“History says don’t hope…

on this side of the grave…but then….

once in a lifetime the longed-for tidal wave

of justice can rise up

and hope and history rhyme.”

—Seamus Heaney



So I apologize, even though I know I don’t need to.  Jamey’s anniversary and the unearthing of some old, pre-tumor videos have kind of rattled me a bit. I haven’t been able to focus much on the blog…or on work…or on much of anything at all, quite frankly. I’m going through a bit of a funk right now–this isn’t something that is completely related to Jamey’s health issues. I’ve had an intimate relationship with “funks” for most of my life. I know when they’re brief and not of great concern; I also know when they’re more serious and do warrant a higher level of intervention. Right now is not one of the “serious” times. In fact, I’m not necessarily depressed(not in the way I usually become, at least.) I’m just–off.

As far as Jamey’s health is concerned, we’re still in a holding pattern. There were a few issues that occurred this week that were disturbing, gross and comical all rolled into one. I’m waiting until I can share with you in a way that maintains dignity, conveys my point and puts a smile on your(and my) face.

In the meantime, here’s Jamey and my wedding song. It seems apt at a time like this.

Thanks, again, to all who continue to support. And thanks for the cards, gift cards and emails. It is comforting to know you all care.

And keep sharing the blog, damnit.  Misery loves and deserves company.

How can I not have a Grumpy Cat reference in this blog?!?!

2 thoughts on ““History says don’t hope…

  1. I am reading your posts…all of them.
    You thanked me for brightening your day.
    I beleive in providence because I’m Catholic, ( annoying circular logic finish-and because I’m Catholic I beleive in providence), anyway, I’m sure it led me to your blog.

    So grateful for the vids. My man does the eye thing too. Your guy has one word answers. Mine is a chatterbox. He is a living caption of everything he is doing. He also plays with the sounds of words, the flow of a phrase and creates new words. He chants little ditties, code for various little victories in his day.
    Sometime I’ll tell you the story of ; “I have half a sandwich…I have half a sandwich…” ( To the melody of “nanee nanee boo boo” that effective playground taunt)
    And then there was; “tinklesoot!” ( As in pee and woodstove ash)
    I will write more sometime and describe more of my hubby’s latest swag bag of deficits. You can guess where the tumor is. It’ll be fun!

    God bless you and yours,
    (To any offended person, please forgive me, my hubby’s gonna die and sometimes there is no substitute for dark humor)


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