Gradually I am coming back to life. I keep thinking that I am OK, then I have a little tearfest and memories come back. I so seriously hate my rented apartment's kitchen, but one of my friends gave me some blue ware that I've always admired and since she is leaving State, she gave it to me and asked permission to put it away since I accepted but didn't seem enthused. She told me stories to go with it and one was about a rooster that she bought from a garage sale that is green glass. She said that everyone saw this amongst her blue ware and would bring her glass chickens, pottery chickens, needlepoint chickens and even a squawking chicken! I don't want other chickens, but this one is so cool! Then a good friend said that the Chinese see them as good luck and he thinks that I have to put him where he can watch me! (Knowing the nature of this person, he will set up a live chicken hatchery in my bathtub just to see how I react!)
Other friends have given me things to make it nice. My friend Jane gave me a cookbook from her church and I look in it for her recipes and cook with them.
These things matter a great deal. Cooking is heart breaking for me because there were so many things that had memories that I remembered but didn't actively think of at the same time. If someone else has a disaster like I did, if the person likes me, I will try to give them something personal with a cute story to go with it. I never cook alone! Maybe I will send a bottle of Joy dish soap along with it!
An item that I just purchased is a memory from high school-- my second mom, Sky, let her daughter (who was a close friend) bring a crepe maker to cooking class and I just bought the updated version of it. It's a crepe maker. No, it isn't the best, but it reminds me of Sky who died almost three years ago and I will probably make crepes until my entire family and all my friends are speaking English with really bad French accents. I also ordered a French Maid costume. If I put exercise shorts and a t-shirt under it with little boots, I will be fit to serve my friends with my kids present and I may do that just for the fun of it!
Is anyone up for a bad French accent? OK, I will spare you. But it will be funny in person and I promise that the crepes will be delicious!
Two of my kids are at an inner-city junior high school which they changed to after the fire. The teachers are really jumpy, confirmed by some other parents. Since the kids don't want me to talk to the teachers, I won't, but my husband says they are in a rougher environment. I'd hate to teach there-- from the sounds of it, the teachers are depressed and they sound like they are mere steps from committing mass suicide or taking antidepressants in vast quantities. As much as the kids complain, they don't want me to take them out and send them back to their old school.
My husband is doing all right. It's hard because while his world was shaken up as much as mine, I got an extra rattling with having lit the candle in the first place and been in the house while the fire was burning. The other day, Starshine was watching TV and something came on that caused orange light to reflect on her and the room. Major flashback-- I was suddenly in and laughing as it was just the TV. When I first saw the light of the fire reflecting into the hallway, I thought it was a lamp. . . now flickering candles must mean fire in my mind. I wonder if I will react differently if (Heaven forbid!) it happens again, but one of the investigators said that I probably won't because we are preprogrammed to react to situations and that another fire would be as foreign to my brain as the first one was.
I just had a neighbor drop over to give my family some clothes. It was 9:45 at night. No one answered as we were chilling out. The person kept knocking. My husband answered. "Hi! We've never met, but I heard that yours is the very large family who had a fire and I was getting rid of some clothing. . ." My husband thanked her but declined taking them, excitedly suggesting that they donate to the next family that has a disaster of this nature. I hope she wasn't offended, but I was very annoyed at the late visit and persistent rapping on my door.
My writing is scattered and I am not liking it. There are some classes being offered through a couple of accredited colleges that are on line. They are in writing for the web, basic writing in all genres (a creative writing course offered in many places) and nature writing. Of course I want them all but in reality, it is hard keeping up with my blog so one will have to work.
2 Nov. : This was the three year passing of my dad. "Dad, I can't wish you a 'God grant you many years,' but I love you and I thank you for whatever you did to keep me safe at the house fire with only minor injuries to me which were my fault!" I have a friend whose dad died on 6 December 22 years ago and we have spoken much of our dads. Funny, my dad is prevalent on my mind from October on, but this year it started at the fire. My friend says it will be like this possibly for forever. He knows of the colourful relationship we had and he said that people can't hate each other as much as we did without really loving one another. That made me feel good. But now that 2 November has passed, I am not thinking of him as much. (Granted, it is only the third!)
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