tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-28519805182540141252024-02-19T07:51:23.956-08:00mommickedTracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.comBlogger99125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-85787898804635230562013-08-19T08:28:00.003-07:002013-08-19T08:28:38.894-07:00In it againI want a dishwasher.
Because I celebrate the birth of my surviving daughter at exactly the same time that I most regret the death of my other daughter.
I need everything else to be easy sometimes.
We get houseguests in August who are primarily here to celebrate the birth (and continued survival) of C. But they are also here to get caught up with me and T which is fine as long as I don'tTracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-58747860421226090232013-02-11T13:05:00.000-08:002013-02-11T13:05:00.919-08:00What to Expect...Part 2T and I decided to get married a couple of years before my dad died. On the down side, this means that we haven't had much time together without some sort of traumatic horribleness unfolding before us. On the upside, it means that T got to witness, first-hand, the fumbling tangle of chaos that was my father. I could probably have one of those sorts of blogs that leads to aTracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-59975598341806961522012-12-15T06:33:00.000-08:002012-12-16T05:15:55.209-08:00WorthThe sun came up today and I can hardly believe it.
Yesterday a bunch of kindergartners went off to school. In the morning, they were all C. By the afternoon, 20 of them were lost forever, just like R.
It's just like that, a tightrope that runs right through the divide between joy and despair and you never know when you'll fall off the wrong side.
I am so angry and bewildered and TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-29742271880770328982012-10-18T07:03:00.000-07:002012-10-22T04:15:21.373-07:00Grit and Rambling
I've been composing a post in my head for several days now in response to the stories I hear on the radio. That's pretty normal for me. I fill up the sink, add the soap, fire up the radio, open a beer and seethe/laugh/weep while I wash the dishes. There's no curtain on the window above the sink. I'm surprised that the neighbors haven't sent the authorities to come and TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-81368961743289705112012-09-12T06:51:00.001-07:002012-09-12T06:51:13.987-07:00honest
I was walking home the other day and I
noticed an 18-wheeler parked outside of a neighbor's house. It
looked like he was taking delivery of some sort of classic car. And,
you know how it is when you see something a little bit out of the
ordinary, I did a polite amount of rubbernecking and moved it
along...like a good, neighborly neighbor ought to.
Well, 6 houses down, there was nothing
likeTracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-49681096496614464092012-08-27T06:17:00.000-07:002012-08-27T06:17:02.243-07:00five years...and one day...later
Hell is other people.
Isn't that what the author said?
I've heard it expanded--hell is other people at breakfast. Now, there's a sentiment I can get behind.! Last week Seth Mc.Farlane tweeted that, in the ninth circle of hell, you have to watch other people eat cereal for all eternity. All of the hair on my back is standing on end just thinking about the slurping and crunching. TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-58222977292224168962012-08-13T10:05:00.000-07:002012-08-13T10:05:16.185-07:00Five (almost)There is a turd sitting in the middle of the sidewalk a couple of blocks away from my house. I saw it when I was walking the dog. The flies lifted off and made a leisurely flight to the shelter of the grass strip between sidewalk and curb. A small nod to their abhorrence or a defensive maneuver?
There's still a part of me that sputters in indignation when a turd pops up right TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-64486957905745805652012-07-30T11:02:00.002-07:002012-07-30T11:02:34.803-07:00CharlotteA spider has moved into the side mirror of our microvan. We first noticed her in early July when we were back from a long weekend in Kentucky. The car hadn't moved for a 5 days and I guess it seemed like a decent spot for a web. She's a smallish spider and we didn't really notice her until the car was moving and she was struggling to climb to the relative safety of the side TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-16784448094094957922012-07-09T08:29:00.000-07:002012-07-09T08:29:12.614-07:00onwardI've had the same sharpie marker on my desk for 7 years.
It's not terribly useful for my particular line of business but I keep it around for two particular purposes. I use it to mark my file folders for projects that are finished and have been consigned to my forgetting-drawer and I use it to strike the days from my wall calendar.
Once upon a time I'd take the final moments of my Friday TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-77879752738479381472012-05-29T05:36:00.000-07:002012-05-30T01:58:13.071-07:00right where i am: 4 years, 9 months, 12 daysUpdate: This post is part of Angie's project at still life with circles, right where i am 2012. Here's my post from this same project in 2011. Kept it short this year in hopes that I'd have plenty of time to get around and comment on all of the other posts.
I suppose some would say that I'm actually at 4 years and 9 months since R died on the 26th and it's the 26th. But,TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com29tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-62557221814245730512012-05-21T08:29:00.000-07:002012-05-21T08:29:58.836-07:00I went to the woods......to set up my soapbox and spout off as if I know anything about anything.
That's right, y'all, I've emerged from my little cave and written a guest post at Glow in the Woods about how R's nothing became more like everything.
Now I will go and breathe into a paper bag until my terror subsides.TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-54071248863795140692012-04-09T13:53:00.000-07:002012-04-09T13:54:11.029-07:00LullabiesC has taken to singing "All the Pretty Horses" at night as she falls asleep. I lie next to her in bed and sing along in a funny voice to keep myself from melting into a puddle.T must have taught it to her. I didn't even know this song before I she was born. It wasn't in my family's repertoire. I think of it as being somewhat more American than we are. I've imagined my forbears on westbound, TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-46269368316113500702012-03-26T05:23:00.008-07:002012-03-26T07:10:36.580-07:00The DifferenceI dream about them. My dad more so than R but, I've seen both of them.Most of the time I just note them in passing. Duck-duck-duck-deceased family member-duck-duck--GOOSE!!Maybe it's just because I tend to have elaborate, Busby Berkeley-type dreams. When you glimpse your dead father or daughter in a giant kickline composed of everyone you've ever met, it's hard to focus on gradations of TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com14tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-86099698187485099112012-03-11T17:16:00.003-07:002012-03-11T17:39:25.859-07:00What to Expect......When Nothing's Gone as Expected and You are Still Figuring It Out Over 4 Years Later: A Helpful Guide for Mothers of Children with Siblings Who Died in InfancyChapter 12 - Pre-KYou should expect to see more exclamation points than you ever thought possible in a paragraph about your dead child.TO: Pre-K TeacherFROM: TracyOCMrs. H, I just wanted to give you a heads-up that C is bringing a TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com26tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-83468103889727690112012-03-03T13:04:00.001-08:002012-03-03T13:04:46.384-08:00SprungThere's a little crack of light along the horizon when I walk to the train in the mornings now and a mist of promise and intention clinging to the treetops. Each cool breeze has a hint of warmth at the back.Spring is here. And just in time too. T's been down for the count with pneumonia and pleurisy for a couple of weeks. For an otherwise healthy 40-year-old man, pneumonia probably isn't TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-81724785711718947672012-01-30T04:56:00.000-08:002012-01-30T08:03:39.330-08:00i bet we've been together for a million yearsI've been mulling over the questions about family posed by the Glow contributors. I haven't finished mulling but, alas, January is almost over. The muddle below is what passes for my response-Here's my alternate theory...I picture them all in a drab waiting room with shoddy overhead lighting and molded plastic chairs. The doors all have that wire mesh glass like you'd see at a junior high TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-28629475467223223712012-01-23T09:58:00.001-08:002012-01-23T09:58:50.556-08:00NoiseThere's a guy who works at the newsstand where I sometimes buy a pack of gum on my way in to work. He won't give me my change until I look him in the eye.Somewhere deep in my grouchy, little soul, I applaud this practice. We ought to see each other. See each other. Love each other.But at 7AM, I can barely stand myself much less anyone else.The reassembling process has become more efficient with TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-66270908769581531742011-11-14T04:44:00.000-08:002011-11-14T08:14:44.546-08:00who do you think you are?Note: I should mention that this post owes a heavy debt to a conversation I had over the weekend with Angie who is one of the most upright citizens I know.Last week I accidentally tipped the pizza delivery guy $14. It's not worth going into the mechanics of how you accidentally hand $14 to someone. If you've seen American money, you'll know how easy it is to mix up those bills. But, the thing TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-36008680815430250822011-10-27T03:42:00.001-07:002011-10-27T03:43:19.301-07:00Resting in PeaceOut here in the 'burbs, yardwork is close to religion. The state of your lawn is treated as a proxy for the state of your soul and the judgments handed down are decidedly Old Testament in nature.The neighbor two doors down has his routine set in stone. I don't even think the man has to rake. The leaves are simply too afraid to sully his perfect grass and his perfect brick walk. The pansies are TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-59708123510952198372011-10-16T11:49:00.000-07:002011-10-16T11:52:43.863-07:00SomewhereI have a memory of my dad. The Phils on TV with Harry K calling the game, a summer breeze through our open back door and the smell of rain on hot asphalt. We used to sit together on the couch and eat oranges. He'd hold each wedge up to the light to check for seeds and hand it over to me. I was allowed a few sips of his beer, a completely un-ironic PBR. Anything with a blue ribbon has to be TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-3913317235862131212011-09-23T04:19:00.000-07:002011-09-23T09:29:57.195-07:00Multiples and Chickens of ResponsibilityOur hot water heater died last night. It may have been a suicide judging from the dazzling hale of pinkish sparks and flame that erupted from the wiring. The fire burned a hole right through the top of the tank. I took an invigorating ice cold shower this morning.Yesterday, I wrapped up 2 weeks worth of clerical windsprints for a presentation that my boss's, boss's, boss requested and then TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-35824585634714699942011-09-02T02:59:00.000-07:002011-09-02T03:08:03.540-07:00And the Winner is....
....Hope's Mama! And in my excitement yesterday I may have accidentally asked her to box up her head and send it to me so I could check the fit on her hat.
But really, I promise that I'm exactly who I say I am and not a sadistic, serial-killer/knitter.
Thank you all for participating and for your comments. Even about guys who drop the kids off on the running trail instead of at the pool (mTracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-34131287622920544352011-08-29T05:26:00.001-07:002011-08-29T05:47:13.277-07:00Might as Well Enjoy It: An R Day Giveaway!I compose most of these posts in my mind while walking my dog. You may have surmised that I have a very strange looking dog. If you read some of that mess about all of my bad parenting, you may be thinking, "No one's dog is that strange looking." But truly, last week another dog who appeared to be a cross between a dachsund and a bloodhound stopped in his tracks and gawked at my dog as if he'dTracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-78891190364709655872011-08-22T04:25:00.000-07:002011-08-22T05:46:07.197-07:004 Years LaterR's day is Friday but I have to work that day and then we have some houseguests arriving in the evening, so...
I guess that says it all right there. Work and houseguests.
After four years, August 26 has been sucked back into the amorphous blob of ordinary days.
I'd like to think that my co-workers remember her and that my houseguests still care but that would be unrealistic. Even amongst TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2851980518254014125.post-49236929951514300812011-08-17T07:13:00.000-07:002011-08-17T07:18:43.289-07:00Dispatches from Level 4A few weeks ago I needed C out of the way while I worked on 4th birthday extravaganza preparations. I decided that she might like to see some video footage of herself as a baby so, I loaded up a DVD, parked her on the couch, and ran upstairs to organize the spare room. Within minutes I heard her crying hysterically.
The trip down the stairs took approximately 2 seconds which, strangely, was TracyOChttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16227348728165440844noreply@blogger.com4