I did my chores – not all the floors,ll the dog hair, or all the laundry, but at least some. I did make spaghetti sauce, buunt failed on cleaning the porch. It’s hot!!! Today I am reading a new book! And I found out about the National Book Day thingy on the mall in Sept!

I am letting myself get irritated by online people again. Time to back away from the laptop. Today I need to:

Vacuum lots of pet hair
do laundry
mop the floors
clean the kitty boxes
clean off the porch
make a pot of spaghetti sauce

I better get busy!

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I have had the same pillow for many years. I’m a bit embarrassed to admit it, and I try not to think about the potential bug carcasses that live inside of peelow, but fact is, I can’t sleep without him. Yes, I said him.

I acquired peelow so long ago I don’t remember. I do know that he has accompanied me to the hospital to give birth – and my child is almost 21. He is a feather pillow covered in that blue ticking fabric. I have a quilted pillow cover on him, and then 2 pillow cases.

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Peelow prefers the Kliban sneaker cat pillow case, which predates him to my high school days. I have taken them both on every trip I’ve been on since ….well before 21 years ago. London, Yorkshire, California a few times, Connecticut, up and down the east coast, Orlando, and my recent trip to Philadelphia. I’ve left him home a couple times, when it would be embarassing. Like any teacher conventions, etc.

When I went to the NEA convention in DC a few years back, peelow stayed home (and comforted my husband as when I am not home, he snuggles it) and I was so distraught I barely slept.

Peelow has witnessed two husbands, and perhaps another visitor or two (hey – my mom reads this!) He has been there when awokened by a sick child, a dying cat, a sick dog, and for two surgeries I had – not in the operating room, but I tried.

Last week –er this week, onSunday, peelow and I lounged on my parent’s bed watching TV and reading and I left that afternoon, and didn’t realize until my mom told me that I had left him. I’ve struggled to sleep ever since. I currently have a couch pillow and a cheap cotton fluff pillow to help me, but it is inadequate. I sheepishly asked my mom if she could mail it, after I considered a day trip to retrieve him.

I bought a new pillow at the Wmart, which I hate, both the pillow and the store. So today, my dad drove himself to town (first time since early June due to his illness) and part of his errands including the mailing back of peelow. So, if peelow survives the USPS, he will have served yet another comforting purpose, that of proving my dad still has it, and I hope he always will.

But, he can’t have my peelow. He doesn’t want it anyway.

I had a book, whose name I forgot for a long time.  I searched, and searched, but I couldn’t find it from just the memories of the pictures.   Alas, I found it, and I don’t remember how.  Here is where you can find it.  I had the one about the gift.  I remember hours of looking at the pictures in fascination.  I am going to buy a new copy someday and put it next to my original Where the Wild Things Are – one of the first books I learned to read.

This summer I have plowed through a lot of reading, here are my thoughts in no particular order.
The Help – this book was awesome.  It was right on target with its history, despite the fact that is a work of fiction.  I fell in love with the characters, and I can easily see this as a movie.  Shirley Maclaine, Whoopie Goldberg, Alfre Woodard,  and a few other actresses I can’t think of now would be great in the movie.

When You Are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris. I have never read any of his books, but I’ve listened to him read Me Talk Pretty One Day.  I had to listen to his voice again so I could have it in my head while I read.  I can’t recall ever laughing out loud at what I read, but I certainly laughed a lot reading this.

Family of Secrets - which is just the short title.  It proclaims that Bush I was a CIA operative since way back in the 50′s and goes as far as to implicate him in the conspiracy about the JFK assassination.  I am still considering this, as I am not one to buy in to conspiracies.

I am still plowin through WW2 textbook due in August.  I read it when I am absolutely bored out of my mind.  I am looking forward to reading The Hemings of Monticello as soon as my mom is done with it.

I do find the irony in of my father’s dissappearing memory and my unstoppable one.  I have had flooding memories, as if I am living through it all again.  He stumbles through the days not knowing the actual time he is living in now, but vividly remembering his past as if it was now.  Awkward sentence structure is a  speciality of mine.

One of the happy memories of my dad when I was little is when he would put me on his shoulders.  Or, he would hold my – wrist – not hand, but he held my wrist to keep me close by him.  Once he took me to lunch on the wharf in Monterey, just the two of us and we had clam chowder at Rappas.  Then, we went to Sears where he bought me an emerald green bike with a white banana seat and monkey bars.  He fitted it with training wheels.  I had that bike for a long, long time.  And, the story of the training wheels brings a smile to me….I’ll write on that later.

Yesterday was a lazy day for us.  I read, played computer games and watched stupid TV.  Today is shaping up to be slightly less lazy, but not by much.   A brief rainstorm has delayed yard work – and oblivion to the mess has delayed housework.  I desperately want to do something fun and get away – but mounting debts and empty bank accounts prevent that.

So, what has prompted the reason for rehashing old history right now?  I don’t know.  I even have been remembering stuff in the middle of the night.  I remember a therapist once asked me how long I was going to punish myself for marrying him.  I think I am done now.  ~

I had a cleaning rush today.   I always imagine that I will spend the first few days of summer doing a massive cleanout, then the next few weeks on home improvement projects.  But, I inevitably spend several couch days and read a lot and surf a lot and then will do half ass cleaning jobs and rarely finish any projects.

I cleaned the living room and Scott’s office.  I didn’t do the floors and I started one load of laundry.  I did not do the dishes.  Maybe I will later.  All I know is this – I can rest, relax, chill and not feel guilty.  I can do whatever I want.  So there.

So, I got married when I was 18.  I have spent the years since then (26) trying to make sense of it.  But, there is no sense.  He systematically got me away from all my friends.  Friends that have died, moved on, forgotten about me and friendships that I cherished.  He tortured me.  That is not too strong a word.  He did awful things, most of which I can not write about.  He hurt my dogs.  I stayed.  And stayed.  And stayed.  I really tried to stick to the vows.

We made the best of it – so to speak.  I stood up to him, we got counseling.  And, after a year of not doing anything violent, I got pregnant.  He didn’t like the crib I chose one day – at 8 months pregant.  He stormed out of the store, and drove crazy all the way home, about 50 miles.  He went over 100 mph.  When we got home, I packed my things.  I remember distinctly getting all the baby stuff together.  But, I stayed.  I don’t know why.  When Katie was born, I was overjoyed.  One day, while she was about 3 months old, I made my plan.

Step one was to move to Virginia to be closer to family.  I started selling the idea, and we made a few trips here.  Long story short, I eventually did leave, or he sort of left – he trumped my plan, and I was not ready.  I had to scramble to put my plans on track, but eventually I did.

One of the worst things was the lying.  He has made me incapable of trusting anyone.  He lied about so much.  He claimed to be from Texas, with his mother having died and his father married to an evil woman.  He never had kids, and he  owned a house, had a large bank account, a fancy car, and the list goes on.

One day he even told me that his father had died.  He was all melodramatic and went to church, blah, blah, blah.  I had to find out the reality.  I knew there was a very different truth.  Eventually, he told me he had lied about his parents, and where he was from, and the money.  He left out a big part, though.

I knew I had to go to Connecticut to find out the whole story.  We went on this crazy cross country trip.  We arrived in February to an icy, gray, icky town.  His mother greeted him – he hadn’t seen her in a few years – with an even icier hello.  One day, left alone in their shabby little apartment, I noticed a stack of old letters.  I read them.  They must have been left there for me to read.   They referred to *his* children.  He had children and had abandoned them.

Fast forward to today – and facebook.  I found them.  I have communicated.  He was a sadistic monster to them.  A pedophile.  That is the fear that was lurking at the root of so much of my anxiety.  Who else were his victims?

So, of course, what stupid thing did I do?  I drank some wine and called him repeatedly and screamed obsenities at him.  I have been told that I should calmly explain to him the hurt he has caused.  That would be rational.  But, I do not regret my actions.  He is a pig, a monster, a predator, he stole my innocence, and ruined many lives.  He didn’t ruin my life, but i am struggling to not ruin it myself because of him.  So, the history of Ellen, may indeed turn into a real history of Ellen.  The 80′s for me where not about big hair and leg warmers.  I wish they had been.

I love summer. But, and this is not a complaint, I tend to get lazy.  So, in an effort to combat this and not schedule my days based on TV – I have made a schedule for myself and a to do list.  Both of which I have already ignored today.  But, seriously, I am going to try.

Since my job is in the public eye and I have to be “on” so much, I relish the time I have alone and “off.”  I really don’t want to talk to many people, and I really don’t want to go anywhere.  Checking the mail is good enough.  I love my books, my cats, my dog, and my sofa.  And, I love reading on my porch and surfing the internet and playing Literati.   Naps are nice.

So, self indulgence for a brief time is okay….right

My dad is physically better – which is a relief.  I really didn’t think he would get better considering how bad he was.  He had viral meningitis.

Dementia – in his case Alzheimer’s – is awful.  It is like he is there, but his personality is not really there.   Hopefully, he will get back on some kind of Alzheimer’s meds next week, and we’ll see improvement like we did last year.   It is such a helpless feeling to not be able to help him.  Once in a while there will be a glimmer – he will recognize that his mind is not working, and I can see his frustration.

So, as hard as it is for us, it must be worse for him.  Right now, that is the thought I will try to focus on and remember when it gets tough.  I know it is especially hard on my mom.