Two cents' worth of woes

I heard that most people only wear their clothes six or seven times before throwing them on the trash heap. Really? Okay, there is that garish purple pair of pants that I have literally never worn and have no idea why I ever bought them. But on the whole my clothes last for years and years and years. Case in point is my dressing gown that I have had for 45 years and counting. Many clothes are made from polyester and polyester is made from petrochemicals. Some enterprising people have decided that they will take all these old discarded clothes and turn them back into petrochemicals and create a fuel source. Love it. Some of the big companies in New Zealand are taking their old uniforms into this facility and donating them towards the cause. I looked at my wardrobe and yes, most of them are petrochemical/polyester based .. but there are still many years wear out of them. I look at my red winter dress that I was given 20 years ago, second or third hand ... and yes, I have altered it and yes, it is slightly snug fitting these days ... oh yeah, and it is fraying around the neckline. But nothing that a few yards of bias binding won't fix. I cannot count the amount of times I have worn it and felt good doing it. Definitely more than 6 or 7 times! I look at my wedding dress ... okay I have only worn it twice. Once on our wedding day and once after I had given birth to five children and wanted to see if it still fitted .. and it did, but my 'assets' were a bit more prominent and made it uncomfortable to wear. I castigated myself for being so fat at the time ... but I wasn't. Oh how I wish I was as thin as when I first thought I was fat. The wedding dress would not be appropriate for changing into a polyester fuel because it was made from cheesecloth. I can see some people turning up their noses, but you must remember that I am not a frilly, lacy type of individual. And come on folks, it is a gorgeous dress no matter what it's humble origins may be. And plus, it was handmade for me by my grandmother.

As many of you know, my husband of 45 plus years is lying in hospital waiting for his birth certificate to expire. I go each morning and feed him his meals because he is now past the stage of helping himself. He barely recognises me and is way past forming sentences. Heartbreaking most days as I watch him grow weaker and weaker, Many friends and family have rallied round and given support and help in so many ways. Sadly not all of the 'help' has been helpful. Two acquaintances asked if they could visit. I said 'sure, but Barry is not able to speak much etc etc etc.' I expected them to say 'Well give him our best' and leave it at that. They live on the other side of the country and it would take about 6 hours of driving to get here. Didn't expect them to invest their time and money just for an acquaintance. BUT...They arrived bearing suitcases and wanting to know which room they should occupy during their prolonged visit, Now remember, I barely know them. I worked with the wife briefly 40 years ago and we did assist them in immigrating to New Zealand 20 years ago. But since that help, we have not had any contact from them... and didn't really expect it. So to have these two virtual strangers in my home while I dealt with the emotional stresses of the situation ... was not ideal. In fact I was flabbergasted to say the least. Even close friends and family have not descended on me like this. Anyhow I blame my mother for how I handled it all. She drummed into me that I need to be the peacemaker because the offenders were just trying their best. Putting on my best fake smile, I made up a room for them and took them to the hospital to visit Barry. Oh goodness me. We had no sooner entered the ward than S started telling Barry that if he just had faith he could pick up his bed and walk ... and to renounce his faith and join with S in his patently obviously superior religion. After I picked my bottom lip up off the floor ... I tried my best to be a good hostess without offending this awful man. Every day for 5 days they continued on with their tirade and by this stage I was considering hiring a contract killer. Not that I know any contract killers, but I was willing to inquire amongst the criminal element in town. Finally I pushed them out the door of our home and shuffled them off to a motel ... from whence they could continue their attack on our faith and poor Barry. By day five they seemed to have got the message and went off home ... but with promises to return at a more convenient time. Really? Convenient? Maybe I should find out who does murder for hire? No, just kidding. These people have no clue as to social norms and have a very aggressive and militant view of religion. Not my cup of herbal tea at all. Thankfully Barry slept through most of it, but I had to take them home each night and feed them! And listen to them. My fake smile hurt really badly by the end of each day. Social norms be beggared, I was ready to be seriously rude.

So that is my ten cents of complaints for the day. Sorry about being negative but I needed to vent and Barry is no longer listening and able to ameliorate my distress like he always has done before. He would calm me down when I was angry at someone or other. People who hurt my children were always in the firing line with me ... and Barry would say 'Well let's just look at the situation from their point of view.' On the last day of S's visit Barry opened his eyes for a moment and looking directly at his ex-workmate, he pressed the buzzer that would summon the nurses. The nurses had noticed what these people were up to and had offered to throw them out. And they did try. They came in and said, 'Five minutes visit only. Barry is needing his sleep.' But they stayed and stayed and stayed. We needed a really bad matronly figure to stand in the door with hands on hips and a sergeant major voice to get the message through. Oh dear, I am ranting again. Oops I think I am into my 50 cents worth of complaints. Okay, so life is not all gloom and doom. I did get a tax rebate this week. Wahooo a whole $4.37 worth. I can't quite go out and dine on my windfall, but I did go to the cafe and have a hot chocolate as a treat. I have many blessings to be grateful for .... including a wardrobe filled with polyester clothing that I could potentially turn into fuel. But fuel for what? I doubt whether stuffing my old leggings into my petrol/gas tank will do the trick. I don't have a fireplace and even my electrical appliances do not run on a pile of old clothes. Shucks. No, seriously, my blessings are that some kind folk came and prepared and then painted my bathroom ceiling that was looking like it had a case of terminal mould. I found a pile of cobblestones that will tile my carport nicely for a bargain price and even have a new kitchen cabinet all ready to assemble and install. Might need help with that one. I have great children and grandchildren that love me and keep in contact often. I have a warm home and loving cats .. yes, including the prodigal cat who has now taken to leaving me 'smelly love gifts' in the kitchen sink each day to clean up. The greatest gift is my faith that what doesn't kill you makes you stronger and I need all the strength I can find to help me support Barry through these final days. Yes, and I do have a faith that we have a loving God .... and myriads of ancestors on the other side of the veil of death eager to help where they can. Barry often hallucinates and reaches out into the air. Can he see our daughter waiting for him? Or our parents? Or does he just think that the room is filled with beautiful butterflies? Who knows?

Lots of love to all and if you do happen to know of a contract killer that will work for a pile of old clothing ... well give me a call, I might still need him/her.