About Mom at Christmas

  Christmas tree ornaments, I miss the ones she gave me when Moria was a baby. She sneaked them off of my tree in Emmitsburg after I took her to New York for a Star Trek convention where she met several stars and she and my in laws stayed at the Penta hotel. I paid for the entire trip, including her round trip train fare from South Carolina and all of our meals . When she got home from the train and called me and said " by the way, I took back my tree ornaments". Freaked me out. They had been a Christmas gift years earlier, not a loan. I never could guess what she was up to. 😱

Some days

 

some days I just can't win. I have been so depressed, I just had to go back to bed and try to pray. I struggled with the rosary prayers and just had to cry. It wasn't because of my pain, which was pretty bad due to being late with my morning meds, but mainly sad memories. 

When Joe was little, mom took him to the barber without telling me and brought him home with his beautiful golden curls all gone. She didn't save me a lock as a keepsake, and it broke my heart. 

When Gracie was a baby, her father took her on his weekend visit and had her hair cut short. All her beautiful golden curls were gone too. I just cried. My husband told me not to let my ex see me cry. Nobody cared how I felt. Now what makes me cry all of the time is how my son rejects me because of a bad DNA company 

All I can do is pray and it's so difficult. I need my prayer partners to help.

Keeps me awake

a lot od things keep me awake: physical pain, anxiety, depression and unresolved heartbreak. tonight it was anguish over something that happened to me in 1970. it was a confusing time, and someone I thought was a friend, sneaked into my room at night and raped me. I was so confused, it wrecked my life. It actually took me 30 years to even clearly understand it was not my fault. I was asleep and thought I was alone. when I woke up it was too late. I was only 15, so under the age of consent and he was 18. I had clearly told him no earlier in the evening. It is horrible that anyone does such things. I was confused and manipulated for some time afterwards and I ended up leaving my boyfriend because I couldn't tell hím what happened, and I felt I wasn't good wnough for him anymore. I felt that way for many years. Nobody had a right to do that to me

Personal integrity

personal integrity is a complicated thing. I demand it of myself, and find the lack of itin others to be very disapointing. I understand that people often tend to mirror what they learned from the people that raised them, and from a young age trusted dishonest rolemodels. This leaves one struggling to rise above the false facade or failing to bother. I recall as I was only 4 years old, during one of my father's attacks, he hwld a knife to my throat and told me I had better say that I loved what he was doing to mw or he would cut my throat from ear to ear. I told him "you're going to have to kill me then, because you can't make me lie.". He laughed at me. I resisted being forced to betray myself, and he stopped thrwatening me... that time. there were plenty of other threats, but not to try to force me to lie. People lie for lots of reasons, but none of them are excuses. If we fail to honor the truth, we dishonor ourselves and others. I qas so badly bullied when my son was born, my mind escaped into depression and chaos. It took me 42 years to free myself from that prison, and I refuse to be pushed back into darkness ever again.

Your "foster mother"

she was your grandmother. She lied to you every day unto her grave. Did she love you? Only on her terms. She kidnapped you at birth She punished me forever. She rewarded my siblings for doing mw harm . She stole mt property at will. She told me my parakeets died ,but I saw them with a flock of sparrows for aeveral years. I wasn't allowed to have anything I loved Paul and George loved me back . They would sit on mt finger and learned many whistles and some words. She did her best to make sure nobody loved me . She did not tell me when you were having your appendix out she never told me when you were hurt . Selfish love. When I drove her back from Florida she rushed you away to keep me from talking with you knowing the cancer was killing her she clung to her lies. She actually let me ride along for your first day of school but when I moved out; she told me "you're not taking Joey with you* I didn't know how she knew I wanted to, but all I could say was "I don't know how I'm going to support myself yet" I had been thrown out because I left before dear old dad could start hitting me again . A good foster mother would never kidnap a baby a good foster mother would provide safety to all of. her charges . a good foster mother would obey the law! Shw said she was asked to go with a man she was in love with to Europe . She said she couldn't rake you away from your father, that was true, she had no legal right to you . I could go on and on but you don't want to hear me..

Sorrow

I am so hurt and angry today.I just don't know what to do. I feel like I don't even matter. public humiliation at the hands of a stranger wouldn't be so bad,but having my own son pretend his grandmother was his birth-mother! He could have just punched me in the stomach. I just feel sick.

Birth of my son

many times I have thought about the circumstances of my son's birth. I have remembered the fear, the pain and confusion. I have been angry for the dangerous conditions of giving birth on the the basement floor. of never being seen by a doctor.of being more of a slave than a daughter. But one thing, something terrible I have tried to avoid thinking about was the danger to my baby. Not thinking only was he exposed to germs, but with no medical supervision, he could have been injured or killed. Not just at the moment of his birth, but also when my father placed him, wrapped in a brown bath towel, into a cardboard box and transported to the trunk of the car. He was in the box inside of the trunk until after we arrived at the house on Henderson Ave. He certainly could have died. I can never forgive that horrible treatment.

anguish

it seems to be eternal anguish.

so, two hours of sleep and then mental anguish. Not a new thing, it happens on a regular basis.

Yes, there is a pill for that, but it does harm of it's own, on top of the anguish. So; no thanks.

When I try to think of good memories, they are always out of reach, far beneath the horrible memories, swirling through my head like black ink on oil and water.

I need peace inside, and it flees from me. I sometimes wonder what peace is.

What my father did to me. What young men did to me. What random strangers did to me. What my first husband did to my children. What my second husband did to me. Who the hell told them it was ok to be horrible beasts?

I never deserved it. Nobody ever deserves it. No baby, girl, boy, child or woman ever deserves it. How can brutality and crime like this run rampant and destroy our lives?

Does it ruin their sleep? I have heard them snoring.

Do they have no souls? I see no evidence.

Their eventual time in purgatory or eternal time in hell is not ever going to restore my life to what it could have been.

I drive home from shopping and feel like I need to cry. There is no crying while driving. I lug my bags into the house and I feel like crying. There is no crying while my dog needs her treat. I put everything away, and just drop onto the couch. Anguish doesn't evaporate in front of the tv.

Throwing a squeeky toy for my dog doesn't eradicate the pain. She loves the squeeky.

I fix my diet meal, and I am only filled with anguish. I can't have icecream. It used to help me for a few minutes. The fat and the inflamation don't help me.

I drop a few pounds, and when I look in my mirror, I see my mother's face. She betrayed me. I don't want her in my mirror. Anguish sends me to eat something.

Physical pain coupled with anguish sends me to bed. Sleep escapes me. Anguish gives the demons wings.

I need to find a way to clip their wings. God help me.

D.I.D.

I know a lot of what is written about Dissociative Identity Disorder [multiple personalities] seems extreme.

In my own experience, there have been compartmented experiences, with the blackouts being either partial or complete.

Sometimes I know nothing of what is happening, in extreme crisis, as my more powerful self takes over, and

something akin to peeking through a keyhole to see what I am doing/saying... as I can only see a tiny bit, and at other times words just pop out of my mouth that I can not control and never thought of.

it has never been like the movies; the 3 faces of Eve for example, and my worst persona

are completely erased since I stopped being a heavy drinker.

I know, a lot of people behave differently when plastered, but that is not what used to happen to me, it was more like being completely out of body, and things I would never do or say occur.

Sobriety is a wonderful empowering thing.

I highly recommend it.

Maybe you have some "missing time" or blackouts in your past and wonder if there is something wrong.

This could be D.I.D.

I saw a photo of myself wearing clothing I have no memory of owning....... and people have told me that I did something I have no memory of.

This has been disturbing, and nobody accepts my factual condition.

Having been badly abused for most of my childhood and having had a series of bad relationships as an adult

is the norm for being one with D.I.D.

I cannot tell how many times my father banged my head into a wall, or the floor when raping me.

I was strangled, and he also used chloroform on me. That was the worst because I would come out of it groggy and confused

with loss of memory for a long time.

Migraines can also be part of the problem, as the really bad stress of trauma can cause blinding headaches.

I know that many therapists don't even acknowledge this situation, so I had to do most of my own work repairing my condition.

I am glad to say; I have recovered most of my memories, and have allowed myself to take a long hard look at my personal history.

I was never sure it could be done, but I have not had any blackout episodes for a few years now.

If you have this condition, keep a journal of what happens, and go back and read what you have written from time to time.

You can improve. You can also be proud of yourself for surviving abuse.

Not everyone does.

God bless

life ponderings

I nearly lost my sight in my left eye back in high school, it went from 20/40 to 20/200

in a couple of days. I was bumping into trees and falling off curbs, and close friends thought

I was snubbing them but I just couldn't tell who they were.

Fortunately, my grandfather Auldridge took me to an opthamologist [my parents didn't care]

and we were able to reverse the infection that was damaging my optic nerve.

That was pretty frightening, I am glad my art teacher, Mr. Fowle, insisted I get someone to help me. I might not have thought of asking my granddad.

vexation to my spirit

instead of sleeping, I am remembering how policemen failed to help me protect my children, how they could look me in the eyes and say; "it's a domestic dispute" when he abducted my baby.

if the police are not here to keep an oath to provide for the defense of innocent children, what ARE they here for? I was doing everything possible to uphold the oath I had with God when he entrusted my baby to my care....... from the moment she was conceived. Parenting is an awesome responsibility, and I completely understood that. There was never anything more important to me than the lives of my children.

How could his paternity be an excuse for the damage he was doing to my baby? She was not property. She was an innocent and totally defenseless toddler. His depravity was all that mattered to him, what he wanted and what his lusts demanded. Innocence and defenselessness had no meaning to him.

Power over a small victim does not, and never will, make anyone into a man. It destroys humanity. He thumbs his nose at all that is decent and good in life, and at God who gave him life. This creature is not man, but beast. Not only damaging those in his grasp, but long afterwards, ruining any real chance of a normal future for all those in his wake.

That is in no way true power, but the ugliest imitation of power; wanton destruction and violation. The torment should turn in on himself. His beard being the only mask to keep him from looking at the foul creature he is deep within as he faces a mirror.

Surely, God will turn his back on him in his hour of need. That would be a mercy for me and the children he harmed. We need mercy.

the sorrow stays

Night after night I have the same thing; too much sorrow to sleep. I have sorrow for the life that was stolen from me, a life where I could cuddle my own baby son and name him what I wanted to name him and sing to him and teach him the things he needed to know.

I had to have permission. Permission to burp him. Permission to choose a tv show for him, because I knew Sesame Street was very educational. I had to fight for his right to watch it. I had to have permission to take him out to lunch when I was working at the age of 18 and had my own money to spend. I wasn't allowed to drive, so I had to ask my mother to drive us to the IHOP and let us have lunch.

As long as she lived, I was never allowed to be angry at her. My memories were ridiculed and mocked. I was tormented every day of my life.What would it have cost her to be kind to me for a few minutes?

When I was old enough to date, I had to make a bargain with her. I could only go out with my boyfriend one night a week, she had to go out on the other weekend night and have me stay in and 'babysit' my son. I could never call him my son. I learned my lesson on that when he was 3 days old. Never stand up for myself, never speak the truth, never be a mother to my baby.

Now that he is 48 years old, nobody can make me shut up. Nobody can call me a liar or insane, I just won't allow that abuse in my life ever again. It was deeply abusive. Being forced to live a lie against my own nature. My own mind was a prison. My sorrow was a secret shame. I didn't know what was the matter with me, I only knew what I was told; to be careful to not let anyone know I was crazy.

Disrespecting me every day of my life was the craziness. Putting a false front on our whole lives was the craziness invented by my mother. Building emnity between my sister and me was her idea too. Reward the younger girl whenever she made me feel worthless or ugly or foolish. Heaps of praises on her when she lied about me........ pretending her big sister was going to a seance in a graveyard on halloween......... something I would never do. But she was believed, and her lies greatly received. What a lesson to teach a child; to reward foul play, and praise division.

THERE was insanity in our family, but it wasn't mine. "He's an alcoholic" and "I've always had my sneaking suspicions about him." all lies to make her seem like a good mother. Solid proof is not the same as a sneaking suspicion. She always had proof. She always bolstered her life with denial, a pretty and tame way of saying a huge stinking lie.

Bullcrap by any other name, still stinks.

So thanks Mom, for making me suffer so much through all of those years, that I can't go to sleep at night without the tears. I can't go through my days without the huge hole in my heart. Breaking a child's trust is the most harmful way to break their heart. It never gets unbroken.

a share and a prayer request

this is a copy of what I posted with my prayer partners.

so, the Lord sent me a set of ongoing disturbing dreams and I finally gave up and got out of bed.

the main theme of the dream; I had to keep sneaking up on a man, who seemed to be Leonard Nimoy, and make him look at his 'true self' in a small hand mirror. I had to keep sneaking up on him, because he didn't want to face the truth about himself. I kept finding a new path that led to him over and over, producing the mirror from where I hid it behind my back at the right moment every time I got near enough to him. It was a tough job, but it was my job.

So, as I got out of bed, I realized; it is not just my job to pray for the departed [represented by the man in the dream], but also to actually deal with the old man I have been avoiding having to deal with for quite some time. My uncle Gene, who lives 2 houses away from me here in my new home, is a 90 year old fallen away cradle Catholic. He is also the man who molested my son for years, from the ages of 9 to 16, and also my sister's son when he was similar ages. He managed to convince both young boys to not tell anyone. It finally came out a few years ago, and I made some confrontation with Gene when I first found out, but I have avoided speaking to him for a few years until I moved here. It's a hard thing to look at this little old man and realize he harmed small boys when he could have chosen not to. He was not a violent offender, but he did great harm all the same.

Anger is a tough thing for me to overcome. I do know how to hang on to it better than I know how to release it.

I do see that God wants me to deal with this. So, I will force myself. I have to make Gene look at his true self and bring himself to confession and REALLY deal with the results of what he has done in his younger days. Just a bit to make it harder; he is half deaf now and I have to speak much louder to have a conversation with him.......... so it's a real chore emotionally and physically. I am normally very soft spoken, and I start losing my voice when dealing with him.

ok, that's a pretty concise description of what I will be needing prayer on, thanks in advance ladies, this is a real task.

I also shared this with my youngest sister.

the daily struggle

I strive daily in pursuit of a peaceful mind, a grasp of joy, a normal life. It is always something I view in other people's lives, and never in my own for more than a few moments, only to be interrupted by flashes of past abuse. I can be thinking of a painting to work on, a subject of love and faith, and the flashes intrude and grab my mind and steer me from my goals.

I have heard all of the platitudes that suggest it is all up to me, that I can put the past behind me and go forward unaffected.

HOGWASH!

all of those platitudes, slogans and little drops of so-called "wisdom" are perpetrated by those who have never been where I have been. Never lived my life. Never even seen the pain and turmoil of my being.

You can never look at a victim of something horrible and offer them some pearl of advice if you are not also a victim, struggling with their struggles, battling their exact same demons.

Don't get me wrong, I would never in a million years wish that any of this would have happened to you, nor would I suggest that my siblings should suffer the clarity of memory that I am blessed/cursed with. If anyone can walk away and never remember the pain and anger and humiliation forced on by a soul-less cad, that would truly be a gift from God not to be trifled with.

Still, I want a peaceful mind. I know I am made to suffer in order to be of some use to others who suffer, and if anyone gains an ounce of understanding by reading my blog, it is made a worthy venture. Before I can have peace in my mind, we need to eliminate all child abuse, all sexual abuse, all abuse of women and children, all human traffic, all pornography, all manner of debasement and objectification of persons everywhere in the world. Then, not only can I have peace, but so can we all. If this post makes you uncomfortable, good, you should be. We have a world of work to do.

july 2013

I have been struggling lately with so many unresolved issues, mainly with departed relatives, and I need to find a better way to cope with the anguish. I don't like having so many distressing dreams, and so much depression. I have started doing individual work with my therapist, instead of group, as group was becoming counter productive for me.

Having a good way to cope is so important in how we manage the damage inflicted on us. I am trying hard.

it looks like it's been a while since I've blogged here, and tonight is a good enough time. it is finished being April 17th, 2013. It was my father's birthday, he would have been 95 years old. My sisters were posting little 'happy birthday dad' messages on facebook, and I am just glad he's dead.

he died in 1993, just before his birthday [deceased on the 8th].

Every year I survive him, is a good thing for me. I want to congratulate myself for not letting him utterly destroy me. He certainly gave it every effort.

Mom did her best to make things worse for me.

I'm still here, and they are both long gone.

I still have nightmares of them. But in the end, I wake up and I'm still alive. They lose.

this may not be a cheerful post, but it's how I feel.

Easter, April 8, 2012

well, I had a wonderful time at Mass with Gerry. She and her husband John dropped me off, then I went about doing chores and fixing dinner.
Ann came over at 5 pm and we ate ham, pinapple, sweet potato, salad, scallopped potatoes and some wine.
it was a nice dinner, and then Ann went back home.

After lounging about and putting away left overs and enjoying tv, I finally went online to facebook, and the first thing I see is a post by my youngest sister memorializing our dad, as he died this day in 1993. several of her friends posted, as did one of my brothers, all saying what a fine man he was!

It was like a poke in the eye with a flaming poker.

He was anything but a fine guy. He did manage to be jovial with most outsiders, but there is no excuse for being a rapist, child molster, and murderer, as well as a wife beater. If he was fine I must be a saint, maybe even with a capital S!!!

I had to get away from facebook before saying what I'm feeling.
my sister and brother can miss him if they want to, but I celebrate his absence, literally. When he was gone 4 years, I went to work at Medieval Times and had myself knighted [Lady Ginny Auldridge].
Surviving him is a real accomplishment. I don't know how the denial routine works, but it seems too popular to me.

how to minimalize a woman

Yes, the title of this is sarcastic. The last thing most people need is lessons on how to minimalize someone. It gets done automatically, without a second thought. There's the main problem; lack of second thoughts.
The lovely United States Government has all kinds of ways to minimalize us, too numerous to count, but I will mention a few anyway;

Dismally tiny incomes for disabled women. You know, I nearly had a minute to rejoice over the 3% increase they so genererously dished out this year, raising my income to a good $703 per month......... but before the minute of rejoicing was over, my food stamps got reduced to compensate. And you know they never ever actually give me the amount they say they will, I get cheated a few dollars worth every month. So, here I go begging at donation pantries again IF I am able to get to one.

ok, what else...... oh yeah, the DMV, particularly the one in Montgomery County Maryland, was sweet enough to fine me $150 back in 2006 for being late returning tags on my car when it was junked after being vandalized... which I could not pay, so, even though they graciously absorbed all "stimulus checks" I was eligible for, they now think I need to pay them over $2,000 dollars [yes, two thousand] for late fees.

They very courtiously sent me a letter telling me there is no appeal.
I was supposed to get a copy of the police report showing my car was vandalized, but it would cost me $10 to get the report, and I can rarely afford the postage stamp. I sent them all of the proof way back when it first occurred, pleading for a waiver of fines, and they say they never got it.

Ofcourse.

EVERY time any mail must be sent to any government agency/entity; ALWAYS make them sign a receipt for delivery of the letter! ALWAYS!!! I'm not kidding. They all lie if you don't.

$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$ that's all they see.

O.K., so, I'm living in this tiny apartment, thank God for a roof over my head, and there is no room for my craft projects and art projects, so my living and dinning rooms look like a work room/studio. I can't possibly ever make anything if I keep every object in my closet, because it is impossible to find. It is also too painful moving stuff around.
So, my youngest sister, God bless her, has taken on this idea of buying a cheap house and renting it to me! How exciting. I can plan on growing some vegetables....... more food is a good thing, no GMOs is even better. Organic! YES!!!
I can also plan on a spare room to use for crafts/art projects, and maybe keep my living space looking like it is intended to look!!!
We hope that I will be able to eventually save up for a car........ but then; I'm going to have to give the DMV to God, because He knows where they can go with their stupid fees and fines.

Financial marinalization is dreadful.
Emotional marginalization is worse.

Getting visits from my daughter and grandson a good 3 or 4 times per year is absurd. But to be fair, she is being marginalized too, even if she fails to recognize it.

Visiting and calling people that love you and need to have some love back is not such a chore, really. It can open up your life to new possibilities, like joy and hope and caring.

I was enjoying the program of the Ellen Degeneres show, and she always does kind and thoughtful things for people in need. But do we need to have fame and fotrune to give? No, we can give small stuff; like the affore mentioned phone call.........

I nag. but my relatives know nothing of this blog, so it is just another venting rant over here.

I have some amazing friends here; one keeps giving me yarn. I love to crochet.
Another gives me rides to church with her family. Another picks me up every month for our Rosary meetings........ and a neighbor takes me shopping, and we treat each other to lunch [taking turns paying] every first week of the month.

If I move to the house I will be viewing soon, I might be able to go to a movie sometimes!!!!!!

the point; disabled, women and men, people who need help from others, spend a lot of their days home alone, with nobody visiting, nobody phoning and no joy.
if you have some joy, share it. You will not be sorry.

oh yeah, my sister is trying to teach me to wish big, so here is what I'm looking for in my life;

a decent house with a yard.
I want to be able to sit out in my yard at night and look at the stars without being affraid of being attacked.

I want hand rails in my bathroom
I actually NEED a walk in tub, but handrails is half way there

I want to plant the veggies and herbs, herbs so I can TASTE my food!
[veggies so I can eat every day]

I want my family to visit. I miss my nearby family, but not nearly as much as I miss my other children [adults]. I have not seen my son since 1994.
My other daughter calls me 3 or 4 times a day, but I have not seen her since 2008.

I want a van so I can visit my family, and drive other ladies to church and shopping. I want to be able to make enough crafts to generate some extra cash....... and I want the government to kiss my ass for telling me I can only earn $65 per month before they take away 50% of every dollar over that amount BEFORE taxes. Sorry bastards.

No, I won't appologize for using bad words about them, they deserve it.

oh yeah, thank God for the Lion's club, I got new glasses today! the first upgrade in my vision since september 2000

a letter to my daughter

this is what I just sent to my daughter, with names replaced with initials;

G.I.,
I want you to carefully think about this email, and I want K. to read it and do the same.
I have been losing sleep over not being able to spend time with you all, and I've been put last on the list of significance the entire time I have lived here in Indiana.


C.V. has birthdays I'm not included on, and Christmas where I can just wait until February and this is not what should be happening.

With all of the dumb-ass things my parents did, and all of the actually cruel and evil things I was subjected to, they did one thing right; they made sure all of us got to spend time on a regular basis with our grandparents. I have always known my grandparents loved me, and even though my mother said things to the contrary, the evidence of my grandparents role in my life is clear, they loved me.

What will C.V. think when he is grown? Will he think his parents did everything to make sure all of his needs were met; including all of the people in his life that want to be in his life? Or will he look with a critical eye on his parents and say they failed to give him something special that he can never have replaced?

R. is very fortunate to be in a position where you need him to house you all, he gets to see C.V. every day, and C.V. will always have a strong bond of love with him.
This is the entire reason I live in Indiana. To be a living breathing grandmother, not a face on the computer or a disembodied voice on the phone.

You do have choices. Toss some coins in a jar and put it aside for gas to come visit.
Mark a day on your calendar every month to visit me, and arrange to make sure it happens.
It is only difficult if you make it difficult. I should never have to beg, or explain that I am here to be able to be in your lives. It should be obvious. I left behind all of my friends and what family remains in the D.C. area to be with you. I also gave up my ability to go anywhere for personal reasons, like chores of shopping, and for any entertainment...... and have to rely entirely on people from church to provide my rides to doctors and everything.

I know you think I should have moved closer, but if I had, how much more would I have been dependant on you for? I never wanted to rely on you for grocery trips or doctor visits or a ride to church etc., only for family visits. I made the only logical choice there was for moving in indiana, I am close enough, but not too close. I don't nag you or call and interfere or drop in uninvited.

in any event; I want to be treated with respect. I want C.V. to grow up with fun memories of time spent with me, and I want him to know for certain that we all put every effort into making that happen. He should have no regrets and nobody to blame.

If you really think about it, you have to want that too.

I love you all,
Mom

one bright spot

one bright spot in my day makes all the difference.
it has been a real struggle to get through december and the first half of january, with the anniversary of my youngest daughter's birth.
Grace Noel would have turned 30 had she not been murdered in 1997, now she has been dead nearly as long as she was alive. the worst anniversary ever.

my sleep patterns are totally screwed up, and I have been so depressed it is impossible to describe.

just now, however, I saw a picture posted on facebook of a baby with the silliest expression on his face, and the caption; you mean to tell me you don't go anywhere when we play peek a boo?

it brought back the memory of how much fun it was playing peek a boo with my son when he was tiny. He would laugh and laugh, and it was so much fun it always brought tears to my eyes.
the best kind of tears.
like Doctor Who says; Humany-woomany [crying while happy]

I need more laughter, more joy, more things to look forward to.
I need my family and my friends, and my God, how I need my God!

a friend called yesterday to get me thinking about our rosary society tea party project, and I am actually looking forward to it this year. last year nobody contacted me so I just didn't even go.
I am making decorations, and imagining the menu....... and waiting for the first meeting of ladies for plans.

one more bright spot, in the grey sad winter.