Tenderpaw's Tales

It is said that to everything there is a season, and a time to every purpose under heaven. Well, this is my time to talk and the purposes are to give my perspective and maybe set a few things straight. This is very convoluted, and I might edit for clarity at some point. The content probably won't change.

I was married for several years to a pretty cool guy. We had a kid. Things went south. He left. The kid and I moved. We divorced. He stayed in the kid’s life for a few years and then moved far away. We rarely hear anything and don’t have an address for him, yet know he’s working because the state keeps transferring child support they garnish -it’s less than half of what it once was. Those are the very basic fairly commonly known facts.

This is here, and public. Share it if you want, tell my ex if you like. He’s accused me of poisoning people against him over the years. I’ve kept quiet about a lot of things and mostly only talked to a very small handful of close friends or people I was in relationships with about stuff. Much of the reason for silence was to show respect because a young child who loved his daddy was paying attention and I wanted to do everything I could to enable them to have a positive relationship. I did; my ex did not. There is a lot more that I'm not saying at this time.
( more sordid and tiresome details )

One thing this week has taught me is that we were wrong to believe the lie that we were/are all alone. We are many. It is a sad sister and brotherhood to be a part of, yet we are becoming stronger together.

If you look up “missing stair” my ex-husband matches very well with the behaviors listed there. He even changes screen names and email addresses at times so it’s harder to find evidence of his various social circles. He has engaged in grooming behaviors and preyed upon young women at games, faires, social gatherings, conventions, and more.  Most of those who larped with him and/or worked with him professionally haven’t seen it; they were not his prey. They may have been targeted to believe in how good and helpful he is, and how responsible. He did things for other people he would not do for us.

He is in therapy now, and I hope he is getting the help he needs. We still hear nothing from him unless it’s a birthday or Christmas. Even that was a couple of minutes talking to his son and over an hour venting to me about what has gone wrong in his life. I refused to talk to him the last time. He can send email or set up something in advance if we need to address something together. He doesn’t get to ruin any more celebrations. I hope he doesn’t damage any more lives.

I've lived very close to a small airport for several years now. We either walk or drive up the street, turn, and look for a place to park if going there. I still do a double-take every single time I hear engines overhead cut off on a small plane coming in for a landing. Rarely do they sputter much. My house is not directly in the normal flight path and would likely be unaffected by any incidents.

I suspect pilots get used to it pretty quick, that sudden silence. It's a normal thing and does not signify a problem. Planes can glide quite a ways and be landed safely; it happens quite frequently.

Yet it triggers an alarm in my head when an engine stops. I blame TV. Perhaps I was exposed to the Airport '7x series of films at an impressionable age. Maybe it's partially because I knew a pilot who went down and perished while flying for Mission Aviation Fellowship. I don't know why, yet I find it amusing that I have an instinctual negative reaction to a functional sound despite what is surely frequent exposure to it being perfectly normal.

Here's a picture of a flower pot.
( a plain brown flower pot )

It was given to me years ago by my Grandmother Ruth, probably sometime in the 1980s. It's not much to look at, yet it's held up well and been a serviceable home to a number of plants over the years. It was fairly old when she gave it to me. That speaks to her ability to see the high value inherent in what others would look past in favor of something more decorated, and how we learned not only that yet how to care for things. Sometimes I wonder how many other pots from its maker are still in existence and used. Sometimes I wonder if part of why it is still intact is because it has been cared for and cherished. Despite a plain appearance, it has had a colorful life in several homes. She gifted it to me before moving to the last apartment she had of her own, and that's when she told me of how she got it.

My grandmother grew up in Lancaster county Pennsylvania and had two older brothers and an older sister named Esther. My grandmother was of similar stature to me, which is to say short, and she and her taller sister Esther had very different personalities as well as appearances. She never really felt that she measured up to Esther and had numerous instances of being disfavored in one way or another. Though a sometimes unkind older sibling, Esther regularly made choices mostly in keeping with their mother's interests up to and including becoming a preacher's wife. My grandmother ended up moving away at 18, shortly before the start of the Great Depression, and eventually eloped with a handsome yet soft spoken chemist with a charming Irish brogue (or so I'm told; I never got to meet him). Suffice to say, she spent much of her life with an appreciation for the value of common and even unlovely things, in addition to enjoying things of beauty.

One day as a young girl my grandmother noticed the pot amongst other things for sale and mentioned it to her mother as something she'd like to have. My great grandmother told the person who had it that her daughter was interested in it and was told "Well, if Esther likes it she can have it." When my great grandmother clarified that it wasn't Esther who had the interest, the reply was "Oh. Well, ten cents then." Ten cents wasn't cheap around a hundred years ago when this transpired, yet was fair enough that it was somewhat grudgingly purchased for Ruth. Some comment was made that she was worth it. There was a stronger message in there for her about how others valued her, and she made a point of telling me that I was of much higher value than a ten cent pot when she gave it to me.

There is nothing readily remarkable about the pot itself. It isn't perfectly smooth and the glazing seems to have worn off in a couple of places. There is no maker's mark to link it to someone famous. It's a pot that holds dirt well. It's durable. It fills its purpose and does not compete for beauty with anything that grows within it. The person who sold it was willing to give it away yet wanted to get as much as possible under the circumstances; I somewhat doubt if I could even get a dollar for it at a yard sale now. It's not for sale though, because it is a worthy pot and I am proud to have it.

Now I'm going to go give it a new life to nurture.

Strawberries, raspberries, and blackberries in our yard are all setting fruit.  The blueberry bushes seem to be alive, yet not terribly interested in doing anything.

( similar stuff; nothing terribly exciting and no pics )

Oyster mushrooms grown from a discounted Back to the Roots kit were very tasty.  I haven't figured out how to propogate them further, yet may look into growing them again or another kind of mushroom.  I liked that the kit was a somewhat sustainable product of mushroom matter feeding on used coffee grounds; all I had to do was give it water for a couple of weeks.

I'm not entirely sure why it's in my mind right now, yet I'm going to share the advice my father gave me shortly before my intended wedding date in 1990.  It's memorable in part because my dad wasn't big on discussing things of an emotional nature and has rarely given advice before or since then (his initial response about the marriage was "I don't think that's a good idea" yet he was supportive nonetheless.

Days before the date I discovered something about my intended spouse that shocked me. It offended me, even.  The specifics of it aren't actually very important.  What mattered was that I felt somewhat betrayed, as though anything that important should have been shared much earlier.  Yes, it would affect me negatively and set a different tone for our life together.  Just knowing that our values and perceptions were different in a key area where many couples have conflicts would have been helpful to know.  It's true that I was 18 and ignorant of many things and should have had better counsel and/or asked questions about such things before agreeing to marry.  Yet when I told my often-critical father about it, knowing his views and values were much like my own in the matter, he did not point out my naivety nor focus on my intended's flaws.  He started by asking a couple of questions.

"Do you still love him?"  "Do you still want to marry him and live with him for the rest of your life?"

The answer to all of that was yes.

"Then you accept it as part of who he is and you find ways to make it work."

So I did.  It's true that the marriage did not last.  Yet the reasons for its demise had little to do with that particular matter.  It didn't help, yet it was something I could accept, work with, and eventually help turn to something positive for both of us. 

Nobody's perfect and sometimes it's simply better to choose happiness over being "right"; you won't always be both.

I suspect the rash between my fingers that isn't as bad yet hasn't completely gone away in two weeks wasn't caused by poison ivy despite similarities to it.  Upon spending more time in the area where I'd been moving things in the backyard sans gloves I discovered a large number of cocoons that seem to have black hairs/spines woven into them.  They look just like the spines featured on the toxic white and black fuzzy caterpillars that showed up this summer.  The ones that can cause a poison-ivy like rash if contacted.  I'm thinking I should wear some gloves and destroy as many of those as I can find before they open in the Spring.

If folks reading this haven't heard of it yet,  Army of Women seeks volunteers to help with research related to breast cancer.

My beloved yulecat is a wonderful and amazing man.

I won't pretend or omit that our relationship lacks issues, we've got plenty.  What is truly remarkable in it is that we are both learning to set aside pride, anger, and resentment for sake of resolving things.  We have both been willing to compromise at times, and continue to be willing to discuss things to better our understanding of each other and our own needs.  We acknowledge that though each of us may be more knowledgeable or skilled in some areas, we also each have insight and wisdom to share with each other.  Sometimes it is incredibly difficult to listen, and to set aside a desire for being right for sake of being happy.  Yet we're committed to learning and improving, and together by continual mutual choice.  It's a marvelous experience to share in such a partnership.

Despite many stressful circumstances in my life right now, there is also happiness.

I didn't hear the first part of what he said, yet caught the "...it's really bothering me!"  I sympathetically asked what was bothering him.
"Your cat!"
"Uhm, what's she doing?"
"She's ignoring me!"
[suppressed laughter] "Yeah, that's something cats do."

Happy Birthday reynaud !  May the coming year be everything you need it to be.