James Taylor’s “Fire and Rain”.
I’ve seen fire and I’ve seen rain
I’ve seen sunny days that I thought would never end
I’ve seen lonely times when I could not find a friend
But I always thought that I’d see you again.
My dad went through 21 years of not-so-great life after a liver transplant. I knew that his time was borrowed, and each time I saw him might be the last. This song reminded me to make the most of every moment we had together, even if I found his topic of conversation tedious and boring, his opinions dated, his sense of humor a bit disconcerting.
I wanted to make sure that he felt listened to, even if I disagreed with him. I wanted to make sure that he knew that I wasn’t letting my mom’s opinion of him influence me. I wanted to make sure that he knew I would help him in whatever way I could, that he had only to ask.
He never asked for anything, right up to the end. He died alone, and on his own terms. He was tired of the struggle to stay sober, to cope with the pain, to manage his myriad of illnesses. While I wish he had died in a hospital, where he possibly could have spent his last days without pain, I accept that he was tired, and had no wish to extend his life any longer.
But right up to the end, he knew that he was an important part of my life, and that was the only thing that he would accept from me. I don’t regret one penny of the long distance charges through the years, or the hours I spent on the phone with him.
Thanks! I knew I could count on youse guys!
Ok, please help me and my poor brain and tell me what “smh” stands for.
Thank you for your assistance in this matter.
The company I work for only has six employees, and most of us are some sort of tree-hugger. Therefore, we use hand towels instead of paper towels to dry our hands after washing, and they get washed once a week.
Today I noticed that the clothes I was wearing were the same colors as the hand towels.
Ok, you wanna know what the absolute best part of posting on Tumblr is?
It’s the ability to finish a sentence. The ability to finish a complete thought. The ability to say everything you wanted to say about the chosen subject.
BEFORE SOMEONE INTERRUPTS WITH THEIR STORY. Before someone talks over the end of your thought or sentence.
Ok, so we’re lacking the ability, here on Tumblr, to converse in a natural, human way. And I don’t object to anyone adding their thoughts and experiences to mine; that’s what conversing is all about.
BUT CAN I FINISH A FUCKING SENTENCE!?!?!?!!!??
Does anyone else have this problem, or am I the only one surrounded by people who think they are WAY more important than me, and don’t respect me enough to wait their turn?
If I wanted a SOLILOQUY or a MONOLOGUE I would attend a Shakespearian play or a stand-up comedy show. I was looking for a CONVERSATION.
End thought. Thank you for not interrupting.
Yep, it’s October. Yep, it’s fall. At least, that’s what the calendar says, and that’s what everybody keeps saying.
Here in central Florida, it’s not quite the same. Pretty much the only difference I’ve noticed so far is slightly cooler temperatures and it gets dark much earlier.
I love it.
Back home in New Hampshire, I got really depressed this time of year, because I knew the cold was coming, I knew the snow and hard work and worry and literal danger was coming. Snowfall stressed me out, driving in snow stressed me out, other people driving in snow stressed me out, the possibility of extended power outages and the cold creeping into my house, my home, my bed, my soul.
Yeah, I take “cold” pretty seriously, and I hate every minute.
I got stuck at the bottom of my hill a few times, unable to make it up the hill to home until the plow went by. Clearing the snow off the driveway in order to leave safely, clearing the snow off the car and the front steps. I hated every second of shoveling. I cursed snow, always.
Of course, Florida has weather and GIANT bugs etc, but it will never have snow, so I’m ok with that. The trees won’t change color, and I won’t get any apples straight off the tree, but this is a new adventure now, and I will make new traditions. Although I will miss Honeycrisps and Macouns.
But I will not become stressed over the upcoming snow and cold season, because there won’t be one. And that is more relief than I can convey.
Because my commute is so long, I do get stressed over driving in the rainstorms, but the bad downpours usually only last a few minutes, or just a few miles. I can easily get off the highway and waste a few minutes until the worst passes. Unlike a snowstorm, which will last, oh, a day or more? Plus cleanup? Yeah.
So everyone in the rest of the country who has changing seasons can be happy in their little “fall is here” world, but me? Barely see a difference. And that’s just fine with me.
New (I think) pop band; Cobra Starship.
Snakes on a plane.
Snakes on a starship.
Snakes on a U.F.O?
I dunno. There’s a Samuel Jackson reference in there somewhere.
When I got in the car in New Hampshire to drive to Florida, to move there, the only key I had was my car key.
I had turned in my work keys, had given my landlord the keys to the rental, and I didn’t even have a key to the new place. Just my car key.
It was a weird feeling, one that I keep getting reminded of at random times. Now I have a work key, shed key, front door key, back door key, mom’s house key, and my keychain jingles brightly with security again.
But for three days, I only had one key. It was weird.
If I could only have five movies with me to watch on a deserted island, they would be:
1: Footloose (the original with Kevin Bacon)
3: Rock of Ages (with Tom Cruise’s fantastic overacting)
4: Magic Mike
5: Mamma Mia (the movie with Pierce Brosnan singing delightfully awfully)
Sensing a theme? Yeah, I like singing and dancing movies. I might put out an S.O.S for Grease and De-Lovely.
I wish we could break out into well-rehearsed song and dance in our normal, everyday lives, and then just slide back into whatever we were doing.
Although, honestly, the first week or so would be spent enjoying silence with no one talking to me or spewing their ideas and opinions at me, and listening to my tinnitus.
And then I’d set about memorizing my movies and living in complete fantasy.
Look, I know your kid is the apple of your eye, the love of your life, the reason you live and breathe and work and send her to special schools, but when she’s out on break, don’t bring her to the office where she can stand at my elbow (literally touching my elbow) and push my work out of her way so she can draw me a smiley face sun on the piece of cardboard I’m using as a tray to neatly place the widgets I’m gluing together WHICH btw is paying for the lights, air conditioning, food and, oh yeah, paychecks for all of us.
At least teach her to respect when an adult tells her to not touch that, or go wash your hands after eating greasy breadsticks, and please don’t touch my tools with your greasy hands, and please don’t put my tools in a different place so I have to hunt for them.
Bringing your kid to the office will decrease my productivity. Your choice. I was planning on powering through an extra hour of assembly, but not with your kid touching my shit.