flack and Donny Hathaway were a musical dynamic duo in the '70s, on the Atlantic Records label. They teamed up in 1972 and won a Grammy for their album "Roberta Flack  and Donny Hathaway". In 1973 they recorded "Where is the Love". My slow jam, "The Closer I Get to You", was recorded in 1978. This established them as a romantic duo, although they were never more than friends. But fans still put them in a romantic, almost erotic light. Hey: whatever sells, right?

He had success on his own. His first hit single with Atlantic Records was "The Ghetto" in 1971. Donny Hathaway was compared to Otis Redding. However, he was more than a great soul singer like Otis: he was a composer, arranger, conductor, singer and teacher. He wrote their arrangement for "You've Got A Friend" at midnight, scored, did the whole job including recording it with Roberta and they were done by 2 a.m. That's talent!

Unfortunately, sometimes genius is accompanied by darkness. His quick rise to success gave him anxiety. He was diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia in 1971, and also suffered from depression. Medication, several medications in fact, did help. But they don't always help forever...

On January 13, 1979, Donny spent all day writing new music and performing it with Roberta.  After having dinner with her he returned to his hotel room at the Essex House, 160 Central Park South. The next time anyone saw him was after he had plunged from the 15th floor of the hotel to his death.

Police suspected suicide, but those who knew him best said no way. He wasn't a drinker and didn't do drugs. He was also in good spirits that night so why would he kill himself? But his room was bolted shut and no one else was present. So as the only one in the room, the ruling of suicide and not homicide won out.

Sometimes, regardless of success: the demons win. It seems to happen much too often in the entertainment industry. The only comfort we can take from Donny's life is his musical contribution. And that will live on forever.

Again: Only Me!

 I had a couple of medical tests scheduled for Tuesday of this week. I had only told one person because I don't like all the questions and people continuously mentioning it because it's stressful. I needed to wear something easy to get out of since I was going to work first, then going to the hospital, and then back to work.

I looked in my closet at the clothes Kitty had hung up for me (thanks Kitty!) and noticed this denim-colored poet shirt. I had no recollection of this top, but it was cute and I had a pair of flats that would perfectly match it. So I got dressed, feeling good in this outfit (including leggings) and went happily on my way.

I left work at 9:15 for my appointment and checked in without incident. I hoped I would get the same person I had last time, but I got another radiology tech who was just as friendly. She complimented me on matching my shoes to the shirt. When we reached the inner sanctum, she told me to undress to the waist, put on the gown with the opening in the front and she would come to get me. Easy enough and I'd done it dozens of times before.

I opened the little locker, stashed my purse inside and commenced to following her edict. And here's where the fun began. As you may know, I have a bad left shoulder with limited range of motion. So sometimes taking a shirt off over my head can be a challenge. However, I have learned to compensate for this. 

So I started to pull my arm from the left sleeve, but there wasn't enough 'give'.  Then I started to try the right arm, but that didn't work either. I figured if I bent over and pulled the sleeves it would work: but it didn't. Then I tried to pull it over my head but that was also unsuccessful. Now I was a bit stressed because it was taking so long. Then I thought maybe if I took my b-r-a off (Flashdance style) maybe that would free something up and the shirt would come off. Nope! I couldn't even get the b-r-a off! Seriously! Then I thought, "If I pull the front of the shirt over my head, then I can just pull the sleeves down and all will be right with the world!" Famous last words...

Oh, the front of the shirt went over my head all right: but that's as far as it went. I was unable to pull the sleeves so the shirt would come off. I was unable to reach back up to put the shirt back over my head. So there I was in quite the predicament. Sadly, I knew I had to get help. I peeked out of the dressing room. "Um, hello?" "Yes!" the perky tech called from the testing room. "Are you ready?" "Um, no, I need some help." She came bustling over. "Yeah...I'm kind of stuck in my shirt."

And yes she started giggling. "What did you do?" "I have a bad shoulder and was trying to get out of this stupid shirt and we see what happened." Still giggling, she said, "Of course I'll help but I'm short so you might have to bend over." I did, so she could pull the shirt back over my head. Then I had to sit on the little bench and raise my arms so she could pull it from the bottom and up and over my head. Yep: just like the toddler that I am. "Okay, you're all set. Come into the room when you have the gown on." Giggling, she left.

Stupid shirt! I knew that this was going to be the story told around her dinner table that night! How do I always get myself into these strange situations?

The actual tests were conducted without incident; and afterwards I was able to get back into the shirt without having to call a S.W.A.T. team for assistance. Note to self: next time be smart and wear a button down shirt!

P.S. Test results came back fine 😊 God is good!

Echoes

 Last Saturday I was the first to get to our former residence as we continued the moving process. I unlocked the front door and pushed it open. As I did so, I thought I heard a small bark. "Pumpkin?" I breathed hopefully, opening the door wider. I heard it again. "Pumpkin!" But alas: of course it wasn't Pumpkin. It was an echo in my mind of my beloved dog, who had died a few years earlier. Sadly, I shut the door behind me.

As I go through emptying different areas of the house, I realize there are echoes all around me. Victoria the cat is a frequent one. Sometimes I actually see glimpses of my Luna, who never lived in the house...

Here is my pretty girl:

I can hear my honorary grandson Troy, laughing hysterically at the "boob cake" I made him for one of his birthdays. He and his best friend at the time were at that stage in young boys' lives where they are fascinated by boobs and his friend suggested he get a boob cake for his birthday. Oh, Troy got one all right: homemade!

Personally, I didn't think I did that bad of a job considering I'm not an artist (as if you can't tell!). I told him that was as close to boobs as a kid his age was going to get.

I also hear the echoes of him as we watched WWE together or he acted out pro football games for me. Yep: I miss that kid...

One of the quietest yet most pervasive echoes is that of Marie. She was a "guest" there for three and a half years, until she needed 24/7 care and I couldn't take care of her anymore. One of the last things she said at the house was, "I don't need to go to the hospital. I'm fine." That wasn't true. She had a brain bleed and had a small stroke. We found her on the dining room floor at 6 a.m. one morning, with no recollection of how she got there. She was barely ambulatory and it was too much for me. I will always fight feelings of guilt, but God knows I did my best as the only one who made any decisions about her and her care.

And then there is Robin. She died before she got to see the inside of the house but trust me: she made her presence felt. Sometimes in the early hours between sleep and full wakefulness, I could hear her voice. Or I would hear "Fur D'Elise", one of her signature pieces, come on the radio or my phone playlist. 

As I was going about my packing duties, I came across two items that let me know who was going to continue to be with me. The first item was Pumpkin's favorite toy: one I had been looking for ever since she died. I figured when I moved my bed the toy would be under it but it wasn't. We moved the living room couch and there it was: dirty-face baby! This was a squeaky toy I actually found in the baby section of Wal-Mart. It was a monkey with a green and white striped body. Pumpkin loved this toy, even after she wore the squeaker out. She would carry it around and groom it like it was her child. I have a video of her with it, but it was too big to post here. Anyhoo, everyone at the house knew when I found it because my dolphin voice kicked in as I squealed, "It's dirty-face baby!" 

The second item was a copy of a complete but unpublished manuscript that Robin loved reading. It's called "Ready or Not" and is the precursor to "Dancing In A Minefield". The last time I had seen it, was 2017. I put it in a red suitcase-type bag because I was cleaning up and the bag was handy. Yet I never saw that black binder again, no matter how many times I would look in any red bag I came across. Since I was moving, I knew this was my last chance to find it. I knew I could never recreate that book. It's like 400 pages and I wrote it a lifetime ago. I felt it was in different places yet I never saw it in those places...

Going through the dining room one more time, I reached under a bag near the corner. I felt something hard, and even though I had looked in that area several times before over the years, when I picked up the bag there it was!! My black binder with the complete manuscript! Yep: the dolphin voice came out again as I squealed, "It's my black binder!" God is good and worthy to be praised.

So those could be two signs that Pumpkin and Robin may make the transition to the new place. Or it could just be me missing them. Who knows? Regardless, dirty-face baby now resides in my purse. My manuscript is going to be updated and I hope to publish it in the Fall, when school starts. After all, it is another high school romance!

I'll miss some of the echoes at the old place. It will be interesting to see if any develop at the new one.