I woke up crying this morning. It happens. I’m trying to shake it off but I’m not having much success today. (I almost typed that I’m not having as much success as I would like but let’s examine that language for a moment — who has more success than they would like? Possibly the ALS when they raised more than $115 million in 2014 via the deeply misunderstood ice bucket challenge. The idea was to pour cold water over your head OR donate to ALS (or another charitable org) but people really enjoyed pouring water over their heads for some reason. And they still gave to ALS in huge amounts which I guess is a rare example of social media encouraging a trend that did some good. Sir Patrick Stewart may be one of the few people who actually understood what the challenge was about. You can check out his glorious response here.) 

Anyhoo, as my mom would say, I was crying because I was having a hospital to hospice dream in which Ken was mad at me for being “emotionally unavailable.” That fight did actually happen. I wrote about it in the blog at some point. The dream was, as dreams often are, unfair. Ken didn’t accuse me of being emotionally unavailable. He accused me of “having already moved on,” basically waiting for him to die. It hurt then as much as it hurt via last night’s dream. 

Don’t try telling me that he didn’t mean it. Of course he meant it. He was the master of saying exactly what he meant. He had a PhD in Rhetoric; and even in the final stages of his illness, he was brilliant. However, it is important for me and our children to remember that the person who loved us, the person we’d known so well, was not the Ken we lived with for the last year of his life. He was changed by his illness and treatment. Medication, pain, anxiety, grief had turned him into someone who was often, usually, unrecognizable. 

Sometimes, he was cruel. Sometimes, he was sodden with grief. Often, he was bitter. We don’t talk about *that* Ken very often. In fact, we all work hard at remembering the Ken we knew best. It’s easy — so easy — for the final stages of illness to erase the memories that we want to keep, to replace those memories with ugly treatments, angry words, fearful thoughts, nightmares, things left unsaid, things better left unsaid, last words, regrets. 

Years ago, I was shopping somewhere with my kids and they found a banana slicer that they were desperate to buy. I said, “We have one at home; it’s called a knife.” They haha’d and begged for that stupid banana slicer but I held firm. You know what’s coming, though, don’t you? Ken had already bought one. He saw it online and thought it looked useful. That’s the Ken we like to remember. Yes, I still have that banana slicer which I have not, to this day, ever used. 

I know you are all enthusiastically awaiting an update on my grout DIY project. I am too. 

Just kidding: I worked on it last week until my $4.59 diamond-tipped grout tool broke … twice. Ken always said we should use the right tools because it makes the job easier so I decided to borrow my long-suffering BIL’s oscillating multi-tool but he let me down. Dude doesn’t own an oscillating multi-tool.

So, as soon as my wonderful houseguest moves into his new apartment, I’ll be back (with the Terminator vibe and Arnold’s muscles) to continue the DIY grout removal with a brand-y new Dewalt oscillating multi-tool and the carbide blade. Now, unfortunately, I’m going to have to do more DIY’s that require this particular tool — what’s that saying? Oh yes. I remember. If all you have is an oscillating multi-tool, everything looks like a grinding project. 

I have one very big problem to resolve with this re-grout. When handyman dad tiled the shower with those big square granite tiles, he didn’t leave enough room to grout the space where the wall and floor meet. So, here I am, scraping his half-axxed grout job from the corners and trying to figure out how to put grout in between the wall tile and floor tile. 

If I were my mother, I would send a quick prayer to St Anthony (the finder of lost things — and in my mom’s opinion that included ideas). Not that I doubt St Anthony’s abilities but I think I’ll start with r/HomeImprovement. Reddit, as a whole, is pretty toxic but the DIY subs have helped me enormously over the last four years. 

In other news, I have seen the issue proof for 34 Orchards November edition. GAH. It’s gorgeous. I seriously do not know how I will survive the wait. Haley’s story looks fantastic and so marvelously creepy.

It’s time for dinner. Last night was beef stew with carrots and potatoes and warm rolls. Tonight we’re doing chili and skillet cornbread. Can you tell it’s fall here?!

Enjoy the last week of October. Next week, everything changes.

Much love.