oh god i am tired.

inside of my forearms looks like someone whipped me with bridal wreath switches. upper arms and legs are bruised up. my back feels like someone kicked me and my shoulders are one giant knot. even my hair is tired.
yep, it's moving day at the BookNook. Pitbull and I started packing boxes about 1130, BL and family came about 2 pm. 5 adults and 5 kids. The 3 male types loaded the truck while the women packed. Moved 3 truck loads over to the new location. After the 3rd, we all trooped over to the new place and started unloading boxes and bags and shelving. didn't leave the new place until after 7 pm. I started work about 930 this morning, cleaning out 2 storage areas and a hallway and moving display racks. and tomorrow we do it all over again, starting about 830 am.
i've scraped up the energy to shower and wash a few loads of clothes but now i hear the bed calling me.
at least i get to take a couple hours off tomorrow, going with Pitbull to BR. she's getting a new tattoo. and i'm getting food from Caliente. that's all the incentive i need to start work early.

ps - BL starting calling me "General" about 3 hours in. By the end the whole group was calling me "Commander" - yep, i was bossing around the owners. one of the kids said i worked them like rented mules. *grin*

My new pretty

New tattoo - finally! I've been procrastinating, then made the appointment. First time I showed up, Inkman didn't have power. Soo, rescheduled for today. Got there about 2 didn't leave till 5ish. The guy, btw, is a total sweetheart. At one point I had to tell him "Wait, let me stop giggling!" And of course, he does incredibly awesome work. He said he'd make my butterfly look like it could flutter its wings and fly away. And dammit, he did.
Toward the end, he somehow dripped some ink on me. I hear him say "Hang on, I've dripped all over your back." Before I even started laughing, he said "Stop that! Dirty minded!" Pitbull said he was grinning and twinkling too. He told me he knew I was gonna laugh as soon as he said it. Considering everything else that had come out of my or Pitbull's mouth by that point, I'm sure he wasn't too surprised. (The remarks about how/why I could smoke a cigarette so fast were fairly typical me.) Anyway, I'm thrilled, in case you can't tell.

Slightly strange day though. After getting this done, we headed back for the store. I changed clothes, picked up my car and headed for the funeral home for Uncle George's wake. Well, second wake, I didn't make the first one and I'm gonna miss the funeral tomorrow. No way I could not make an appearance, especially given how much I loved the man. So I went, and of course everydamnbody just had to hug me and try to pat my back. I lost count of how many times I said "Don't pat my back" but it was way too many. I didn't really feel like explaining why to most people so I just said my back was really really sore. (Small town in the South, everybody will mind your business and give you their unsolicited opinions) I did tell my dad why and showed him the pic from my phone. His reaction? He rolled his eyes, shook his head and then took a closer look at the pic. Told me it was beautiful and he was glad I was happy.

And flights of angels sing thee to thy rest

I sit here staring at this screen, wondering how to find the words to express how very sad I am, knowing that no matter which words I choose, none will even come close to describing the true measure of loss I and many others feel at this moment.

A very wonderful man died yesterday. As a child, I called him Uncle George and have continued to do so occaisonally as an adult. Uncle George was co-owner of a local funeral home, started by his father and uncle, continued by George, his brother and his children. In a small Southern town, this means he touched the lives of nearly every person to live here in the last 65 years. I don't know many people in this area who, upon hearing his name, didn't recognize it and usually have a story to tell. George was a truly amazing person. Always ready with a smile and hug for someone who needed it, he provided support and caring at one of the most difficult times in our lives. George and his family handled Shadow's final arrangements and gave me the love and encouragement I desperately needed.
I don't think George, or anyone in his family, ever saw what they do as just a job. For them, it seems to be more of a calling, an outpouring of compassion and an example of what is truly meant by "a generous heart."
I know his family is grieving, hurt more deeply than I am. My heart breaks for all of them, the son who was my childhood playmate, the daughter whose friendship I cherish as an adult. His wife and other children, who I admire and respect. All of them, my tears are more for them than for myself. George's passing leaves a hole in this town, one that can never be filled. I know that it is much deeper for them.
I've copied something over to include here which made me cry and smile (the bolding is mine):

George asked for this special message to be shared in his obituary: “To all my friends, family, and loved ones: I was able to love because you let me love!! Spread it daily. Never let a day go by that you don’t tell someone who needs it that you love them. I am alright with my God. He knows my heart. I bet my life on Him. I ain’t worried. May that peace be all of yours. And never forget that service to humanity is the best work of life. And that today is the first day of the rest of your life.”

Those words are so very much how George lived, a small view of a large heart. So I sit, wiping tears, mourning the loss of such an incredible person. Sad to think that those who never met Uncle George will be denied the privilege and pleasure of his company. And I, who has not truly prayed in years, offer up a sincere prayer that God welcomes Uncle George with open arms and grants grace to his family. Rest in peace Uncle George, you will be missed by all of us.

Now it's just getting ridiculous

My TBR pile, that is. It decreased by 4 over the weekend despite taking off Saturday afternoon going to BR with Pitbull for tattoo, toy and shoe shopping. And Sunday picking up 3 bookshelves the BL gave me (big ones!). Today, the pile increased by 8. Which means a total of 83. Yeah, that's a bit much.
Most of it is fiction and I'm really bad about picking up non-fiction, reading a bit and then putting it aside while I go on a mental vacation. So The Great Influenza (Barry) , Stiff (Roach), Lies My Teacher Told Me (Loewen), The Roots of English (Claiborne) and Maiden Mother Crone (Conway) stay in the pile longer than they should. There's a copy of Truman Capote's In Cold Blood waiting too.

As for the fiction, well I'm completely incapable of passing up anything that looks interesting. So I've a huge pile of stuff. Tim Powers, James Blaylock, William Gibson, Jocelynn Drake, Melina Morel, Devon Monk, Shirley Damsgaard, Andre Norton, Robert Asprin, George R.R. Martin, Jeffery Deaver, Phillip Margolin, Eileen Wilks, Jefferson Bass, Louis L'Amour, Patricia Briggs, Charlaine Harris, Beverly Connor, Alexis Morgan, Victoria Dahl, Jana DeLeon, Sally Smith O'Rourke, Jim Butcher, Charles Grant, Simon R. Green, K.E. Mills, Agatha Christie, Robert Heinlein, Dennis McKiernan, Oscar Wilde, Roger Zelazny, Katie MacAlister, Maureen Child, Lydia Joyce, Mary Janice Davidson, Mercedes Lackey, Elizabeth Kostova, Dorothy Gilman, Julie Garwood, Lewis Carroll, Shiloh Walker, J.R. Ward, Phillip Pullman, Charles DeLint, Diana Palmer, Sherrilyn Kenyon, Iris Johansen. And 6 anthologies.
Oh yeah, 2 in my bag. Annette Blair and Budge Wilson.

I think I need more shelves. A lot more shelves. I've never been more grateful for a generous employee discount and trade credit.

I realize

I haven't posted any poetry or stories in a while, not mine or Shadow's. I just haven't been in the mood lately. I haven't written anything new in a while and wasn't up to reading Shadow's stuff. I'm proud of myself, I've managed to sort through some of his books and decide what to keep and what to let go. I'm trying to nerve up to do the same with all the computer stuff. Hey it's only taken me 4 years to let go of guilt and grief and start to find some peace. Every once in a while the pain is still a sharp slice but these days it's mostly a dull ache I've come to accept as part of my daily routine. And even that has started to ease. Mostly I can remember the good times, smile and keep going. Progress indeed.

I've also felt a little weird about blogging lately. Knowing that a few people I actually know IRL (Hey Lynn!) read this didn't really bother me much. Finding out that a specific someone has been reading this on the sly kinda did. I don't know why, since I tell all this stuff when asked. It just did, so I left a bunch of stuff unwritten. Yesterday I decided I was being incredibly silly, even for me. So, I'm back to just blurting out whatever thought passes through my head, never mind the consequences.

Or maybe it's all due to a lack of umm..."inspiration"