5/20 Oddities

It's odd. So many of my clients are people I know or people who know other family members or even people who may be friends of the entire family. Once they walk in, I always give them the option of going to someone else, but no one has taken me up on it yet.

They trust my confidentiality. And that absolutely makes me proud.

It's odd. Cookie honestly thinks she can get the squirrels that are in our trees. And I believe she is protecting Quincy and me from the nasty rodents. What's really funny is that the squirrels now taunt her, sitting in the tree in the backyard making squirrel noises. She really can jump up high--over six feet. Nearly made it over the big fence this week trying to get a squirrel that had crossed from our huge maple tree to the neighbor's huge fir tree. It's really fun to watch, but I'll be devastated if she ever jumps over. And I'm convinced that besides chocolate lab she is also a coon hound. I saw a special on TV about them, and she behaves exactly like a coon hound.

She's a pain, but I love her.

4/21 He's doing a little better

The femur was broken in four places instead of three. Poor Pete. He's got a rod in his leg from his hip to his knee, plus staples and a pin. He's in a lot of pain. We're all visiting a lot, and I don't know if that's helping him or not. Hope so. :)

Quincy and Cookie sent him a plant with a note that said, "They won't let us visit you. We are really, really, really, really sorry." He liked the note a lot.

Today is my 12 hour day and my last client just left and I'm on my way home in a moment. I'm so tired I won't want to turn on the computer, so thought I'd write a note here at work.

And it's true--I don't have any fingerprints. The fingerprint gal said that it's very common in women, as they age they tend to lose fingerprints. She said I may pass DCFS, but will definitely not pass the FBI. So when they kick my form back, I'll have to re-do it. But I won't have regrown fingerprints so I don't know what we'll do. Butt prints maybe? I sure have a lot of butt.

This morning Cookie ran away. Joe heard me calling for her and we spent 15-20 minutes chasing her from 17th and Oak to 18th and Broadway and back. She sure is a fast little monkey. When I drove around the corner after searching with my car, Joe was standing in front of my house with Cookie. I am so grateful and told Joe he's my hero. And that's the truth.

2/19 Grieving

It's funny how diverse we are culturally. It shows up in millions of ways--how we treat the common cold, how we discipline our children, and how we grieve, for example.

Today I attended a Mississippi funeral. The deceased was an elderly woman whose one goal was to get back into her home before she died. It didn't happen. Her death saddened an entire community, but her dying without her home also saddened those of us in the long-term recovery field.

Her caseworker is a dear friend of mine, and is suffering greatly. We wonder how we could have done thins differently. Could we have made a difference in whether or not this matriarch was able to return home.

Too late for those second guesses. We need to move on, and ensure this doesn't happen to any other people on the coast.

Ah, but this began with a sentence on diversity. The deceased left behind a huge family--four children, many grandchildren, many great-grandchildren, and two great-great-grandchildren. What a beautiful legacy. And the church was full of other relatives and friends who loved her.

Throughout the service you could hear wailing coming from one or more of her daughters, and one very close granddaughter. It didn't seem odd or out of place at all. And I thought how wonderful it was that folks can express their emotions so readily. That if someone wanted to scream and cry they did so.

If someone did that in our German Catholic community back home, people would think they'd gone off the deep end. We stuff our big emotions, and in my family especially we cover them with jokes. How I would have loved to have wailed at my Mom's funeral. She died way too young and it was more than sad.

Right now, I want to scream as well--for several reasons--not the least of which is grieving for my job and the jobs of others. Grieving for the clients whose homes are not yet rebuilt. Grieving for the 11,000 families still in FEMA trailers.

Wishing things were different.

So I stuff my emotions, and soldier on. Looking for a new job, a new home, a new life.

Just as sh!! happens, so does grace. Grace happens. That is what I'm counting on.