As I was telling a friend today, the last week in May and first two weeks in June are always brutal. This week, R. is in Oregon (Ashland and whitewater rafting) with her 8th grade glass. At work, I'm doing the crazy Dance of Many Fires to Put Out while we transition to the new database. By the end of the week, I will have worked 11 days in a row, but at least I left early today to see S. perform in her violin recital. Saturday S. & I will go to a mother/daughter gathering for the 3rd grade class. (It's a Waldorf school, remember, so this is called a "Moon Circle." In the afternoon, I expect to spend time writing with my writing pals (after much too long a break!).
Saturday also would have been my dad's 73rd birthday. I'm already thinking of Grandma, and how hard the day will be for her. I think mourning my father has been this huge process running in the background. It's hanging, and I can't seem to force quit or fully start it. (Sorry. Geek mode.)
Next week will be full too: graduation, 3 ballet performances & R's ballet recital. My sister will be in town, which is great. It's the first time I will have seen her since before the surgery, though, so I'm also a little nervous. I'm looking forward to showing her that I'm completely fine, but I'm afraid she may be looking for signs that I'm not. (If you're reading this, J, I'm doing great - honest!).
Wednesday, June 03, 2009
Tuesday, June 02, 2009
It helps to know the language
When my family and I watched a version of The Railway Children some time ago, we laughed long and hard at the children trying to communicate with the Russian soldier who turns up in their village. In an attempt to identify the language he's speaking, one of the kids says in a slow, clear delivery: "Are...You....Welsh?"
But I love this BBC story from Halloween last year:
As the article states:
I should say so!
But I love this BBC story from Halloween last year:
As the article states:
The English is clear enough to lorry drivers - but the Welsh reads "I am not in the office at the moment. Send any work to be translated."
When officials asked for the Welsh translation of a road sign, they thought the reply was what they needed.
Unfortunately, the e-mail response to Swansea council said in Welsh: "I am not in the office at the moment. Send any work to be translated".
So that was what went up under the English version which barred lorries from a road near a supermarket.
"When they're proofing signs, they should really use someone who speaks Welsh," said journalist Dylan Iorwerth.
I should say so!
Monday, June 01, 2009
Why, hello there
As arbitrary as a number on a sheet of paper (or a screen) is, the beginning of a month, after such a long time silent, seems like a good time to take up keyboard and post some kind of communiqué.
Even if the message is nothing more than "Hello again."
I'm still here. Still alive and well, even if the last few weeks I've felt that writing online (and often, even being online) was more than I could manage.
But without further apology or ado, I'm back.
Here's a picture from the family's trip to Canada in April. Much of the trip was spent seeing wild and rescued animals. We went to two wildlife sanctuaries:
Pacific Northwest Raptors and the North Island Wildlife Recovery Centre
Here's one of the employees at the Raptor center with one of the many birds that live there:
We also spent time at World Parrot Refuge, home to over 700 parrots with the idea that the birds should not be pets but should be allowed to flock in huge cages together. They give you earplugs when you first enter the facility, and in the one hands-on rehab area, one of the birds is quick to pick them out of your ears.
..
Even if the message is nothing more than "Hello again."
I'm still here. Still alive and well, even if the last few weeks I've felt that writing online (and often, even being online) was more than I could manage.
But without further apology or ado, I'm back.
Here's a picture from the family's trip to Canada in April. Much of the trip was spent seeing wild and rescued animals. We went to two wildlife sanctuaries:
Pacific Northwest Raptors and the North Island Wildlife Recovery Centre
Here's one of the employees at the Raptor center with one of the many birds that live there:
We also spent time at World Parrot Refuge, home to over 700 parrots with the idea that the birds should not be pets but should be allowed to flock in huge cages together. They give you earplugs when you first enter the facility, and in the one hands-on rehab area, one of the birds is quick to pick them out of your ears.
..
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
April Eve
March and April are the months for poetry contests, and I am scrambling, just a little, to send out a few things here and there. Thus the earlier-than-usual dragging myself out of bed today.
R. has been accepted to both schools to which she applied, but one was too far out of our budget without a ton of financial aid (which was not forthcoming), and the other only means some small but worthwhile lifestyle changes. Not eating-Top-Ramon-every-day sacrifices. But just paying attention and spending as little as possible on anything not truly necessary.
I received my father's death certificate, the coroner's report and some of my father's writings from my brother. It took me two weeks to work up the nerve to open it, and I've only read the first part of the coroner's report. I'm not pushing myself.
On a much lighter note (and what wouldn't be a lighter note than that?) I also received two glossy-covered copies of The Pinch, in which my "award winning" poem appears. It's satisfying, seeing it. Not thrilling. Just satisfying, like stepping back, rake in hand, to see the yard has been successfully cleared of leaves.
R. has been accepted to both schools to which she applied, but one was too far out of our budget without a ton of financial aid (which was not forthcoming), and the other only means some small but worthwhile lifestyle changes. Not eating-Top-Ramon-every-day sacrifices. But just paying attention and spending as little as possible on anything not truly necessary.
I received my father's death certificate, the coroner's report and some of my father's writings from my brother. It took me two weeks to work up the nerve to open it, and I've only read the first part of the coroner's report. I'm not pushing myself.
On a much lighter note (and what wouldn't be a lighter note than that?) I also received two glossy-covered copies of The Pinch, in which my "award winning" poem appears. It's satisfying, seeing it. Not thrilling. Just satisfying, like stepping back, rake in hand, to see the yard has been successfully cleared of leaves.
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
The Recrudescence of Routine
So it goes after big events; the resumption of the quotidian seems anticlimactic.
I donate a kidney.
My father dies.
Well, and the kids go off to school, and I go back to work, and the meetings are scheduled, and it rains, and the days grow longer, and the bills are due, and the clean laundry must be folded and put away.
Except that I want the experiences of February to have made a change that stays with me in some tangible and obvious way. So I've made this new commitment to myself as a poet, and I start each day by reading poetry, then writing something (notes toward a poem or a first draft). I sweat the small stuff less - this will take concentration and practice - and I honor other people more, and I am grateful for the many gifts I've been given, without feeling the need to protest that I don't deserve them or must return them. The giving is an expression of the gift-giver, and it's not my job to determine my worthiness to receive whatever I am offered. I am humbled, and grateful, and thus I learn a bit more about Love.
I donate a kidney.
My father dies.
Well, and the kids go off to school, and I go back to work, and the meetings are scheduled, and it rains, and the days grow longer, and the bills are due, and the clean laundry must be folded and put away.
Except that I want the experiences of February to have made a change that stays with me in some tangible and obvious way. So I've made this new commitment to myself as a poet, and I start each day by reading poetry, then writing something (notes toward a poem or a first draft). I sweat the small stuff less - this will take concentration and practice - and I honor other people more, and I am grateful for the many gifts I've been given, without feeling the need to protest that I don't deserve them or must return them. The giving is an expression of the gift-giver, and it's not my job to determine my worthiness to receive whatever I am offered. I am humbled, and grateful, and thus I learn a bit more about Love.
Friday, February 20, 2009
Good news, bad news
The really good news is that the kidney transplant surgery on the 10th went very well. Apparently, my left kidney paid attention to all the pep talks and heartfelt conversations I had with it, and it went to work right away as Mark's new kidney. He and I are both recovering well and getting better every day. I came home the 12th and he went home the 13th. My other blog has more details. Yesterday, which was a day that lasted a year, we went back to the university medical center for our individual checkups, and the doctors agreed that everything looks fine.
However, while we were at the medical center, I also received a phone call from my sister with the very sad news that my father had passed away. He died early yesterday morning. The circumstances of his death and of his life, combined with what he did and more significantly did not believe, all suggest that there will probably not be a service. But I still wish I could travel now (it's too soon after surgery according to the doctors) so I could go to Colorado to be with my 96-year-old grandmother and my brothers (my eldest brother just flew out to be with my older brother).
I had the good fortune of speaking to my dad the day before he died. We'd only seen each other 3 or 4 times in the last 25 years, and only spoke on the phone once or twice a year. But he'd heard about the transplant and called ostensibly to talk about that. And we'd said all the important things you hope to say to, and hear from, a loved one before they die. So while I'm mourning the loss, I'm also grateful that he'd called me. It's more complicated than that, of course. It always is. And I'm writing about it elsewhere. But this is how I'm recording this fact, for now. I hope that wherever Dad's spirit is now, it's at peace.
However, while we were at the medical center, I also received a phone call from my sister with the very sad news that my father had passed away. He died early yesterday morning. The circumstances of his death and of his life, combined with what he did and more significantly did not believe, all suggest that there will probably not be a service. But I still wish I could travel now (it's too soon after surgery according to the doctors) so I could go to Colorado to be with my 96-year-old grandmother and my brothers (my eldest brother just flew out to be with my older brother).
I had the good fortune of speaking to my dad the day before he died. We'd only seen each other 3 or 4 times in the last 25 years, and only spoke on the phone once or twice a year. But he'd heard about the transplant and called ostensibly to talk about that. And we'd said all the important things you hope to say to, and hear from, a loved one before they die. So while I'm mourning the loss, I'm also grateful that he'd called me. It's more complicated than that, of course. It always is. And I'm writing about it elsewhere. But this is how I'm recording this fact, for now. I hope that wherever Dad's spirit is now, it's at peace.
Saturday, January 24, 2009
The Season of Preparation
It's raining, but there have been recent days of spring-like warmth and sun, and that coupled with circumstance--new President, upcoming surgery, deadlines for High School--has pushed our household toward the work that comes with, and brings, hope.
We've eschewed the local public high schools for R. in favor of two private high schools, and the related applications, essays, paperwork and financial aid applications have taken time, as have interviews and visits and the SSAT test one of the schools required. We'll have to prepare our taxes within the next week to meet a deadline for "individualized tuition" for the schools, because we simply cannot afford either otherwise. Fortunately, we've been told both schools are helpful in this area.
We've also tackled various projects at home. One of these projects is the ever-popular “We’re going to clean our rooms!” game my daughters enjoy in which they pull everything out of closets or off shelves and put the gazillion resulting toys, socks, hair-bands, pens, scraps of paper, gum wrappers, beeswax sculptures, rollerblades, homework assignments, Legos, Barbie shoes, scissors, Polly Pockets and books in huge piles on the living-room or bedroom floors, thereby illustrating the dictum that is the sister to “it’s always calmest before a storm”: “it’s always messiest before a mess.”
But after several weeks of to-be-sorted piles in every corner, and a trip to the hospice thrift store with a carload of donations, things feel a bit cleaner. Costumes that had been put in the attic have been used for J's recent birthday party and then put up in the new garage storage area. Christmas things have been put away, finally, and also in new lighter boxes--rather than the historically interesting but very heavy WWII medical chest we've always used. D. has started, and finished, a new walkway in the front courtyard. Progress.
On an unrelated note, I’m seeing dogs everywhere I go. Lots of people walking dogs in the teasing sunshine, dogs in cars with tongues lolling and tails wagging, dogs in the laps of patrons sitting in coffee house patio. The girls and I have started asking about another dog, thinking about taking the plunge into being a dog-owning family again. The one year anniversary of Albion’s death is approaching, and as sometimes happens, I was aware of it subconsciously before I realized why I had suddenly started to think of him and miss him. But D. is nowhere near ready to open himself up to the potential heartache of loving another pet as much as he loved Alby, only to lose it to its shorter allotment of years. So we'll stick to the current more-than-sufficient menagerie of 2 big outdoor hutched rabbits, two noisy indoor caged parakeets, a spoiled rat who spends her afternoons on R's shoulder (or in her shirtsleeve, nose poked out), and the 400-gallon fish tank. The corey catfish have been laying eggs, and D. devised a way to save them from the two giant greedy koi (who are not pescavores but like eggs). And now we have a couple dozen of the tiny things in a nursery, getting bigger every day. Maybe Spring is not that far away after all.
We've eschewed the local public high schools for R. in favor of two private high schools, and the related applications, essays, paperwork and financial aid applications have taken time, as have interviews and visits and the SSAT test one of the schools required. We'll have to prepare our taxes within the next week to meet a deadline for "individualized tuition" for the schools, because we simply cannot afford either otherwise. Fortunately, we've been told both schools are helpful in this area.
We've also tackled various projects at home. One of these projects is the ever-popular “We’re going to clean our rooms!” game my daughters enjoy in which they pull everything out of closets or off shelves and put the gazillion resulting toys, socks, hair-bands, pens, scraps of paper, gum wrappers, beeswax sculptures, rollerblades, homework assignments, Legos, Barbie shoes, scissors, Polly Pockets and books in huge piles on the living-room or bedroom floors, thereby illustrating the dictum that is the sister to “it’s always calmest before a storm”: “it’s always messiest before a mess.”
But after several weeks of to-be-sorted piles in every corner, and a trip to the hospice thrift store with a carload of donations, things feel a bit cleaner. Costumes that had been put in the attic have been used for J's recent birthday party and then put up in the new garage storage area. Christmas things have been put away, finally, and also in new lighter boxes--rather than the historically interesting but very heavy WWII medical chest we've always used. D. has started, and finished, a new walkway in the front courtyard. Progress.
On an unrelated note, I’m seeing dogs everywhere I go. Lots of people walking dogs in the teasing sunshine, dogs in cars with tongues lolling and tails wagging, dogs in the laps of patrons sitting in coffee house patio. The girls and I have started asking about another dog, thinking about taking the plunge into being a dog-owning family again. The one year anniversary of Albion’s death is approaching, and as sometimes happens, I was aware of it subconsciously before I realized why I had suddenly started to think of him and miss him. But D. is nowhere near ready to open himself up to the potential heartache of loving another pet as much as he loved Alby, only to lose it to its shorter allotment of years. So we'll stick to the current more-than-sufficient menagerie of 2 big outdoor hutched rabbits, two noisy indoor caged parakeets, a spoiled rat who spends her afternoons on R's shoulder (or in her shirtsleeve, nose poked out), and the 400-gallon fish tank. The corey catfish have been laying eggs, and D. devised a way to save them from the two giant greedy koi (who are not pescavores but like eggs). And now we have a couple dozen of the tiny things in a nursery, getting bigger every day. Maybe Spring is not that far away after all.
Friday, January 02, 2009
New Year, New Post
Rather than the contrived and apologetic back-dating that would mean I had a fake entry to show for January 1st, I'm writing the second day into the month to wish one and all a Joyful, Healthy, Prosperous New Year.
This year I will write more poems.
I will spend less money.
I will take more time to be alone and contemplative because it feeds me.
This year I will donate a kidney to a friend. And recover. And celebrate his recovery.
I will laugh more and fret less.
I will be grateful for every gift, large and small, understood and mysterious.
This is a year of change, but all of it
good.
For those who did not receive a Holiday card from us (yet), here's a link to the picture we sent out this year. It's a change from tradition because D and I are actually pictured, and the girls look rather silly. I've been calling it "goofy but happy" and it's from our trip to Vancouver Island in June. This is from the ferry ride back to the mainland.
And by the way K & B and Tom, if you're reading this... I believe you have moved (not together, but separately) so here's a public appeal (although I know an email to each would have sufficed): I need addresses from you guys so I can send a card your way. Please and thank you.
Blessings and warmest wishes to all. Here's to 2009!!!
Wind-blown self-portraiture at its best.
This year I will write more poems.
I will spend less money.
I will take more time to be alone and contemplative because it feeds me.
This year I will donate a kidney to a friend. And recover. And celebrate his recovery.
I will laugh more and fret less.
I will be grateful for every gift, large and small, understood and mysterious.
This is a year of change, but all of it
good.
For those who did not receive a Holiday card from us (yet), here's a link to the picture we sent out this year. It's a change from tradition because D and I are actually pictured, and the girls look rather silly. I've been calling it "goofy but happy" and it's from our trip to Vancouver Island in June. This is from the ferry ride back to the mainland.
And by the way K & B and Tom, if you're reading this... I believe you have moved (not together, but separately) so here's a public appeal (although I know an email to each would have sufficed): I need addresses from you guys so I can send a card your way. Please and thank you.
Blessings and warmest wishes to all. Here's to 2009!!!
Wind-blown self-portraiture at its best.
Monday, December 01, 2008
Mary Oliver
I went and saw Mary Oliver read tonight. And. Well.
Wow. For more detail regarding my reaction, see the Practical Poet Blog.
Among other things, she read from a memoir she's written about Molly Malone Cook, with whom she lived for many years. She said that Cook taught her to observe the world differently. She read, "..attention without feeling, I began to learn, is only a report."
Note to Self: You got that?
Wow. For more detail regarding my reaction, see the Practical Poet Blog.
Among other things, she read from a memoir she's written about Molly Malone Cook, with whom she lived for many years. She said that Cook taught her to observe the world differently. She read, "..attention without feeling, I began to learn, is only a report."
Note to Self: You got that?
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Thanksgiving weekend, belatedly posted
Four days away from the usual routine is such a blessing.
Our Thanksgiving was simple. I cooked for an army even though it was just the four of us and D's mother. On the menu (as usual, from Bon Appétit for November 1994 unless otherwise noted):
Turkey with maple herb butter
Broccoli casserole (family recipe)
Bacon and buttermilk mashed potatoes (R. helped with this one)
Brown sugar-glazed sweet potatoes with spices, almond slivers and mini marshmallows
Popovers (another family recipe)
Cranberry sauce with raspberry vinegar
Glazed pearl onions with raisins and almonds
stuffing
pecan & pumpkin pie, vanilla bean ice cream
I've gotten full just writing about this meal!
Grandmère & the girls at the table.
Our Thanksgiving was simple. I cooked for an army even though it was just the four of us and D's mother. On the menu (as usual, from Bon Appétit for November 1994 unless otherwise noted):
Turkey with maple herb butter
Broccoli casserole (family recipe)
Bacon and buttermilk mashed potatoes (R. helped with this one)
Brown sugar-glazed sweet potatoes with spices, almond slivers and mini marshmallows
Popovers (another family recipe)
Cranberry sauce with raspberry vinegar
Glazed pearl onions with raisins and almonds
stuffing
pecan & pumpkin pie, vanilla bean ice cream
I've gotten full just writing about this meal!
Grandmère & the girls at the table.
Saturday, November 15, 2008
Lightly touching down
About a month ago, I felt like there was a larger than usual number of issues hanging in the air above me all the time. They were a mix of serious and trivial Unknowns, and even though I knew that they would all be resolved eventually, it was stressful waiting for those resolutions. I'm a control freak, right? And these were all things I really couldn't control. I listed some to a co-worker at the time:
Where will R. going to be going to High School next year?
Who will be our next President?
Will I or won't I be donating a kidney in the next few months?
If not, will it be becuase I'm actually borderline or pre-diabetic?
When will I really be starting my new job at the office?
What will my new hours be, and how will they affect the 6-family school carpool?
How will S. be cast in the Nutcracker?
When will D. finish the under-construction awning in the back yard?
Is the rat's tumor operable?
Like I said, some of that is pretty trivial, but I'm still so grateful that most of these things have, in fact, resolved themselves in the best possible way.
The rat's tumor was removed for a reasonable charge and she's doing great. We probably extended her life by 6-12 months with the operation, and I can't say enough good things about the compassionate, reasonably-priced vet who did the job.
The Presidential issue worked out as I was hoping and praying it would, and we probably won't be moving to Canada in the near future. :)
S. will be playing a Mouse and an Angel in the Nutcracker - and she'll even have a 20-second solo as the angel who delivers Clara's crown to the Sugar Plum Fairy.
The awning was completed in record time, and it's absolutely beautiful, especially with the white LEDs adorning it. I'll have to put in a picture (writing with my Writers Group pals a cafe at the moment, so it'll have to wait...)
I have started in my new position in Customer Service at work, and my hours have shifted enough to allow me to sleep a little more every night but not so much that I had to change the carpool.
I am not pre-diabetic, and the kidney donation is still a go, pending a couple more tests. (See Nephronotes for more).
R. has visited a couple of High Schools and has 2 more to visit, but she's very excited about the local Waldorf school in particular, and it happens to be the place that I had felt would be her best fit, too.
Is that it? I think that's it.
All those heavy things hanging above my head, lightly touching down.
How many of the heavy burdens that we let fall from our shoulders become stumbling blocks, and how many are transformed into firm stepping stones that we use to move ahead?
Where will R. going to be going to High School next year?
Who will be our next President?
Will I or won't I be donating a kidney in the next few months?
If not, will it be becuase I'm actually borderline or pre-diabetic?
When will I really be starting my new job at the office?
What will my new hours be, and how will they affect the 6-family school carpool?
How will S. be cast in the Nutcracker?
When will D. finish the under-construction awning in the back yard?
Is the rat's tumor operable?
Like I said, some of that is pretty trivial, but I'm still so grateful that most of these things have, in fact, resolved themselves in the best possible way.
The rat's tumor was removed for a reasonable charge and she's doing great. We probably extended her life by 6-12 months with the operation, and I can't say enough good things about the compassionate, reasonably-priced vet who did the job.
The Presidential issue worked out as I was hoping and praying it would, and we probably won't be moving to Canada in the near future. :)
S. will be playing a Mouse and an Angel in the Nutcracker - and she'll even have a 20-second solo as the angel who delivers Clara's crown to the Sugar Plum Fairy.
The awning was completed in record time, and it's absolutely beautiful, especially with the white LEDs adorning it. I'll have to put in a picture (writing with my Writers Group pals a cafe at the moment, so it'll have to wait...)
I have started in my new position in Customer Service at work, and my hours have shifted enough to allow me to sleep a little more every night but not so much that I had to change the carpool.
I am not pre-diabetic, and the kidney donation is still a go, pending a couple more tests. (See Nephronotes for more).
R. has visited a couple of High Schools and has 2 more to visit, but she's very excited about the local Waldorf school in particular, and it happens to be the place that I had felt would be her best fit, too.
Is that it? I think that's it.
All those heavy things hanging above my head, lightly touching down.
How many of the heavy burdens that we let fall from our shoulders become stumbling blocks, and how many are transformed into firm stepping stones that we use to move ahead?
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Satire. Or not.
I'm so close to the target demographic for this, it's almost not funny. If you know what I mean. Eh.
Wednesday, October 22, 2008
Heaven help me
I've created a Facebook account.
I guess I've finally started to catch up with the social networking 21st century.
I don't even know how to direct you to my site or what becoming a friend entails, but I'm sure I'll get up to speed.
You know, in my copious free time.
In the meantime, my friends can become my friends in a whole new way.
Um. Wait.
That didn't sound right.
But you know what I mean.
I guess I've finally started to catch up with the social networking 21st century.
I don't even know how to direct you to my site or what becoming a friend entails, but I'm sure I'll get up to speed.
You know, in my copious free time.
In the meantime, my friends can become my friends in a whole new way.
Um. Wait.
That didn't sound right.
But you know what I mean.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
One Month Later. Here's where I've been
So check out this new blog for a little update for you all:
www.nephro-notes.blogspot.com
If I've seen silent it's because life has been busy, with this added element that may come as a surprise to some of you.
It's all good, though, and I hope you'll be able to offer support as I travel down this new road.
The girls are doing great with their schooling and various activities, both blooming a little more every day, but sufficiently silly and geeky to assure me that they are, in fact, our children.
D's shoulder (he has a small tear in his cuff) is actually better, and the PT and Glucosamine may have made a difference.
Work is going well too. I've had a great time working more directly with the rest of the inbound sales staff. And although I miss being in the same room as the recovery engineers, and although I'm really looking forward to transitioning to Customer Service November 1st, I've learned a lot from the very professional, very hard-working bunch on the third floor.
I am in the middle of the annual weight-loss competition at work. Down to about as low as I've ever been as an adult, with a few more pounds to go. I get to the gym as often as possible, and write more and more. But mostly for the benefit of that other blog (SEE ABOVE).
I hope to spend November writing furiously, too. While the family prepares for Winter, and Nutcracker, and the holidays. They have Christmas decorations in all the stores, and I'm pretty sure it's for Christmas 2009, because it's too late for the 2008 marketing, the way the world works these days.
And let me also say this, even though not all my readers may feel the same way. (And if you don't agree, call me. We'll talk about it.) Go Obama!!!
www.nephro-notes.blogspot.com
If I've seen silent it's because life has been busy, with this added element that may come as a surprise to some of you.
It's all good, though, and I hope you'll be able to offer support as I travel down this new road.
The girls are doing great with their schooling and various activities, both blooming a little more every day, but sufficiently silly and geeky to assure me that they are, in fact, our children.
D's shoulder (he has a small tear in his cuff) is actually better, and the PT and Glucosamine may have made a difference.
Work is going well too. I've had a great time working more directly with the rest of the inbound sales staff. And although I miss being in the same room as the recovery engineers, and although I'm really looking forward to transitioning to Customer Service November 1st, I've learned a lot from the very professional, very hard-working bunch on the third floor.
I am in the middle of the annual weight-loss competition at work. Down to about as low as I've ever been as an adult, with a few more pounds to go. I get to the gym as often as possible, and write more and more. But mostly for the benefit of that other blog (SEE ABOVE).
I hope to spend November writing furiously, too. While the family prepares for Winter, and Nutcracker, and the holidays. They have Christmas decorations in all the stores, and I'm pretty sure it's for Christmas 2009, because it's too late for the 2008 marketing, the way the world works these days.
And let me also say this, even though not all my readers may feel the same way. (And if you don't agree, call me. We'll talk about it.) Go Obama!!!
Friday, September 19, 2008
Saturday, September 13, 2008
What I'd Rather
When I wake up, all sorts of doors open in my head, and the day's concerns and duties, things I must do or remember, stride in and all start talking at once, vying for attention. It's like a bad party scene where no one is listening to one another, and everyone has had just enough to drink to make them loud and selfish. I grit my teeth and marshal whatever order I can, and give myself a pep talk in the din.
But what I want is this: to wake to peaceful stillness, silent and rested, and walk alone out well-washed French doors into a morning just blooming into color out of the gray of dawn. I want to walk down a path through hills with the birds making their declarations of existence, and the sky high and open.
I want the particles of my body to be loosely held together by whatever joyful contract they originally made with one another, instead of being bound tightly in corporeal mass by the glue of stress and will.
But what I want is this: to wake to peaceful stillness, silent and rested, and walk alone out well-washed French doors into a morning just blooming into color out of the gray of dawn. I want to walk down a path through hills with the birds making their declarations of existence, and the sky high and open.
I want the particles of my body to be loosely held together by whatever joyful contract they originally made with one another, instead of being bound tightly in corporeal mass by the glue of stress and will.
Tuesday, September 09, 2008
Still here
Still alive.
And well, too.
Just not blogging these days.
But I thought I'd break radio silence with this tiny note.
A (re)start.
And well, too.
Just not blogging these days.
But I thought I'd break radio silence with this tiny note.
A (re)start.
Tuesday, July 22, 2008
Confession
Forgive me reader, for I have committed the sin of hubris.
I thought I could write daily.
Well, I thought I could write daily and do a lot of other things daily too.
But every morning, I launch myself out of bed (after multiple bargaining sessions with the snooze alarm - my earliest waking moments are measured by 7-minute intervals), throw myself into the day, and am hurtled from one thing to another until I give up sometime around 10:30 (give or take) and surrender to the reality that I can't do it all.
And this in spite of my capacity to believe, over and over again, that if only I marshaled myself better, I could accomplish what I've set out to do.
Well, drat.
Today my goal is to be gentle with myself. I think my mother's somewhere telling me to slow down and take it easy. Yeah. Like I've ever listened to that advice.
I thought I could write daily.
Well, I thought I could write daily and do a lot of other things daily too.
But every morning, I launch myself out of bed (after multiple bargaining sessions with the snooze alarm - my earliest waking moments are measured by 7-minute intervals), throw myself into the day, and am hurtled from one thing to another until I give up sometime around 10:30 (give or take) and surrender to the reality that I can't do it all.
And this in spite of my capacity to believe, over and over again, that if only I marshaled myself better, I could accomplish what I've set out to do.
Well, drat.
Today my goal is to be gentle with myself. I think my mother's somewhere telling me to slow down and take it easy. Yeah. Like I've ever listened to that advice.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
Returning late
Another full day of conference, and then home just before midnight after an uneventful flight.
Before I left Phoenix, I had dinner with my half-sister M. and her family at a somewhat questionable restaurant near the airport. It was so good to see them and catch up, even if it was only for a short time. (Thanks for the visit and ride to the airport, M!)
It was, as it always is, so nice to come home.
Before I left Phoenix, I had dinner with my half-sister M. and her family at a somewhat questionable restaurant near the airport. It was so good to see them and catch up, even if it was only for a short time. (Thanks for the visit and ride to the airport, M!)
It was, as it always is, so nice to come home.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Geekiness and Buffets
The last few days at the developer's conference have been a combination of lots of new information - I now know even more painfully how little I know and how many new, exciting things I *could* be doing, if I only I had the time to learn the steps better - and these thrice-daily buffets where I could, theoretically, eat plate after plate of food. I limit myself to one plate per meal, but I don't pass on dessert either.
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