Goodness

Yesterday was a Good Day. Worked with a great scrub, a surgeon that is difficult but doable, everything flowed well - no technological or supply glitches to mention. Dscrub and I were late last week, the last case, alone, by five hours. This week looked to be shaping up much the same, but the surgeon finished up way ahead of schedule, and we actually got out a smidge early. When I got home D tells me our friends Mike and R are in town for a very short visit, but might stop by, and he got to have lunch with them at the Red Iguana, and brought me home leftovers. This was nearly too much good news for me to handle. So I took a shower and we tidied up, with an eye toward having two children running about. At 7 & 4 years, less of a safety issue.

Now, Mike* & R have a well deserved, and groomed reputation for being late. So I automatically added an hour or two to their proposed arrival time, which proved to be slightly optimistic, but not too much, since we were also prepared for them not to make it at all. Both kids immediately ran down the hall and more or less made themselves at home with little noise or fuss. After greetings, making tea, and adults talking, I got them the toys (a small box with some figures, magnets, marbles, cars) play-doh, crayons and paper, and they pretty much kept themselves occupied. Bright, polite kids, and my admiration for our friends is right off the scale. Oh, I know part of it is their natures, but the other half is the parents not damaging it, or letting it run wild, and this is the kind of family everyone loves to be around. Moby made his usual polite appearance, then settled in the next room. M, the 7 year old girl would have preferred a cat that would be held, but that is not this cat. They have four cats at home, so I assume she did not take it too much to heart.

And we actually had good grown-ups conversation, with the kids included once in a while. I got M some cocoa, left it in the kitchen with her figuring she would bring it in the living room when it was cooled enough. Realized shortly after that she probably wasn't allowed, mentioned this to R, who confirmed. Went back into the kitchen to tell her she didn't HAVE to drink it there, she had the mug still up on the counter and stood with it, assured me "I want to drink it here." Seemed perfectly happy, so I said fine and let her be. P, at four, delighted that we had an Iron Giant figure, and he played with it, and the play-doh for hours. He had much to say about Iron Giant.


Mike so much the same, he and D chatted about all the usual subjects. It's taken me a very long time to warm up to R, always more or less liked her, but didn't feel a connection. Last evening there was something softer about both of us, and I found myself really wanting to be around her.

Moby eager to chase after they'd gone.

All day, aware it was Good Friday, it seemed wonderful just not to have to be in church all day. Holy Week hurt when I was a kid, and in catholic school, we were in church with my class every day as well as in church with my mother all weekend. No choice, I suffered through, bringing out of it only a deep self discipline. And a gladness that I never have to do that again. But I was thinking last night, if he died on Friday, and rose after three days, why is he back walking around on Sunday morning? I know I've never been great at arithmetic, but even I think something is wonky there.




*Mike and Dave get to keep their own first names here, because they have more anonymity with them. How many Daves and Mikes do you know?

Ground

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

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

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

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


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

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

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

Grief

Long, long ago, I had a friend, O. I don't know that I was a good friend to her, although I certainly tried. When I found D, he loved her as well, as she seemed to love him back. But for reasons never explained, she withdrew from both of us, and I could do nothing but accept this. Right before we went to Boston, O's sister, also a peripheral friend to us, was in the ICU, and we spent much of our last month sitting by Ida's side. When we got back, D ran into O once at the library, and it was all very civil, even warm, but nothing followed. Likewise, we met again at a Library function, since her other sister works there as well as D, and it was convivial, and she made no further contact. We lived two blocks away from her.

Our friend Dave was her mother's IT consultant, so when her mom died this month, Dave told us. We showed up at the memorial, to be good people, supportive, to pay our respects to her mother who was A Woman To Be Reckoned With. Not knowing if we would be of any use, but adding our pebbles to her tomb, as it were.

And although we expect to continue to be outside of her circle, we seemed to provide her some comfort today. Hugs, and a few subtle tears, old stories, a couple of stones from the chest, remembrance. She has not just lost her mother, a difficult woman by all accounts, but her father - poisonous but brilliant apparently, her uncle, and first of all her sister Ida - whom we all loved, and whose death we only heard of much too late. All within the last couple of years. With, from what she told us today, legal issues of great intricacy. Which follows, who knows who left what to whom, in what order, and now the daughters remaining have to sort through it all. A tsunami of grief and loss. Dave showed up while we were there, which lightened the mood somewhat. They talked Macs and IT for a short while, which seemed to delight the non-computer-connected O.

A half hour, only that. Did not want to get in the way. Not about us. We just wanted her to know we still cared, still think about her.

BBQ

So, we get a call yesterday afternoon.

"Were you going to make it to the barbecue?"
"Um... what bbq?"
"Uh oh... did you get my email?"

Apparently Gargle minus has a way to invite people to a party, and that it has a serious glitch. The good part about very old friends is that they will just go ahead and call to ask, eventually. He wound up calling everyone else, since he was the only one to get his own invitation, and, it being for Dave, everyone showed up anyway, however short the notice. A lot of kids around, but they lived mostly in their own sphere. Happily for introvert me, K had me frost the cake and make tortillas. The food was a bit haphazard, but tasted wonderful. I'd never seen a whole fresh pineapple grilled before, but wow. And K made some sauce not for the weak of tongue. Dave's birthday is later this week, an excellent reason to celebrate.

Wound up talking with a woman with a small baby, and a real, if self-taught, education. D in his element then. I try to keep my own area of expertise low key, as always, preferring to talk about anything else.

Bunch of good folks, always a blessing

Plans

And today, went to lunch with D's brother, who flew in for the weekend from California. He has connections and gets quite the deal on flights here, and still has a huge number of friends - mostly in the music community, here. We did get invited to dinner with him last night, with the brothers parents, but we were not about to cancel on Dave and K. However, we did pass them on the way out of Red Iguana - so we stopped for hugs, and made plans for lunch with bro today.

Drove up the canyon to the Diner, to get out of the valley air. It didn't feel MUCH cooler, but we had time to talk.

Before we headed out, Moby came out to be admired, and claim ownership. D's brother is a cat-guy. Part of what I like about him.

D got his new chair today. Just like my drafting stool that I've had since Boston and the original back pain onset. His old office chair is gone, and although he wishes this one slightly more padded, he does like how sturdy it is, and the position he sits in for playing guitar. And I have my chair back, now. Well, he had to give it a good try to be sure it was going to work for him.

Shiatsu

Got a shiatsu massage on Wednesday, which both helps, and hurts - but not harms. Found lots of hot spots, I'm following up on all of them. And I will follow up with her as well, she's got a good touch. I think I've found my massage therapist, I hope when she's finished her training she stays somewhere close.

Thursday spent entirely at work, a taffy day. Sweet, but it stretched out... kept going and going and going. The nurse scrubbed in appreciated that I had everything put away by the time the patient left the room, a no inconsiderable bit of running. We were the last two staff, and I know I didn't want to stay longer than necessary. I stopped her in sterile processing to tell her the room was done, and she could just leave. This went over well. I've been scrubbed with another nurse circulating who does nothing to clean up ahead of time on late days, which keeps me from respecting her.

Friday, we'd finally managed to plan a day to meet up with Dave and K, so I asked to be out on time. This is a feature of this job, if your room goes late, you stay until it's done. I knew this at my interview before I was hired. But, one can make a particular request, and everyone does their best to help out. Ran a lot on Friday, did get out on time.

So lovely to share amazing food with two dear friends. K had the mole amarillo, which we all had to taste. Wow. I knew her to be a brave woman, but holy cajones! Nothing like hot food to lift one's mood. Next time we go there, I'm gettin' that. We didn't skirt any sad issues, but neither did we dwell on them. K played D's Martin, and Dave asked D "why two pick-ups on a Telecaster?" D was happy as a gear head asked a question. Pigs in mud got nothing on that.

Life

I wrote a meandering whine about not having friends, but had to make so many qualifications and exceptions. I live with the dearest friend imaginable, and a cat who loves us (in his cat way) and all of you who read here.

No, right now we don't have a circle of friends, no one to socialize with, no way to find others. The old gang scattered, some to California, some into their own lives, making children their centers.

The gap left by the lost friend still aches, when I wanted to share a story with her, an image, a video she would love. And I realize how little I ever asked of her, so that when I did, it apparently seemed an imposition, a burden too heavy to be borne. My fault for overloading, hers for not being clear sooner. But she really was irreplaceable, will remain so.

So, cherish my dear little family, and be open to life. Yes, I will remember.

Life is just a chair of bowlies.

Time

Visited Dave* and K, Mike* and R visiting from out of state stopped by. Given the number of children (one not shown) it was remarkably peaceful, even for people as childnoise sensitive as D and me. Good to be social for an afternoon, have other people to talk with. I find I'm more comfortable with simple company, just being there.


Even the drive, long by my standards and tolerance for driving, didn't seem that long yesterday. Rain all the way out, view of snow dusted mountains and low hanging clouds all the way back.

Snowing away this morning, so we are just watching it. Will walk in it later, but not quite yet. We have time.
Really easing into having time for my own thoughts, our own pace.




*With names like these, who needs pseudonyms?

Test

Looking forward to our trip next month. We'll be able to meet up with N. Our friend who'd gotten stuck here, feeling like he had few choices, got a nasty shock, deprived of his job, and is moving out to the city he has yearned to live in for years. He has support from family there, and no worse job prospects than here. Amazing how, when one circumstance changes, what seemed like an unbearable weight can just roll away. When only one path is open, when you have to take it, it turns out to be pretty steep, but not nearly as hard in reality as it was in imagination. The further he pushes through, the more opportunities are opening up for him. We'll miss him, but we mostly want to see him happy in his life, in his work.

Often, when we feel most stuck, it is because we just don't want to look at a real, fundamental, solution. We just want to keep doing the same thing over and over, as it becomes a grudge match to make it work. Or we want the people around us to stop doing what they are doing, and everything will be just fine. And they simply won't cooperate. That is when anger becomes the most self indulgent trap, because it justifies our own cowardice and lack of imagination to step back and act differently, think in a new way, chose to feel calm in the midst of chaos. I've been in that trap, I know it well.

There is a story of a man at one of the lunch counter sit-ins during the Civil Rights Movement. White bigots mass around and tell the man "We're gonna do to you what you do to that chicken!" And the man picks up the piece of chicken, and kisses it.*
(Dick Gregory, thanks to Sky. )

The best way not to lose a rigged game is simply not to play. Let those caught in the game win. Let others have the last word. Choose "Other" and fill in the blank yourself. Resist every easy choice, and take the hardest test. It's not pass fail, it's always just a way to learn. Even when you get every answer 'wrong.'

Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result is a sure sign of self trapping. We are all susceptible to addictive behaviour. Positive feedback loops are very destructive.

I've loved the Tao Te Ching from my first exposure to it. And when I read that it was given to children in school as an exercise to reinterpret, I thought about trying that myself. And have not yet done so. Perhaps it is time I begin. Alternating with entries from Brewers.

It's a test for me.


*If you have any other information about this story, please let me know. Dick Gregory, link above. (Sorry it took me so long to add.)

Everyman

Begin here. This spot.
Center of the universe.
Now, in this season.


I am touched by your outpouring. Hit a nerve, though, didn't I? Sorry about that. But I'm really good at hitting nerves. Which is why you read here, but imagine that in a friend. Yeah, I thought so. We've all lost friendships, and known that it was, at least partly, if not mostly, our own faults. We all have regrets. Our lives change in juttering, jarring, jangling, gaps of dismay, guilt and unpleasantly mixed feelings. We've all been there. You are not alone. And as much as I feel thus, neither am I. No more than we all are, ultimately.

And in this little reading spot where perhaps a score of souls drop in, in drib and drabs, this cozy nook for quiet, waving friendships, we all remembered our faded companionships. I imagine you with a cup of tea in an armchair in the corner, another browsing the shelves, overlapping perhaps a half an hour, a few minutes, then one leaves, then the other, and I stand behind the counter alone for a while as people on the street gaze in the window, examine something for a moment then decide to walk on. I'll close up when I feel like it, or just stay open because I have nowhere else to be. And I've got a good book. Or an idea to write down, anyway. Do the crossword, read the funnies, pet the cat.

Those are the numbers, about twenty regular visitors, with perhaps another twenty to forty more who happen here once, or off and on, and decide not to return, each day. Blame the vicissitudes of the search engines. None of the people I know from my ordinary life read here. A few have poked their noses in for a look, nodded in tolerant bafflement, then never returned. A woman who was my sweetest friend in seventh and eighth grade comes by, occasionally sending me an email to comment. A friendship that both of us remember fondly, and although our lives diverged, we left a space for each other, even though we neither of us knew it for many long years.

Please, think no ill of my now-former-friend. She made an honest, hard choice. She gleamed and basked in my harsh friendship for a very long time. I commend her courage, and will always love and admire her. Distance and life differences, the inability to talk in person, have broken us. There is no way to end any relationship that is not awkward and messy.

I was once dumped by a lovely man, in the most clean, complete and painful way. To this day, I hold it up as the paragon of taking it on the chin. His chin. We'd been dating for a couple of months, I was going through the divorce and he was a sweetly healing rebound relationship. Then I got the call that my unit would be activated to Gulf War I. He told me that evening that he would not be seeing me again. THAT took guts. But it was so honest, he was not going to let me hold out hopes, or let the circumstances try to soften the blow - but actually muddy the issue. Hurt like lemon juice after the grater went over my skin. But I dealt better with that clean cut than with any other rejection. To this day, I send blessings down on his head for treating me like the tough cookie I am. And letting me go when it would have been easier on him to draw it out. That such a good human being would like me and treat me with dignity, went a long way to showing me how to value myself. We really weren't a good fit, but we had a good time in that moment in between.

Then, I met D.

So, if you are reading here and you know the friend I mentioned in the last post, keep it to yourself. It doesn't matter. This is a common story. I tell it because I always believe that the more detailed personal stories are the most universal. We are Everyman when we describe the color of the buttons, the smell of the bread baking, the taste of the tears.

And if you are that now former friend, don't torture yourself. You made a decision, stick to it. Don't come by here anymore. Trust your instincts, trust yourself. Give it a year, if you want to reassess. For now, stay away, delete the bookmark, delete my old email, blacklist my address.

As Mrs. Cosmopolite says, "It'll never get better if you pick at it."

Ends

A friendship has ended, and I know now that I was right to have wondered if she wanted it to end before. It's hard to be the bad guy and tell someone you just don't like them that much anymore. The slipping of interest was obvious, but explainable as a temporary, circumstantial change, not permanent nor fundamental. A series of what should have been minor misunderstandings caused mutual bad feeling, mostly bafflement on my part. My suggestion that we assume mutual lack of malice and just wipe the muddle away and start fresh and lightly was given a mere few weeks trial, and I was told that her feelings had changed. A simple phone call was rejected because she had a hard time hearing me properly the last time we spoke on the phone, the word she used was "harrowing." I could pick at the details, but it wouldn't change the fundamental fact, I was no longer a comfort and joy to her. Nothing else matters, really.

I suspect I'm not much of a friend, not in the long run certainly. I have no real friends now, which grieves me. How I manage to keep a warm and loving marriage going is something of an anomaly. I'm cranky and opinionated and more than a little intense. I don't really tolerate fools or hypocrites with anything like grace. I'm well known for walking away from ties that pinch, i.e. my genetic family. I do make an effort to keep in touch, which seems not to be a virtue. One very old friend cut me off bit by bit, until there was no contact left. We met at a party about a year or so ago, had a lovely, warm conversation, exchanged information (we live two blocks apart) and she never made contact. I figured it was her move, and was unsurprised that she did not make it. On the other hand, I reconnected with a once very close friend after many years apart, and after a visit from her, decided I could not deal with all her excuses for why her life had gone astray, the same ones she'd been using for over a decade at that point. She did not need my pity, and I could not have hidden it long. Friendships falter on such shoals.

So, I am very grateful for all of you who stop by and leave a comment, think kindly of me, send art. (ahem.)

I have D and Moby, I am blessed beyond measure. I shall focus on jokes and amusing stories for the next while. After today. Not today. Today I am just grieving and letting go, and realizing that a dull weight has been lifted. Earning back trust is no easy task, after all. I was willing, trying, but now, well, job over, cancelled, go home. Shrug and get changed, check out.

Engaging case to end the day, which passed the time so well.

Stuck

Today would not move, no matter how hard we pushed. Everything sticky. Finally called home, and requested a meal, and when asked for a suggestion, I offered, "stew." D took this idea, and made a spicy, flavorful meal with peppers and... well, everything else, really. He's found a real talent for stew and chili. We are now savoring the panettoni we got last week. Remembering Mrs. Rizzardi, my adopted next door Italian grandmother. Finally appreciating the less sugared treats she once offered, that I would now adore.

Reading about concussions in student athletes, the need for giving them cognitive time as well as physical recuperation. And I kept thinking about my childhood concussion, the teeter-totter, as well as my migraines. Mouth hurts from the retainer, coping. Reminding me also of my time in braces, and how it helped with the headaches. Have not had one of those in the past year. Headaches, sure, but no migraines. Taking an hour or two out of the retainer for my sanity. So hard to enunciate around it. I can do it, but it tires me the fuckout.


Dearest friend seems to be up for forgetting and calling it an anomaly. Still raw, both. Hopeful.

Awe

People really are awesome. So much generosity and kindness to be found. I am often pleased at how good people can be.

And then, an act of breathtaking beauty brings me to tears. In September, I broke a bowl I'd made. Struck a nerve, fed into this stage of my life, when I must deal with increasing losses, and get up each morning with fresh eyes. Herhimnbryn leapt at the idea of using the shards of this pot for her mosaic creations, and I gladly sent her my stricken pot. Then she made it into a marvelous box, which I admired on her site.

Last evening, came home wrung out, to find a mysterious package. From Australia. Well, I knew it was from her, but was so struck that it was that very box. It sits, at least for the moment, surrounded by some of my surviving pottery, candle sticks and a bottle, with the bits of the beloved pot.

I run my fingers over it, the rough sandy grout, the smooth glassy tiles, and am comforted beyond words. The broken never goes back the way it was, but becomes even more lovely than it ever imagined it could be.

Thank you, so much. With a hug to your beloved, and a scritch to Bryn. Your timing could not have been better.

Places

Boston, Massachusetts, 2004, The Charles, Harvard Bridge. Pink earrings. D took this one. We'd walked much further than planned, as usual in Boston. He carried this photo, actually a similar one taken just after, in his wallet. Still does, but it's nearly worn through.

Lava Hot Springs, Idaho, in hot spring, turning 35 just fine.

Detroit, Michigan, Wayne State gym, folk dancing meeting, the phrase "She forgot to bring the eggs, ohhhh pshaw, pshaw!" for a fast Israeli folk dance. Circles and lots of people holding hands, music, warmth.

Outside of Kalkaska, Michigan, on a small lake, in a heavy snowstorm, about midnight, finally making friends with darkness.

Colorado Springs, Colorado, Fort Carson, parade field, manhole cover, standing next to D in the only place without snow, hoping he'd kiss me, watching a huge winter moon.

Eskan Village, Saudi Arabia, walking around in the rain surrounded by beige concrete buildings, falling in love while surreptitiously holding hands.

Windsor, Ontario, a Chesterfield, falling asleep on Aunt Evelyn's arm.

Antelope Island, Buffalo Point, overwhelming winds, scurrying clouds, out in the wild.

San Diego, California, on the pier, in a diner with Moira and D, with a storm, feeling the room sway and rock, with cocoa.

Astoria, Oregon, Steven's Point, on the beach, sandblasted. Remembering Crane Beach, Massachusetts in November with cousins. Right out on the edges.







Ten places. Ten that I have a happy memory in. Not in temporal order.

Envy

I always worry about seemingly good people who have trouble envying other people's joy and good fortune. A friend who avoids K and Dave, and their children because he so wants a family and children of his own. Instead of camping out there every weekend, babysitting, and getting the best of both worlds, he denies himself a version of what he loves. Instead of taking the bitter with the sweet, and relishing what he can have that would benefit his friends and their children. He's a very good person, but seems to have gotten a bit lost lately.

What we wish for others is what so often comes to us, in some form, in time, if done with no expectation that we will get a direct one-to-one reward. Life doesn't work like that. But when we want love and comfort and happiness for others, with all our hearts, we open ourselves up to love and comfort and happiness - it's easier for us to see it around us, and it grows better.

The ex, when that relationship deteriorated, hated seeing couples in public, had to turn away, sickened. I gazed at them in awe and pleasure. Maybe I would never find it, but such sweet love existed, and that seemed enough. Just knowing beauty exists in the world, even if I don't own it, lifts me up. I don't have to own the ocean to be glad at how gorgeous it is.

Bitter resentment and jealously only breeds more isolation and pain.

So, although I indulge in whining about my angry, judgmental parents here, I adore hearing about others with warm, friendly families. Mine were a bit of bad luck, and not the worst by any means, but that's all they were. Loving families can happen, I just didn't get that to start out with. Gives me the right to not love the ones I got, because they could have been good, but weren't. Fair deal. And I got better family when I got to chose for myself. Once I was a better person, better people joined in.

We have a friend, with his wife and children, and million dollar home and yearly income, and we are so tickled to see him enjoy his well earned wealth. It suits him, he indulges in toys and gathers in friends, nothing fake or boastful about him. We'd have fun if we came into a fortune, of course.

A common enough speculation, what would we do with a cool million, or ten? Cut back on work, but not stop. Live in a somewhat larger place, that we would own. With ten million, start a non-profit foundation to benefit friends, and friends of friends, who want to try out strange ideas. And build a house on the Northwest coast with lots of guest rooms, and be the vacation spot for everyone we know.

Whence

Moby has amazed us repeatedly at his tolerance for young children. He doesn't run away at their approach, tolerating them, even unto being touched, until it gets more than he's up for, then he gets out of reach, and only after does he find it necessary to simply leave the area. We don't know when he got used to the idea of children, but it seems connected to his acceptance of anyone we allow inside. "Oh, friends of yours, then they are mine as well, conditionally."

He has approached maintenance guys, who have played with him. The delivery man for the Chinese food, who has become familiar, has "spsppst"'d at him, so last night, I picked Moby up to meet and greet. Although not in a mood to be held, he happily let himself be petted for a moment, the delivery guy, in a bliss of feline adoration, got to say hellooo. He has a "yellow" cat at home. Some people just have a soft spot for our furry overlords.

Our sitter mentioned that he got more affectionate over the four days we were gone. He is not the most overtly demonstrative cat, but he's perfect for us. As we are perfect for each other. Not actual perfection, but the relative sort. And he likes our friends.

When we had our reception, seven years after the wedding, our friends joined us. And during the evening, the staff approached both D and I to make a point of telling us how lovely our friends were, repeatedly. Owner and waiters both. We knew this, but it's always good to have one's experiences confirmed.

From whence doth this come? We mirror each other, and strive to deserve such people in our lives. Not sure we do, but we are grateful, nevertheless.

Companionship

On the Sunday, we rested. Moira and C and their little Plum found an apartment full of light, and have filled it with their even brighter intelligence, and two foodie cats. C experiments with bamboo flutes, and a frankencello. We rested there, completely at home, no agenda, no plan. Rather like the last time they visited us, and Moira napped on the sofa while Plum napped in our bedroom. Rare to find a friend one can so completely relax around, to find two couples who are friends who can do this is perhaps unique, and certainly a blessing unutterable.

No, that's not Moby. But a larger cat still, no doubt of Maine Coon descent, Umeko/Bear. Both he and Kibo/Mau had been dangerously obese, until Moira gave them a home, right after her two previous cats had died within weeks of each other. They've slimmed considerably, happily showering Moira with affection and devotion.

Ok, make that three couples in blissful, mutual solitude.

Refugees

The Cat found refuge from the many children cousins first on my lap to be petted, then with Mike to sleep. We talked for hours, someone got D a guitar, and I had a pick in my pocket (as I often do, just in such a case.) There was consternation among this group about mutual turning 40 within the past year. I understood, I really did. But I've seen 50 ahead, and I trust that my cousin Elizabeth is right that life begins at 50. To me, they all look to have come into their own, with varying levels of assurance and comfort. But the men all seem more distinguished, the women all more deeply beautiful in my eyes. I said none of this, they will find out for themselves, in their own way, in their own time. I'm just blessed beyond belief to know them all, and to have known them all for so long.

Sad

Picked up the free local rag yesterday, and read for the first time in a very long time the Free Will Astrology. I've always rather liked it, because although astrology is hokum, random wise words can sometimes strike a nerve. Bound to happen. And this column is more generally applicable than most.

When I read this,

When people are truly dehydrated, the impulse that tells them they're thirsty shuts down. That's why they may not know they're suffering from a lack of water. In a metaphorically similar way, Pisces, you have been deprived so long of a certain kind of emotional sustenance that you don't realize what you're missing. See if you can find out what it is, and then make measured (non-desperate!) plans to get a big, strong influx of it. The cosmic rhythms will be on your side in this effort!

I knew exactly what it meant in my life. (Your interpretation will be different, of course.) Not a bolt out of the blue, I know I'm short of friends, bereft of anyone here but the guys I share my home and life with. Knowing it, and feeling it are not the same. I am particular about those who I call friends. I would not slight the amazing people who fit that definition for me by taking on acquaintances and using the same word. But I could surely use a companion or two, here and now. And there is no one. The friends are far away, or wrapped up in their lives so thoroughly that we are left aside. No one I could call to get together and just talk, share a beer, or a pot of tea with. No one to read a book along side, or meet at a local festival.

You who come here to read are certainly friends, but as with my other dear friends, you are far away. No hugs, no reassuring arm around my shoulders. And, after so many years with just the two of us (and Moby), we can't seem to find a way to invite more people in. None that we want in, so far.

This is sad, but neither of us, despite a few ineffectual attempts, have found a new friend, the kind we bring home, for years. And I honestly don't think here are any cosmic rhythms that will actually help. Phase of our lives, perhaps.

Really looking forward to our trip this summer, see all the California transplanted friends.

Must remember to bring our joy with us, leave the mopes at home.

Gusty

Blowing
Dust
Hi 74 °F

Gusty and dusty. Wonderful. Must get out the neti pot, again. Moby very excitable.



Thinking about the people I've met, and been subject to, who claimed to be experts at judging people, who were so wrong about me. My eldest brother, career Air Force, was the first and most persuasive. Being young, I didn't trust my own assessment of myself, but only suspected his was even more wrong. But it's human to bow to such confidence, whatever underlying revolution in my heart. He saw me as a manager of people, which I have found I have absolutely no talent for. He tried to push me away from religion when he was into all the New Age ideas, and back into it when he returned to be a staunch Catholic. What he never saw of me was my innate stubbornness that would remain standing once the decorations of my youth fell away. He never saw that I knew my own mind, and resented his meddling to the point of expelling him from my life. Probably he doesn't care, except insofar as it upsets his ideal of family.

I watch people, and although I know who I will trust at my back, that doesn't mean I know who they are, or even if I will like them. Some people I would trust with my life, I would not want to talk with over lunch, given a choice. Likewise I have friends who I could spend days chatting with, that I would not loan $20 to. Give them, sure, loan with any expectation of seeing again - not a chance. The ones I would count on to show up and help us move, the ones I would tell my most vulnerable truth to, I spotted as such pretty quickly. Charm and reliability come together, but they are very discrete traits, and do not necessarily link.

I always knew I wanted D at my back, and I liked him immensely as well. Likewise Moira, who proved herself over and over in our work together, and in our lives since. I don't pretend I can read either of their minds, only that they are both strong, courageous, and whole.