Help for Healing

Bitter & Sweet, living daily with grief


Opinions and Such

The older I get, the more I feel like there is very little I know. I’ve been saying that for a few years now. The paradox is, I’m more and more sure that I’m not sure about much of anything. The more I live life, the more aware I become that there are very few formulas in life about how it should work and how it should be.

I’m a therapist. Relationships are my “specialty”. And yet I am more and more convinced that what makes a relationship successful and happy is unique to each couple. There really are few “rules” to follow. One couple can do things similarly to another couple, and one ends up together and the other ends up divorced. Why? Who knows.

I become more aware every year that my role as a therapist is not to provide answers, but to provide company on the journey. I help people sort out their own way.

When I do a speaking engagement, I often talk about how spiritual growth can occur through learning to hold opposing and conflicting thoughts and feelings at the same time. Relationships are not really any different.

While my entire life is dedicated to understanding relationships and how they tick, there are sometimes spurts in the intensity level of how that happens. The last few months, I have had countless philosophical conversations with people- males, females, singles, married people, clients, dates, family, friends. All kinds of sources.

Dating today is so different than it used to be because of the internet. And yet it is still exactly the same. Personally, I found dating difficult when I was in high school. And college. And as a divorced woman. And as a widowed woman. No matter what age or set of circumstances, dating is a difficult endeavor. I don’t think I’m alone in that. How many people in your lifetime have you heard say “Man, I love this dating thing!” ?? Not many I bet. Heck, my father is in his eighties and it hasn’t been a picnic for him either!

Hindsight is a dangerous thing. I find that people are very confident offering their opinions and advice after something goes sour. If a relationship ends, it’s easy to say that whatever choices were made, obviously something else should have been done. But I think that is dangerous. When you think that, you just create another set of “rules” that you think apply to everyone. is a fascinating social phenomenon. I swear there is a book to be written about people’s experiences. Again, I hear and listen and feel so many things that all seem true, but yet they are contradictory. How can that be? Well, because it just is.

For example, let’s take pace. Most people would say that there is a certain time frame that should occur for relationships to be healthy and successful. I admit that in years past, I would have my own internal judgments if I was working with a couple that moved “too fast.” You hear the history and think, “Well, of course you are having problems. You started living together two weeks after meeting.” But you really can’t say that.

Have you ever met someone who experienced love at first sight? I have not personally ever felt that, but I have met people who have. And they are happily married for years and years and years. There are plenty of divorced couples out there that dated for years, got engaged, and followed all the social “norms” for relationships. And yet the relationship failed.

Just in the last couple of weeks, I have talked personally with people who moved in with their partner within two months of meeting. Both couples are very happy, seem very healthy, and have maintained their relationships over an extended period of time. So they end up being “smart.” And lucky. If their relationship went up in flames, then we would be quick to say that they were unwise and impulsive.

One person on Match talked about how they were learning what they liked and didn’t like. They get a sense almost immediately of whether there is a spark or not. They don’t want to waste their time or anyone else’s so they cut things off as soon as they know. I listened to him explain all that and I thought “Right. That makes total sense. Seems wise to me.”

The next week, I talked to a person who said they were frustrated sometimes with the Match process. He said that it seems like people don’t know how to work on relationships anymore. If there is not immediate magic, there is no effort to get to know someone. No chance to spend some time and seeing how things might develop. I listened to him explain all that and I thought “Right. That makes total sense. Seems wise to me.”

So the moral of the story is, I don’t think there is just one right way. Or one right pace. There are all kinds of ways for people to connect. And disconnect. And reconnect. Who is to say? Perhaps we should hold our judgments.

Do your own internal inventory. Do you have opinions about how many days you should wait after meeting someone before you call them? Should women call men or should men always initiate? Who should pay for dates? How long do you wait before a kiss? How long do you wait before having sex with someone? The list goes on and on. And most of us have our opinions about what we think the answers to those questions should be. If someone doesn’t behave the way we might, then there is often judgment.

Kids are another issue where people seem to know what is the ideal way to handle dating. I used to be one of those people too. When should your kids meet a potential partner? Many say not until you are almost certain about your relationship. Some say their kids are a deal breaker because they are part of the whole package. So why not get to know them right away? How do you get “solid” with a person if you don’t know how they interact with your kids? And I can personally say that it is much more difficult to navigate that as a widow because your kids don’t go off every other weekend with your former partner. There is no alone time or off duty time. Ever. Yet the collateral damage can be worse for them. Your mom breaks up with a boyfriend you like, you can always rely on that relationship with your biological dad if your parents are divorced. But what if there is no other dad?

This is another area I’ve had to admit that I just don’t have the answers to. I honestly think that a huge part of the equation is the personality of your kid(s) and how they handle things.

Do you only date one person at a time? Or do you date several people at the same time? Again, I have heard well thought out arguments for both sides of that. I have heard well thought out criticisms of the other side of the fence. And they all have good points. So what to do? Personally, the only “rule” I’ve figured out for myself is that I have to be honest with whatever it is I’m doing. You have no control over whether the other parties in your life are honest back, but you have to hope they are.

So… no answers. Just lots of opposing ideas that all seem to contain truth. I will venture out though and offer some unsolicited advice. 1. Try not to judge other people. 2. If you have a relationship, work hard at it. It’s not all that easy to start over. The grass is definitely not always greener on the other side.

I’m sure I’ve said things you agree with, disagree with, or may have infuriated you. I am just figuring the world out like everyone else.


Holiday Parties

Holiday parties. Mine is a different one. It’s a pity party. So if you want to skip this blog, feel free. If not, grab the kleenex.

I know that life isn’t fair. I know that suffering is not distributed evenly in life. But sometimes, that just plain pisses me off.

Everyone goes through loss. Everyone loses loved ones. Everyone loses pets. There are definitely people whose life is much, much worse than anything we could experience here in the United States. However, I think I could make a case for having a little more than our fair share of unfair.

In 2007, we lost my mom. She was my favorite person. Frankie was four years old. The year she died, I attended another 16 funerals that year. Most of my family went to almost as many. Sixteen! That’s just cra-cra. (Just learned recently that’s another term for especially crazy.)

Three years later, this is how our lives went. Tim was diagnosed with a terminal illness and died five months later. While he was sick, our cat Oreo was diagnosed with cancer as well. We treated him with steroids and lost him a month later. The scene was a tough one. No one escaped the irony. We knew what else was going to happen in our household. One of the last physical tasks Tim was able to accomplish was digging Oreo’s grave. Two months later, Tim was on steroids. During that time, Colin brought home another cat- Louie. He was great and brought us smiles when we needed them. Then Tim passed away.

The next summer, we had Frankie’s teachers over for a swim. While we were all there to watch, my niece’s husky suffered some kind of stroke, fell in the pool and drowned. I was so so so angry. Really? Who has something like that happen to them? Almost no one. And yet the family that just lost their husband and father were the lucky recipients of that experience.

A couple of weeks later, Louie was diagnosed with a kidney disease. That led to a very difficult conversation with Frankie. I had to explain that Louie would not live to be an old age. I was just writing about this in the new book. I had forgotten how gut-wrenching it was to watch Frankie grieve. He asked a boatload of tough questions about his dad dying and how much it hurt to know he would lose his cat too.

The next Christmas, we lost Louie. Colin had gone with me when we put Oreo down, and he accompanied me with Louie as well. We brought him home in a beautiful box. Frankie said his sad goodbyes and the two boys buried him in the backyard near Oreo.

Frankie started bugging me about getting a new cat a few months later. I told him we wouldn’t just go get a cat someplace, but that we would wait for the right one. I knew we would hear a story at some point about a cat that desperately needed us and we would be ready for her. As summer died down, things started to change. I started to blog about how it felt like spring and maybe we were finally turning the corner. The neighbor called and said her daughter is a vet and they had a cat that needed a home. Bingo.

We brought her home and it was clear she had had a rough go living on the streets for a while. Frankie wanted to name her Football, and I just couldn’t bring myself to letting him do that. I compromised on Jill, named in honor of the Buffalo Jills. Frankie adored her.

Things continued to change. I actually met a man that we both thought was the ticket. I guess all of my family and friends thought the same thing. He had kids too. We even took a vacation together with the boys and had a great time. I knew that Frankie and I were experiencing something new, that was really something old. We were a real family again. Even though we have lots of amazing friends and family, it’s not the same as being a family unit. We finally felt whole again.

The relationship ended up abruptly and without warning in the beginning of December, just in time for the Christmas holidays. We went from being truly excited again, to feeling the loss again. This time, the hole felt even bigger than it originally was.

The kicker? Jill started drooling which seemed odd. I looked it up on the Internet and made an appointment with the vet. Most likely reason is a tooth that needs to be extracted. I knew it might be costly, but maybe that was why she wasn’t eating so much. I think my jaw truly hit the floor as I set on the bench and listened to our very loved vet explain to me that Jill had a cancerous tumor that had literally eaten her jaw away. The only compassionate option was to put her down.


I thought she needed a tooth out. I couldn’t believe it. I dreaded going home. How on earth was I going to tell Frankie?

I took him into my bedroom and gave him the news. He sank down to the floor, buried his head on the bed and just sobbed. He cried. Then I watched my little Colvin man. At age 11, he is already a Colvin pacer. He paced around the room, cried, and then asked questions. But she doesn’t look like she’s in pain! How can this be true? Yes, he wanted to come to the appointment in the morning. I had been right in what I suspected. He said he had one regret in his life and that was not being there for Louie when he died. He wasn’t going to make that mistake again. More pacing, more crying. Then I brought Jill in the room and in his usual grown-up way he told me he wanted a little privacy with her. He locked the door and spent another 30 minutes with her before he reappeared.

This morning at 9:00 AM, we took her to the vet. She came in today, even though it was her day off. She had been there for Oreo and Louie. She has a lovely bedside manner and gives a special blessing to them and sends them on their journey. You don’t find professionals often that care like that anymore. Frankie wanted to hold her while it happened. Jill purred right up until the second she died. Me and the boys cried throughout the process, then they came home and buried cat number three in the backyard.

Then the usual rituals. Carrying that stupid empty cat carrier back in the house. Putting away all the food and the litter box. Washing the bedding because she had a terrible sick smell due to her infections. Putting the empty envelope aside that was budgeted money for animal expenses. I had to put the balance on the credit card. I didn’t budget for two animal deaths in the same year.

Things like this happen to people all the time. But I can’t help but feel overwhelmed for my brave 11-year-old. My friends keeping telling me he will be a strong man, and a compassionate one. But what if he just stops attaching? He has already experienced the death of three pets. He lost his grandmother. He lost his father at age eight, for God’s sake. And then he lost what he would have loved to be his “new” family.

I’m been saying some vulgar holiday sayings that make me chuckle through the tears. Things like “Merry F******G Christmas.” Brigette came up with the best one yet today. Fa la F*****G la… sung merrily along. I actually laughed out loud at that one.

So this year, my holiday party is a pity one. I will bounce back. Frankie will before I do. We are a damn, strong family. But I think we deserve some time to be pissed off at the bad luck we seem to have. Feel free to comment, but comments that acknowledge what we are going through are more appreciated than any that tell me I should just focus on the positive. Even though it’s true, I’ve earned a couple of negative days.


Strenthening Your Core

With all the emphasis in the last decade on health, nutrition and exercise, there are lots of talks about your “core.” I’ve been thinking a lot about my core the last few days, but if you know me at all, you know it has nothing to do with exercise. I avoid that whenever possible. My core is about my beliefs and emotions. And lately, my core feels utterly shaken.

In Tim Allen’s Santa Clause trilogy, there is a cute elf named Judy who has taken over 900 years to perfect the world’s best hot chocolate recipe. She sweetly says, “Shaken, not stirred.” In this case, shaken is the secret dynamic that makes it all work. For me, shaken feels nothing like a helpful thing.

As I’ve been speaking, especially to college classes, I have talked a lot about how mental health professionals often develop their particular philosophies about life and relationships. It’s a dynamic thing that changes over the years with knowledge, experience and wisdom. God, the world, the universe keeps teaching you things so you keep altering and perfecting the way you approach your life and the things that happen to you. I’ve had some pretty strong alterations since Tim’s terminal illness and all that has happened since while putting our lives back together. And that is on top of the forty plus years of life that was lived before all that started.

The last few days, I find myself so challenged about things that I have felt so so so strongly about. Frankly, I’ve been scared about what it all means. Those close to me are listening and saying things like, “But that’s not you, Darcy. You are the one that taught me such and such. You always have said ______.” (Fill in the blank with whatever philosophy I spout off often.) And all I can say back is that I know. I know I’m contradicting myself. And no one is more unnerved by it than me.

I am well known for my “never-give-up” attitude. My tag line that I sign on every book is “Embrace it all.” All of it, the good and the bad. What’s the alternative? To stop hoping and trying? Unacceptable. A few months ago, I met a man who had just gone through his second divorce a year earlier. He had made a conscious, well thought out decision to not ever date seriously again. The only way to avoid being hurt, or hurting someone else, was to avoid the commitment altogether. It was air tight logic. I had to agree with him. But then I asked him, “What if it’s worth it? Look at the two beautiful children you have that you adore. Even if the end result is hard, what if it’s worth it anyway?” He was challenged and gave it some hard thinking time. He has still decided to just avoid relationships anyway, but I know he thought about it.

One of the toughest things I had to digest, was experiencing five months of a transformed marriage. Tim and I finally got it right and experienced the kind of love people hope for all their lives. But it was laced with the acute knowledge that it was happening because of a terminal illness. It was happening only to have it taken away in a brief time. But I embraced it. Better to have loved and lost, then to have never loved at all. I have always believed that. Truly believed it. So even knowing there was something cruel about it, I experienced the joy of it all.

I have been blogging lately about a change in the air. I have been working on changing some core identities in myself. I have been tasting the promise of spring, even while living through a Buffalo winter. The people that surround me have seen it. They tell me they haven’t seen me like this before. It wasn’t some manic dream-like thing. It was core. It was contentment and a sense of self that understood life in a different way.

Some circumstances changed unexpectedly and I find myself shaken. I understand sadness. I understand loneliness. I have always known loneliness is one of those really, really core things for me. I know myself. I have experienced hard changes many, many, many times in my life. I feel things extremely intensely. So I know the drill. Feels like I’m going to die. Feels like I will never smile again. But I know it will pass. I know I will recover. I know I will get up and try again.

This time has been different. I haven’t even begun to feel loneliness. It’s more like discovering there is another part of my core that I didn’t even know was there. And it’s been shaken before I even had time to get to know it. I know what I am going through now is not on par with watching your spouse die. Probably nothing will ever rival that. But I think having gone through that and then passing through three years of hard grief has exhausted me, aged me. Recently, I poked my head out of the hole and felt sunshine on my face. I felt healing and hope and something new inside of me. I was feeling whole again. And it wasn’t just healing from the last three years. It was bigger than that. Core stuff from my whole lifetime. Why did I experience that only to have it disappear again? With Tim I was able to see the cruel joke of it but still know it was worth it. This time, maybe because of everything else in the last three years, I find myself thinking it’s just too cruel. I would rather have not felt it if it was going to go away. For the first time I am saying things like, “I give up.” Perhaps this is the straw that broke the camel’s back. I mean I’m one damn, tough camel. I am strong. But hell, I’m not invincible.

One of the philosophies I spout off, is that you can’t have a goal that is dependent on someone else. You can desire, want, and wish for something that requires participation from another human being to make it happen. But a goal can only be something that you can achieve on your own. You have to possess the power to make it happen. It’s ok to want other things, but recognize that is some shaky ground.

If the healing and change I was experiencing was real, then I have to be able to find it regardless of any changed circumstances. The easy path back to the wholeness and contentment I felt involves other circumstances changing to make it happen. But I have no control over that. I can wish for it all I want, but that isn’t going to make it happen. So now what? Truly, I have no idea. My amazing support system has no idea. I think we are all kind of shaken. And all of us can hope for a change in circumstances, but again, that isn’t going to make it happen.

So here I am. Again. But with something foreign added in. Not sure what to do. Not sure how to act. Not sure what to say to clients because all my philosophies are challenged. Although I do know that I just need to be there with them on their journey. I don’t need to have any wise philosophies in place. Good thing. Because all I can do is be there on my own journey. I have no idea where the hell it’s taking me now. I don’t know much of anything anymore. But I had to get up this morning and keep going anyhow. I guess that’s all the knowledge I get for today. Maybe that’s enough.


Girlfriends…A.K.A. Ya-Yas

October 14 was the three-year marker of Tim passing. Three years! My sister called me and said Dad was sure it was only two years. The pharmacist said he thought only a year and a half. My doctor was shocked and thought no more than two for sure. So we all agree on that point- it’s hard to believe it has been that long.

My kids did not want to anything special to remember the day. Quite frankly, the boys are more than happy to be left alone most of the time. So I decided to get away for the night. There is a lovely bed and breakfast about a half hour away from here. It is a church that is being remodeled. There is a separate building with a large kitchen, a large living room area, and 5 quaint bedrooms. If you can get enough people together, it’s very reasonably priced. We ended up with nine women and had the whole building to ourselves.

I brought games and movies but there was no need. We just chatted the whole time. From 2:00 PM on Sunday, til we left at noon on Monday. We talked about husbands, boyfriends, fathers, parenting, etc., etc.. It was a great way to get away and not be alone when “The Day” came. One woman is a widow that I met through the book. She is my age and has SIX kids. Can you imagine? She is so so so my hero.

I know Brigette very well and on Friday I was doing yard work and a thought hit me. I called her right away and told that if I knew her (which I do), I was sure she planning something with my friends to remember Tim. She is the one that spear-headed the cherry tree last October. I told her I didn’t want to be “The Widow” this weekend. I just wanted to be one of the girls. She respected my wishes and there were no speeches or presentations.

When we got home on Monday though, I had a beautiful surprise. She had registered a star in Tim’s name. She said in my talks I often talk about how Tim is still providing for us today by his story selling books. So she had it dated on March 16, 2013 when the book officially was launched. We did this in my niece’s honor back in 1990. It is the coolest thing. It comes with the coordinates so now I’ve gotten this great idea that we should try to actually see it. Brigette is researching planetariums to try and see how we could do that. I don’t think we can pull it off by Tim’s birthday but I will keep you posted.

Thanks Brigette. As always, you’ve outdone yourself. And thanks to all my ya-yas. I’m a pretty lucky girl!


Purple Pills

September and October are tough months for me, or so my friends tell me. October 14 will be the third year marker of Tim’s passing. A couple of weeks ago, Matthew got married. We all knew it was going to be a very emotional day. His wife lost her mom so the two of them have a special bond. So this young 22 year old planned her wedding without a mom. It was stressful and emotional as anticipated, but it was beautiful and meaningful and wonderful. Matthew was finally able to open the long awaited wedding card his father left him. Big day.

I’ve noticed my mood shifting. Depression I’m used to. But I’ve also had an edge. I’ve been angrier than usual. I’ve been saying things and standing up for myself far than I usually do. Then one of my friends asked me about menopause. Oh crap. That could very well be. The fall + menopause = look out everybody!

So I’ve been realizing that three years sounds like a long time to me. And I guess without meaning to, I expected myself to be further along than I am. I don’t expect to crash for a few weeks and start crying over everything and anything. It’s been almost three years! I know you’re not supposed to do that yourself, but I guess I did. It has been three years and it still feels like yesterday sometimes.

Finally, dear Brigette says to me, “Why don’t you talk to your doc about getting something extra for awhile?” Sigh. It’s like admitting defeat. It’s like confessing a sin. But I know she’s right. I need help or I’m going to end up in jail. On Tuesday I went to the pharmacy and got my pills. Well, I thought I was going to but I found out my doc hadn’t called it in yet. I looked at them like I could go postal on them, even though it wasn’t their fault. When I came back later we laughed about it. I told them it’s October, and I think I’m menopausal. And they dared to not have my meds. Were they crazy? I said I was going for lunch and asked if I could have a Margarita with this pill. My loving pharmicist said, “Darcy, you should have whatever you want to drink.” And we chuckled.

So I met Brigette for lunch and we broke out the first pill. It was purple. Purple is my favorite color. I felt better already. How could a purple pill be anything but helpful?

I’m much better today. I’m sure you’ve heard of the placebo effect. It has probably kicked in. I don’t care. Not one bit. If it’s all psychological and in my head, I don’t care. I’m just glad I feel better. I’m still grieving October, but at least I’m not postal.

Thank you purple pill!


Meant to Be

My foot has healed remarkably fast. In one week I was able to walk normally. I couldn’t believe it because the wound was so deep and it hurt so much! I’m very grateful. It’s amazing what you take for granted when all your body parts are functioning as they should.

What about my focus? I will admit it’s been a struggle. The blues have gotten me down more than once or twice. But I have been truly trying to wake up and remind myself every day that I have a bigger purpose. I have work to do. I have a mission.

For the first time in a long time, I sold a book at a book signing downtown. She was a cancer survivor. More importantly, I met a woman who lost her partner in December. She said she couldn’t possibly read the book yet but we ended up chatting. She was frustrated by the lack of grief groups in our area. She didn’t call me like she thought she would, but the conversation was meant to be. After we talked, I asked her if I could give her a hug. I really wasn’t sure she was going to say yes, but I was pleasantly surprised when she did. It was a teary and meaningful encounter. I glanced back at my ever-faithful Brigette who said “Do you still think it’s not worth it anymore?” Smart aleck. She knew I was back in the game.

I was at the fair and sold four more books that weekend. Again, more than I’ve done in a long time. But more importantly, I gave some away. Wegman’s generously donated money to me so that I could distribute books to people I felt needed it. I also have used it to pay for grief counseling for people who can’t afford it. Anyhow, I met a brave woman who was currently battling her third bout with cancer. I gladly gave her a book and told her she was my hero.

Then another elderly woman stopped by and said her husband is dying. She had asked him if it was ok if she escaped to the fair for a little while. She started to cry and told me that they had just sold their camper and it had broken her heart. I couldn’t believe it. I told her I had just sold my camper and that I had cried my eyes out. We had a very long hug and shared some tears.

I’ve got my mojo back. Foundations are being repaired. My mission is sad in some ways, but I love those encounters. And I’m sure it’s no coincidence that they started happening again after my session with Ellen telling me to get back to the basics and remember my mission. Thanks Ellen and Brigette. And thanks God for breathing life into all of us.


Not Meant To Be

Some things just aren’t meant to be.

Last night, we hoped to go see the fireworks in East Aurora. They have the best ones I’ve seen around here by far. Of course, the weather has been on, off, on, off so we didn’t know if they would happen. I called the police station and they said they were still on at 10:00 PM. Then it would rain a little, so I would call back. Same answer. Nice guy that kept answering.

I started having other people call on their cells because I felt stupid calling again. We decide to go and at 9:00 PM it starts pouring. Pouring. We decide to play some cards and see if it clears up. At 9:20 PM we call and yep, fireworks at 10:00 PM. We got there about 9:35 PM and people were leaving and coming all at the same time. I call the police one more time and he says politely, “They are doing them right now.” Sure enough, we could hear them. They started them early!

By the time we parked the car and started to walk, we picked the only street with no crossroads and walked entirely around the park. When we finally hit a visible spot, we literally saw the finale. Ok, we heard the finally. They were the loudest fireworks I’ve ever heard. (Or maybe I’m just getting old?) We had to laugh because we just weren’t meant to see them, no matter how great they were. We had a nice, long walk in the drizzling rain though 🙂

Still good to be with friends. We were going to come back and sit in the hot tub but it was lightning by then so everyone went home or to sleep instead.

I worry about whether keeping my house is just “not meant to be” sometimes. It was a bad week for that topic. I got an electric bill that showed my budget rate went up over $80/month. Surely that was a mistake. I called. Nope, our “consumption” has almost doubled in the last couple of years. “Ma’am, did something change in your house two years ago?” Yep, something huge changed two years ago. My husband died. Wouldn’t you think the bill would go down with one less adult consuming electricity? That didn’t make sense. I told the guy maybe my husband went around the house yelling at everyone to turn the lights off…

The salt generator on my pool bit the dust last week. After about 10 or 12 phone calls, I finally found the only place in western New York that services them. Half hour drive, miscommunication, rude sales people. It’s an almost $400 repair. Tomorrow’s to-do list includes fighting with the company to cover it by warranty. It’s a $2000 part and I missed the warranty by a week. So far they are refusing to cover it. Ain’t that a pisser.

The camper is being picked up next week. My dad is frantically trying to make sure everything works so we spent the day bickering yesterday. In between all the other chaos, he wanted me to find information, locate the missing electric piece, and fill the propane tank (for someone else that is buying the camper), all of which I didn’t want to deal with. I didn’t have time to, and frankly didn’t think we needed to go beyond the call of duty knowing I sold the camper at a low price and the agreement was made it would be taken “as is.”

While all that is going on, I am cleaning out the hot tub. I have to drain it, then clean the sides. We broke our new hose a couple of days ago so the old one is back on. In the middle of it, the old hose splits and water is squirting everywhere. Have to figure this one out fast because I have to work soon. Gotta earn money to pay for camper parts, pool repairs, and new hoses.

It’s very circus-like here some days and at those times I usually think I just need to sell my dream house and get a tiny little place for Frankie and I. Today though, I can almost laugh at the comedy of errors the last few days. Almost, but not quite. Happy Birthday, America. I’m gonna celebrate by taking a quiet nap 🙂