Happy Birthday, William

William would have been 39 this Saturday.

He would have been, but he will never be.

He will never be 39, or 40, or 50. He will miss the experience of creaky joints, memory loss, gray hair, and cataracts. He will never watch his friends and family die of old age and sickness. He will not sit in a rocker in a nursing home with no one to visit him. He will not yell at kids to get off of his lawn or wear his pants up to his ribcage or develope an intolerance to spicy food. He will not complain about politicians or argue about politics or religion ever again.

He will never have to deal with the crushing loss of having your best friend, your husband, your support and conspirator die. He won't know what it feels like when the other half of your spirit is gone, how hard it is to get up in the morning, how hard it sometimes is to just breathe. He won't lie awake at night asking pointless questions to which there is no answer, with his mind running in circles like a gerbil on a wheel, endlessly. He doesn't blame everyone - doctors, family, friends, self - for not fixing him. He won't have to pay bills, go to the doctor, argue with his wife or mow the lawn ever again.

He won't have to deal with any of that anymore.





But he'll also miss Christmas. And Halloween. And birthdays. He won't be there for the births of nieces and nephews. He won't father his own children, or be a grandfather. He'll be absent at summer BBQ's, camping trips and fishing at the lake. He can't laugh at new movies, or go to concerts, or read new books. He's missing the final Harry Potter movie. He will never sleep late on a winter morning or take an afternoon nap on the couch with his wife. He doesn't hear how loved he was or how much his friends and family think about him. He can't play fetch with his dog anymore.

But all of these things still happen. The sun keeps coming up every day. The seasons keep changing. We keep getting older. The world refuses to stop and acknowledge that William is gone.

I miss my friend. I miss my husband.

Halloween Happenings

What a lovely holiday we had. We made caramel apples. They looked like this when we first made them.





Then something horrible happened, we're still not sure what, and we ended up with apples sitting in puddles of caramel.




We carved pumpkins.



Lots of pumpkins....







The Grim Reaper went Trick or Treating.




Actually, that's Ramona. No pictures of the Grim Reaper. I thought that was close enough.

And the teenage zombie chased me around the house until I knocked her out in the front yard.


Just kidding.

Anthonys father and step mother were in town visiting, so the guys spent some quality time together.




And us girls played games and visited and cooked and visited some more. It was such a wonderful week of time spent with his family. Poor Ramona had to feed 10 people almost every night. Good thing she's Italian. She's made to feed people. It's what she does. And I must say, she does it very well. And she sends home leftovers. I like that, too.

Next up - Thanksgiving. Ramona's cooking that, too. Tee hee.

Death does not become her

November roses. No, really. We've had several frosts, there are no leaves on the trees, everything is dead, but look at my roses.







The rest of the garden however looks like this.......








Sleep, perchance to dream....of blue skies, warm rays of sun, and tiny green shoots pushing up from the ground, waking up. Hey! Wait a minute.... Those are weeds!

Sigh. Even in my dreams......

Live v. TV

Anthony took me to my first ever live football game to see BSU. I was VERY excited! Finally, I get to be right where the action is, cheering with the other fans, sharing in the comraderie of the Bronco Nation.

I planned it all out. I packed blankets and warm clothes. I made plans for dinner and arrangements for parking our cars. I must have called Anthony 4 times to make sure he didn't forget anything and that he would be here on time. Did I mention I was excited?

So, he picked me up and we went to dinner at a Seafood restaraunt up the street from the stadium and then we came back to my office parking lot to meet the bus that would drop us off at the game. We stuffed ourselves into our extra clothes, grabbed our blankets and hiked off to the bus stop. This is about the time I realized I needed to use the restroom.

We climb onto the cute little bus packed with other excited BSU fans, and trundle off to the game. We get dropped off right at the road in front of the stadium and start heading through the parking lot. Oh! Thank Goodness - Port O Pottys!! Never thought I'd be so happy to see one of those. Dang. Private use only. Hundreds of Port o Pottys, and all belonging to the alumni tailgaters. Whimper. Okay, I'll have to wait until we get inside.

Holy moly! Look at that line to get in. Don't think about it. Just concentrate on getting through the line and then worry about a bathroom. Anthony asks if I'm enjoying myself. I smile like a lunatic. Not about to complain after he went through the trouble of getting tickets. It'll be fine once we get in. And eventually, we do. I make a beeline for anything resembling a bathroom while Anthony figures out where we are seated. Ahh, relief. Now I can enjoy myself.

Look! We're seated in the end zone! How cool is that?! We'll get to see the guys up close and personal. Well, we COULD see the guys if the people in front of us weren't standing up. Why are you standing? You paid for SEATS!! If everyone sat down, then everyone could see. But no, the people in front stand up, so we have to stand up, so the people behind us have to stand, so on and so forth. Screw that. I'm sitting down until something exciting happens. Hmmm...that guy in front of me is wearing John Elways jersey. Right color, wrong Bronco team. Is it raining? I think I feel rain....




From the shouts of the crowd I learn that we must be winning. It's all very exciting. I occasionally catch a flash of blue and orange running in some direction on the field. Apparently the guy 2 people down from me doesn't like the way the team is playing though, because he keeps shouting at them and calling them names and telling them they are stupid. I assume he's on OUR side - he's wearing our colors. I don't find him helpful. On a side note, my butt is frozen to the metal bleachers and I know I just got hit by a raindrop. Anthony asks if I'm having fun - of COURSE I am! I say enthusiastically. This is GREAT!!!




Oh thank God, it's halftime. Anthony brings me hot chocolate. It makes a great handwarmer. I wander around for awhile and then go inside the stadium because, guess what? It's raining!! I knew it! So I hang out nice and dry for awhile. Poor Anthony is sitting out in the rain waiting for me to get back so we don't lose our seats. After it tapers off I go back to the bleachers and snuggle up with Anthony. He asks if I'm cold, if I'd like to go home. I say no, of course not, I'm fine. He says we'll see how it's going by the end of the third quarter and if we're still winning, maybe we'll head home early. I say okay.

Fifteen minutes later, five minutes into the third quarter Anthony looks at me and says "I'm cold and hungry. Can we go home?"

So we did. We came home, I made some dinner and we watched the rest of the game on Tivo, warm and dry and comfy in our living room. I was able to see the entire game, hear the announcements, and follow what was happening.

Live action is over rated.