The current economic situation in Detroit and around our nation has created an unusual boon for some employers. Today I interviewed for a position at a major department store. The position is that of an "early morning inventory" person. The hours are 5AM to 9 AM at least 12 hours a week but less than 40. With in 15 minutes they offered me the job. The pay is $7.40 an hour.
Six years of college and 20 years of sales experience, why this job? My husband has been laid off for 5 months. My own client base is slowly migrating to the competition or halting all fund raising activity completely. Idle hours seem like wasted hours. I accepted the job. The hours won't interfere with my full time job. It is only 15 miles away. The extra money will help bridge the gap. How many others are there out there just like me?
A recent conversation at one of my clients brought a recently published fact to mind. Never has there been such an inequity of female to male workers, more women working than men, since WWII. The jobs for men, construction, factory, manual labor are the ones hardest hit by this economy.
Not to blow my own horn but hey, no one else will, this department store is getting a sweet deal at $7.40 an hour. But, I appreciate the work, very genuinely.

Saturday the 22nd of March was the 9 month anniversary of my Mom's death. It seems weird to have a death anniversary. I need to mark time. Still a first to go through, Mothers Day. I worry more for my Dad. For the most part he is doing well. The panic attacks are gone and he has gained back the weight he lost. He doesn't talk about going home any longer and he seems calmer. His memory is beginning to fail but only with certain things. He has trouble coming up with words. We know what he is trying to tell us. Sometimes my husband looks at me after my Dad has made a statement that seems incredibly obscure. I generally know exactly what my Dad is saying. After 47 years of adoring this man it's easy. I can only imagine how heavy my Mom's heart was as she was leaving us because she had to leave her husband and best friend behind. This photo is obviously of them. Circa 1958.

I ran into my Mom's chemotherapy nurse at a dog show a few weeks ago. I always feel uncomfortable when someone asks how I am. Perhaps it is survivor guilt. I'm fine, I'm alive, she's gone and the hardest times are coming for me.

The flowers are starting to peak there heads out of the ground. The trees are starting to bud. When Mom was first diagnosed in September of 2006 that was one of the first things she told me. She said "I don't know if I will see flowers bloom again". Mom was an extraordinary gardener. Everything grew for her. She did see Spring, twice after her diagnosis. Last year she wasn't strong enough to plant her own flowers. I planted them all while she watched. I asked her if she liked what I had chosen and how I had planted them. Mom said "I better like them considering everything you have done for me." Everything I had done? You raised me. You gave me everything. Because of you I am still here.

As Mom continued to grow weaker last spring I would go to their house everyday and stay with Mom while Dad would go out and do the shopping and errands. I would make her lunch, give her her meds and make sure she was comfortable. I would cover her up on the couch with the afghan and tuck it in around her tiny feet. She looked at me one day and told me that I made her feel so good when I came over and cared for her.

It is that time of the year again here in the northern mid-west. The snow is melting and we have just had our first sixty plus degree day. Every one breaks out their shorts and flip flops and for a brief moment we are basking in the sun. The rain returns and brings with it the moderate 30 degree days and near freezing nights.

Along with this comes the emergence of lost shopping carts from the giant snow banks in shopping center parking lots. Like skeletons frozen in time these winter fossils appear ready to be rescued and returned to their rightful homes.

I am ready to bid farewell to the snow for another season. I am confident that most of my fellow Michigan residents feel the same.

Today is Dad's 86th birthday. First birthday without Mom in 61 years. This is not about me I know. I would love tofind a blog or chat that has other people like me facing the ups and downs of what all this entails.
It is a crash course in health care, Medicare, Social Security, pensions, prescription coverage and a whole host of other things that you may not think about. I spent 2 hours on the phone yesterday slogging through the prescription coverage. I spent an hour on the phone with the pension management company reviewing why they have not recorded my Mom's death and how much money they owe my Dad (retoractive) for insurance that she does not require.
My Dad's magazines were taken from his room less than 24 hours after I brought them while all the residents in his court yard were at breakfast. His bed was made when he returned and the magazines were gone. I know , they are just magazines but really, shame on the people who thin just because they are old they won't miss them. It starts with magazines and then who knows what.
My friends mother won't allow her laundry to be removed from the room. She launders it herself in her bathroom sink because too many of her nice things have not been returned to her. In the last 5 months between the hospital, the nursing home and the social workers I have come to understand what a shambles our country is in where health care and elder care is concerned.

It is that time of year again. Back to school.

I have a very interesting job. I work in fund raising and the majority of my clients in the fall are public middle schools. I get to the school very early in the morning do my set up and then usually give 2 or 3 presentations covering all the grades in the school. The students learn about the fund raiser and the rewards they earn.

But, that's not what this is about. This morning I was making my way through a group of teenagers in 7th and 8th grade. The smell of smoke was INTENSE! No, these kids are not smoking. THEIR PARENTS ARE. Come on people. You rant and rave about sex and drugs and violence and vacinating your little girls against HPV but you don't think twice about lighting up and smoking while you drive them to school. Are you stupid?

It wasn't until I moved out of my parents home until I realized how horrible my clothes smelled while I lived there. Then deeper realization set in. I smelled like that all my life.

Forget the smell. WHAT ABOUT MY HEALTH! I love my mother with all my heart and soul. She died on June 22nd, 2008 from lung cancer. Yes, she smoked for nearly 60 years. No I am not angry with her.

With all we know about smoking and lung cancer and all the other horrible diseases we can get from smoking why don't you just quit. Don't whine about how hard it is. I know. I quit too. What's worse, quitting smoking or lying in a fucking hospital bed wondering why you are still alive becasue you are so sick and so weak.

QUIT QUIT QUIT because from what I saw with my Mom you don't want to die this way. Trust me your kids don't want to see it either.

I guess this is grieving. Today I watched a video of two baby moose palying in a spinkler on www.cuteoverload.com. I found myself sobbing wondering if my Mom knew how much I loved animals and questioning whether I shared enough of myself with her.