It is that time of year again:

My poor cousin and aunts who see the same stuff from me over texts, on Instagram, and on the blog… bless.

Look. The life of the world’s most boring “content creator” (boring as in ze person, not the content- to clarify and she HOPES) must be stretched to almost impossible lengths. It’s like eating leftovers as soup two days later on all this stuff.

Something like that.

Anyway, my 16 year old and I went to the thrift store and got a bunch of new jars and signs to rework. The small engine repair one was (of course) a “live, laugh, love” sign. The “Hexes, Herbs, Potions, Notary” one originally said “Little Man Cave”- you know… for when you have a sexist baby you want to decorate for? And the Free “Babysitting” sign said Lake House with an anchor under it. You know… because you sure need giant anchors in lakes with no currents? For sure.

This is an expansion on the Witch’s Workshop style I’ve been doing for a few years now. And I seem to have hit that part in grief/pain where it makes me lean into absurdity. Maybe it all just caught me on the right day in my cycle… who fucking knows. But my daughter and I laughed so much coming up with the signs… though the notary one she just didn’t get at all… but I make the final cuts around here, so up it went. I made the broom from some sticks and plants in the back. And it all went up in less than a day.

I’ve been stopped a few times by neighbors who wanted to tell me they liked the decorations. I am, as a fundamental character flaw, a sucker for praise. So who knows how ridiculously expanded this gets in future years.

Hell if I know.

I did enjoy myself pretty thoroughly… and it was less fleeting enjoyment than last year. So I’ll take it.

---

It coming up on Halloween means it’s also coming up on Dia de los Muertos. I have yet to get the ofrenda up. I have moved the boxes inside though. I am aiming for today. It too is a bit of a project to do right and takes about 4 hours and also it’s more of a heavy lift emotionally than the Halloween stuff… but what of it. Some things will always be hard. Doesn’t mean they should be avoided.

I think it’ll be okay. It’s just it’s hard to get your head around decorating when cleaning ALSO needs to be done. My brother came in town to help me move everything out of my shed, organize it, and build shelves. Everything got taken out, sorted, every bit of my Mom’s stuff is gone, and the shelves are built. That was as much as got moved back in yesterday though before we just called it a day after buckets and buckets of sweat. There is SOOO much more scattered about my backyard I need to handle.

The ladder is there so I could get our kayak and canoe paddles up in the rafters. As I put them up I wondered if they’d ever be touched again or will they just be the dust covered vestiges of a former fun life some day at an estate sale. Mine still had a bit of mud on it from the last time we went out on the river. This made me unreasonably sad. I left the mud there. You never know when the last time is while it’s happening, is all.

So you know. Mine fields everywhere. Its the fucking steppes in the Eastern Front around here with those. Or like… Cambodia or something. Grief is the Khamir Rouge.

The consolidating of boxes of fishing gear and camping gear and teacher bins of paperwork to toss out… it needed/needs to be done. But time is of the essence as it all needs to get tossed or put back in the shed this week as a cold front is moving in and there is rain in the forecast.

If I just throw up my hands and don’t look at anything then it either needs to be redone at some point or live there forever. Or if I do sort it, some of it is okay and some of it stabs me in the heart. Choices, choices…

I did REALLY have to stay on my dad though. He had said he wanted to look through Mom’s boxes and not just donate them… but when he was here with us on Friday he kept trying to sort my camping gear or build shelves- I must have redirected him 7 times. The last time I said: “Dad- the ONLY thing we can’t do is sort those boxes for you, and I don’t want to put any of it back here- please do that.” I know it was hard for him… but WHY THE FUCK WERE ALL THESE BOXES HERE TO BEGIN WITH YOU HAVE YOUR OWN SHED.

He took her charcoal drawing of a vagina (classy, MOM. God artists are obnoxious sometimes.) and one other print she had framed and that was it. The rest is getting donated (and he didn’t put that all in his truck to fucking do himself, I notice. FINE). We also were able to toss all boxes of their tax docs up to 2014 (not sure where the rest are. His shed, I assume). Should they have been shredded? Sure. But if he doesn’t care I sure don’t- and now my recycling bin is full.

Anyway.

---

Once the shed stuff is all put back the yard will look reputable again. I’ve been weeding and weeding and weeding back there. And I have new plants to go it- three artemisia plants (oh look at me, living out that front porch witch lifestyle by ACTUALLY planting wormwood! I just like the plants though, and they’re drought tolerant- they are not for witchy purposes… scouts’ honor.) I’ve potted up many of the senna tree seedlings and perennial basil seedlings that started life in the brick patio and have now given them away. As I was doing that part I realized that you can’t wish for abundance and be annoyed at all the weeding that needs to be done as a result. I share the bounty and weed the patio… they’re one and the same sometimes. I tried to be grateful for even that. I mostly got there.

And… it’s looking good. It’s also so much work. But what else do I have to do, you know?

I am actively trying to put plants in that take up more space, and require less water and work… it’s in transition and maybe will be forever with that intention. A garden that I can manage… we shall see if it’s possible. I am giving it the very college-y of college-y tries. I still have my roses though. And my what an old lady thing to say that that is!

---

In other news and in this seemingly never ending saga: I FINALLY found a new contractor to finish out the bathroom. The doors and trim and linen cabinet and the outside of the window that was installed over the tub are now done and I’m confident they were done correctly. And it only cost me another $900!

I went to Lowe’s to get paint (while it’s done it’s still on me to paint it all… le sigh.) And who do I run into but the FIRST contractor who abandoned the job! I greeted him nicely. Asked him if he was okay. Told him I’d been worried something happened to him and told him I still had his air compressor and a ton of his tools in my shed. I could tell he was embarrassed. He sent me a message later apologizing. Asked how much I’d had to pay to finish the work… and then came by with a check for that amount, got his tools/hostages and scheduled for his painters to come for free later in the week so I don’t have to paint it all myself.

He didn’t have to cut me a check like that… so here’s hoping the painters actually show up. Could I have held onto the tools and stuff till it was done? If I wanted to be a dick I guess I could have. But this was already more than I was expecting.

To my mind the money I’d paid that guy was already gone. Whatever happened in his life… I wasn’t going to begrudge it, even for the hardship it caused me. I gave him some grace… and low and behold… I got some of the money spent back and (fingers crossed) don’t have to paint all this shit myself.

Who knows. But a little generosity and kindness given (when I didn’t have to) and a little good in return… this also feels like abundance but not really of the monetary sort. There’s a lesson in there somewhere, or just a goodish thing to appreciate.

I didn’t get robbed as thoroughly as I originally thought! How lucky I am! I am aware that’s all a bit Polyanna, but also sometimes bad things happen and sometimes some good can be clawed back from it. Did I get taken advantage of? Sure. Do I have to read continuing maliciousness in that? Not if I don’t want to- that is a choice. Do I have to respond with anger even when it’s super-duper justified? Nope. Turns out. And I am making a real choice on how I am showing up in the universe around this one and hopefully good comes of it in that dude’s life, is all. Perhaps the grace and kindness when I could have been mean about it will be remembered. I think he appreciates the opportunity, for himself, to make a bit of this right.

Or he really wanted that air compressor back. One of the two.

And, my goodness after a FULL YEAR… the bathroom and room remodel will soon be done. (No chicken’s before they’re hatched yet there, though.) But I WILL celebrate when the towels and sheets move out of my closet and into this completely done and painted linen closet- that will be the finale of the whole saga.

To be continued on that I guess.

---

And another good thing.

After mom died my dad sent my Dia de los Muertos book and my cookbook to many of their old friends. He sent care packages to folks in Ohio and California and a few other places- some stuff of moms (her wool sweaters, mostly), flash drives with the readings and music from her Celebration of Life service, and he included my books as well. This baffled me because I had to ask him a few years ago if he’d ever even read my Dia de los Muertos book. He said yes. That was it! No praise, no comments… nothing. Just a “yes I read it.” Mom said her favorite part was that I included a checklist. Hmmm. Thanks.

I always assumed he and mom were so weird about it because it was Mexican culture and not, like, about Ireland and Celtic knots or some shit. Had a whiff of them disapproving as if I was “forgetting my own heritage” or something. They didn’t ever seem interested in anything I studied getting my cultural Anthropology degree either. So I never could pin down if it was latent racism, ethnocentrism, or just some weird passive- aggressive disapproval of anything I liked or did just because I was the one doing it.

Who fucking knows.

All I could do at the time I wrote the Dia de los Muertos book was shake my head at them and roll my eyes with my husband about it. And also legitimately marvel: because if one of my children wrote ANYTHING and self published it I would have responded very differently, I can tell you that!

With the cookbook I don’t even think my parents had a copy: I finished it in August. Mom died September 18th and I hadn’t talked to her since my husband’s funeral. I think I gave dad a copy of the cookbook afterwards at some point- I seem to recall I had a stack on the front table and handed him one. I can’t recall if he ever said anything to me about that book either- but Mom had just died. So like… bit of a pass. Plus it’s only a cookbook.

ANYWAY. My point here is that dad sent my books, fairly randomly to my view on it all, to many of his friends after mom died. It’s fine! Just weird.

But from those various nice people have come many nice things and nice comments. Nice things like this that I got this week!

This gorgeous tree of life tile was sent by my folk’s friend in California I haven’t seen in over 35+ years. But she read my silly little book and sent me a note that it “softened her heart to the holiday” and that she gets it now- so that when she ran across an artist selling these tiles she finally appreciated them and wanted to get one for me.

My goodness what a nice thing! The comment and the tile, both- I’ll treasure them. I put it right by my front door and there it will stay.

Does it annoy me it should be an inch higher? You bet your ass. Maybe one day I’ll adjust it. Time will tell.

---

And finally: some memes from the week:

Till next time.