When I was a Campfire girl, my troop used to go on several camping trips every year. One year, our leader, Mrs. Rosenbery, taught us how to cook burger patties on top of an old coffee can. First, we had to remove the lid with a very old, manual can opener. Then we could turn the can upside down over a pile of burning coal, and we'd cook the burger on the remaining top of the can. I remember being terrified of cutting myself with the jagged edge of the lid. I didn't even want to touch it once it had been dislodged from the can.

I'm having flashbacks on that jagged edge, somehow relating it to how my heart is feeling at this very moment. I've just hung up the phone with my sister, who tells me that my Dad is reconsidering the move to Colorado. His last two remaining friends live in the Bay Area, and he's known them since college. His best friend Pierre has been battling the onset of Alzheimers disease and Dad has been a wonderful support for him. They see each other twice weekly to play dominoes and eat lunch at Red Lobster.

Dad's also developed a network of friends at his assisted care facility, and he's realizing how much he's going to miss those folks. It doesn't hurt that they continually tell him how unhappy he'll be in the Colorado cold. Regardless, Dad is feeling extremely wanted and appreciated.

This is all great news. My Dad is realizing how happy he is and he wants to hold onto it as long as he can. At 81 years of age, who can blame him? Plus, there's no guarantee that he'd like his new place here in the Denver area. He'd have to make new friends.

Personally, I think it's the best decision. For him.

For me, it feels like a painful rejection. And irrational ideas keep popping into my head. First, I fail at keeping my mom alive and now...my Dad chooses to live near his friends instead of me.

I know...I'm a big baby.

With an aching heart.

And this is Nelson, aka Lovey.

Does he stay...or does he go?

This is Lynard, one of two cats that I adopted when my sister passed away. They lived peacefully with Ann because there were no other cats in her household.

Lynard is extremely skittish and rarely comes out of hiding. He won't come down the stairs to eat or, as it turns out, to use the cat box. He's apparently using my husband's closet to do his business, as evidenced by the pile of poo that I found this morning. (Husband has been in the Bay Area and I rarely go into his closet.)

In the old house, the territories were established and Nelson and Lynard lived in my bedroom. Food, water, cat box and all. It wasn't fair to them to be cooped up. But I thought the move to Colorado would wipe the slate clean and that some degree of peace could be achieved.

I originally took these cats into my home because I knew that my sister would have wanted me to do so, and I wanted to honor her in a way that would be important to her. I really, really don't want six cats. Four was my limit and was working out just fine. I am strained to keep Lynard because of the constant fighting with my other cats...they get along splendidly with one another. I'm awakened every morning at 3am to Lynard skreeching/hissing/growling/fighting with another cat. It's getting old.

This poor little guy didn't ask for any of these things to happen to him, I know. And the fact that he's being bullied constantly breaks my heart. The Three Insurgents seek him out, not the other way around, and I'm at a loss to know how to stop it. He's really only trying to defend himself.

Oy Vey.

Do I continue to try to make this work?
Do I give Lynard his very own cat box upstairs so he won't continue to go in the closet?
Do I put him up for adoption so he can live in a house without other cats to bully him?
What about his brother Nelson who is doing fine?
Do I separate them or put them both up for adoption?
How do I manage the guilt of doing this?
Will time resolve the territorial issues and can they ever "just get along?"
And how do I preserve the sanctity and cleanliness of my (new) home?

I just can't seem to find a direction of What's Best....for Lynard. For my sister's memory. For me.

Jill's Get-It-Done List

Call the Adoption Agency and launch the home study. Check

Make Cobra Payment and obtain Colorado insurance coverage. Check

Eat gluten-free foods to test the allergy theory. Check Check

Coax the cat down from the 11' beam over the living room. No can do, he won't budge.

Enough is Enough.

My good friend's father passed away after surgery last week. He'd gone in for a hip replacement and had immediate problems from the anesthesia. It made him vomit continually, so much so that he he split the lining in his stomach and bled to death from dry-heaving.

I called her immediately to tell her how sorry I was about the unexpected passing.

Friend: Well, you know how it is. The one thing that every person on the planet has in common is that we are all going to bury our parents.

Jill: I really hadn't thought of it that way, though many parents have to bury their children...which is horribly wrong.

Friend: Yeah, well, I'm just glad I had him for as long as I did. The kids really got to know him and know how much he loved them.

Jill: Are you alright?

Friend: Oh yeah. I'm busy with making the arrangements, but yeah, I'm OK.

Am I the only person on the planet who completely tilts over the loss of a loved one? I couldn't get out of bed for a week after my sister passed away. And then my mom's declining health sent me into a pit of despair. Is it different because she has kids and she has to carry forward? Is it just a difference of disposition or sensitivity level?

All I know is that I am a train-wreck in repair. Every day is brighter, though it's taking a very long time for my body to heal. I have chronic stomach problems and they continue plague me, despite the little almond-shaped pill that I take every day.

I'm tired of having heartburn.
I'm tired of feeling fatigued and out of shape.
I'm tired of feeling sick after every meal.

Feeling so good in other areas of my life have helped illuminate the areas where I feel physically awful. I had a small sob session tonight, thinking that I don't want to hurt anymore. I accept that I will be grieving for a very long time, and that's OK. It's who I am.

But I'm done with the physical hurts. It's time to get fixed.

Home Sweet Home

Twenty thousand pounds. Otherwise, known as ten tons. Or one rhinoceros plus eleven friends.

Apparently, we own a lot of Stuff. I've always described us as Big Furniture people but folks rarely understand my meaning. We have two armoires that require several people to lift. And our dining room table is made out of an unknown wood that is shockingly dense. That piece requires 4 guys. It's not that we own a lot of equipment or anything - our tv is 20 years old and only a 21 inch. I just like big, overstuffed chairs. And books.

So, our twenty thousand pounds traversed almost 1,300 miles to the new homestead. And it's taken us ten straight days to unpack. The mountain of paper that you see above ran 5 feet deep and that represents only half of the unpacking. Husband had the novel idea to smooth out each sheet, stacking them into large bundles and recycling. After an hour of unraveling the crinkled sheets, I threw in the towel...we hadn't even made a dent in the paper monster. So, we stuffed it all into bags and threw it into the garage. Twenty one bags later, I'm still parked on the street.

Husband and I don't quite know what to do with ourselves now that we are unpacked and getting settled. There is nothing to replace, nothing to upgrade. We bought two new beds and a lawn mower...but that's all that was needed. The house has good bones and a good facade. We love the colors both inside and out. The appliances are all new and the bathroom floors have radiant heat, a feature that is new to my California sensibilities. The kitchen even offers a pull-out drawer for my wet sponges, something that I have wanted for a long time.

But the best aspect is the space. In the Bay Area, everything was crammed into a closet or cupboard and that usually led to its being forgotten and unused.

Now, we have more than enough room for everything that we own. And there's room to stretch-out on the carpet without having to spreadeagle the corner of a bed. I like to walk through the house with my arms open wide to just feel the space. It's a huge mental release.

It's an amazing thing to realize that A) we have more than enough in our lives and we don't need more, and B) I no longer have to prove anything to anybody from a career standpoint. This entire experience has been incredible. I'm free.

Yesterday was our 2-week anniversary of living in our new home. We are 90% unpacked but only about 80% settled. This isn't a bad thing...we are just completely astonished over our new house, friendly neighbors and gorgeous weather.

Despite the record-breaking heatwave in Denver, the days have been tolerable because there is no humidity. The nights bring gentle, summer breezes unlike any that I have ever felt before. They are warm yet comfortable, and when we sit on the grass in our backyard to watch the sun set, we hear kids laughing and playing in their backyards. Later at night, we'll lie on our backs and look at the stars, trying to absorb the stillness around us.

It takes time to learn how to de-stress and adopt a less frenetic lifestyle. But we're on the road. We are estactic and overwhelmed and still unbelieving.

This is the best thing we have ever done.

We're here!

The high-speed internet just kicked in....and updates will be posted soon.

ps We wake up everyday and pinch ourselves...we're home.