One Word

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.

Shock

2011-12-04T14:34:00.003-07:00

For a long moment, I remembered, as clearly as if I were standing there, my father, in the midst of a long raging rant, asking, accusing me "Do you think I want to rape you?" I am not sure if I nodded or stayed silent, because he'd articulated my precise fear. But he then shouted, "If I was going to rape anyone she'd be prettier than you." My mother came in shortly after, and he told her "She thinks I want to rape her!" And my mother turned on me, "How could you think that?" I knew then how utterly alone I was, how completely I had to defend myself from then on. I was 13. I would never have thought, or used the word, "rape." Not at that age, it was so far out of my experience, unimaginable. I didn't make that up, it came from him. It still seems like the deepest, darkest place in my life.

This is not normal.

I tried to find this story here, but it didn't show up. Only hints and other stories. It seems odd that I had not written about it before. Maybe it's just not showing up on my searches. I could have sworn I'd written about it ad nauseum.

To think, he thought he was treating me "like a princess." Maybe an abused goddess' princess... . Well, you know how those old gods loved their incest.

Any wonder I couldn't grieve him? Only react with a kind of weird shock at his long awaited death? And my ambivalence toward my ineffectual mother? It all just gets too fucking weird, even after decades.

Potential

2011-12-04T09:07:00.002-07:00

Walked in the cold air yesterday, dry and biting. Took a second, harder look at Potential House, and are still positive, waiting. Agent seems to think we could hear by christmas, and that we have a good chance. Trying not to get too carried away, but deciding to hope - just for today. We are feeling very cramped. D gashed his head on the corner of a shelf trying to clean up, nothing like a stun from a head bonk and bleeding to make one want just a little more space to move. He put away all but one guitar because he's exasperated at worrying about damaging them in such tight quarters.

Our agent, who is not the one who has listed the house, met us there, and was impressed. Complimented us on having good eyes. Well, after so many apartments, especially looking at rentals in Boston, we are pretty clear on what we can and can't live with. We know ourselves pretty well. A (wo)man's just got to know h(er)is limitations. To paraphrase.

The not-selling-points for us include, single paned windows - lots of irregular sizes that would not be readily converted. Honeycomb blinds are probably the best solution. The fireplace is real, not gas or electric, so we would have to cap it and put in an electric insert. I am not dealing with smoke and ash and cleaning the creosote out of a chimney, risking fire for the sake of romance and a nice smell. When I was 20, sure, not now. Forced air heating in this climate is expensive and very drying, we plan on adding radiant heat to warm individual rooms. And some fans to avoid the cost of central cooling all through the hot summer. The ceiling fans in two rooms are simply dust catchers, since the flickering induces migraines and nausea in me - no matter how effective the concept is. We will need tools, like a snow shovel, step ladder, garden hose, and whathaveyous. We will want first a washer/dryer, since I really don't want to schlep all our clothes to a laundromat - again. The driveway is narrow, and shared with the house next door. There is no on street parking in front of the house. No screens on any of the windows. I'll need to invest in netting, so we can open them without letting the cat out.

None of the above are deal breakers. They are consolation sour grapes if the deal is not accepted. Because I walked around the place with a silly grin at the space, and the wooden floors and closets and light and flow, and the bathroom better finished than I'd remembered. It's a process, with no guarantees. All I can see is how well it would work, so I force myself to notice the problems.

We are doing this ourselves. With advice, but no one to help in any material way, no one who would help is in any position to do more than cheer us on from the sidelines. Scary as that is, there is a wonderful sense of accomplishment and satisfaction to be found. Our decisions, our work, ours to claim utterly, mistakes and all. No one to apologize to for our losses. Sink or swim, to either enter of blissful tranquility of drowning, or the elation of success. More likely the relief of treading water, long term. Honestly, I think I would be a lot more worried if it all seemed perfect. I am deeply suspicious of apparent perfection.

Yes, I have learned to be very detail oriented. It's the job.

Scarlet

2011-12-03T10:40:00.001-07:00

Red tissue paper, strong sun, and a human with a hand mirror. Cat bliss.

Hips

2011-12-02T20:48:00.003-07:00

D's brother N. sent lovely almond christmas cookies, and red tissue paper, which Moby knew was just for him.

Winter whoooshed in, although it didn't feel as cold without the wind.

Weird day, obvious from the schedule, and it got worse. One nurse called in late, due to problems from the wind damage the day before. By then, I'd already set up the room, and assumed I'd be there, which I was. She got there as the first case finished, and a bugger of a case it was too. The next room along call it #2, had a surgery that went to hell on a greased slide with a handbag full of lead. Poor B had a difficult day. And room #1 - and it's surgeon- had to wait four hours for the surgeon in room two to finish, because surgeon #1 needed surgeon #2, as it was an unfamiliar procedure to surgeon #1. Surgeon #1 is not known for his patience, his catchphrase is "I feel myself Waaaiiiiting....." But he held it together pretty well, for him.

Room #3 was just three straightforward hip arthroscopies, but that surgeon had a much simpler knee scope to wedge in somewhere. Hip scopes are complicated set ups, takes a bit of time and a few hands to turn a room over to a knee, so we try to set up a different room instead. Given the delays, that looked unlikely. By 1500, I was scrubbed into the hip scope, and delighted when the knee scope went to .... room 2. So, once we were cleaned up, I went in and offered B relief. She accepted with near-glee. She certainly had the worst day, at least the other room had a gap. And it seemed good karma to kick her out. Surgeon #3 is very quick with these, so I figured it wouldn't be long. The other circulator and the charge nurse also stayed to get everything put away before we even left the room with the patient. One of those days that ends with good feelings and gratitude.

Terrific

2011-12-01T19:31:00.003-07:00

Terrific winds since early morning, still bitter by the time I left work. Canyon winds, channeled and powerful, and selective. Trees down, branches, leaves making a mad, panicked dance. On my way up to work, a school bus in the lane next to me put on a turn signal to move left. I let it in, and then saw that the right lane was blocked with two garbage bins. The higher I drove, the worse the wind gusted, a massive force against the car, at stops shoving me from side to side. Had I been flipped over, it would not have particularly surprized me. I braced myself for the walk to the door, a breathtaking stretch. The woman ahead of me struggled to get the door pulled open, grateful when I added to her efforts.

North of us, a gust of 102 PMH was clocked. Right here, one of over 60 MPH was measured. Semis knocked off the highway, signs thrown all over. Even the commuter train got blocked by debris on the tracks. Hurricane moments in the middle of a continent. Very odd, unsettling. We do get these winds once in a while, but this one is a doozy. That it blew through during the day I think makes it worse.

And it is very dry. A dew point of 12˚F (-11 C) is not comfortable, my hands are cracked, my eyes scratchy.

Despite it being Thursday, it was Windsday, Pooh.

I don't know why this struck me so funny, but here it is.

Reflective

2011-11-30T12:05:00.002-07:00

Napping in the sun.

Chasing a reflection.

Waiting for the sun to come back out to he can chase again.

Yourself

2011-11-30T11:22:00.003-07:00

Be yourself. One of those awful instructions given to the young. Parents, teachers, adults in general, tell them from the beginning how to be, to be good, dress them, correct them in every detail. Hard for a child to know how much of it is necessary teaching and how much the personal preference of the teacher, how much their own self. Very few parents are good at bringing out their offspring's own best character, without imposing their own, and I expect they never say, "be yourself."

Surgeons who are consistent, reliable, and communicate clearly with their staff, and welcome questions are so easy to work for, and with. The difficult surgeons who don't have a routine, are always using different equipment and supplies, ignore question and anger easily, are the ones who always say, "I do this the same way every time!" The good ones who actually are pretty much the same every time, never say that.

People who apologize saying, "I'm not usually like this," frequently are. When I find myself using that phrase, I look very closely at how I've been behaving recently.

~~~~~~~~Grossness alert ~~~~~~~~~~

Had to get on the floor, and reach under the blankets under the sterile field to attach the hose to the bair hugger warmer for a patient. S. laughed, and I said "Dignity. Always, Dignity." Yup, I got the degree, means I'm the one wiping up the floor, crawling in and under and through. For laparoscopic inguinal hernia repairs, I commonly had to get down, reach under, and make sure the testicle was in the scrotum - as opposed to anywhere else. Dignity, I'm telling you. The worst experience was going under a prone patient in a spine contraption, my head sideways, and drool went in my ear. Ugggghhh... . To this day, it still makes me shudder a little. Worse than shit, piss blood, crotch cheese, or bubbles of mucous in any other configuration.

Dignity. Part of the job.

Sitting

2011-11-28T20:25:00.004-07:00

Funny, really, how much easier the bumps of life are to take since I have shifted my attitude over the last couple of years. It's taken a lot of practice. I genuinely see the humor in it all now, let it roll off, never try to trap it, refuse to indulge in anger. I feel the irritation, the frustration, the annoyance, turn it slightly in the light, and grin. I chose my reaction, a gentle smoothing, a kind laugh.

I believe I can handle a visit with my mother, by the time it could happen. I've rehearsed the conversations in my head, as I have always done, a habit from childhood. And I've come up with honest, non-aggressive answers, or bemused silence, for most of them. Deflections for the judgement. I don't care if she sees my tattoos, or slights the length of my hair, or even questions the validity of a second marriage. Neither challenging nor taking it on the chin, but splashing away and draining back, I have plunged through the dark torrent, and found myself in calm water.

My cousin told me life begins at 50. So, I'm starting a few months early. I never doubted that she was right.

So many of the blogs I read today left me not wanting to comment. But where once I might have been bothered, today, I just decided to be silent. Not just to refrain from commenting, but to stop any judgement even in my thoughts. We are all different, with a unique view of eternity, each one valuable. Mine is just mine, the one that makes the most sense to me, but only from where I'm standing. Or, actually, sitting, at the moment.

Indelible

2011-11-27T14:41:00.007-07:00

Reading about PTSD in children. They thought I was depressed, more than once in my life. My father thought I was "turning on the waterworks." Later, when I was on the emotional yoyo that was my first "marriage" I actually got on medication. Hyper-vigilence, bouts of crying, distrust and over-trust, anger, violent thoughts, physical distress, gas and cramps, sore throats and vague pains. I have come to believe I was never primarily depressed, only traumatized, with a dash of anxiety.

I remember drying dishes while my mother washed, and my father sat in the dining room. The phone rang. I was ordered to answer it. Walking past him. I had the paring knife in my hand, wooden handle, and on the way back, I stopped behind him for an eternity, knife in my fist, contemplating jabbing it into the back of his neck. And the whole thought process, not having any idea where to cut, if it was long enough, sharp enough to kill, or just enough to piss him off. I walked back and finished my task, but the thought stayed. I used to console myself while being raged at for hours, his red, greasy face a foot from mine, by reciting prayers in my head, Hail Mary, Our Father. From then on, I began to replace that with fantasies of terrible ways to kill my tormentor, and learned to focus on the bridge of his nose when he insisted "Look at me!" At least I didn't have to stare into those mad, stupid eyes again. Instead, I imagined shooting him in the mouth with a crossbow bolt - which would shut him up.

When both my brother and mother assured me (unprompted) that he'd died peacefully, I listened. He died of obstructive lung disease, one of my nightmare ways to die*. I've cared for patients dying while gasping for their every breath. I have a very clear image how he died, no doubt fighting and blaming every moment. I would not have wished it on anyone, even him. But I will not lie by saying I mind terribly that he was chained to that fate. Whatever they were told by kind nurses, I will hold to my own knowledge of how people die, and how nurses offer comfort to the living, and take my own comfort thereby. He did not die peacefully, he could not have, he would not have had any idea how.

They thought I had something wrong with my gut, for all the pain I had. I had a GI series as a kid, very distressing. I remember when they asked me what I would have for dinner, every one of my favorite foods† started with the word "fry." I did not mention how most meals were fraught with my father screaming, angry, hostile. They asked my mother if I was "nervous." A bad word, one of those my father bandied about, and my mother decried, so would not use to describe me, however accurate. Yes, I was terrified and anxious, traumatized and malnourished.

For the last twenty years, I have recovered, stabilized. My father's death, reestablishing contact with my mother, has aroused these sensations and memories. It'll never be gone because it is what I am made of. I can make something new of them, I have, like junkyard art. No fine porcelain for me. Different, neither better nor worse. Taking it out and reassessing it all, like cleaning out the deepest closets in preparation for moving.

Everything leaves it's mark. I see the scars, with a mild wonderment, that I survived, and have come out the other side. Content, happy, loved.

*Pancreatitis is the other horrible way I'd rather not die. Drowning, any immediate traumatic event, heart attack, all fine. Just not COPD or a sick pancreas.

†My mother did not believe in fresh, green, vegetables‡. Potatoes, canned corn, canned lima beans (blech) - that was it. I remember when Aunt Alma gave me spinach for the first time, I was in heaven. I ate cherry tomatoes out of the yard, as well as sweet clover and rhubarb, and sour green grapes from Mrs. Rizzardi's grape arbor all summer.

‡Not to mention fiber.

Betwixt

2011-11-26T17:15:00.001-07:00

Nuts

2011-11-26T08:19:00.003-07:00

Poking around over at Mental Floss, came across some good questions. Changed them a bit, still want to give credit.

~ Who’s your famous doppelganger?

I have not been compared to anyone in many years. I really don't look much like anyone famous, although I was told I looked like Barbara Streisand when I was much younger. I put that down to the size of my nose more than anything, perhaps a kind of intensity. A friend in high school alerted me that I was in a painting at the Detroit Institute of Arts. Certainly a genetic kin,

William-Adolphe Bouguereau The Nut Gatherers.

 ~ What’s the weirdest item marketed at you?

There were people in Germ costumes at the T stations in Boston passing out Airborne samples. Later, we saw a couple of them resting, nearly collapsed, looking very sad on a bench. One had the head of the costume off and looked a bit ill. I so wished I'd had my camera.

I was only in high school, at a public event, and scantily clad women were passing out cigarette samples. When they approached me, I declined, claiming youth, they suggested I could have some anyway, which appalled me on so many levels.

~ What’s something you’d really like to be good at, but know you’ll never put in the necessary time/effort?

Playing any musical instrument. Drawing. I could be barely competent in either, if I really, really worked at it, but I know I'd never be really good no matter what. I do pick up the ukulele, and I can make pleasant enough sounds.

~ What’s the crappiest car you’ve ever owned?

I can't quite remember the year make or model, '72 Plymouth Fury, maybe? An old boat, green, that my uncle sold me for a few bucks. One of those 70's Detroit monstrosities. It got stolen eventually, taken for a joy ride and abandoned - totaled. The '66 Beetle - candy apple red, was the cutest crappiest car I ever owned. The gas pedal needed a paperclip to keep working, the wheel fell off on a turn once. I got it up to 60 MPH once, going downhill.

That's it. Enjoy your weekend.

Nice

2011-11-24T17:50:00.008-07:00

All went very nicely. Moby his usual social host self. He even allowed D's parents to sit on the sofa either side of him for a while, then prowled, then climbed up to his Fortress of Solitude. Given he'd been up since we got up at 5, active for about seven hours straight, he needed some good catsleep. He's still there.

I'm no natural cook, but I am a well trained nurse, so I know to start here, and do everything in front of me until done. I can be frighteningly organized, this time I used the whiteboard on the fridge to make sure I cooked and served everything I planned. Well, in a small kitchen, it's a requirement. Mostly all turned out pretty good, although the turkey was a bit tough, as turkey often is no matter what. And the broiled pineapple did not cook through as I'd hoped - but not expected. Yams were tasty, cranberry sauce as good as always. D's dad very happy with artichoke hearts - gotten especially for him. D's mom seemed to relish the pumpkin scones, D ate a lot of olives, I felt better after chips and con queso from Red Iguana (picked up yesterday.) Green beans got over cooked, but still edible.

We walked over to the Potential House, yes we live that close to it, and it still looks good. A mild day, a chance to stretch our legs. We can see all the flaws, and they are all minor. Enough, though, that if it doesn't work out, we can focus on the drawbacks to console ourselves. Either way, we wait patiently. We are craving space so deeply, though. One way or another, this is going to be a hard year, waiting or moving.

I cleaned up after we got back, which is the good part of this kitchen, I can stay in the conversation while putting stuff away. Used every single container for leftovers we have. I just really did not want to have to scrub crud later. Neither did I want to abandon guests for the sake of a clean kitchen, I'm no Martha*. I tried to balance the two. MIL of course offered to help, and I welcomed her, but with a tiny kitchen, there was nothing she could do. Funny, how none of it seemed like work, just things to do. I wonder how much of that is just the change in my attitude over the past couple of years. Simply not letting routine bother me. Or anything else, really.

The other great part about this holiday? I get two days off, then the weekend, standard. Even when I worked call and holidays, this was usually a good long weekend, with maybe a few hours of call on a day when the surgeons were reluctant to schedule anything non-life threatening during the football. A good weekend to have an anniversary, as well. We get very squishy. We get enough rest.

*Luke 10:38-42. Yes, I do know my bible stories. I just don't take them literally. Nor particularly seriously.

Appreciation

2011-11-24T05:56:00.004-07:00

Thanksgiving is such an atypical, even Un-American holiday in so many ways. Oh, yes, the religious under- and overtones, the excessive eating, paired with football and parades, all that fits. Its manipulation by commercial interests to stimulate consumer spending, yes, essential to this culture. But it's largely hoopla that can be ignored, evidenced by Buy Nothing Day.

Beneath it, stripped of the stereotypes and media screed, it's about being grateful. Right at the core, it's about gathering with people one loves and appreciating what one has. At heart, it isn't religious, needs no gods, only a decent meal of fowl and mostly vegetables, traditionally. There are no flags to fly, no presents to buy, no decorations necessary - a simple harvest festival. Anyone can join in, there are no songs, no rituals. None aside from those unique to each family.

Every day I strive to be thankful. Especially today, every thought, every breath, and with my whole heart I walk in thankfulness. How'd I ever get so lucky?

To all of you who read here, leaving me friendly notes -- thank you for necessary balance, a voice back from the ether, friendship and kindness. I would not be the same without you.

Schedule

2011-11-22T17:49:00.002-07:00

Early this morning, my hands on my abdomen, cat standing on the backs of my hands, I was aware it was very early, and I did not have to get up. Called off, but asked to cover my usual day off tomorrow, an easy swap. Went in at 10, though, to do the schedule for the next month or so. Took me an hour. Better than having to ever be in charge. I'd be no good at that, I get up noses when I fill authorities shoes, and that's fine. So, I agreed a while back to do the vacation schedule, to varying results. Re-templated it, so it's easier to read, put it in a nice binder, with the holiday schedule attached. But I have to be more than careful to not screw up the numbers. One of the charge nurses has given me crap over my mistakes, some trivial, some larger. Something like this needs a second set of eyes, without harassment, but I do what I can. Everything is a trade off.

Not eager to get to the necessary cleaning for having the holiday dinner here, but I got there eventually. More or less. Thankfully, my MIL's sense of what is clean was probably worn down having five boys, so I don't feel self conscious as long as it's pretty good. For our friend Dave, I work to a higher standard, because although he'd never say anything, I know how clean he keeps his house. Dave is busy with his own kin this holiday. We'll see him later.

I've been pondering Thanksgiving, as I often do this time of year. It's a holiday without baggage for me, no family tradition, no religious significance. My mother declared it the day she did NOT cook, everyone took care of their own food that day, I usually had PB&J - no sacrifice. Watched the parade on TV in the morning, probably read the rest of the day, or watched whatever was on the CBC (anything not football, my father for all his faults, was no sports fan - I have some recollection of him asleep on the sofa.) The ex expected me to give him a traditional meal, which never quite happened, but that was only six years, and never stuck.

Twenty-one years ago, I spent Thanksgiving with friends, knowing I was shipping out the weekend following, and D with his parents. From that day on, we have been together, with much to be thankful for. The holiday became entwined with us, our beginnings and continuations, and hopefully our endings. We had our reception the Friday after Thanksgiving, a day when friends in town could beg off from the family they came to visit.

Cleaned the fridge, the kitchen, ready to cook in. Yams ready to be mashed, they can sit in their skins a day. Turkey to start thawing in the morning.

As for the house, I do not have my heart set on it, and I'm not in love. But it's all I have to focus on. I have, with reluctance, vetoed D's preference for a condo, in favor of my need for a garden. I dream of growing cayenne and ginger, roma tomatoes and rhubarb, peas and green beans, long grass for Moby, rosemary and parsley, red peppers and sun flowers. A mulch pile. And space to hang clothes to dry. And D smiles and says he knows.

Enough reason to make a day for gratitude. Hell, a whole week is insufficient.

After so long, he knows me pretty well, but never assumes he does.

Twenty-one

2011-11-21T19:06:00.004-07:00

Today, as I wrote the date, I looked at the sort-of familiar number. Finally occurred to me that yesterday was the 21st anniversary of our deployment, and the beginning of our relationship. We'd gone out to meet with our real estate agent, and a mortgage guy at an unrelated open house. Because the house we saw Saturday fit us rather well. We wound up chatting with both of them for a long time, since no one showed up to see the house they were actually showing. So we learned about how the real estate thingmabob works a bit more, and told stories, all casual but to a purpose. And, gods help us, we put in a bid for that short sale* house. Earnest money and everything. Got pre-approved for the loan. Apparently, we are a good risk.

We are both a bit terrified, expecting to be screwed over, cynical. But telling our story helped put it in perspective. Starting with our first date - Gulf War I. Moving out to Boston precipitously, our friends sending our stuff along later because our mover didn't even show up. On the way home, I thought about how much easier it is to be a good nurse to reasonable people. I have to think it's the same in every profession. We do our side of the work, listen carefully, pay attention, try not to be stupid. Make other's jobs easier. Sometimes their response to us is just salesmanship, but often, it is genuine affection.

Our impression is that our agent , L is a pro, and a decent human being, and we are most likely right. We could be wrong, but she has a good reputation, as we have heard going to other open houses from other agents. "Oh, her! Oh, she's the best!" "Oh, my L!" Fortune favors the prepared. I think it also favors the generally kind, by and large, on the balance. Not in any way a guarantee, of course. But nothing in life is.

L was very excited, to the point of exclamation mark abuse in her email to us to tell us we got in the first bid. I'm holding back on excitement, because of my Pooh experience. But I am quietly glad that we have a chance here.

The rest of the day, we simply stayed close to each other, talking a lot, holding hands, keeping each other calm, planning our holiday dinner with D's parents. Whatever happens, we'll make it work. This house, or another later.

And today, we remembered, and realized we'd celebrated appropriately, even if we'd forgotten.

*Mis-named, since they take a long time to work through.

Walking

2011-11-20T16:16:00.003-07:00

When you are the leader, walk in the tao.
Never use force, nor try to conquer.
Because every action has an equal and opposite reaction.
Resentments and fury appear when coercion is used.
Deprivation takes over after military victory.
Better to just do what is needed,
Instead of overpowering.

Do what needs doing,
Without expecting glory.
Without boasting
Or excessive pride.

Do what needs doing,
This is the job at hand.
Never using violence.

Force and torture show a weak person in a hopeless position.
This is not the way of balance and life.
Anger and force will crumble what it purports to protect.

Walk. This is a remarkable word. It comes from the O.E. wealcan, to roll; whence we get wealcere, a fuller of cloth. In Percy's Reliques we read:--
She cursed the weaver and the walker,
The cloth they they had wrought.

Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, 1963 p. 940.

Company

2011-11-19T20:07:00.000-07:00

Company.

Melt

2011-11-19T14:51:00.005-07:00

"Oh, no, D.... I think I've melted the cat!"

Sorry, no photo, it was early on a wet morning, a black cat on a dark blanket. I'd put on the electric bed pad, high, when I got up. Moby flattened out for maximum tum exposure, chin included. Seemed bonelessly contented. A puddle of fur snerfeling softly.

The snow came through, I expect a lot of the more exposed freeways were not safe for driving last night. But by morning, perhaps an inch on the lawns and roofs, no doubt more further up. Not especially cold, now.

We looked at more open houses today. One place built before the turn of last century, squeaking floors, awkward rooms, kludged shelves and storage. A tile strip about 3' wide between living and dining room, extending from a wood burning fireplace (not converted) not flush with the rest of the floor. We wondered what it hid. Thick, obnoxious paint slathered over every wall, in muddy, teeth gnashing colors. Odd shaped windows, odd smell. All I wanted to do was leave. A condo that we could live in, but nothing special. And a lovely arts & crafts era house that we would do very well in, if a tad too big for us, and the price a skosh high. Still, it's a short sale, so we contacted our potential realtor about maybe putting in a bid. We aren't as ready as we'd like to be, but maybe there is no such thing.

Oh, and the posh condo that is WAY out of range, but we had to be nosey. First floor entryway room, which confused D - understandably. Long flight of stairs up to a formal dining area with professional kitchen, including wine fridge. Tall windows, loads of light. Another flight of stairs, three large bedrooms, two full baths with black stone shower stalls, one with a spa tub. Laundry room, too. I figure, we could convert one bathroom into a kitchen, and we'd be fine with just that floor. Too much, a glut, but with a definite appeal for those who can afford a cleaning service.

I really have to start taking the camera with us.

Must clean, get the place sorted. Working all three days, and I rather not do a massive clean Thursday - Thanksgiving - morning.

I really have to start taking the camera.

Prepared

2011-11-18T20:07:00.004-07:00

I was prepared to stay until seven this evening, especially after we picked up the case from the other room (to no effective gain of time.) But, J came in and relieved me, as the later shift, she'd come in at 9am to cover lunches, then relieve the last case. Which was mine. I made damn sure I got her everything she needed - stocked my suture cart, finished my charting, got her a sling, shredded my papers with patient information, cleared my detritus.

There is a winter storm on the way, I wanted to get to the grocery store before it hit. I'd called earlier, and they had turkey roll, what they call boneless turkey - which puts me in mind of Gary Larson's Boneless Chicken Farm. A good size, and easier to cook, for four people. Yes, I'm doing Thanksgiving here. It's a small place, but comfortable enough for four. I'm planning cranberry sauce (from frozen berries) yams with pineapple, scones, green beans, and whatever else I think of before Thursday morning. Pistachios for nibbles.

D got a few episodes of Mastermind, which we'd never seen before. Heard of, certainly. It's kind of awesome. People sit in a chair, and answer incredibly difficult questions about their chosen subject, then they all come back again and answer general knowledge questions nearly as difficult. D and I do passably unembarrassingly on the general ones. No fuss, no flashing lights, no buzzers, just a powerful test of one's intellect and memory and exposure.

Continuing to enjoy Inspector Montalbano, to the point of getting some of the novels. Luca Zingaretti is a joy to watch. I feel like I'm picking up a bit of Italian, but it's probably actually Sicilian.

Arrivederla.

Stalwart

2011-11-16T07:33:00.009-07:00

Working yesterday with one of our more... um, challenging surgeons. Two huge cases, no disasters, I just kept ahead, or at least up to him, all day. In no small part because of V, a great scrub, although I still often struggle with her accent. She does a lot of non-verbal communication with me, and we are both fluent there.

Arthroscopy is all about keeping the fluid going. Three liter bags of lactated ringers solution, four bags, two pairs spiked with Y adapter tubing, that flow into a double tubing that goes through a pump - with a control on the sterile field. Part of all this fluidity comes back through the suction on the shaver, some simply flows out and onto the floor. For keeping the floor from becoming a lake, puddle guppies, flat floor suctions, round but with a suggestion of fish shapes.

It all pours through the joint, providing the space for visualization, and flushes out debris. Running out (because one is busy doing several other jobs) causes whining (from the surgeon.) Bubbles from an air pocket when spiking a new bag, or letting it run out, get into the working space - which takes a bit of work to get cleared. Which slows down the case.

A normal knee scope, to debride away a torn meniscus, with a surgeon who manages fluid well, takes about two bags. Add in a resident getting practice, add another bag. Regularly for Dr. Challenging, 4-5 bags. In this facility, we have 20 liter self-contained suction daleks, called Neptune. They roll well, and there is a station in decontam where they offload and wash out. Best system I've ever worked with. Most routine knee scopes, they don't even need to be changed for two cases. For an ACL repair, usually one per case is sufficient. On a very large shoulder rotator cuff repair, a second one is fairly normal. That's the background so you will get this next set of numbers.

My long standing record for number of bags on a case - 23, recently fell when I got to 30. Yesterday, 32, THIRTY TWO, and filled the Neptune 5 (five) times, and I had #6 in the room ready. All with Dr. Challenging. All shoulders. And he hates the noise of puddle guppies, but yesterday I ran two throughout the case, and he didn't so much as mention that to me.

Recently, we were given a new stand to hang fluids, square tower, about 6" per side, with a knob and graduated notches to raise and lower each hook individually. This saved me yesterday, because I didn't have to reach up as high, but I could still easily keep the bags at different levels, allowing me to change them out more or less at my leisure, and keep the bubbles out. Raising one half of each double spike so the bottom of that bag is above the top of the other, the pressure of the lower one keeping the higher one from running out, until I had time to respike a full bag, then pinching below the single tube of the confluence to allow the air to flow back into the bags instead of down the tubing. An apparently empty upper bag can happily sit there for quite a while, as long as the lower bag is at least 3/4 full. Dr. Challenging only had to have me describe what I was doing once, and he's trusted me since. Some of the otherwise-less-challenging surgeons still remind me every time that I'm getting low on water, when I'm not. But then, the nurses I work with seem uninterested in my method, and I stopped trying to show them long ago.

Dr. Challenging, after our ten hours together, thanked me for being "Stalwart" - which I appreciated.

(I've gone back and edited this a dozen times, but if anything is still wrong, let me know.)

Saints

2011-11-13T16:17:00.002-07:00

Watching a documentary about Johnny Cash. At the very end, one of his cohorts says, "maybe he was a saint." The phrase rang with truth. Could it be this is what saints really are? Not paragons of virtue, not religious messengers, but powerfully unique people, incapable of being anything but genuine, who shake the world where they walk? Full of doubts and flaws, but life expresses itself through them lucidly, uses them up to pour grace over all they touch? Bodhisattvas showing us a way forward, exploding our comfortable assumptions? Damned to be misunderstood and copied, when the real message is to find our own, particular, unmappable path?

I remember once asking a nun if any one of us, in our class, could be saints. She equivocated, I don't remember how she answered. But, I think we are all called, the sacred is just the other side of our fears and self delusions. If only we push through, willing to look, courageous enough to struggle to understand.

We are all capable of being saints. No excuses. It just takes everything we are.

Obligation

2011-11-11T21:24:00.005-07:00

Two full on days, when home is sweetest, so long as love is there. Here, three souls who love each other.

And having my mother back in contact means I hear her voice again, the one inside my head. That animals are animals, not people. As though that excludes them from real love. Her disdain for those who think too much of a mere cat or a dog. I find myself explaining - again, only inside, why we really do love Moby, and he, in his cat way, seems to love us. We rely on each other, are kind to each other, make each other laugh, provide comfort and joy. If that's not love, what is? (As Tevye would ask.)

Then a lyric prodded me, and I listened to Graceland.

And I may be obliged to defend
Every love, every ending
Or maybe there's no obligations now

I let go, live in my moment of home, my small, complete family.

We are doing Thanksgiving here with D's parents. My idea. We are planning, and looking forward to this very much. In our tiny apartment, snug and warm.

Marrow

2011-11-09T18:52:00.003-07:00

A worrier, in terms of a tenacious pulling, picking working at. A part of my character, even more when handed a hard experience, and I will strip the meat, gnaw the bone and suck the marrow to get every possible lesson out of a miserable time. A kind of researcher, a scholar, I studied, pieced together every scrap to understand where I'd been. I studied people, striving to understand, playing out scenarios in my head, practicing conversations. I don't believe in suffering conferring grace, unless it is through hard earned wisdom. Education is never a waste, so long as it's not wasted.

Or, maybe I'm watching too much Columbo lately.

This, from Whiskey River.

"You find your genius by looking in the mirror of your life. Your visible image shows your inner truth, so when you're estimating others, what you see is what you get. It therefore becomes critically important to see generously, or you will get only what you see; to see sharply, so that you discern the mix of traits rather than a generalized lump; and to see deeply into dark shadows, or else you will be deceived."
- James Hillman

Doze

2011-11-09T15:06:00.002-07:00

A cool, sunny day, means a dozy cat.

I dozed of myself this afternoon.

Moby sunned for a moment before going up to the Fortress of Solitude bed.

Accessorize

2011-11-09T09:44:00.004-07:00

The Knife Through the Head prop, rather late, but when I was ill, I was neither up to taking photos, nor did I want to be seen so green. I think it looked a bit more convincing over my OR hat.

The new, progressive lens, glasses. My brain is adjusting pretty well, although the muscles in my eyes are tired and a bit achy from the unfamiliar movements. Nothing I can't handle, and it's lovely not to have to snatch my glasses from my face every time I need to see something right in front of me. My hand keeps wanting to try, then needs to be reassured that yes, I can see just fine, thanks anyway. Still using the old glasses to drive, since I can glance better with them. Not cheap frames, which is painful financially. But shoes and glasses are not a good place for bargain hunting, winds up more expensive in the end. But I got an employee discount, and payroll deduction, which makes it doable. And I can see to scrub properly. Will facilitate grocery shopping as well. Going to be happy with them, after an initial period of adjustment.

And, they suit. The woman at the eye center picked out a few for me, nixing others, apologizing that she was being bossy, but I was glad of her expertise. I knew I had ultimate veto, but I trusted her immediately. There was a cheaper pair, but it was already wobbly, whereas this pair just sat on my face like a cat who belongs.

Oh, the joys of seeing clearly.

Flittermouse

2011-11-07T19:17:00.004-07:00

Think you have it all figured out, and can do better than everyone else?
I don't think anyone can.

The universe has it's own music.
We can barely understand some of the questions to ask it.
Whenever we try to change nature, we make a hash of it.
When we try to contain it, it escapes.

Events pass too slowly, or too quickly for us.
We struggle to breathe, or we fly effortlessly.
One day strong, the next weak and vulnerable.
We see it all with perfect clarity, then the fog rolls in.

When we are wise, we are moderate & tolerant, alert and curious.

Flittermouse. A bat (cp. Ger. Fledermaus). An earlier name was flinder mouse.
Then came... the flyndermows and the wezel and ther cam moo than xx whiche wolde not have comen yf the foxe had loste the feeld. --CAXTON: Reynard the Fox, xli.

Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, 1963. p. 366.

Gentleness

2011-11-07T18:51:00.003-07:00

My mother called, D didn't recognize the number so didn't answer, but I called right back. Better that way, with voip I don't pay long distance, which took a bit to convince her. She told me when she'll be moving to Texas, near her oldest son, next month. And I spoke to her as I would a nervous patient, kind, calm, lightly joking, reassuring. As we spoke, I began to realize my only decent choice was to use this as an opportunity for grace, for both of us. Expect nothing, pour out gentleness.

I do think she should get online, if only because it has become nearly as important as having a telephone was when I was small. A way to keep up with her grandchildren by email. I could send her photos. But there is time, and no need to run ahead. Let her settle, find her new reality for a while, first. I'll have to get SIL & brother ok with it as well, since they will have to do the hook up and support, although I will send the macbook if so.

No one's fault. No one to blame. Nothing needing to be done. Nothing owing, everything entire.

Clogged

2011-11-06T16:18:00.001-07:00

In a lull of words,
Clogged up in grey silent thought
Even my eyes close.

Might

2011-11-05T09:11:00.004-06:00

Good concert, as per. A bit odder, more experimental segments than usual, even for them, or rather They. Strange set of songs. Possibly because the've brought out two albums in the last six months. I hoped they'd play Judy Is Your Vietnam, which they did on the first encore. No confetti cannon this time. I'd love to see them in a really tiny venue, say 50-100 people, unplugged, guitar and accordion, heavy on the slower songs. Ok, they can bring Dan Miller along.

Their audiences here are always enthusiastic and sing-along-y. Which seemed to take the opener, Jonathan Coulton, a bit by surprize. His own fans were present, vocal, and in good voice, as well. The rest of us picked up and sang along too. One of the best opening acts They Might Be Giants have brought along.

Perhaps a lot of loud music and bright moving lights was not precisely what I needed this week. Chewing ginger gum got me through. I wished I could have stood on the floor in front of the stage and danced along as I used to. Getting too old for this, mostly because of damage. That, and I usually go to bed when they started playing, no night owl me. Still, enjoyed myself.

From 64˚F in the afternoon, it was snowing madly when we came home. Then, the covered parking full last night, we had to take a spot on the street, and move the car by 8 am. Mostly fluffy, salty lake effect snow, not difficult to clean off. Instead of just going around the block to get into the parking, we fetched sausages from the supermarket, me in what I threw on to move the car, hair uncombed. We looked like we'd been up too late and threw on sweats, like everyone else in the aisles. A warm, welcome breakfast.

Air full of snow, cat watching impassively.