I have never seen so much rain in my entire life. Rain is not a big thing in Wyoming. It may rain for a couple of hours but then it is over, and, if you go twenty miles you can drive out of it. Not so on Thursday. We drove in snow and sleet and hail and rain for twelve solid hours. We skirted two tornadoes. Poor Mollie. She hates rain and was forced to get out of the nice warm car at the rest stops to use the "pet area." As were her owners who stood right there beside her. We all smelled like wet dog by the time we got Home.
Home was very much like home. I defied the old saying and did go Home again. It was wonderful. Even the tornado watches and warnings. We sat in the basement listening to the radio just like I remembered doing as a kid. Luckily all the tornadoes went north of us. We went to all the cemeteries and decorated the graves. My mother's stone had come loose from the base so we had to get cement and secure it. Even that was good. Nothing like gluing down a tombstone to ground a person. I sure missed all the people whose graves we visited. But just being there allowed me to reconnect to them through memories. Home is emerald green and full of crops and cows and familiar sights and smells.
Mentor Mary is good. So is her husband. He has had a couple of strokes and requires a lot of care but is cheerful in spite of a lack of short term memory. He forgot I had lost weight. When I greeted him the first thing he said was, "My God you sure are not as fat as you were." Mary almost fell through the floor, but I think this may have been one of the best compliments I've ever received. We had fun with them. Someone gave them a cat a couple of months ago when their dear old cat died. You guessed it. The new cat was pregnant. They now have four kittens living in the clothes closet. Cutest damn cats in the world. It has been years since I have seen kittens. The kitties spent their time nursing, sleeping and making war on Mary's shoes. Before we left they had finally conquered her white terry cloth scuffs. Mark had to physically restrain me from bringing one home. Mollie was a peach the whole time we were gone and Mary's husband said she would make "a fine huntin' dog."
I seem to be having ..."hope surges" for lack of a better description. I noticed it first when we were driving around the countryside after visiting the graves. I was looking at familiar ground and was suddenly feeling the optimism I used to feel as a sixteen year old looking at those same fields and vistas. Feeling like all the world was before me and gobs of wonderful things were awaiting me just around the next corner. Not my usual way of being. These flashes of "happy youth" continue. I noticed this morning that I was excited about the prospect of summer. Sort of like I was expecting a myriad of new fun adventures. Now I am telling you straight out we do not have a fun filled summer planned. Mark has some awful trials coming up, we are too broke to go anywhere and we have to build a deck and paint the garage and shed. But still the notion persists that summer is coming and it it going to be grand. Weird huh?
I just finished "When Food is Love" by Geneen Roth. A ground breaking book for me. It is about abused children and their use of food as an antidote to pain. I now know the difference between a compulsion and an addiction. I have been struggling with this difference for a year. I am a compulsive eater. I am not physically addicted to food. I have choice and there is an end to using food for somatic purposes. If I so choose I can be free. I so choose.
Hope you all had a drier holiday than me. Take care.