One Word

Calm

2012-03-06T20:13:00.001-07:00

Snow coming down. Looks like a doozie, but in March, even that doesn't mean much in a city used to snow anyway.

Pistachio

2012-03-04T16:12:00.001-07:00

Yeah, ok, I get why they call it pistachio cream.

Loves the hugs.

Sod

2012-03-04T14:22:00.003-07:00

Not a day to do, really. Up too early, grumpy, unhappy gut, vaguely miserable. After lunch I felt I had to do something, with the sun and warmth outside. So, I swept out the garage full of leaves and blown in trash. And found just how much crap the formers left. Weed killer by the gallon, turf builder in several bags, two one gallon gasoline containers, both full. I'd like to pour all of it all over them, but then it would still get into the water table. D is going to find out where to take the toxins. A half rotted string hammock, destroyed brooms, good for only their handles. A small tarp and a mover's quilt. A shed with a few random tools. More paint, to add to the collection already in the basement. Probably a good place for it, paint on all the raw concrete down there is one way to use it.

Thinking it best to let the back lie fallow, with clover, sunflowers, barley, that sort of thing, this year. Clear the dog shit and weed killer. And plant a few things in the front only. Although that is likely full of even more weed killer. Ok, maybe both areas. Shit, I really wanted a few tomatoes. Must think long term. Just keep it green, and healthy. And find out where the sun hits. Disappointing, but also hopeful. This is going to take some adjustment, and a new plan. Sod removal and ground cover, oh what fun. Double dig the whole place.

Sod's Law.

Think, think. Think, think, think.

Limitattions

2012-03-03T20:20:00.004-07:00

Wrong,

Better,

I do know that I am an intelligent person. I also know the limits of my intelligence and knowledge. I'm always working on those gaps, but I also know in what ways there will always be huge gaps. I think that is part of being smart enough, being able to see how far the road goes on, and how little fuel I have left. I will never be as smart as any crossword compiler, my uncle Walt, or our friend N, for instance. I'm crap at rote memorization, spacial relationships, arithmetic, and I'm not a fast thinker most of the time.

Puzzles are a great challenge, sudoku a practice in seeing numbers - that I still screw up, and I rarely get a late-week crossword puzzle off perfectly. No expert I. I've had to work at anything I wanted to understand. Doable, but not easy, ever. I worked for every A I got in school, and I got a lot of them. Lots of school prizes, and I never cared, because I knew how good it could be, and I had not gotten there. Playing a musical instrument, oh, my do I know how it feels to be inept.

This is part of why I love writing and photography, because I don't really understand, and I have to put everything into getting it attractive and legible, readable. I make progress. I know good writing, and good photographs. I can see what it takes, see when they are really worthwhile. I can't do them, save the occasional lucky shot, the odd essay that transcends my skill. As all artists who occasionally transcend their skill, a period of extreme inspiration and talent, a masterwork, often never to be regained. A minor version of the To Kill a Mockingbird experience, as Harper Lee has admitted, when the story wants to be told, and one amazing book emerges. What else could anyone want?

I work at it, so if a photo wants me to take it, a story wants me to tell it, maybe I'll be able, ready, at the right time. No guarantees. There never are.

Wooly

2012-03-03T20:10:00.004-07:00

In the music room, the blinds by day and night.

Just a poster, but it really brings the kitchen wall together. Brighter, instead of all that dark blue. Normally, I like dark blue, and with the sun on it, it's not a bad color at all. But without sun, it sucks in light, never letting it out. Typical of the paint in this house.

And in the bedroom. The windows glow at night, pleasantly.

Just have to cut through the excess green. A bit of red will do. The army blankets, two sewn together, are very warm indeed. Good wool, if not a terribly attractive color.

Blinds

2012-03-02T17:46:00.008-07:00

A week of work, at least. Sore neck/throat, as though fighting off a virus. I know there is Something Going Round, and I got it. This year, I've not been down with anything much, perhaps because of the flu shot, perhaps because I've already been sick with what came through this year, and was immune. I'm a big fan of flu shots, since I used to be a sensitive canary, ill every winter, first down, longest miserable, last relapsing. Since the flu immunization became more common, especially in my cohort, I've escaped a month of dreadful ill every year. I still catch What's Going Round, a stray virus, colds, and it always lingers with me. It just doesn't happen as often, as badly, as when younger, for me. I can tell all my lymph nodes are on overdrive, and I tend to be tired, but otherwise, meh. Damn stiff neck on one side is a bit annoying, capsaisin rub helped.

Thankfully, Friday was short, got home shortly after D, time to let myself rest and heal. And right after I got home, the guy called to come install the blinds. Oh, yes, we dug deep, and decided to get the cellular* blinds that were a priority before we moved in, got pushed down the list in preference to the plumbing and so many other expenses. Before the move, I'd even ordered free swatches, and chose the most likely - "Candlelight." But a few weeks ago, D and I talked about how cold he was, the general darkness, and how much both of us hated the brown, dark, hideous blinds. We went back to Home Despot, I found a comparable color in the other brand, and the installer came to do proper measurements. The other brand came in at $20 less, not sure if it was per window or not, but cheaper was cheaper, so I stuck with the new "pistachio cream." Went a bit on faith, honestly. Hank was a joy. Older guy, very personable, we felt in good hands. Moby just watched him from the chair, placidly. When he appeared with the blinds yesterday, it didn't take him long, and he assured us we'd gone with the better made product, and we joked about the names of colors. Moby followed him around a bit that time. But respectfully.

And we nearly gasped at the difference it made. Really lovely. We can keep the heat in, and still bring in light. The weighty and depressing brown is expunged, at least from two rooms. They are beautiful. They make both the music room, and the bedroom so much more light and open. Huge difference. We will do the rest of the windows in time.

We stopped by the apartment to see if we needed to pay for another month. By our lease, we were liable for the equivalent of four month's rent, but they offered to let us just rent until the next tenant moved in. Well, the management agent there was shocked that we hadn't been called, it had been rented on the 24th of last month. The refund/deposit check will be on it's way about a month after that. We were rather worried, not wanting to pay more for a place we didn't need anymore. We went to find out, check in hand, because we are honorable people, if with heavy hearts. We nearly whooped, to find out we were off the hook. Such an enormous relief. One less worry.

Also went to where I'd gotten the camera for a tutorial on manual focus. I've been needing it, and failing to figure it out. Feeling very dumb, lacking vocabulary and technical knowledge. I know the words f-stop and aperture and bracketing, and I know, theoretically, what they mean. But I don't really know how to make them work for me. It's too spacial, a lifelong weakness in my comprehension. But the camera expert was kind, and got me just enough information to get me a bit further along. All I needed for the moment.

But then the camera battery needed charging, so no photos today. Tomorrow morning. Grey, glareful day anyway. And my over the top sunglasses snapped.

Then, well, before actually, I went to my Beginning Organic Gardening seminar. I am so excited about growing a garden, and so many of my questions have been addressed. I loved being spoken to as an intelligent person, as well. More on that tomorrow as well, I think. Actually used some of my organic chemistry, which is nice. NPK, and she never explicitly explained it. But I got it, after a moment. Nitrogen, Phosphorous, Potassium, when to add. Companion plants, bed orientation, managing pests and weeds, not eliminating them, feeding the soil - and where to get it tested for cheap. So much to read up on. Reassurance, don't expect too much, don't try too much, it all goes to next year anyway. I found it all wonderfully interesting.

Good to have an organic garden, since I wouldn't want to eat anything from an Inorganic garden. (Chemistry joke.)

Life is so much more engaging these days.

*Much cheaper than new windows, or window covers, but will save so much in heating/cooling over time. Dramatically cutting down on the drafts already.

Leap

2012-02-29T08:34:00.004-07:00

It wasn't a Leap Day when I proposed to D. Anyway, he said no.

We never wanted to do anything but spend the rest of our lives together. But he was a bit younger, still bound to a military contract, however part-time reserve. Both of us resistant to the societal pressures to conform. His sprung from a religious background that would have him off on a mission, then marrying soon after, with a passel of children to follow. With all the symbols searing, the Ring, the tidy fenced yard, the minivan, the soul crushing job, retirement, then death. For me, it was a deep aversion to weddings, and fear of the kind of marriage I'd just escaped from.

Only someone as amazing as D could ever have allayed my fears. D needed a similar reassurance, and time. Experiences to draw upon. A little distance from his parent's influence. He still needed their approval, their respect. He couldn't do it in the way they expected. And the local wedding traditions were a bit of a nightmare for him. (As for me, when I finally understood them.) Nor would I ever have converted, a temple ceremony an impossibility. He would explain this differently, this is just how I saw it.

Eventually, the idea grew that a legal marriage would not be a bad thing. I always say his father proposed, giving D the nudge, saying "Fifteen minutes in the Bishop's office, make us happy." It turned out to be an hour in their living room, with LDS bishop, and three brothers wearing ties, a balloon bouquet and an angel food cake. I was getting over the flu, and went to visit my parents in Detroit the next day - alone. Still, turned out all right. And we relish our tiny-wedding story.

Well, we've always done the traditional things backward, with a twist. Buying a house last seemed about right.

Came across a cartoon,"If my childhood plans panned out..." Didn't agree with any of the answers, but I like the questions.

My Profession would be,
Actress, in an eponymous sit com. I would be zany. Or I'd be a firejumper, flying planes and rescuing people.

My spouse would be,
Mike Nesmith, of the Monkees. Later, Eric Idle. Someone very funny, with a beard, at any rate.

My car would be,
A helicopter. Or a teleporter.

My home would be,
Um, strangely, a lot like the one I have now, actually. But with a second floor and a tower. Alternately, a lighthouse or windmill house.

My best friends would be,
Geniuses, everyone. And they would live next door, and no one would ever insist on going first, including me. And they'd like games and reading.

My backyard would have,
A pool, with a slide and a fountain and a roller coaster.

All my dinners would include,
Fresh fruit, plums and peaches, cherries and berries.

My kids(pets) would be named,
I never wanted kids, but my cats and dogs would all have wonderful names from history or books, and I would understand what they said to me. Really, I never even named my stuffed animals, offering either descriptive names (bear, turtle) or repeating the same names to adults who asked. So they thought I'd named all my dolls Theresa, but I never called them that. Learning how to name well is an adult acquisition. Even then, not into labels.

Like February needed an extra day.

Timelessness

2012-02-27T16:33:00.003-07:00

Today is rather timeless, a deep contentment has settled in. D had a thing taken off his scalp this morning, and I stopped by work to pick up S's chickens' eggs. After, we went up the canyon to Ruth's Diner for brunch. Full and warm, despite the grey-white skies. Doing very little. Wicked sore throat yesterday, vaguely achy, so I hunkered down with the red wool blanket* and let myself heal - which seems to have worked quite well. D's head aching today, not too badly.

Talking last night about the emotional effect of having everything we have gathered over the decades on display all at one go. There is rather a lot, and despite being good, it's rather potent magic for us. Conjuring up all our ghosts at once.

As mentioned, three items from Gulf War I.

The brownish scarf, under the cat, (who has hogged all the woolyness, the red wool blanket once put on me as a child when I was ill. And the sheepskin.)

The tablecloth, now serving as a curtain.

And the earrings, that I cannot imagine wearing in my ears. But they jingle pleasantly.

Years ago, Elizabeth my cousin assured me that life begins at 50. She is happy, surrounded by love and friends, how could I not just believe her? This sense of acceptance and peace has been coming over me. It is a big number, an irrelevant one. Eternal now is a tangible idea, I can palpate it in my palm, feel it pulsing in my heart. A great turning has completed, and I move forward in all directions.

*Has anyone else ever heard of red wool to heal as a folk belief? Or did I just decide that when I was small, and this blanket was mine whenever I had a bad cold?

Shawl

2012-02-25T20:26:00.005-07:00

Moby is not usually good with being covered, but my wool shawl that I got in Saudi,* seems to be acceptable tonight. He's tired, Dave and K came with their boys, and it was a loud couple of hours. Moby happy to have the older boy pet him, retreating to the back room only after the younger got loud. Moby also sociable with D's brother and SIL earlier. He's pooped.

Sitting on a cushion, my back against the fireplace, a view of the home.

To my right, the cat.

To my left, the door, now with weather stripping (not visible, but working well.)

*One of very few mementos from that time and place. An unmatched pair of large belled earrings, a tablecloth (the white curtain on the left of the top photo), and the shawl.

Yearning

2012-02-24T20:28:00.004-07:00

Yikes, yawning, yearning,
A year yoyoing, yapping.
Yet- yes. Always yes.

Two full days, busy and tiring. Taking Monday off, since the one thing I always want for my birthday is the day off work. Did use it to coerce friends into visiting tomorrow. Honestly, it didn't take much persuasion. Just the offer of Red Iguana's menu. Getting with D's parents and BIL&SIL, since BIL's birthday is this week as well, earlier in the day. Well, that's all fine.

Moby racing around this evening, to the point that I wonder if we actually have a pet horse. He thumps so on the wood. Still, wonderful to see him so active. He really seems delighted to just run and run and run.

Abatement

2012-02-22T09:47:00.005-07:00

Fair's fair, show you the pretty, now the un-pretty. One of the catboxes. Moby seems quite happy to have two toilet areas. We would like the same, can't blame him. He does love to scatter it about, though. It's right next to the basement stairwell.

And this is what that pink insulation foam panel looks like. Very lightweight, I usually just drop it on my head and place it as I go downstairs. Not letting Moby down there, too much dirt of unknown composition, inadequate lights, and I'm not entirely sure there aren't any ways out for a cat. He's managed it a couple of times, and I've brought him up quite un-ceremonially. Last time I had to grab him by his tail, and clean him off after. (Some spray on cat-bath stuff we'd gotten years ago, and only used once before. He did not mind it anywhere near as much as I would have expected. But then, I think he can tell when I'm simply Not To Be Challenged.)

More ivy abatement today, another garbage bin full, at which point I had to stop. No more room to put the debris, no more oomph left to do more. Although I did go out and mop a bit of dirt off the windows on that side. Not a shiny job, but it lets more light in. One kitchen window needs to be re-caulked. The ivy is to be blamed, or the previous owners. That will be a job for another day, with a ladder and another set of hands. Going to try borax on the roots pushing up between the now-visible sidewalk and the foundation. That, and my diligence, may work in time. Eventually, the ivy will recycle the house, but not now. I'm checking the entropy.

All about paying attention, waking up. There are times to dream, wish, sleep, drift. Out minds need to idle and drift. Seductive, though, to stay there. A time to grow, a time to rot. Then it's time to attend, stretch out every feeler, really look, stay aware. Joining a local community gardening group, signed up for a seminar in March. I can use some good, basic information. Have not ever had my own garden, only working in my mother's as a kid. In Michigan. Very different circumstance. She grew rhubarb and tomatoes & cherry tomatoes, radishes. I can't remember anything else.

At the moment, I'm having some tea to sooth from the ivy dust. It's been very rainy, so the particles were minimal, but I knelt down in there. Washing everything I had on. Later, more sweeping, the music room and the catbox near the basement. Whole lotta litter all over. Moby is an industrious digger. As seen above.

Mantel

2012-02-21T18:09:00.003-07:00

" Just gonna sit here."

"Oh, lookie there!"

"I'll go back over there."

"No, no, no, no, no, no..."

"Back behind the light... "

"Sofa, yup, this is good."

We have a mantel!? We have a mantel, this is an odd realization. Moby just enjoys it.

Underneath

2012-02-20T09:30:00.006-07:00

Moby so determined to sit on my lap, he climbed over the top of the laptop to be there. When he does decide to sit on a lap, he's not fucking around. Oh, his name, as mentioned in another discussion over at Pete's place. That came up by free associating for a week. When we were in Saudi, D joked that if asked about his middle name, Israel, he would claim the I stood for Ishmael. He also actually read the whole of Moby Dick once, which I found impressive. Cat at that point was still mostly hiding under, under the sofa, under the bathroom cabinet, under the bed, so a presence underneath named Moby felt just right.

D has been cold in this house, and we are trying to not spend a fortune on heating. It's a constant struggle of light through old windows that leak heat, heavy brown shades that insulate and black out, more space than we are accustomed to, forced air, and that he has done so much of the nuts and bolts of the paperless work, mostly online, sitting. He's been very cold, which makes anyone a bit unhappy. We had an electric/oil heater, but had been only using it in the bedroom. The music room has two doorways, only one with a door. On Saturday, we talked this out, and solved it. The heater lives in the music room, and I put this cloth up over the doorway, and D has a cozy haven to be warm in, while we keep the thermostat very low.

Does look very hippie, don't it?

The other doorway opens from the kitchen into the freshly de-dusted dining room. And the only extant lighting fixture we genuinely like as is. The shadows from these lights fascinate Moby, he often attacks them.

Whole

2012-02-19T15:59:00.002-07:00

Much dusting and cleaning. A little light shoveling.

Woke this morning thinking of the A Good Idea at the Time. And felt this strange insight into the nature of what we label evil. It is part of the design, because anything in a positive feedback loop destroys itself utterly and does not survive. No species, no system. We need checks and balances. The big difficulty with obsessive/compulsive disorders and addictions, among other problems, is that the inhibitory parts of the brain don't work as well as they should. Pure altruism does not live long. Cancers are unchecked growth, nothing breaking them down. Not one good, one bad, but creation and destruction working together. Real good is when they function and change, real evil is when one or the other gets too powerful. When god and the devil are dancing, or trying to destroy each other.

Lay down our label-maker, and appreciate the whole cloth.

Reflexions

2012-02-18T17:20:00.002-07:00

The Mirror in the bathroom showed smears when fogged. I cleaned it repeatedly, even with goo-gone and detergent and vinegar. To no avail. Only when D mentioned a glass polishing abrasive did I remember that I planned on using toothpaste for exactly that - and promptly and thoroughly forgot. This worked beautifully.

All photos in mirrors are cheesy, so be it. It is a very nice mirror, give them that credit. I do hope I never meet them, though.

I've come to forgive the previous owners for their many lapses. Getting a house in good order is a process, and they didn't get to everything. The fridge, for all that it's too large and can't open the right way and required chiseling away at the woodwork so the freezer would open, is a very nice fridge. The stove is well designed, D likes working on it, and it's easy to clean. They got the kitchen and bathroom in very good condition. We were able to fix the leaking shower head fairly easily. The electrical is all in good shape, apparently done by a qualified professional. Plumbing is an issue, as is the chimney, and any kind of insulation, locks on doors - not priorities for them, apparently. They did love their Ikea crap, though. Getting rid of that detritus has been a job in itself. One that is not finished yet.

One damn thing after another.

Xerox

2012-02-16T18:38:00.002-07:00

Excess exhaustion,
Examining, exactly.
Express to the X.

So tired today. Another tomorrow. Down to X, although long moved in. Everything wrong footed, but precisely right. Strange movements around. X mostly with an E in front, otherwise it gets altogether too silly even for me.

Bunk

2012-02-14T07:40:00.006-07:00

Doing a bunk. Genuinely at odds with my gut and other organs, but mostly I suspect the stress just decided to kernel panic and data dump. Dreaming about drips and floods in the house. Walking along the hallway, my feet and ankles warm and heavy in a layer of warmth that turned into water pouring over the wood. A kitchen tap draining unstoppably. Walking around a city in a downpour, Chicago for some reason, found something valuable, gloves perhaps, near a car. Was going to keep them, but I felt others watching, and I put them into the car. Woke, or not quite, to a flood of my own. Cleaned up and snarled at D and struggled back to bed and an uneasy sleep.

Got up when the alarm chimed. Hugged D and apologized, he encouraged me to call in sick. Apparently I look as bad as I feel. No big chores today. Hanging with the cat, drinking tea, reading about the New Madrid earthquake and the history in that time and place. Cat has claimed my robe, so I'm using D's big blue one.

Above my head, our art project of the weekend, more of our postcards, collected over the years.

Ivy

2012-02-12T15:31:00.003-07:00

The back garden. Just the right size, I do hope there is sufficient sun.

Put reflector sticks by the shared driveway, and the shared dead ended drive on the other side, so that I don't run off the curb, or hog the space.

Off toward the intersection. It's a fairly quiet street most of the time, but very busy at others, with busses by both ways several times an hour. This actually pleases me, being a city kid.

Snowing and raining together, a damp and dreary day. I took in in my head that this meant the ivy dust would be down, and went on a killing spree. Got a whole dumpster of the ivy out, and there is still a lot there. A matter of time.

Ghosting

2012-02-12T12:35:00.005-07:00

I read Cracked. Mostly, I really enjoy it. But I have to be choosy. Because some of the guys on there are not ironically anti-feminist, but clueless, marginal-misogynists. Not hating the female, but not giving the non-male POV so much as a byyourleave. Not hateful, merely neglectful.

I refer specifically to a recent one about obvious stereotypes, one being that women are the ones who believe in ghosts. As a stereotype, I have to admit, in our modern western culture, it's probably predominantly right. But the writer never considers what I see as a pretty obvious reason. Women are at home more. They are taught to be fearful and aware, to protect themselves from violent crime on the streets. In their own homes the fear doesn't evaporate, but takes on odd forms. I remember being young, in my own place, and occasionally getting myself badly spooked. I knew better, but alone at night, those ordinary if inexplicable noises take on a sinister air.

And for women with a spouse and child, a husband out of town would be an occasion for anxiety. A quiet house, children to defend, seeing ghosts isn't rational, but it is understandable.

Amazing to me is how, here, I can walk about with few or no lights anywhere, and I can find my way so well. It really has only been a month. Still, I think of how, when I was a child, or a young woman on my own, and the darkness and shadows, the creaks and sighs of this house, would have had me wanting to hide under the covers, or turn on every light and put on loud music. I remember that urge, which no longer applies. The memory intact, the emotion long ago evaporated. I feel like saying "huh. well, it used to be there... " All gone, but knowing it once mattered.

This place is haunted, but only in the way of anything that has survived so long, intact. Stories, for those who will listen, vaguely whispering, writing on the floor, in the damage, under the paint.

Tarts

2012-02-11T19:26:00.006-07:00

Listening to I've Never Seen Star Wars, while the victim, or guest, who tries pop-tarts for the first time - actually likes them. I think I had them a time or two at Aunt Alma's, it's the kind of thing she would have done for me. Mostly I know I got to eat them while doing market surveys at the downtown mall when I first came to this city. We interviewed a lot of little kids, which is a bit like hitting one's head against a brick wall, but more painful. We were required always to ask "anything else" and write down the answer, until they said "no." This is the one time no kid will say "no." They will just make stuff up, or repeat themselves, endlessly. Most of us would just stop asking, and write down "no." Hell, this was about fuckingpoptarts, dammit.

To do the interview, we would heat and present cut up bits of poptart, in varying flavors, leaving halves left over, that we all would nibble on. Minimum wage folks, students, marginal all in our own ways, it was food, more or less. Most of us still got rather sick of it very quickly. One guy did not. We wound up having to get more supplies for the 'study' because he would snarf it down, even stealing whole packages. Later, D would talk about a guy he gamed with, who another friend called a "food vacuum" because no snacks were safe in his presence, and no one else would get any. Probably not the same guy.

I can't imagine eating them today. Or pot noodles, as the INSSW show made Sandi Toksvig try. Not sure if the pot noodles are analogous to Ramen noodles, but I assume so.

Made lunch for D's parents, enchiladas, salsa refried rice, salad. Thrown together, no recipe as such, but they turned out well, and D's dad effusive in his praise of my cooking. Nice talk, more comfortable over the years. We had a little plumbing moment this morning, and I got an unexpected, clothed, cold shower down my arm. We sorted that, more or less. Got the second ceiling fan down and replaced - in the music room. Got a foam board to put up more of our postcards, which I found looking for other paperwork. We spent part of this evening doing arts & crafts. A collage. No adhesion yet, but laid out for morning.

Smoothed

2012-02-10T12:05:00.005-07:00

This morning I ironed the cotton hats for work that are comfortable, but wrinkle into a wad after being washed. Nothing to it, but I resist pulling out the iron for that, and let them sit a while. I also ironed the table cloth I brought back from Saudi - from Pakistan if I remember correctly. Hung as a curtain, at least for now. And as I smoothed the fabric, I talked with the mum in my head, as she praised me for keeping my skill.

"Skill? Some skill. Putting in an IV, or a catheter, that's a skill. Assembling a cysto scope, that's a skill. Scrubbing a liver transplant, that's a skill."

But I kept thinking, well, that attention to detail, completing a job, that is where I first learned this. No, I don't iron clothes anymore, save a few hats and perhaps once a year for something special, or D's shirts in the summer when he has to be a bit more nicely dressed at work. Intermittent, let us amend.

Not a skill, exactly, but an attitude. Done when I was a kid for an unlikable father, most often. At work, for cranky and ungrateful surgeons - which takes nothing away from my own satisfaction - should I chose to be so satisfied.

Moby takes satisfaction napping on my ankles.

Leotards

2012-02-08T13:09:00.006-07:00

Dancing after cleaning, to Gogol Bordello. Remembered when I was small and taking free (or at least very cheap) ballet classes at Patton Park. The teacher dyed light, horrible green leotards to a reasonable black for the girls. There was an actual piano player, an elderly black man who kept time and a tune for seven year old girls practicing plies in an unheated, but much mirrored, dance studio. I was sent because my feet turned in, a birth related deformity. Of course, all ballet did for my feet was cause me to pronate instead, but such is life. I liked the discipline, the work, the space to move in. I would all my life bruise myself on smaller spaces, having learned to dance in a large open one. A physical courage learned.

Once, I was awarded, "Most likely to succeed in ballet." My brothers decided this was actually said "belly" which turned out to have more truth in it. I accepted this without thought as a child, but to think that back then, my movements were so pleasing. No dancer, not really, but a dancer for myself certainly. I don't move to the music, it moves me. A natural, if not an exceptional one. I still dance, more recently, with a good floor, and playing my music. Have not gotten out the scarves, and the coin belt has lost it's chain - making it too short for my hips. But I will, it has begun.

I would not be younger, even in body. Even my pain is part of who I am. To live without it, without even the memory of it in my scars would steal the lessons learned, the precious experience, the understanding writ on my tendons, scored into my nerves. I cannot separate my body from my mind from my soul, they are all of a piece. I would not be younger in any part, without deranging the whole weave, weft, embroidery. Patches and pulls are as much a part of me as what I know from having survived them.

And so, as the fifth decade rushes toward me with arms outstretched, I stand awaiting the embrace with a wry smile, and a profound satisfaction. Yes, this is the beginning of a very good and interesting story, much to be written, much to be told. A few weeks, a good excuse to get people here. I am so content.

Home, and Loved.

Crack

2012-02-07T15:16:00.003-07:00

The advantage of sitting around at work for two hours with nothing at all to do, on a one room, short, day, is that people want to share neat stuff. This is the most awesome and frightening video.

Last patient added on, because, having been scheduled earlier in the week, but showed up drunk, case was cancelled. Individual drunk today as well. Still drunk, possibly. Took over 90 minutes to get the blood to the lab and the lab to run ethanol levels, while we sat on our hands. Anesthesiologist very against doing the case, for safety and legal reasons. Surgeon is digging heels in and insisting. How can a person obviously inebriated give legal consent? Well, it can't happen, although in an emergency it can be waived. Not at all at a specialty hospital for what is termed an elective procedure. If it can wait five days, it's not urgent nor emergent, by our definition. When we got results, three times the legal limit, 0.24, meant, no we can't do this. Oh, and patient denies having any alcohol today, and only a "couple of beers" yesterday.

Plus, if this person is this dependent, then it gets dangerous for them to NOT drink. DTs are not just a risk for staff, patients can go into seizures and die. It's safer to go cold turkey off heroin. Alcohol withdrawal can kill. And who would be held liable? Not primarily the pushy hand surgeon, but the anesthesiologist and the nurses who accepted the consent and sedated or anesthetized the patient without adequate back-up. Especially when our trauma center is just up the street, and regularly handles this kind of complicated situation. We have to treat the whole patient, not just the injury, and the alcohol dependence is a huge part of this situation. This person needed to be handled at a higher level.

Listening

2012-02-06T11:21:00.004-07:00

Out and about this morning, redeeming the Home Despot gift card, and getting thank-you cards. It's rare that I have given thank-you cards, the expectation in my experience is that an in-person thanks was sufficient, and a card was only for something sent - and a phone call was actually even better. But within the female environment of my work, I know the norm is more formal, and I really am grateful, so I will gladly thank them in the way they will best understand and appreciate. I feel very old-novel, Lady of the Manor sitting down to write my correspondence in the morning room.

All the modern conveniences. The fridge may be too large - IS too large, but it's a good one. As is the stove. Baking potatoes at the moment. I have very mixed feelings about the previous owners, some choices were amazingly good, others a bit odd and impractical. Not like I will ever have to socialize with them. Although, we hear they still live somewhere close-by.

Got a few dull necessaries, calking and wood glue, but also a good anti-stress mat for the kitchen tile (D's feet get very cold, even with his good slippers) & grippy stair treads for the basement - a light color that will be dirty soon, but very visible so that's alright then.

Yesterday, we stayed away from the practical, D played guitar, I arranged postcards. We rather needed a day like that. And I knew I had today off. Conferences this weekend, Friday we are closed. Slow week all around. But I can use my vacation time, and simply enjoy the day as such.

Called my mum this morning. Actually a fairly enjoyable conversation. She says her persistent cough is gone since being in Texas. Worried about one granddaughter, my niece, who has become a hoarder, and refuses to get a job. I listen, and hold my peace.

He has his back turned away, but his ears are turned toward me. He's listening.

Shock

2012-02-05T18:36:00.004-07:00

Read the news today. No, not shocked, but a bit in shock. A similar sort of story when I was a kid, the father in that one killed his children because they were being taken from him, and his excuse - "If I can't have them, no one will." Bad enough, but my father completely sympathized, agreed. Already afraid of him, this shook me to the core. I never felt safe in that house again. This story, took me right there. Maybe he would not have done me actual violence, but he was never hard pressed. I would not have trusted him if too much crossed. Home was a dangerous place, where I had to be more on guard than anywhere else. What kind of human being would say such a thing to a child? Nonetheless a father? Well, my father, evidently.

Once D and I found each other, I have always felt safe at home, for the first time and ever after. I do not take Home for granted, ever. Reading this left me cold and shaking. And wanting there to be a hell, for those who hurt the vulnerable in their care, a millstone about their necks. I don't believe there is, merely the obliteration and recycling. The evil live in a hell every breath, no need for more.

And, much as I feel for the rest of the family, perhaps those boys would have felt as I did, better not to live than to have lived through that childhood. Really, only in the last decade, as love saturated my life, did the early years seem worth surviving. But for a very long time, had I been given a choice, I'd have chosen not to have ever been born. The balance shifted, eventually, for which I am immensely grateful, but damn it took a long time. On a road that once seemed endless, I never expected ease and comfort, ever. Took me a very long time to trust it entirely, even as I trusted D completely. Maybe those two boys were too badly scarred already, maybe not. Either way, there is no mitigation for a father to blow up his children, even if it does save them a life of suffering. Independent variables.

Came across Aunt Evelyn's funeral card today, held it and wept a little. She would love this house. She would approve of the woman I have become. I know this. I carry her with me, she occasionally looks out my mirror at me. She would be proud of me for surviving and thriving, as she did.

This process, opening up our things and letting them stretch out, our history filling the ample space, is also haunting. All the stories want telling, want to be remembered. The bad and the good and the funny all together.

So, I put up our postcards and assorted art and ephemera that has held on, as fragile looking things often do. Delicate flowers on lichen in the arctic blasts, incongruously sturdy. Bits of paper, christmas ornaments, scraps of cloth, stones and shells from beaches, insignia, earrings, all endure in the cracks and live to tell the tale. And I remember, with a few tears, smiles, laughter.

Perhaps there is reincarnation, especially for the abused young. Automatic replay, but with decent parents, safety and responsible kindness. I'd like to believe that. It would seem just. Justice is a human concept though, in defiance of the reality of the universe.

Basement

2012-02-05T09:16:00.004-07:00

Honorary hedgehog, with door coring - from the locksmith and our front door, and flag.

A. brought this vine topiary. I hope it survives. Moby very interested in it, nibbled a bit, after we figured out it was probably safe. Hid it overnight, and he seems perfectly fine, so I brought it out this morning. If he shreds it, I'll use the pot for bamboo - which I know is fine for cats. I will use Monday to prepare proper thank-you notes for the three who brought gifts.

While getting ready for guests, and during, and after, we managed to wash nearly every bit of clothing. D, mostly. Everything came out very well. And we didn't even need a pile of quarters. I don't like to think how big the pile of quarters would have to be to cover the cost of owning them, but I love not having to spend hours of every week at a laundromat, again.

It's a basement. No one yesterday interested in the extended tour here. But I hadn't gotten the foam blocks down yet. With the sun shining in this morning, it seemed far less grim and grimy. Our friend Dave, when he stopped by last week, could probably have just done the basement tour quite happily. His dear wife K is the one who thought of the play area mat, they have it in their basement. She is, of course, a genius, and not just for this.

The X is where the drain is, and can you see two appropriate words spelled out?

Brought the cheap card table down to sort on. Very pleased with the machines. A whole lotta tissues sneaked through in pockets, and they all came out intact, instead of shredding and sticking. I'm inclined to think this means our clothes will be treated more gently than with Laundromat machines. Given that we will probably use these the rest of our lives, I think getting good ones will be worth it over time. Keep thinking of the Cracked article about stupid habits learned growing up poor. I was never quite that poor, or didn't feel so, but I have some of those tendencies that I have to argue myself out of. D and I were on an overnight trip for a friend's wedding, and I hadn't packed a clean t-shirt. We found a gift shop, and I began looking at only the cheapest ones. D asked me why, get a good one, it'll last, instead of throwing it away. I actually still have that Zion's Park shirt, although it is a bit worn now.

The last bit of the puddle from the drip is drying well. Some advantages to living in a dry place.

Ground

2012-02-04T20:05:00.009-07:00

Lovely cake to share. Chocolate, but so moist people thought it Red Velvet - which is much too sweet for me, but this was not over sugary. Good cake, and I'm not a big cake fan, from a very old, local bakery.

Yesterday morning we heard a strange sound, but we had to go to work, and pretty much forgot. Later, well we were busy, there were other sounds, we put on a video. Once everything was off, at nearly 1100 PM, we noticed it again, explored, down the basement... water dripping on plastic drape.* Closed the shut-off valve, which seemed to about do it, and emailed the plumber. He called back almost immediately, asked if we needed him right then. We said no, it seemed to be fine for the moment, and we were just going to bed, so he promised† us to be there in the morning at 0930. The washer and dryer were delivered at 0830 - at one point we were concerned that one of the young men, the one down the stairs first, was in a bit of trouble - wanting to rest a minute - but he was fine, and they got it all sorted. Plumber called about the same time to tell us he'd be a bit late, by about 15 minutes (!), which was actually about 17 (!). He got it all sorted, no charge. The valve apparently just failed. Well, shit happens.

Thing is, I had planned‡ our little open house for all the folks at work that had to listen to me natter on about it so long. Seven showed up, with two daughters, thankfully only three with gifts. I tried to make it very clear that this was not a Housewarming (implying presents) but a slightly belated Groundhog Day celebration. And one does not bring anything to a Groundhog Day party but ones shadow. They appeared mostly one or two at a time, which is a kind of ideal for introvert hosts. Lovely to be able to focus on each, chat, make tea, serve cake, tell stories. I sipped good beer, perfect drug for social anxiety. Nice folks all. House the Home glad of all the praise and acceptance.

Moby mostly crashed in the Fortress of Solitude, but accepted petting up there. J in particular happy to have some cat-time. Cat also glad of praise and admiration. Earlier, he objected to being put in the bedroom during the delivery and plumbing excitement. Spent some time on the printer, just because he could.

*I'd snagged one from work, clean, but no longer sterile, so it would be thrown away, or go to the lab for reuse. Planned to put it under the mats in the basement. As it was, it contained the water somewhat, and amplified the sound. Very useful.

†He was supervising his daughter's sleepover, so it would have been a huge problem for him to leave. If we'd told him it was an emergency, I'm sure he'd've made that happen. He did not mention this complication until after we'd assured him that morning would do just fine. I'd much rather be out of water overnight than have to supervise a bunch of girls, so we got the better end of the deal.

‡Well, more than three weeks, and it's just not that impressive to have everything unboxed and in good enough order to let people see. My little, silent, rebuttal to the many who say they still have boxes in their house from when they moved in years before, implying I would be the same. I knew myself better, even if I did not know all the implications of home ownership.

Warmth

2012-02-03T20:56:00.002-07:00

Whenever we wear,
Whistling with winter winds,
Warm woolen wishes.

Icy winds this morning, all the day. Another problem attempted, failed, a walk through the cold, fixed. Women from work stopped by as we all finished at the same time. Moby, as usual, unexpectedly social, came out to greet, even headflopped to be stroked. Followed us from room to room, showing them his house. Good to have people here, room to have them in our home. Our stories out in our things. Tomorrow, our little open house, with cake.

D wants posters up in the Music Room, we discussed - as we do. He thought about Kirby art, I suggested Usagi Yojimbo, we talked about movie posters - but which movie? Then art, something we genuinely like, avoiding pretension. He though about John Singer Sargent, a feature of our sojourn in Boston - the Gardener Museum in particular, when I was inspired by El Jaleo - one of his favorites there. Finding it in poster/print form is not as easy as hoped, but we have a few leads.

Next week, very slow at work. Time to clean and sort, fix and, oh I so hope, to write. To write about more than repairs and projects.

Voices

2012-02-01T16:40:00.006-07:00

Vanishing virgins,
Violet in vanilla,
Veiled, verdant Venus.

Chiseled out wood of the lower part of the jamb, that kept the lower/freezer drawer from opening, or closing properly. Fridge is too big for the space. Nice fridge, not it's fault they bought the wrong size. I apologized to House the Home as I chopped away. The raw wood smells of oak. But the freezer opens well, now. I'll put a seal on the bare wood soon. Cleaned the plumber's rubble in the basement, kicked up a cloud of dust, for which my sinuses and lungs are not appreciative. D instrumental in putting up the curtain rod in the dining room, a few of my scarves are up there now. General odds and ends day, with the usual necessary cleaning and cooking. D dealing with phone, voip has issues here. Much frustration - and the joys of a local ISP, they just replaced the unit, and we just went and picked it up, no waiting for the U.S. Postal Service.

I'm really enjoying all the challenges, a sort of huge puzzle to be solved bit by bit. No slacking off. Something to DO every day. And figuring out how to do it.

Moby a velcro cat this morning. If I went into a room, there he was, exploring every closet I opened, purring and curious. Didn't want to do the basement, because he'd have been right at my heels. Waited until D was home, and Moby's settled in for a long nap.

Unction

2012-01-29T16:32:00.002-07:00

Useful ushering,
Utterly untamable,
Umber is unboxed.

Ivy

2012-01-29T14:41:00.005-07:00

We really were only joking when we came to the first open house, saw this, and said well, now we will have to have this house.

It was a Joke.

The universe responds with dry, deadpan, sarcasm.

A productive, but largely restorative day. Early out to laundry and groceries. Ate reheated Chinese for lunch, then got the books away. That's the last of the unpacking. No more boxes with crap in 'em. Still more sorting, figuring out where things are, but no un-emptied boxes. No wonder House the Home wanted us, so much space for books, built in. There is still room, and one of our bookshelves stands without even shelves in (can't find the nubbins to hold them up) but not needed.

D took down the damn ceiling fan in the bedroom yesterday, and, after we went out for a taller ladder, put up a plain light. Poor guy, arms kept going into complete muscle failure, me not tall enough to be of much more than a supporting role. After the ladder, I was able to do the final screwing-in, and then the cleaning-up, which I was glad to do. One more fan to remove, then the damn halogen fixtures in the back hall - a job for another week.

Spent some time clearing the ivy from the house. Not done, need gloves and a mask, eye protection, to do the rest. Very irritated with all the dust. But it is better, a few more sessions, and I think I can get it clear. A process.

Moby crashed in his bed, Fortress of Solitude, beside a window. He's been a busy cat. Supervised the shifting of the books closely.

Velvet

2012-01-27T22:29:00.003-07:00

A red velvet rose from some (post-Valentine) chocolates, that I'd kept because I thought it pretty. Nearly tossed it in the clean up, it was tied to a door pull in the old kitchen, but threw it in at the last minute. It's been on the floor, dropped in the unboxing, until Moby found it last evening, we could hear the tapitytap of the twist tie in it on the wood. This afternoon, he played with it all afternoon and into the evening. Carries it in his mouth to the next place he decides to bat it about. We keep thinking he'll get tired, and we hear him thmping about and chasing it again.

He's eaten an entire can of his food, that for the past year he's only eaten about half of each day, with a bit of kibble. And some kibble, and two chunks of the roast chicken - that he would normally have eaten one of. Has sat on both our laps today at different times, and had to be picked up by each of us. Normally one good hug a day is his limit.

Yeah, we figure he's happier. And, in his cat way, he loves us.

Had quite a game going around the curtains as well. Round and round, under and around. The bright curtain is new, much needed to counteract all the brown (dark brown) curtains in the front. Hideous brown, brown shades as well in the rest of the place. Dreary. Needed some bright color, warm and welcoming.

Resolutions

2012-01-27T19:23:00.003-07:00

January is no time for resolutions or major changes. Always the most difficult semester. Normally, I prefer a good, cold, snowy month about now, to clear the mind, brace the sinews. Given our upheaval, the mild dampness is a relief, if not a joy. This place is not as warm, nor easy to heat, as a tiny apartment. Milder weather is our friend this year, until we can manage better insulation next year.

The most joyous aspect is, as so often, Moby. He's a much happier cat. He chases, and jumps and explores. He sleeps on us at night, sits on laps during the day, and when picked up, he snuggles in and refuses to be put down - purring like mad at every moment. He eats better than we've seen him do in years, especially the last few months - when we began to rather worry. He sleeps sound, and quietly, unlike the increasing snoring at the apartment.

In short, he seems a much happier cat, glad for more space, more stimulation.

My own sinuses are more comfortable.

The plumbers came yesterday, and the hook-ups are all done. Apparently, the latter owners had a washer - but all kludged, and the drain-sewer connection had broken, so the water simply pooled in the clay beneath the concrete. Not too bad at this point, but if we'd left it, there would have been damage to the foundation. Yes, I think House wanted us, certainly needed us. Quite the mess down there, damp rubble, but that's just fine. D cleaned all the mud from the floor today.

Getting locks next week, since the back door can't be opened from outside, and the front is another bit of botch that also turns the wrong way. Hopefully, that will be the end of the larger expenses for a while.

Tomorrow, we shelve the books and sort the rest of the clothes - figure out what exactly we will need to take to the laundromat before the appliances come on Saturday next.

So tired, but underneath, gladness.

Rumple

2012-01-25T08:39:00.003-07:00

When we walk through doors, odd disruptions happen to our memories. This House has many doors. We are learning to understand each other.

Long ago, I found some sari material at a second hand shop. Some used to dance in. Most still packed in the backs and bottoms of boxes and bags, forgotten and hidden. Now adorning the window.

My tea making area, came with a little LED battery light under the cabinet. We can leave the toaster out, now. Oh, and Hi! This fluffy white robe is not as photogenic as it is warm and cozy.

The shower is tiny, but the tile rather pretty. Shallow bath, but now that we are paying for our own water, perhaps for the best.

Found the cat.

No idea why they put up so much dark paint and dark brown shades (most of which don't work properly.) But something better than nothing, and replacing them is on the list, but not urgent.

Cat doesn't care. He's snuggled in and warm. "Leave the bed nicely rumpled, go away."

Dark

2012-01-24T19:55:00.004-07:00

Long, cold* day, now dark, no photos. Tired, but Moby chasing and power-sliding and up, down, everywhere. On skype with mother & brother, Moby sat on D's lap as he watched an episode of Morse. Cat has been eating more, wet food in particular. more awake, sitting on us more, more engaged, curious, active. He seems to be really enjoying the larger territory. This cheers us when we feel we can't do one more thing. Set up is proving rather trying. As expected, but it's different anticipating and actually doing. Not harder or easier, but more real - the actual experience.

My sinuses much happier since the move. Far less dust. But we knew, there was less dust in the basement than we got in the apartment in a few days. The Neverending List is part of our lives, and that's fine. Good for the brain, a new challenge. Difficult building the reserve again, happening slowly.

Thinking a lot about my childhood fear of the dark. The shadows, the inexplicable noises, the unknown. I remember the fears in House, so many dim greys in the darkness, creaks and cat thumps. I feel the impulse to panic, without urgency or insistence, just a distant understanding. The fear is far away, I am comfortable with uncomfortable silences and the unknowableness of existence. I am at ease with strangeness, contented to face unspeakable terrors around the corners. I'll take the katana and iron frying pan, and defend my realm, my home, my territory. Or not, as the case may be.

How very strange this all is, to finally have a House AND home. There is a qualitative difference. I don't think a condo would have been the same, really. My plot of earth. My garden-to-be. My problems, plumbing, projects. My responsibility, my realm to defend and protect. My cat, my beloved.

The most important last, and first.

*I usually don't mind the cold at work -far from it, I'm usually warm, today it felt icy all day.

god

2012-01-22T19:37:00.001-07:00

The heart of a house,
A home full of patient love,
Good cat for it's god.

Progression

2012-01-22T13:55:00.003-07:00

Yesterday we got the lumber to build the wall for the laundry hook-ups. The plumbing cost is a huge chunk of what we put aside for the extras, but is non-negotiable. Then we took the laundry out to the laundromat, a stressful experience for both of us. We knew we'd have to do it for a wash or two, but it will be longer than that. We've done laundromats, most of our lives, or if we were lucky - apartment laundry rooms. We planned for not having to do that again, which is why this felt worse than it should have. I'm blaming January, it's like moving at 0200, no one is at their best.

That, and the rain of the morning mixed in with snow, making a slushfall that reached into the night. As we were about to start dinner, the power went out, taking our phone - or at least the internet component it fried - with it. Gas stove, so we ate a hot meal, and waited in ignorance. Forced idleness probably what we needed, really. Walked over to a local bookstore that just opened. A wet, cold walk, but rather nice anyway. Sat with candles and cat, D finally used the cell phone to the power company, ETA for electricity about 1030. We went to bed, hoping most of the lights were off. D woke when it came back on, I was barely aware.

Took it slowly this morning, then shopped for groceries and a list of hardware and supplies. I want to not spend a dime in February. Making my stomach hurt. Spendthrift is not a word appropriate to describe me.

So, I decided to clean and shine, not because it's the most important, but to keep me going and free up some space. Cleared the fireplace, an impressive amount of ash removed. Cannot find the flue, just a bit of twisted metal that doesn't seem to do anything, and a lot of soot. Call me Cind-er-ella!

Lots of mess, but gradually getting through, shining the glass, making the wood smell better. Found a diary, just a handful of the first pages filled in, 2007 - nothing historical.

We are both not in the best of shape, but not as bad as yesterday at this time. Call it progress. Call us Ishmael.

Cat still loving the sun, very engaged and energetic. Sat on my lap again today. Much love.

Bounce

2012-01-20T18:57:00.003-07:00

Spent most of my day in sterile processing, putting together sets of instruments, and wrapping. There is a method to sterile wrapping to allow it to be unwrapped while maintaining sterility, involving outfacing flaps and folds, indicator tapes. Attention to detail, everything with chemical indicators, to assure proper temperature has been reached during autoclaving. We kept up all day, which saved me when I switched back to my usual role, and needed one of the sets I'd wrapped, and it was there.

My tiredness wore on me after seven hours, my attentiveness flagged. Came across an unfamiliar set, and after a long time of getting nowhere on it, I begged off to the pros, apologetically, and with admiration for their skills. I think I held my own most of the way, was of use.

Thinking about when I came home from Gulf War I, and struggled, for no apparent reason. Guilty that I was being thanked for doing so little, when the real combat vets were treated so badly. Finally talked, for several hours, with a Vet Center counselor. He told me that the worst pain he'd ever had was the shrapnel that got him sent home from Vietnam. Then he added, that when he gets a paper cut, at that moment it's the worst pain ever. Pain cannot be compared.

This move felt like the worst one ever, so much to do and for so long I couldn't do any of it. But really, every move pushes one past one's endurance and strength. Past that, it's only the recovery time that changes, anything past one's 20's leaves a mark. There is no worse, past a certain point. This is a part of why we knew we needed to make this a permanent shift, we didn't have many more in us. This is a bone weariness, a soul's exhaustion. Will take us a while to recover our bounce.

Lap

2012-01-19T19:27:00.005-07:00

The overhead lights in there are, well, odd. More appropriate for a gallery, meant to light a spot instead of a room. I experimented with them, they turn. So I lit the counters and stove, to good effect. One less thing we have to replace, can be made to work just fine. Likewise in the living room, turned them up toward the white ceiling, brightening the room quite adequately. Subverting the design.

We added a red panel to the dull brown curtains, making them at least more interesting. And plastic insulation to the windows instead of cellular blinds. The last was the idea, really. Until the plumber explained what needed to be done. And what must be done must be done. Nothing cosmetic until the nuts and bolts and guts are in good working order. First things first. The blinds were more than that, a way to insulate summer and winter without replacing windows, or covers for them, to save on heating and cooling costs. But to have a washer & dryer means plumbing, that was supposed to be in place if inadequate. Once doing all that, there are other, connected issues that need definitive correction. Priorities. Taking care of our home. We have to build a wall this weekend.

Moby is not a lap cat, but he does, on rare occasions, decide to sit on a lap for a while. He circled me, jumped on other things, came back, to see if there was a place to sit beside me, no luck, so, well, he jumped up on me. Settled down, snuggled in, nearly slept, for a good half hour. D got me the tea I'd been preparing, since apparently I wasn't going anywhere. Eventually allowed to get up and have dinner. Such a rare occurrence, had to accept the blessing.

Martin

2012-01-17T16:25:00.002-07:00

"You enjoy roses your way, I'll enjoy them mine." He chomped every decorative grass frond, but that's fine.

Snowed Monday morning, glad indeed not to be out on the roads. Got a shovel, doesn't hurt my back. Put up my static sticker on the front window.

A sidelong view, to avoid the bins. Next door is nice, then an apartment. The other side are a couple of duplexes, further a few abandoned properties and one of those sortakinda dead end side streets seen in this area. Across the way more houses, a couple of some kind of half-way house, and another apartment building. It's an odd little neighborhood.

Sun on wood.

Our treasures out and on view, which is lovely.

D played his Martin today, and I had tears in my eyes. Music room, indeed.

Exhaust

2012-01-16T13:01:00.004-07:00

D in the process of de-Ikea-ing the place. The drawers are fine, but the poles fixing them ceiling and floor make it a. ugly, and b. immovable. Leaving the other one up for the moment, on probation. There was more of this crap in the living room, with two shelves instead of drawers. They are in the basement, the components will be used elsewhere. Eventually.

Listened to our structural engineer friend, who claimed that asking him for a simple solution causes his brain to overheat. But he offered the idea of the stiff foam, that doesn't go to little pea shreds. Insulation panels. Pink, in this case. We will in time make a pull for it, a kind of hinge - and paint it or cover it with tape. For now, it seals off the basement, and keeps the cat from down there.

Used some of the extra to block the grate in the back room, it didn't have one of those flaps. And some of the rest to block the chimney, held up by an ancient knife left here - looks to have been used to poke the fire.

Failed to get everything here. Not a lot still there, but no more room in the car. Both of us exhausted, past exhausted, a fair bit of emotional crumbling.

Exploration

2012-01-16T06:23:00.000-07:00

Things (Moby)

2012-01-15T03:29:00.009-07:00

Me writing this time. The Cat. Moby they call me.

They've brought those papery hard things with the nice edges, so, yeah, I knew that Thing was going to happen again. Now, this is fine by me. Although, I did catch a bird here, did I ever told you I caught a bird? I caught a bird. Anyway. No good places to chase, and no birds at all for a long time.

Looked like they were Going, so, I glued myself near the door, to go Out with them.

"I'm going with you."
Talk, talk, Moby, something, in human of course. "Yes, Moby, always, later."*
"Nope, nope, you're not leaving me."

More blah, Moby, blah. Over and over, until they looked at me and started talking with each other. Lots more time and activity, me holding out by the door. Then, they put me in the bag! Out, but not like I wanted! Then into that Huge Horrible Moving Thing, with all the weird smells, for, like, ever. No matter how many times I ask them if we are there yet, and tell them how much this sucks, they never listen. †

Then they put me in this huge echoey room, it all smells of dogs, and other people, and no sufficient Under, so I stay in my bag, since it's open now. Just like at that place with the nice firm people who stick something up my butt, good humans, but weird. Anyway, I sing out my complaint, and, well, it all still sucks, but I'm in rather good voice. This place is BIG.

All day, I hunker down, in case they want to make me go in another flying, roaring thing that made my ears hurt. My mouth is dry, and I'm so scared. My tail wouldn't go up if some mean human pulled it up. The bed from the Fortress of Solitude appeared, as well as other familiar things that I know are mine appeared. Loud footsteps all over, every time I venture out a little to see how bad it is, but it's slowly smelling better. Food Dude and Other Food Dude reach in and massage me, I'm in the bed under the sheepy thing, and staying there.

Later, a woman who whiffs a bit of dog, but mostly of kindness, reaches out to me, and I can't resist. She gives a good scritch, and I walk around a bit. Maybe this won't be so bad. Another guy, younger than my Dudes, smells of other cat, but also kindness, also adores me properly, but I am still in no mood, and stay put. ¥

Other Food Dude picked me up, and walked with me around the place, terrifying, then puts me back in my bed. I don't remember a bit there, must've slept a while. Then began to find alternate hiding places. Wooden boxes had appeared, and provided pretty good cover. Bunch of times, one of my humans would come in, and not see me at all, even calling out to me. That was fun, then I'd appear, as if from nowhere. I had food, and my litter box, water that tasted funny, a place to hide. I found the Dude's bed, and sat under that for a while, one of them put my wool blanket on the floor under there with me, which was nice.

Time to figure this place out, since whatever threat there was seemed over.

Found my folks on the blue sofa, they invited me up, like I need that, and I Explored there, and around. It's cold and hard here, but there are soft places for a smart cat like me, I found them. Found an interesting Down‡, but then couldn't find a way back Out, and one of my dudes grabbed me and brought me back up. More scary, as the other dude thumped and meowed a bit. I say meowed, more like barked, but I like him, so...

About the best time of day now, and I'm all over this place. It's very cool, with a lot of great corners and very interesting places to poke my nose in. Getting used to the new smells, and most of it is Mine now. I will call it Home, and I will be it's god, and it will be another one of my people.

Today is a much better day. Have to take care of a much bigger territory now, I can do this.

*Translated by Zhoen. Note: tenses in Cat are all over the place.
† We do, but he still keeps telling us. This was a ride of two blocks.
‡ The basement. Really can't have him freely roaming there, and we haven't gotten the cover for it yet. Will do that today, first thing. Got it sort of blocked for the night.
¥ Our agent L showed up, with a roll of toilet paper, since I'd related my theory of the karmic need to leave toilet paper for the next tenant, which the renter did not do. She thought this amazingly funny, and wanted to assure us she would continue to help us as we settled in. Then E from work who helped us move. More about them when it's my turn to post again.

Twelves

2012-01-14T18:32:00.004-07:00

Too tired, taut, trebled.
Thoroughly thrashed, triumphant.
Thoughtfully threaded.

At 13 hours from starting, we are well and truly done in, although not entirely done. But close enough for the time available. Very much close enough. Feels like how I feel after a hard twelve hour shift.

The two guys from work, scrub techs, each with amazing lives and skills. Both young and strong and uninjured, unlike D and I. But we are persistent. I knew they were going to be a blessing. Insisted on paying them as we finished the furniture, both refused, claimed I offered too much. Dave* nearly recoiled. "I won't force it but hear me out. This is what I'm paid per hour. It's fair. More than fair." Managed to have both see that their work meant so much to us, they deserved it, and I wouldn't have asked them if I'd not been able to compensate them for their time and effort on Saturday morning.

D's brother arrived with his FIL's truck, and pitched in with energy. Gave him gas money. D's parents guarded Stuff in the lobby, took what they could manage. Once we hit our wall, we called it quits, ordered Chinese for lunch, and sat with D's brother and parents, at the table. In our Dining Room. We are both pleased and daunted by our responsibility.

Both of us pushed to our limits, mostly by ourselves.

*Different Dave. Daves don't get initials or pseudonyms, because, well, why bother?

Sorting

2012-01-13T20:22:00.000-07:00

Silly sandwiches,
Supportive semolina,
Salami and swiss.

Loads

2012-01-13T19:46:00.002-07:00

Three loads, met neighbor - very pleasant, internet on (thanks D) making those kinds of mistakes very tired people make when they need to stop. Considered not going the last trip, but probably forgot to lock the door, did forget to lock the door, turn off lights, turn off heat. Place not even broom clean, which dear L prepared us for. Stuff left in drawers, hard to be so bothered, so many drawers, more than we've ever had before. This place so tiny when we came back, after eating out at a cheap taco place - neither of us would have eaten if we'd had to cook.

Watching Morse, then to bed. Gearing up for morning.

Outsmarted

2012-01-13T09:08:00.004-07:00

On my first day as a traveling nurse at the ambulatory surgery recovery room in Boston, I had difficulty with the old, unfamiliar type of gurney. Told, "You have to be smarter than the gurney." I was a bit taken aback, seemed a bit insulting and confrontational - but I smiled and nodded, ha ha. After a couple of weeks, when I realized that there was an example of every kind of stretcher in existence, many ancient, many buggered up badly, and it didn't seem as much of a put-down at all. Each one had it's own eccentricities. The older ones, the survivors, were often more reliable, if more likely to pinch an unwary finger, than the new ones with lots of cheap and plastic parts.

Today, I had to outsmart the bedframe. It looked to be winning for quite a while, but eventually I cornered it and put it on the mat. It's now in the car, awaiting the magic words from the agent that we can greet HousetheHome officially into our family. Trying to be patient. The beginning of every journey of a thousand miles starts with - waiting, then leaving, then going right back to pick up the thing you forgot, before finally heading out, and realizing you've still forgotten something, but you can do without it so you keep going. Single step my ass.

Rabble

2012-01-12T17:54:00.004-07:00

Relaxing reason.
Rest & recuperation
A roundabout route.

I have smothered my worried, spinning, packing mind with sufficient beer. Not pretty, but in this case, beats me screaming at anyone, particularly D or Moby. Or simply exploding. I am a smidge over buzzed, a half step into drunk. Have had sufficient water to cushion the impact. Seems to be short circuiting the spinning feedback loops. I can't defend this, save that it works. I don't get in the kind of anxiety knots that I once did.

Oh, and I stepped off a curb today, and realized it didn't hurt, didn't even twinge a bit. My back is, slowly, sorting itself out. Better than a year ago, noticeably. Not quite pain free, but more stable. Still have to be aware, careful, but oh, my, I can tell it's better. Subtle, but measurable.

Awaiting the call that says our key (what key?) magically (poof!) works, starting tomorrow. When I will pack up the car with the first load.

We have our First Foot (sort of), welcoming items gathered. (Actually, I am trying to convince D to lift (hold my waist while I hop) over the threshold.) For me, a box with tea, incense, cat toys and a small hammer, D his guitar. Got House the Home a tree branch motif welcome mat. Want to love it, not be in love with House the Home. Want to see it as part of our family, to care for and do what is necessary, not take for granted, and not mind. Anthropomorphizing as usual. But it's a century old, deserves some respect and accommodation. Seems only fair to me. After reading about how going through doors is an Event, as far as the brain is concerned, and interferes with memory, and relating that to how often doors and portals show up in legends - as changes of reality, I figures doors are important. If only to human psychology. Probably spirituality.

Trusting my instincts has served me well over the decades. I've never been in serious trouble, skirting it, being close to it, but never quite in the midst. Awareness is not a guarantee, as I well know, but it does skew the odds significantly. Really does.

Do I sound, which is to say read, drunk? Difficult for me to tell now. Lots of typing errors corrected. I took a long time to get Anthropomorphizing to the point where spell check would even give it a go.

Want to sleep. Oh, gods, I want to sleep the way I used to, just a couple of months ago.

Velcro

2012-01-12T17:08:00.002-07:00

Much real progress, head start on the cleaning, extreme packing. Well, no, not quite that, say - hefty packing. Down to camping mode, although I will dismantle the bed frame tomorrow morning. No need to sleep two nights on the floor when one will do. Although our futon is perfectly acceptable that way. Acceptable, anyway.

Dealing with my exhaustion and stressed irritability, snapping (not badly) at D. Resolving not to do that again. We've ordered Chinese as amelioration. D's idea, and he has good ideas.

When we moved from our traveler nurse provided housing to our first rented apartment in Boston, we had movers shift the stuff. I had to work that day, and D was there for them. When I got home, I ran the roomba and cleaned, he showed up with meatball sandwiches from Uptown Cafe (best ever.) We ate and were cheerful. Then I opened the front closet door. It was full of boxes. I rather lost my shit, blaming D for not checking, pissed off and not containing it at all well. Even told him not to apologize to me but to Moby for the delay and stressing him out. Downright mean.

Movers long gone, with other appointments. We wound up making several trips with a van taxi - the driver was very helpful. Finally took Moby by the train, me still seething It was all a thorough mess, and my behavior so unkind. Unfair as well, D had not packed that closet, and there was no malice - the only justification for anger (although still not a helpful response.) To this day, still a regret for me. A pain to remember, like" that fire is hot, don't touch." I wasn't that bad today, but I dipped my toe in those waters, and knew immediately, recoiled from myself.

Moby has been a velcro cat the last few days, while I've packed. Quite underfoot. I do tell him he always have a home with us, but he relies on proof, as do I. He is going to love having room to run around, a larger territory, but the change as it happens - not so much. He will be walked over in the bag. Sometime on Saturday.

Quick

2012-01-12T07:19:00.003-07:00

Queen of questions, Why.
Quietly a quarrelsome.
Quorum of quizzes.

Better. Crashed at 730 last night. Woke, thinking, It'll be 0300. It was 11 PM. Sighed, laid back. Again, woke, thought, Oh, please, it's got to be about 0300.... 1245. Poop. Resolved to stay down, woke again and thought, Nope, not playing that game again, it's rigged. 0230. Bugger. Next time, didn't even look at the clock, but staggered to the bathroom, back, tucked in. Cat walked on my abdomen, good thing bladder was empty. D sat up a time later, cat in front of him, purring madly. Finally, 0450 or so, we got up in exasperation. Figure I did get sufficient, if not constant, sleep.

Doing the whirlwind today, every damn thing tidied away in a box or bag, fold up the dhurri rug, start cleaning what I can reach. Hadn't planned on this day off, but immensely glad of it. Every plan has a fall back position if the first one fails. Have a dolly available, and at least one handtruck, and borrowed furniture moving straps.

Time to turn on music, and start the dance.

Pickled

2012-01-11T16:59:00.002-07:00

Peculiar pickle,
Precise, purposeful patience,
Panic in purple.

If I grow ginger, sunflowers, chili peppers - cayenne and jalepenos, rhubarb, roma tomatoes, kale and parsley, what else would grow well in high altitude desert? Suggestions? Ideas?

Sign

2012-01-11T14:29:00.007-07:00

He's got my back, I have his. Seems to work pretty well.

Been this tired before. Not a surface, one-day tired, that's more sharp. This is a kind of long weary in my bones, knowing it's not over. A low, dull tone. I know this tired, it's an old and difficult friend. On top, I'm not really that worn, but there are sinkholes underneath. That I can't seem to sleep dumps a bit more weight. Up at 0330, could not drop off after, finally gave up got up. Having beer, hopefully will nap. Work offered to let me stay home tomorrow, and I agreed that it would be helpful. If only to keep me from bringing my chaos to work. That is my real concern, I can certainly get the last of the packing and cleaning done in good time. But my patients deserve a nurse with a fully functional brain, which I cannot quite provide right now.

Signing at 1000, went remarkably well. We'd been warned about the mass of paperwork to sign, and there was a considerable pile, but I've signed my name more times on the paper charting, per shift, when I worked long term care/hospice - admittedly many years ago. It took a little over an hour, everyone calm and attentive and professional, including us. The mortgage guy laughed that at our first meeting, we needed valium. I replied that a beer would have done. That's it, really, we worry at a problem until we get it solved, so when the time for action comes, we are over the fear and act properly. Agent L gave us a lovely little book with copies of all the paperwork so far, with a place for every other imaginable document for House the Home. I am inordinately pleased with that unexpected gift.

Agent L and Mortgage Guy laughing at our credit, it's ridiculously good, they claim they've never seen such high scores. Made the loan go through rather smoothly. We tried to be good clients, which is what they thanked us for. Treating people well does tend to bring out the best in already decent folk, mutual in this case. Still a few last steps, have to get the tax assessment changed when the state allows that, and get the key.*

Guys from work set to meet us here and move our problematic items. D's in-laws to bring truck, and hands. Beginning of a new phase of our lives.

I think Moby will love being able to really run around. Lots of windows. There may be birds.

*Being honorable and trustworthy, L let us hold it, but we are not to ever admit this to anyone. It is a hypothetical key, not to be acknowledged until all is Official. So, don't tell anybody.

Ostentation

2012-01-10T17:34:00.009-07:00

Old orange ochre
Ordinary opulence,
Ok, obvious.

Best news of the week, the giant Galapagos Tortoises are still alive. This cheers me more than I can say. A bright ray of goodness.

Oh, and I don't get into Boing Boing much, just scan their front page every few days, in case. To occasional good effect, as this week they are doing a series on Robert Anton Wilson, fnord. It's a common interest for D and I since jump street, and I love that he likes to rattle everyone's cages without distinction.

Can you see the fnords?

Entering

2012-01-10T16:32:00.007-07:00

Got to come home early, asked B, "may I go home and pack?" She said, "Go." And I went. Which is good because the tension has gotten a bit much for me. I'm decompressing now. With good beer.* When I got home, ate my lunch. They were putting my OR until last, because it looked like we would end in time. And more or less, we did. Although I don't do so well waiting until after 1PM to eat. Took me a while to get food in my face, because when I got home, Moby wanted attention. I picked him up, and he purred in my arms, claws in my sweater, for over ten minutes, not to be dislodged. D heated up the lunch I'd taken with me, and brought home. He got his hug, after Cat. Both seemed to need hugs, as did I. Moby has been rushing out the apartment door, as if to say "Ok, you're going, I'm off as well!" I may well just walk him over in my arms, as long as I can get his harness found and on him. He so hates the bag, and the car.

Yes, we are moving two blocks away. This does make it somewhat easier.

We're both pretty stressed. Not as bad as before the move to Boston. But all the paperwork and financial stuff is hitting us in a new spot. Ow, ow, ow... ow. But this really is not, as a whole thing, as bad as many of the issues we've dealt with before. D's shattered elbow, for one. Just very different. So many times we say ".... um, dunno." Like about what kind of outlet we need for the dryer, or who to hire for the chimney, or how to close the doorless garage. Puzzles for the brain, suggestions gladly accepted. Got a reference for a good plumber. He had shaky phone skills, but that's alright. That's not what he's being hired for. Wanted to go to the house tomorrow, but that isn't possible. Next week, at earliest.

Closing tomorrow. Funds are wired to the Title Co. Getting my signing hand warmed up, the opposite to the one with the dicky thumb. (Dicky thumb doing well, still using the brace at work to prevent re-injury.) Another day at work, then, well, we're off. Oh, best news so far, there are people in line for our apartment, so we might not have to pay lease breaking penalties nor an additional month of rent. Which means a comfy chair! Whoo-hoo!

We'll be fine. 'Don't worry, 'bout a thing. Cuz every little thing, gonna be alright.' P (really need better pseudonyms, like Writing as Jo(e) uses) at work sang this along with me as it played in the core on Monday. She related a story of a couple moving, a boatload of people showed up to help them move, and wife had a come-apart about too many hands not in her control. Full on panic attack, apparently. I assured P that if 30 people appeared to help us move, and everything got dumped in the living room, I'd be a happy pig in shit, indeed. Wow, wouldn't I be. I know how to deal with a pile of crap. As long as it's all in the right house. P is lending us the furniture moving straps, hopefully. If she forgets them Thursday, I may call her and insist she just come and help us move. Could really use her energy. My gods, the woman is a top, she cannot stop.

Drove by House twice in our last errands today, it really is a nice place. Made me smile just to look at. When D first saw it, on our way past to another Open House that day, it caught his eye. I have proposed that we take a few meaningful items for the first time. Not to be magical, but for the psychological comfort of seeing this as our home, and telling House that it will be our Home, so that we always look on the difficulties as our Careful and Compassionate honor to perform, not a hateful burden. House will be our Home. D plans to take in a guitar first, me, my tea and kettle. Maybe some incense, and a moment of asking permission, and entering gently. Respectfully, kindly. Some cat toys, ask it to be kind to it's new guardian and god. House needs to know it's loved, for what it is. As we all do.

*

Three out of the four ingredients in Simon and Garfunkel's third album make this Belgian-style farmhouse ale a perfect golden beverage with festive herbal notes.

Nevermore

2012-01-09T18:01:00.002-07:00

Nary a noodle,
To enervate a noggin.
Need normality.

You must watch some of Joseph Hersher's Rube Goldberg contraptions. Page Turner is just a marvel.

The day turned out pretty much as expected. Must go rub D's poor feet.

Mess

2012-01-08T20:21:00.003-07:00

Meandering mope.
Mousy, mouthy, muddled mind.
My manners mingle.

Finding that writing is a great comfort to me, as I get to various stopping points, where I can pack little else, or must rest awhile. For a very long time, I have wanted a household altar, a retablo, folk art display of our journey, expression of gratitude. A corner set aside for the sacred. There will be space for that soon. I have no idea what form it will take, but it feels important, not just a vague idea, eventually. Soon, this time.

Got out the tarot cards. No, I don't believe they have any future cognition, bits of paper. But they are human events, archetypes, that come up randomly, to ask one's own mind to look at one's thoughts differently - like art, or a good book at the right moment. And I'm not entirely convinced that synchronicity is entirely happenstance. As is often the case, I found it useful.

Much more packing today, corners cleared. There is always more. Rolled up the one rug, packed away clothes we won't need for this week, folded up some shelves. D looking at a very difficult day, and nothing I can do to help.

Oh, and Happy Static Electricity Day!

January 9th: National Static Electricity Day
Grab your balloons and sweaters! It’s time to uild up your static charge and conduct some electrons. This is the perfect holiday to occur in the dead of winter, when the air is extra dry – the optimal conditions for storing up those negative charges that shock you at the most unexpected times. (As suggested by Mental Floss.)

Hell

2012-01-08T13:21:00.005-07:00

This is going to be a helluva week, no two ways. We've found the foam-board to cover the basement stairwell, D seems to think we will want to paint it, since it is pink. Well, ok, I suppose.

SIL offered to bring her father's pick-up on Saturday. I humbly answered, "Yes, please." She and BIL (both much younger than us) will be helping shift the load of crap, along with D's parents (only light items for them), for which we are very grateful. Will have to order Chinese for lunch, since none of us is big on pizza, and being LDS, they don't drink beer - no matter how good. Must remember on Saturday morning, to get that planned.

Have to keep in mind that we have time to move everything, and focus on A. The heavy stuff we need help with, and B. The stuff we need to use immediately. Everything else transferred with help is a bonus. Four days not at work, even with just the two of us, should get most of it done, really. Simply worried about re-injuring my back, and I really don't want to do too much and wind up on the floor weeping. Again. That's my nightmare, as my back, although stiff and recalcitrant about some movements, has been pretty reasonable about the whole pain thing recently. I want to stay on good terms with it. It really is, very, very slowly and incrementally, getting better. I can't tell you how much this means to me.

D's parents asked us what we needed at dinner last evening, and we both demurred. We hardly need a shower/housewarming at this stage of life. We always have done it backwards. Now, the idea of Free Stuff is appealing, until we think about it. I gave her a list, today, of lower-cost items that we really could use. I wrote her,

"You both asked us what we needed, and neither of us knew what to answer. A gift certificate to Home Despot? Or would you prefer something more fun to give? Um, gardening tools, seeds, guitar hooks (to go in a wall) an ergonomic snow shovel, a small bench for people to sit on while removing shoes, dust mop, colorful foam floor tiles (for the basement, the kind they use for kid's play areas) - is that better?

Not that we are asking for any of this, mind. But, yes, we would be grateful for your generosity. Please, though, your presence, your kindness, that truly is enough. D and I talked later about showers and housewarmings, and really, all gifts are a bit of an embarrassment for both of us. Help, company, advice, those are the best gifts, in the long run. "

Theme of the week, staying on good terms. I can do this. D has my back, we will be fine.

Lime

2012-01-07T15:37:00.002-07:00

Lingering lightening,
Liminal lavender lines
Lashing languidly.

Entering into all the legalities is daunting, to both of us. We keep reminding each other we are just renting a house from the bank.

We've never been all that impressed with titles, rejected rigid roles. Called my mother the other day, mentioned that D and I have been together over 20 years. "Oh, you've been married that long!" Not what I said, but I didn't correct her. The legal marriage has been useful, no regrets, but it's not like we ever call each other "husband" nor "wife," I only use husband when referring to D, speaking to someone else who doesn't know him. If my mother's head wouldn't explode, I'd be fine calling her Mary, not mom.

Which is part of why I objected to my long estranged brother insisting on calling me sister, and himself brother, instead of just using our names. Not interested in playing a role, like me for who I am, or not at all. I'll get to know you, without the labels and boxes. Lots of little red flags kept popping up, that was one. Since the last email, when he informed me that our father was not stupid nor ignorant, and I replied with my view, citing proof, there has been silence. I'm just surprized it didn't happen earlier. Ah, well, I'll take a hard truth over a soft lie anytime.

"Faith is an island in the setting sun, but proof is the bottom line for everyone."

Went to dinner last night with two of D's brothers with spouses, and parents. Actually a very nice evening. D was leaning toward just staying home, but since one brother & wife were in from out of town, I nudged us to go. Neither of us really in the mood, but were glad we did. Took a moment to remind D that talk of sports, football in this case, beat religion and politics hands down, and no one expected us to contribute, so this is Good.

Just wish I could sleep past 5AM.

Bumped

2012-01-07T11:46:00.003-07:00

It snowed last night, it snows still. We picked up boxes from D's work. On the way out of the parking ramp, I hit the snow covered curb. Hard. We drove around the corner, on icy rough surfaces, but as soon as we hit smooth, and it wasn't, we knew we had a problem. Blew out the right front tire. Limped to a tire shop two blocks away, took a bit of work to get the car up over the snow into the bay, help which they gave with some ineptitude. Difficult to move out of snow with a blown out front tire, but after the two guys (at much prompting) gave me a push, I got the car in place. I really do know how to drive in the stuff, but this was different, and I knew it. They had plenty of advice, when what I knew I needed was a shove. Still, can't tell anyone anything.

They had us over the proverbial barrel, tried to sell us into a longer relationship, which we declined. Guy asked us, filling out the invoice "Where are you living this week?" We both laughed. No kidding. It was not cheap, but we have all our tires on, aligned and checked. Missing our hubcap.

Given that in the time we walked back to the library to wait, then back, we saw several people driving badly, especially for the conditions, and one person tried to go through a red light, and honk at the car turning on the protected left, then stopped well into the intersection, it could have been worse. When these sort of things happen, I figure it's the first time offer, discount karmic payment, that if deferred will come back with a much higher cost.

Really, we learn this in kindergarten, Red means STOP, Green means GO. Our anesthesia head was hit last week by idiots going 65 MPH through a red light, hit the front quarter of his truck. He's more or less ok, but only worked a couple of days this work, obviously in pain. Nothing like a collision to shake one down to the cellular level. A hard bump with the curb, and a busted tire, easily if not cheaply fixed, and back home safe, then all is well.

Must pack, going to wait another hour or so, take a nap.

Knap

2012-01-07T06:40:00.002-07:00

Kissing our knuckles,
Kneeling on knives, keenly knit.
Kicking out the kings.

So, everything is speeding up. We did want to move during the holiday weekend, especially since I have Friday the 13th off as well as the Monday. Thought it might happen, when the seller wanted us to close on an earlier date, but were told no. As of yesterday, that changed to a "Well, fine then." We'd accepted it, stopped asking, planned for the next week. Instead, D had to have all the utilities switched over earlier. We are glad of the time. But this has completely thrown my schedule into disarray. Oh, I can do it, no problem, but I've been working to this plan in my head, and now it all has to be readjusted. Or we just wing it.

When moving, I really like having a clear plan, however full of "ifs." I'd given up the idea of this IF because it was the easy option, unavailable.

I'm trying not to notice that the home mortgage rates are down from when we locked in, and still dropping. We had to take the boat at the dock when we were there, can't worry that the next one along was cheaper. Our boat is still as good as it was, and the fare is still fair.

Joshing

2012-01-05T19:57:00.004-07:00

Jasper, jumbled jade.
Jumping Jalepeño jam,
Joined with a jingle.

Illustrious

2012-01-04T13:17:00.006-07:00

Independent ink,
Important indications,
In illustrations.

The move in date is probably moved back up. Feel like a yoyo. Still, having a long weekend to move was always going to be useful.

Contradictory

2012-01-04T08:06:00.003-07:00

On the metal slide, skin sticking instead of gliding, I scoot and squeak my way down. Finding myself with more time than I have things I CAN do. Still stuff that must be done, but can't be done yet. Two weeks. I will at least fill a box or two today.

So, when I found this, my writin' fingers itched. Contradictory adages, in a neat little list. I shall add commentary. Most are not so much contradictions as setting bounds from one extreme or the other.

Look before you leap.
-Take measurements, know how far you can leap, that there is a place to leap to, or you'll wind up a long way down.
He who hesitates is lost.
-Once you've made your plans, don't balk at the last moment, half jumping, or you'll wind up a long way down.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
-We miss what we don't have, glorifying it in our minds when we don't have to do any work on it.
Out of sight, out of mind.
-But we also don't take care of what we don't see, neglecting the work.

You’re never too old to learn.
-Quite true. It's all a matter of the attitude of the learner. We learn differently as adults than we did as children.
You can’t teach an old dog new tricks.
-A defensive laziness, but it is harder to change long held habits. If the old dog refuses to learn, then you can't.

A word to the wise is sufficient.
-If someone is paying attention, open to hints, all they need is a suggestion.
Talk is cheap.
-Some very charming people can say exactly the right things. - doesn't cost them anything. But you have to judge them by their follow-through.

Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.
-Fools don't even bother to check for the bottomless pit on the other side of the door. They don't think ahead or consider consequences.
Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
-Once you have taken a good look, know the risks, have a good idea of what you'll gain, then - go for it, be brave.

Actions speak louder than words.
-What you actually do will either reinforce your words, or undercut them, exposing your integrity or lack thereof.
The pen is mightier than the sword.
-Ideas are more enduring than violence, although not so powerful in the short run. Unless your pen is actually a little gun.

Many hands make light work.
-Enough people lifting together makes heavy work possible, even easy. Especially when moving.
Too many cooks spoil the broth.
-But too many people who all think they are in charge bossing each other around makes a mess.

Seek and ye shall find.
-Ask all the weird questions, gather data, formulate theory, test, test, test, ask again. This is the heart of science.
Curiosity killed the cat.
-Know when to curb, or at least conceal your nosiness into other people's lives. Let people have some privacy, know when not to ask too much.

Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
-If it's free, be gracious and make of it what you will, don't complain that it's not perfect.
Beware of Greeks bearing gifts.
-Understand that every gift has a price, and know the giver's intentions.

The best things in life are free.
-You can't buy a soul, or love, those have to be grown and earned and shared freely.
There’s no such thing as a free lunch.
-Everything is a trade, everything comes at a cost. Ignoring that, not paying upfront, will leave you in debts and troubles.

It's worth really thinking about the sayings that pervade our thoughts, understanding how context changes them, when they are true, and when misapplied.

Hanky-panky

2012-01-04T06:22:00.006-07:00

Honey, hit the harp,
Hula honest hopefulness,
Humorously hum.

It's not a good photo, must've been Granny, she always did have more sky and ceilings than people. (This is the cropped version.) Mum had a real eye, her Brownies of us as kids were always rather beautiful, well framed and composed.

Gnats

2012-01-03T16:48:00.002-07:00

Gorging, gruesome gods.
Gangrenous, grasping gargoyles.
Gnashing, gnawing. Gone.

Feeling steep, thick, deep, knowing it will get worse yet. But over the top, well.

Foregone

2012-01-02T09:59:00.004-07:00

Fickle, figgy fog,
Frankensense and fir,
Forgone festiveness.

Next year, in House. A Yule promised, deferred until next year. Patience tested, and found able, if strained. The waiting is wearing, more than anything. D dealing with frustration, me with thin patience with his frustration. We keep readjusting our good will, knowing our limitations. I pack, he deals with utilities, internet, gas, water, electric - water we've never had to do before as renters. Two weeks,less, a walk-through, and we will Measure All The Things! For the basement stairwell cover, curtain for the garage (no door present) where the sofa will go, etc. etc. etc. We have the tape measure. We have shears for the removal of the mortar eating ivy.

Everything

2012-01-01T12:38:00.006-07:00

Elegant effect,
Enchanted elephant ears,
Earnest and empty.

Keep going back to variations on Hyperbole's Clean All The Things! as in, Move All The Things! Pack All The Things! Unlike Hyperbole, I've never had much of an issue with adulthood. Not after my first apartment. Maybe because I understood that childhood sucked, and autonomy and responsibility are linked, I never minded, much, the work involved. Nothing in my life was ever as difficult and miserable as being under my father's authority, not the military, not poverty, not even spousal abuse. Although my tolerances varied.

Dragon

2012-01-01T06:50:00.004-07:00

Did you dance in dreams?
Dragons behind the dark door,
with dandelions.

Crashed at the usual time last night, woke - somewhat - to loud pops. I thought, gunfire? Then realized, no, fireworks, near enough downtown to hear that, as they multiplied and sounded more like a firework display, although very loud and echoey. Thought to say "Happy New Year" to D, but he sounded like he was deep asleep. I didn't want to wake him, and I was not quite awake enough to talk, anyway. Then I fell back asleep, best I've slept for a month.

Must practice writing 2012, 2012, 2012. Ah, 11 was so easy. 2006 had a Bunny.

Will dance more, and sing more. With all that wood, how could I not?

Wobble

2011-12-31T17:27:00.002-07:00

As a child, I wore this locket. It's actually a bit strange - having these photos of my brothers inside. I did idolize them, true enough, but the photos in the locket were not my idea, but my mother's. My prayers for them, maternally encouraged nightly ritual, blowing a kiss in their general direction, took on a sense of praying to them. Fantasies of them rescuing me, then simply coming to visit, eventually reaching out to me even, atrophied - didn't die, not quite dead. Until the father died, and they made no functional effort to contact me. So many reasons why not, none I would have excused myself with in the same situation. Not that I mind, it tells me what I need to know. Aha. Truth, I can handle that, it makes sense.

Still, it nestles among other no-longer-worn trinkets and single earrings, not because I've carefully kept it, but out of simple inertia. I held it today, as I packed the deep storage, nothing wanted for a month, or a year, and felt a momentary urge to cry, then started to laugh. Really laugh, satisfied joy. This overwhelming image I had of them, long forgotten, is now actively let to float away. The charm will stay, it takes up no room, and who knows what insights might be gleaned next year, next decade.

My mother often used the word grudge. She railed against those who held grudges for years, her sister, other relatives. I had to agree that holding a grudge was a bad thing, but I often thought that the word was loaded, and often wrong. Sometimes people just don't like each other. Sometimes we see a fault we cannot endure, a malice, a bigotry, or a long pattern of a shameful weakness or willful ignorance, and separate ourselves from the poison, made more difficult if there are family obligations. Anyone genuinely holding a petty grudge is probably the kind of person to use the word on someone else. Those who accuse everyone else of rudeness or lying, are often the ones most guilty of being rude and lying. Not always, but it is a word that judges, admits no kindness or compassion, no understanding, dismissive.

I sit tight with my still young sense of kindness & serenity. This has shaken it, I admit, but not badly, not fundamentally. Testing it, and it's holding. Wobbling, but not sliding.

I have no idea. I assume it's a "cat thing" and I wouldn't understand.

Conveying

2011-12-31T08:38:00.002-07:00

Camel caravan,
Cars, carts, carrying cases.
Conveying the cat.

Betters

2011-12-30T16:36:00.004-07:00

Buncha bullies,
Bothering, boasting bozos,
Bettering the blog.

(I'm just envious you did better on the A's than I did. You do know tis all in jest, right? But, I'm doing it with 17 syllables, so there.)

Amphora

2011-12-29T17:16:00.004-07:00

In this run up to the Big Changes, I could easily whine daily. Instead, I think I'll do something alphabetical, and hit Z about when we are done it all. A formula for the distracted days. Done this before, and it's a kind of comfort.

Alphabetical.
Amorphous ghosts of several,
Amiable, aunts

Holland

2011-12-28T10:37:00.003-07:00

We all draw close to those who live the Tao,
They shine with peace, exude joy, soothe us.

We run to the excitement of hot food and fast music.
The tao is the quiet work that creates that.
It seems dull, the dirt that grows the peppers, the scales that train the musician,
The invisible physics and electrochemical principles we so try to comprehend,
There is no end, no goal, no ultimate explanation, just tao.

The Dutch have taken Holland. A quiz when anyone tells what is well known as a piece of wonderful news. Similar to Queen Bess (or Queen Anne) is dead.

Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, 1963, p 312.

Hegira

2011-12-28T09:46:00.005-07:00

The corner of Chapel and Chapel, in Brookline, MA. Not a joke, or at least, not only a joke.

Once, when we lived in Boston, a friend was in town. He called, trying to get driving directions, since being lost in Massachusetts - where two wrongs don't make a right, and neither do two lefts - is endemic, mandatory even. Problem was, he was not sure where he was, and did not stop to properly locate himself. A long series of exasperating calls where he kept reading out street sign names, which wasn't going to help, because there are duplicated street names, and some intersect themselves (see above.) Other problem was that we never drove there. Turned out he was in Cambridge, across the Charles River entirely, at least so we suspect. We still have no idea how he got to the large hotel where he was staying, although once there, we met him, insisted he leave the car in their parking, and took him out via the T and our own good feet - in which by then we had a reliable muscle memory map.

Learning some (possible) truths about my biological sire and further paternal family of origin feels like I was building a theory based on bad data points. All the Here Be Dragons gaps, on my map of their lives, all the deceptions and evasions, even downright lies, means I may well have been on the other side of the world. I had enough to make some pretty shrewd guesses, but not enough to cope properly. As with my elementary Spanish, I could muddle along with Portuguese speaking patients, until they started answering with more than very simple, single words. Not so much wrong, as wholly inadequate.

Not that I would have thought more of my father. He lied reflexively, about trivial matters, no wonder he was so adrift, with no stars to steer by. But I maybe could have responded in a way that would have made more sense to him. Gods know he was never going to figure me out. He couldn't even remember my name most of the time. Well, ultimately not my job, never was.

	Elvis Costello - Lost in the Stars

	Found at Lost in the Stars on KOhit.net

Found my center, built my own moral compass, oriented myself in the universe. A few good folks as my examples, which is all it takes. I strive for truth and clarity constantly. How do I know? By the results, calm joy around me, stability, kindness. When the chaos and anger are washed away, I figure I'm doing it right. This is the tao.

I am here.

Iron

2011-12-27T18:29:00.004-07:00

All the kin I need,
Provide me comfort and joy.
In a dark winter.

Not so sure about the rapprochement with the genetic kin. Wary, sensitive to manipulation and disregard. I will only accept it as a comfort and joy, if they take me whole, not out of entitlement on their part, and un-accepted obligation on mine. No, I don't need any of it, although I'm willing to unlock the door. Mostly on the principle of "you never know." But too much evidence of expectation, and intolerance, too many ignored promises, then I am perfectly happy with my Iron Curtain dropping again. They control little I want, nothing I need. No leverage to speak of - if they try to lean, they will find themselves with no resistance, because I've walked away. Which presents a comical image of them on their faces. Been there, done that.

Many people in my life have been surprized and offended, when they push me a little too far, that my earlier acquiescence turns in to a cold absolute negation. I'm not very good at graduated warnings. I try to give warnings earlier. My writing is pretty... blunt, excoriating, at times. I think I'm as hard on myself as others, but perhaps only you who read here have a real sense of this.

I cannot express how glad I am that D takes me entirely as I am, and has seen me at my worst, my most intense, many times, and admires me, likes me still. More so. Full disclosure, and we still like each other.

Hoping for sleep, good night.

Need

2011-12-26T06:40:00.002-07:00

Needing only this,
Enough to love, to listen
Eloquent silence.

Deleted a post with this photo, had to include this comment from Crow,

I hope you will pardon this bit of irreverance, inspired by your photo: And, lo! The Light shone down and the Light became word, and the word was Moby. Amen.

Such a humble cat, yet so full of majesty when the moment calls for it.

Mops

2011-12-25T20:26:00.002-07:00

Tao is everywhere, all around, above and below.
Every little one sprouts from it, and it gives out completely.
Tao does the job, then releases it all.

Everything grows from it,
Nothing is forced by it.
It doesn't try to do anything, it is easily missed.

Everything pours back into tao,
But it does not hold them,
It sends all where it needs to be.

It seems like nothing,
Tao is greatness.

All mops and brooms. Intoxicated.

Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, 1963. p. 620.

Peek

2011-12-23T20:57:00.002-07:00

From the Inspector's exceptionally thorough report. A winter view. Not going to get anything better until mid January. And I'm not going to stop whining about it until then, so you might as well go elsewhere.

Overtime week leaving me quite worn out. Had to keep reminding myself, on the way home (with stops for groceries and beer) to keep my eyes open when stopped at red lights. Beer not optional, not about to let the anxiety go wild, not this week. Holiday skipping me this year. We're getting each other a house for christmas. And the experience. We've always gone for experiences, and hoo-boy are we ever getting one. Well, no one else I'd rather go through hell with. Heaven is when I'm with D.

Eyes have stopped working properly. Must close them.

Hobby

2011-12-21T20:23:00.002-07:00

Although our inspector used the word foranoldhouse repeatedly, it is, as we suspected, in pretty should shape for it's age. A solid 100 this year, and there are wrinkles, but nothing fundamental to break the deal for us. Very thorough, overwhelming. It is going to be a new hobby for us. Both exhausted and anxious, but standing together. Quite the list, only a few that need to be addressed quickly.

Odd thing was that, although we've seen it twice before on two open houses, and it was essentially empty, today it was not. Before, a bed in one room, a glass desk in the living room, a few bits of athletic equipment in the basement. Today, pictures up, ornaments, books in all the bookcases, sofa in the living room, fridge covered with the usual stuff one puts on the fridge. We'd sort of heard someone might have been living there, but it seemed more like camping, caretaking, before. All very weird. And we decided we wouldn't like the guy anyway, for a lot of little tells.

Still couldn't take photos I could really show, because of someone else's stuff all over.

Had to go in to work this afternoon, at least it was a good four hours, made it worth the trip. Not really up to it, but I was in no position to complain, given that I had to beg off a shift I'd agreed to cover long ago.

Closing date has been moved up, so we might be able to move in sooner over the long weekend of MLK day. That would help.

Coal

2011-12-20T18:40:00.013-07:00

Woman at work doing the minimum possible to keep from being fired. Not really my business, except when it directly and measurably is. Always an excuse, always someone else to blame, always the most work to circulate for. Has not taken any definitive steps to actually solving the problems, only surface changes, stop-gap lip-service, which is where I lose my patience. I report (only) the clearly reportable to the supervisor, mostly to protect the other scrub techs who she dumps work on. I can deal with moderately inept scrubs, but add in the malicious, neglectful attitude, and how it affects those who prefer not to say anything, and I feel a responsibility to the techs who are so capable and attentive and hard working. Certainly she will consider me a tattle-tale and a crank. She has great "self esteem" based on what she wants to be, not how she actually is.

All in all, it's all very sad. She has no idea how incompetent she is, how inconsistent. I was rooting for her to sort it out, because she's not stupid, she's just assumptive and entitled. Maybe that's not as amenable to correction as I'd hoped. Poor woman, if only she opened her own eyes to herself. But that's her job, and no one can do it for her.
_______________________________________________________________________________________

Thinking about scripts a lot this week, people living according to shoulds, twisting around their realities according to expectations. About holidays, weddings, houses, jobs, money, siblings, children. And how D and I have resisted and waited and transformed the assumptions. We met and became completely attached, then lived together, eventually married, changed my name years later - even to finally taking a middle name. Worked, then went and got degrees. Getting our first house in our 40s. Never wanted children, either of us. Bless the good parents, but don't count us in. We've done it all backward, but it feels right. Who knows what might be next?

Burn the scrips, throw them on the fire.

A couple of people at work right before I left, made a point of telling me how much work a house was going to be. (Not that anyone commenting here would do that... Phil*. ) Well, duh. Both of us grew up in houses, I've painted and drywalled and mowed, and stoked a coal furnace, painted the garage myself one summer, and everything else. D has much the same experience, aside from the coal. We are both thoughtful adults who know (more or less ) what we are getting into. Work, but for ourselves, and the Cat. We've chosen carefully, we've thought about this over many years. Telling us, "houses are work" is the same as saying "you have not thought about this, you idiot" in the same way as all those who told us we should buy a house when we were renting. Make up their fucking minds.

Marriage is hard, so those same kind of people say. Well when it's good, it's not hard work. It's attention and care, effort - but not a chore. Having children (for us would be) - miserable, but not for those who love it, and have a good match in their children. How many people think they should tell others that they SHOULD have children, like it has never occurred to them? Well, we are not kid people, never have been, never will be, not going to change because someone says "Oh, you Should!"

Oh, well, we never thought about that very important and personal decision, I guess we should have kids! Silly us! And we should never own a house because it's too much work. We should never have moved to Boston because it's SO Expensive! Cats destroy everything, never have a cat! Never get married, it's so hard!

Long ago, worked with a woman in her 30's having her first child, convinced it would not change their lifestyle at all - anyone pulling her aside, holding on to her shirt, screaming, "NO, Everything is going to CHANGE!" would be forgiven.

We are not doing that. We have a list of Things We Need to Do, and Things We Would Like To Do (some long term. Including having a train track around the top edge of the room.† ) We have a pretty good handle on it, after so many years. We are buying at the Bottom of the market, at a great interest rate. Unlike if we'd bought when everyone was telling us we HAD to buy a house.

We are up for this. We can do this, we are not stupid or deluded. "Everyone" is wrong. Everything you know is wrong. Know why you are doing something, it's not work at all.

And what if we die before the mortgage is done? Once we've rented it from the bank, but had space enough? What heirs need we worry about? Thirty years from now, or forty, or fifty? What difference? Now, to have space, and wood to resonate my own voice, and D's guitar, bliss.

Hopefully photos tomorrow, from us and the inspector. A day later - if I have to stay at work. I go in to work after 3, because I promised to cover for another RN, for the day, long ago, and completely forgot. But they covered for me, because I have to meet the sewer and house inspector at 10 and noon, & they got staff from the Main - but not after eight hours. Fair enough, they could have insisted I cover the shift, rightfully so. Tis the season. Monday off. Boxing Day. Works for me, as I will indeed be boxing up stuff.

Christmas would have been nice. I'll be doing Packing instead. Party for Groundhog Day in February. It's becoming official. I want someone to say, "You've lived here how long? And it looks this good?" D hedged, "well, if we get it that good." I sneered at him. Really. He knows better. I has a talent, I has skillz. It will be impressive.

Not enough chairs, though.

*Just joshing, Phil‡.
†How cool would that be?

‡And you get your own footnote to boot.

Morrow

2011-12-20T17:56:00.002-07:00

Tomorrow and to
morrow. Long days & short nights.
Solstice needs more light.

Rich

2011-12-18T20:32:00.003-07:00

Understanding others is wise.
Understanding oneself is enlightenment.
Ruling others means using force.
Self discipline is all about fortitude and courage.

When you know you have all you need, you are rich.
When you take responsibility for all your own thoughts and actions,
Then you are thoroughly living your own life, not expecting anyone else to do it for you.
Eternity is now, always is.

Bibimbap

2011-12-18T18:11:00.003-07:00

Stopped over at Language Hat, a marvelous site that often goes right over my head. I like being reminded of just how smart people can be, reading about subjects beyond my ken. I consider myself pretty bright, which means to me having a sense of how much I don't understand. Among very smart folks, I happily sit at their feet, and try to ask intelligent questions.

Hat noted the addition of bibimbap to the OED, a wonderful sounding word, for a dish that sounds rather lovely. I hope someday to taste it. Never could manage kimchee, can't get it anywhere near my nose. Bibimbap, though, a word that tastes good all by itself.

D's parents called to meet us for lunch for our anniversary yesterday, apologetic about being two days late, not that we minded. Especially since they got us flan. I've really come to love them both, over the years. But then, I always love those most that I take longest to appreciate and trust. FIL wondering how we could pack with no room to put boxes. Well, I've done it before.

Books into boxes, boxes into the bookshelves, with shelves removed. Over-organizing for a move is a kind of reflex at this point. Fifteenth move coming up. If the gods of annoyance are kind, it will be the last one. I may have to rattle some drawers in praise of the Goddess Anoia. Fifteen boxes so far, books, careful not to over pack and make them too heavy, filled in with lighter objects like shoes. We're going to need quite a few more, yet. But not as many as if I had to pack everything to be shipped off in one go, taped and padded for a long journey. Despite reminding myself of this, the ramping up seems to be happening anyway. Best to just flow with it.

Favorite

2011-12-18T07:47:00.003-07:00

Been doing a lot of crosswords, a frequent going-to-bed routine with D these days. Plus the one in the paper at work, and online at the WP, unless it's a Bob Klahn. (I won't play with him. He cheats.)

I've been mentally working on what I call "crossword words." Or, Crossword compiler's favorite word list. Variation on this post. D has more or less gotten used to this convention, but he's not happy about it.

Favorite cookie, Oreo.
Favorite director, Elia Kazan.
Favorite plant/cosmetic ingredient, Aloe.
Favorite state, Ohio or Iowa.
Favorite lake, Erie.
Favorite emotional state, Eerie.
Favorite aircraft, SST.
Favorite spread, Oleo.
Favorite cereal, Oats.
Favorite color, Ecru.
Favorite animal, Ewe.

Not a comprehensive list. Not even close.

Tissues

2011-12-17T07:22:00.005-07:00

Moby chasing the tissue paper.

Slept, full, restful, normal sleep. Still dark when I woke up, I feared it would be 0400, or 0300, maybe even earlier, and the clock had fallen on the floor. But I had to hit the bathroom no matter what. When I came back in pulled the clock up from behind the table, it read "0700." I felt like I'd found money in my coat pocket. I finally, actually, made it through the night, and came out rested.

I also thought about the clock. It's shaped like one of the original iMacs, purple - like the actual imac I had. The alarms haven't worked for a while, but the clock is otherwise in as good a shape as it was in 1997.

D sometimes makes us sausages for breakfast. Got irritated with how they roll, making it problematic to brown all around. So, I offered him the lemon juicing stone. Works a treat.

Found this over at TYWKIDBI,

Carl Sagan was Jewish by birth, but a nonbeliever in practice, although he denied being a frank atheist:

"An atheist has to know a lot more than I know. An atheist is someone who knows there is no god. By some definitions atheism is very stupid."
In reply to a question in 1996 about his religious beliefs, Sagan answered, "I'm agnostic."

Here is a very touching comment by his wife Ann Druyan:

"When my husband died, because he was so famous and known for not being a believer, many people would come up to me - it still sometimes happens - and ask me if Carl changed at the end and converted to a belief in an afterlife. They also frequently ask me if I think I will see him again. Carl faced his death with unflagging courage and never sought refuge in illusions. The tragedy was that we knew we would never see each other again. I don't ever expect to be reunited with Carl. But, the great thing is that when we were together, for nearly twenty years, we lived with a vivid appreciation of how brief and precious life is. We never trivialized the meaning of death by pretending it was anything other than a final parting. Every single moment that we were alive and we were together was miraculous - not miraculous in the sense of inexplicable or supernatural. We knew we were beneficiaries of chance… That pure chance could be so generous and so kind… That we could find each other, as Carl wrote so beautifully in Cosmos, you know, in the vastness of space and the immensity of time… That we could be together for twenty years. That is something which sustains me and it's much more meaningful…

The way he treated me and the way I treated him, the way we took care of each other and our family, while he lived. That is so much more important than the idea I will see him someday. I don't think I'll ever see Carl again. But I saw him. We saw each other. We found each other in the cosmos, and that was wonderful."

Abrasives

2011-12-16T20:16:00.006-07:00

Tis the season when whatever has been put off is best used to take advantage of one's deductible, and there are the holidays to take off for healing. ORs are often most busy this time of year. We have picked up remarkably, which is good and exhausting together. For a week with random sleep, and too much to think about, both of us overwhelmed, the extra hours are also abrasive. Last night up several times, woke and could not settle again, slept a while, up again. Not restful.

Dr. A wrote a scrip for a thumb splint, which I was able to get fitted for in a gap between cases. It does feel better this evening. It looks fluid, but it is quite stiff, and protected my joint from the work of the day. Yes, I did get to pick the color.

Every year, she brings in really lovely grapefruit for each of the staff at Christmas, making no secret of her appreciation for our work. This year, it got delivered incorrectly, and non-staff helped themselves, instead of our office manager making sure everyone got one. I got missed, when she found out, she brought one in for me especially. She really didn't have to, no one's fault, but I am very grateful. I'll eat it whole tomorrow, with gusto.

I kept up, laughed, paid attention. A wave of weight and vague illness hit about 1600, only subsiding after I was home a while, eating D's lovely goulash stew, spicy and flavorful. I find myself full on very little food, then ravenous a few hours later, wondering why I didn't just have more at mealtime.

Too much sugar at work, mostly resistible, if only for the glut that induces revulsion in me. Only that I was so hungry did I indulge at all, really.

Air reportedly improved, but so foggy. The light on the way home, just at sunset, pinks and oranges on the grey, through the murk, stained rather than pretty. Ruined light, muddied horizon. Supposed to be clearer soon.

The House Inspector poking around the house on Wednesday, and we meet with him once he's done. Says we'll have 100-200 photos of his work. Should be interesting. D had to deal with more requirements, paperwork, today. It's been a rough week on both of us. This evening, Moby staying close, very nearly sat on D's lap, stood on it for a while, then curled between us, getting up, as we got up, came back several times.

Shared my old Thank You joke several times today, half heard by one, encouraged to pray the whole litany again.

Grassy Ass, mercy buckets, and donkey shines.

Proverbs

2011-12-15T18:42:00.004-07:00

Busy, busy day, and me the runner. I wrapped blankets to be sterilized, I rolled bias dressings because they were out, I turned over rooms - opening for the scrubs, making beds, shifting equipment. I gave breaks and lunches and cleaned and ran. I scrubbed in at 3, which was a bit of quiet relief in comparison. No wonder moving is not as daunting for me, it's no worse than a long day at work.

We have allowed ourselves a week to do the move. Closing on the 13th, which is a conference day for our surgeons, and we will likely only be running one room anyway, so getting it off was a piece of proverbial cake. Ta (ladi) dah! To move in on the 17th. Looks like we are going to have to have a Groundhog Day party, as I have been joking about doing for years, since there is no way I'm putting up and taking down a christmas tree as I pack up our stuff. Maybe I will put it up for the new place. Maybe. But we should be settled in sufficiently by then, knowing me. February 2 is a Thursday, so it'll have to be the Saturday after. Close enough.

It's kind of an ideal move, only a few stairs, two blocks away, from a small place into a larger one, not just one day. This, by the standards of a move, is going to be more, proverbial cake. It probably won't snow every day that week.

Thumb is much improved. But Dr. A, who I would have preferred to take care of this, but Dr. Tigger is hard to refuse, has told me I should have a hard splint, especially during the move. She was going to write a scrip for me to take up to the hand clinic, but I missed her before she left today. I'll catch her next week, and will follow her directions. Going to continue to baby it for a while, as it heals. Thumbs are best well cared for. Very important, opposable thumbs.

Going to bed early, to sleep, to recuperate. Inspection on Wednesday. Title being checked. Will start the packing process Saturday.

Moby still blissfully unaware, although we've told him. He'll know something is up when the boxes start stacking.

Down

2011-12-14T16:46:00.003-07:00

Finally coming down. A very bad high. Awake now for 36 hours, and not yet bedtime, but I think sleep will be possible, possibly unavoidable. Not that I am at all inclined to avoid sleep. My motormouth was obnoxious to me, once started, shutting up was nearly impossible. This is not me, I don't just keep talking and talking and talking. Occasionally I write a bit obsessively, but I can normally control my voice. D is, to my eternal gratitude, both honest and tolerant and supportive.

All the tasks have been accomplished for today. Everything done that can be done. January is going to be quite a month. Moving from a small place into a large place, a few blocks away, over the course of a week, is an ideal situation. This is going to work. Which we always knew, deep down. Not good to admit it too soon, but, yes.

Down, down, down.

Wired

2011-12-14T04:18:00.006-07:00

Had a teacher, high school, who spent part of a class on swearing and obscene language. Without using any, I must add. Very rational, normalized the words for me. Just words, but powerful ones to be used at the right times and places.

Tonight, though, I am thinking of the time he told us, "Some nights will be sleepless. Happens to everyone, don't let it worry you." Because I think I've gotten about an hour in so far, although I'm hoping for a few later this morning. A bruise in an inconvenient place on my hip, my aching thumb, sore throat from the terrible air, and my multiple hamster-wheeling thoughts, all conspiring to keep me more or less awake. Mr. Novak, yes, that was the name.

Later:
Around 0430, feeling like I'd taken several caffeine pills, and tea tasted awful and a bit tinny, it occurred to me to look up Depo-medrol, the corticosteriod in my thumb. Some spark of memory proved right. I checked. One of the side effects is sleep interruption. Whooo boy, did my sleep get lost. I wrote to my boss that I would not make it in for the meeting, but as I stay so utterly alert and awake and a bit wired, I've decided to just show up. D has made me promise to be exceptionally careful driving, which I have done, and will do.

Still later:
Icy roads, in patches. Tried to avoid the worst of it, and made it home safe and sound. Did not even try to work on the schedule. I'd have made a hash of it. I assured everyone it was the steroids, not meth. I don't think anyone there has ever seen me that talkative.

D remembered this morning that today is our legal wedding anniversary, 18 years. We both often forget it, since we always count the November activation date 21 years ago, when our relationship really started. We have been together every day since, or at least spoken - for a few of those days when one or the other of us was out of town. Still, the legal marriage has been damn useful.

Thumb is feeling a bit better, though. Shot ache, not the same as before. Still wearing the brace, will continue to baby it for another week. Give it time.

And finally:
Having some alcohol to get my brain to slow down. Trying to edit this a bit, sorry if I miss letters. Tea tastes better, which I take as a good sign.

Late

2011-12-13T23:12:00.002-07:00

Sort of a theme song for us through the move to Boston. Came up again this week.

Faster!

2011-12-13T19:46:00.006-07:00

Faster, Pussycat! Kill! Kill! *

We got our official Yes this evening, and some tight deadlines. Gah, and yikes, and huzzah. Will learn more tomorrow, details and commitments. D will start to bring home boxes from work. I'll get some packing tape. Going to be a tight year for cash. But we will have a house.

Exchanging letters with my younger elder brother. He's really trying, and I know the quality of his heart, if not the nature of his personality, after so many years. Writing all going there, careful words, expressive words, real words. Striving for compassion and honesty. It's going to be a long road, I will walk it for now. No destination, only the journey.

Dr. Tigger injected my sore thumb today, corticosteriods, for some inflammation that has persisted. He also did x-rays, the quick ones like we use in the OR. No arthritis, a tight joint space, but nothing extraordinary, just one of those overuse issues. Our core tech guy was right behind me, a kind of staff clinic this afternoon.

He kept apologizing for the needle, but I did nothing more than blink a bit. I'm a tough old broad, and I'm not about to let a little needle bother me. He'd broken scrub while his resident sewed the incision (standard practice) so I did the count with the scrub, and a bit of charting with one hand, as he poked the other. Told him if I could deal with a block in my sinuses so they could stitch up my lip, a little finger pressure was not about to phaze me. He warned me how much it would hurt, especially the next day. And I accepted this, I'd had a hip injected for bursitis when I was about 30. That hurt like mad, alarmingly so, but as that pain ebbed, so did the misery of the bursitis, and it never returned. I was up for thumb pain that would abate. Sorer all afternoon, but not so badly.

Extremely irritated that I have to go in at 0700 for a meeting tomorrow, my day off. Dammit. I'll do up the February staff schedule to make it worth the trip. I'll probably be awake at 0400 again anyway. Might as well get paid for being up too fucking early.

Fortune cookie message this evening, You will be coming into a fortune. Well, when we get the downpayment in one place, certainly. Perhaps the house is our fortune.

And, I can imagine the house. Soon to be our house. Very soon.

!

Bucko

2011-12-12T16:54:00.002-07:00

Not so fast there, bub.
Elation mixed with terror,
A yes too soon jars.

We got word, then found out it was a bit premature. Still, a step in the right direction, but a wrong-footing one. Back to sitting tight, but with brightening in the east.

Unhatched

2011-12-11T11:48:00.003-07:00

Went out to count our unhatched chickens. But we did keep reminding each other, "If... ."

A dull, murky Sunday, but with all our ideas of what we would need to do, would like to do, IF we get that house. We, (sigh, can't imagine doing this at any time before in our lives) went to Home Despot, for fun. Fact finding mission. One can only glean so much online, sometimes you just want to see it, touch it, to get a clearer idea of what is available. So, we looked. At motion sensor light switches, and lamps and convection heaters, rugs and rug pads and mixer faucets, dust abatement moppage, plug in flashlights, laundry equipment. Bought nothing, of course. This will be a series of projects for the ages. We rather enjoyed having plans, how to do it all cheaply, efficiently - but definitively. Like solving a puzzle, what needs to be done first, what can we do ourselves, how long will it all take?

Well, obviously, it could just not happen at all. Still, we imagine our trip to Moscow, and sit on our luggage and sigh.

Finally, because of U-tyube, able to share The Canadian Conspiracy with D. "Loren Greene, Green Card... coincidence?" Oh, my.

Good

2011-12-10T19:06:00.004-07:00

Click to make legible.

Devil in the details. At the edges of the maps are the speculations, convenient lies, fiction, GPS malfunctions. Everything is broken.

Waiting continues.

Philosophy

2011-12-10T08:33:00.003-07:00

Tao is indefinable,
Too small to be caught in a net of words,
Immeasurable enormity.

If we rule ourselves by it,
Everything flows along,
Rains fall, clouds form.
No need for external laws,
We live well though compassionate understanding.

Once we divorce the body from the soul from the mind,
Rewarding one for treating the other well, punishing if it does not,
All crumbles in senseless, effortful words.
Know when to silence the logic,
And simply watch and listen, observe.

Tao pours down, ignoring wordy philosophy, exposing truth.

Philosopher's Stone. The hypothetical substance which, according to the mediaeval alchemists, would convert all baser metals into gold. Its discovery was the prime object of all the alchemists; and to the wide and unremitting search that went on for it we are indebted for the birth of the science of Chemistry, as well as for many inventions. It was in searching for this treasure that Bötticher stumbled on the manufacture of Dresden porcelain; Roger Bacon on the composition of gunpowder; Geb er on the properties of acids; Van Helmont on the nature of gas; and Dr. Glauber on the "salts" which bear his name. ... According to one legend, Noah was commanded to hang up the true and genuine philosophers' stone in the ark, to give light to every living creature therein; while another related the Deucalion (q.v.) had it in a bag over his shoulder, but threw it away and lost it*.

Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, 1963, p. 699

*Threw it away AND lost it? Either/or, I would think.

Weather chill and dull, without real cold or storms, just mucky air. Anything could happen, but it won't.

Limbo

2011-12-10T07:48:00.000-07:00

Floating in between.
Adrift in a salty sea
One shore here, one there.

Numbed

2011-12-09T20:30:00.003-07:00

Brained, numbed, too many hours, a very late day, after waking at 0430 for the third day in a row. Sleep disturbed. Haunted by the living. Realized, not really for the first time, that I who have the least family feeling, but the strongest sense of duty, am the one who has made the most effort in making contact. Well, I have done. I will respond in kind, but never initiate again. I have lived up to my own sense of responsibility and more, which is enough. More than enough. Their deficits are their own karma. They are not my job.

Got home about 8, after a very hard day. Not bad, just, hard. Very, very tired.

Escapes

2011-12-07T14:49:00.004-07:00

Everyone in their places, safe and well. I had to make the call, wound up with mother and both brothers on a kind of conference call. Weirdness ensued, much dissonance for me. Rolled out the jokes, and for the first time really, viscerally understood the theory of comedy as socially acceptable hostility. And I killed! Jokes rolled out unstoppably, slipping out on the beer. Oh, no, I really don't want to talk to them cold sober. Oh, how they laughed.

When they started talking about sending the ashes, I went silent. I did not mention The Big Labowski, I did not say I wanted to be left to a body farm, I did not say I was glad le bâtard est mort. Many things I will never say, not to them. No, I'll say all that here. Don't you feel special?

After way too much frustration and miscommunication, and some technical glitch on brother's end, I sent some photos via email.

"Why are you making such a face?" asks mom.

"Why not?" I say, not rising to the slight.

"Are you going grey?" says mom.

"Oh, gone, really gone."

"And your hair is so long" she adds.

"Yup."

"I keep mine so short because the color is so ugly," she adds. (Meaning red.)

The negativity sucks at me, but I stand back and it can't touch me. Second brother and I have each other's email, which could be good, but we are largely unknowns to each other. He was the gentler soul when I was a small girl, the listener, and when he left, he left thoroughly. His subsequent story is very sketchy. Older brother reminds me too much of his father, but I take the kid sister's privilege of bashing him with insults - as long as I keep it funny.

I will do my duty as long as I can. The option of disappearing again is in my hands. Knowing I have an escape from a social situation makes it doable. Just like parties, I can enjoy myself if I know I can leave* at any time. Means I have choices. Like any good OR nurse, I have, at core, a bit of control freak. Lots of niceness over a steel armature - necessary for standing up for patients, and not being run over by surgeons. I can only be pushed so far.

*D and I have a deal at social events, both of us have a veto, one wants to leave, we leave, no questions, no more than very short delays. It's worked very well over the years.

Houses

2011-12-05T18:14:00.003-07:00

Our home is here. We would just like to have a house to put it in. One of those linguistic anomalies, a short sale takes a lot longer. Not as long as they used to, as banks are glutted with these.

My mother is at a hotel near the Detroit airport with her niece - widow of her beloved nephew. B is flying with her in the morning to Oklahoma City, then flying back. Her son, my eldest brother, will meet them, and take her on to his home in Texas. The keys to the house I grew up in have been handed over to the new owner. I'd vowed over a decade ago to never set foot in it again. Interesting coincidence, that we are finally looking at getting our own house, just as my original has passed out of her hands. I'm glad it's gone, I hope it has a happier life.

I expect a call from her sometime tomorrow, when she reaches her new home. She is worried about the flight, the last time she was in a plane, it was an eight hour flight in a prop from Detroit to Florida, circa 1958 (?). She was so sick the whole way down, they took a bus back. I was still non-existant. So, I sent her a sick bag, the good ones we give to patients after surgery, and some of the ginger gum that kept me going after my bout of (presumed) food poisoning last month. Honestly, I think she'll be fine, but it's a huge change for her. She never expected to leave that house, it's probably means something that she seems to be abandoning it so quickly and cleanly. I know better than sending a non-functional gift to anyone in the midst of moving, having received a few myself. It's always such a wrench, to be so grateful at the kindness, and so annoyed at the extra burden.

Weapons

2011-12-04T18:13:00.003-07:00

Instruments of war rely on fear, all life avoids them.
The tao doesn't need them.
The wise prefer to walk around,
Warriors want to blow up the rock.

Using weapons means a failure of imagination and compassion.
The wise will never use them, save to protect the threatened.
Peace and kindness heal minds,
Destroying an opponent is cause for grief.
If you rejoice in hurting others, enjoy the thought of killing,
You kill your own spirit, empty out your own humanity.

In joy, we are glad to be kind.
When sad, we want to indulge in violence.
Military leaders on the battlefield prefer peace,
The politicians safe at home cry for war.
War should be seen as a mass funeral.
The maimed and dead have no side,
All should be mourned as a failure of all of us.
Every victory is a solemn disaster.

This was a very strange one to interpret, and terribly sad. Anyone who resorts to violence, even in thought, has failed to find a real solution.