Long Time No Write

I totally believe I haven't written anything on this blog. That's because I have been so depressed, and I don't want to read this years from now and realize what a depressing person I must (have been?). Because it's almost Christmas I have been receiving a lot of emails about being thankful for a roof overhead, food in the fridge, etc. etc. And I truly am thankful for that. I totally realize I am so blessed to live in this century, in this country, and with a family like mine. However, and of course there is always a "however" with me...that darn house has still not sold and I am closer to being broke than almost any other time in my life. Not broke, mind you, but broke enough to sell stocks and be in a terrible frame of mind. Take this weekend for example. We meet Cynthia at the lake for lunch on Friday. Well, let's start with Thursday. Thursday I took a couple of girlfriends, Linda and Carolyn, to the Mart. I bought $200 worth of fake jewelry to sell at my sister's store and hopefully make $400 back. Just to help pay the bills, you see. I did keep a $15 bracelet for myself and thought long and hard about it. So, Friday we go to the lake to meet Cynthia, who, of course, has more money than she can spend and talks about all the real jewelry she has recently bought for herself. Now I don't mind that, Cynthia is a sweetheart and has no idea she is digging a hole for me. I bravely state that I don't really care for "real" jewelry and show off my new bracelet. But the kicker is that Harold takes me back to the boat and proudly shows off his new GPS unit for the boat (which is situated on a nearly dry lake where he knows every cove and inlet). This little toy cost him a cool $550. I therefore promptly tell him what I think of that expenditure and how I have noticed we never go on vacations. This leads to the fact that he thinks trips to Glenna and David's or my sister's is a vacation, whereas I don't think that way at all. At this point I get diarrhea (again) go to bed on the boat and don't get up for 2 days. Depression? Oh, I think so. Also guilt because of course he is fatally ill. But not so much since he is still smoking a pack a day plus drinking every single day. We're still not talking. I am playing canasta on the computer, reading, watching TV, and sewing. Well, the last, at least, is productive.