Unpaving

Spring has some.  Rain next week. So, I had to get the pavers moved and the rain barrels up. I always get caught up and do too much, and ache after. But the greenness is calling out, and I must comply. 

The barrels are also finally connected with tubing, so both will fill, given enough rain. 
 

Ashes

 How can I forget

That I am dust and unto 

Dust I shall return?

"Fortunately, some are born with spiritual immune systems that sooner or later give rejection to the illusory worldview grafted upon them from birth through social conditioning. They begin sensing that something is amiss, and start looking for answers. Inner knowledge and anomalous outer experiences show them a side of reality others are oblivious to, and so begins their journey of awakening. Each step of the journey is made by following the heart instead of following the crowd and by choosing knowledge over the veils of ignorance." 

 - Henri Bergson 

daily zen

Strangely, I've used this analogy most of my adult life. Ten years of catholic school inoculated me against religion. Quite the opposite effect from what my mother intended.  And my questioning began about age seven, when St. Anthony clearly failed to find a small ring I'd lost.  If a saint can't convince a god to find a small child's most treasured possession, what good are they? Nothing should be easier, or more important if they required her belief. The only sensible deduction is that neither exist at all. 

Fulminent

 Yesterday I missed the wordle, just bad luck choosing letters.  So when I got home, Dylan tried it, and got it in two.  I watched him with absolute delight as he put in the correct word, made my day. I also got one in two this past week. Strangely, it was both nice, and a bit of a disappointment to get it so easily - much more satisfying to get it in 4 or 5. 

It was also a day that felt like a lot of progress, I had a lot to do, and accomplished pretty much what I'd hoped to. Figured out a snarl that I hadn't even seen before, that will make the re-organization of clinic designations a lot more effective. Sounds boring, but it's really an essential piece to keep the right patients getting the right care in good time. It took this long for me to understand the process sufficiently to correct it. 

Of course I worry for the world. But it also feels like a tipping point.  The time to lance the boil, amputate the limb, the infection has declared itself, and there is no question about the next, drastic, steps that need to be taken. Nothing will be the same, after. 

People demand to know why the side that is trying to do good is "so bad at messaging!"  There are at least two reasons for this. Good people do not think like evil people, and assume that most people are good and doing the best they can. Good people trust that everyone else is just trying to do the best they can with what they have.  This is an essential part of what makes up good people. 

The second major problem is that good people don't have the power of fear and anger to crush the other side. If they did, they wouldn't be good anymore. Humans respond more to violence and fear because those are immediate threats - it's a core Survive-right-now instinct.  Good things can be safely ignored. Immediate threats have to be put in the center and fought or run from in a way that chronic threats do not. All our stories are about monsters and violence, fear and loss - because that is when we need stories the most. Malignity comes in many forms, we must be able to see it and fight it. And that is obsessive and addictive, all that rage, all that horror, and it's easy for evil people to misdirect us, send us after the wrong enemy. 

Beneficence is... well, boring.  It always looks pretty much the same. That it feels better, allows us to think and find joy - means it's much harder to talk about, harder to share. Because Good isn't the opposite of Evil.  Good is a balance of forces.  Evil is the extremes of violence and submission, both but without stability. 

It's why I will never write a decent novel, I keep taking the conflict out of it. I want to soothe, and make every character's life better, just as I do in my everyday. I genuinely do not get angry anymore, not like I used to. I had my father's rage in me, for so long, but it's run out now. I feel the sadness, the frustration, the fear, but it doesn't turn into anger anymore. Burned out that circuit, apparently. 

I have no time machine, I can't go back and un-mistake. I have to take it from here and make the best I can of it. Learn the lesson and proceed to work the problem. Press the error into my brain, find a way to avoid it in the future, and move on. 

It doesn't make for a compelling story. Makes for a better life, though. 

Yes, that is a heating vent behind Zeppo's left shoulder. 

Brain

 My brain is starting to show the effects of learning so many new things. I'm starting to see the patterns, and notice when it's wrong.  One of my colleagues has been effusive in her praise for my picking up on, and continuing to pick at, an anomaly. Specifically because the mistake made would have been a blow to patient care if not caught early. I still think her handling of it had more effect, but I let the positive reinforcement work on me. 

I'm finding ways to double check that make sense to me. 

Got four surgeries scheduled yesterday.  I'll get another one or two tomorrow, and possibly catch up on the waitlist a bit by next week.  Booked out to May for shoulders, and into April for hands. We need another couple of surgeons, our new hand surgeon starts this month. And our new shoulder surgeon should be here by fall. Until then, we make do. 

Gods, we need Universal Health Care.  But within that,  we also need specific Veteran care, because they are a particular population with their own peculiar needs. Lots of substance abuse, lots of homelessness and unstable home lives, lots of mental health issues - and not all combat related PTSD.  The VA is actually equipped to deal with in, in a way that non-VA hospitals are not. We keep surgical patients as long as they need, when other hospitals would send them home that day or the next day. None of our patients will ever lose their house because of a hospital bill. Most of our Vets really appreciate how they are cared for here. 

Of course some don't - mostly because they want something that isn't what they need. Patients who seem to think surgery is magic and will take away all their pain. The ones who think our top notch shoulder surgeon doesn't know what he is talking about when he says that further surgery would be a phenomenally bad idea. The grumpy guy who blames everyone else for him not checking his mail or calling before driving in from Podunk, UT.  I suspect they are what would once have been called malingerers.  One in every platoon, I think I know what they were like in Basic. 

And I love that I have that experience, that commonality, that urge to yell "Airborn!" when something is dropped and breaks. 

If you know, you know. If you don't - it's not really possible to explain. The experience, the feeling of it. 

And now, this work, this duty. It's sort of the same, first wallowing and nearly drowning, and finally floating in it. Like marching with 32 women and making hardly a sound. 

Answers

Addendum: Salt Lake City - 4568 ft 7 AM Sun    11.0" /28cm  snow, 1.50"/ 3.8cm water.

 And we got 0.75", 1.9cm, water out of this storm, and it's still going.  Soaking in the cardboard under sand. Compost next week sometime. I'm not driving in this if I don't have to. 

This was part of why I went all out yesterday, but this result is better than expected. 

Sandy

Whole lotta sand under there.  And beneath that a weed stop fabric, doing mostly nothing. And under that, coarse gravel. That might have been put there by the Previous Owner, but I suspect it used to be a sort of driveway, since it lead to the coal chute. 

Yes, my back does hurt, but not as badly as after any random day in the OR, so... yeah. I laid cardboard under a layer of sand, and it's supposed to rain tonight and tomorrow. Sometime next week, I'll add compost. And then plant beets, parsley, lentils. I'm looking at Oryzopsis hymenoides, Indian Ricegrass, as a native well suited to this space. 

It already feels better back there. 

Eighty

"My father, who lived to ninety-four, often said that the eighties had been one of the most enjoyable decades of his life. He felt, as I begin to feel, not a shrinking but an enlargement of mental life and perspective. One has had a long experience of life, not only one's own life, but others' too. One has seen triumphs and tragedies, booms and busts, revolutions and wars, great achievements and deep ambiguities. One has seen grand theories rise, only to be toppled by stubborn facts. One is more conscious of transience and, perhaps, of beauty. At eighty, one can take a long view and have a vivid, lived sense of history not possible at an earlier age. I can imagine, feel in my bones, what a century is like, which I could not do when I was forty or sixty. I do not think of old age as an ever grimmer time that one must somehow endure and make the best of, but as a time of leisure and freedom, freed from the factitious urgencies of earlier days, free to explore whatever I wish, and to bind the thoughts and feelings of a lifetime together. I am looking forward to being eighty." 

 - Oliver Sacks 

Gratitude

Ok, I needed this.  Had to deal with a grumpy man, who is 80 (I know because he told me several times that was why I didn't produce a hand surgeon out of thin air to see him, and that meant I obviously wanted him to just die.)  Instead I spoke like I was his grandma, reflecting back his platitudes to me - "Phone works two ways, you know!"

"Yes, I know. So instead of driving four hours here*, check your mailbox and call before you come. Phone works both ways, as you say." Eventually I just got chipper, "See you on the 14th!" He snarled and stormed off. My schedulers and I laid bets that he would show up anyway. 

So, aging doesn't automatically bring wisdom.  It offers the opportunity, and it's up to each of us to reach out and grasp it.

This spring I am reclaiming some of the Previous Owner's ill conceived patio for the garden.  It gets so much morning and midday sun, when the back of the garden gets very little sun due to property line junk trees. A baking patio and a cold dark garden is the wrong way round.  So I will take up the pavers, move them to the car-turnaround area that gets so muddy.  For the garden extension, put down cardboard and compost and plant beets and parsley

*2 hours, more like. Still significant, but not 4. 

Fuzzy

 She loves him, purring.

Sleeps behind his knee, pinning

Him down as he sleeps.

Turning

 My week living at my own pace, quiet and slow, is coming to an end. I know there is a lot of work waiting for me, that I will need to hit the ground running in the morning. Lots to do, and it's a clinic day, but... I'm ready. It'll be fine, and I will return with energy and the will to learn again. 

My thoughts are with Ukraine, of course. The world is changing in ways we cannot predict. The past steps back, and the future is unformed. We do not know.  

My own life is nothing like what I imagined when I was small and straining to see how it would all turn out.   Turned out, and beyond, and keeps on turning. 

Finding out new stuff every day. 

Sixty

 Since the cats voted, they in fact can be on the dining room table, I put a blanket on it.

I really did plan on doing more cleaning and sorting this week. But my brain voted, and it's on break. I've been reading trifles and fluff only, and staying in my pjs past 10AM. 

We got tarts from a very nice little bakery, lemon cream, and an almond cream. So expensive, so worth it.  Shared on with a friend who stopped by after work. She dished the dirt on the current situation of the old OR, and I am beyond relieved that I don't work there anymore. 

Have not gotten called about anything for work from my colleague - so if anything came up, it wasn't so bad she had to text me. Of course, she could handle anything that came up, that was never a worry. I know I've left her some loose ends, because I'm not quite to the point of tying them all up first time. And I was more than willing to answer if anything came up that I'd messed up that badly. So, yeah, very relieved. 

Dim Sum with more friends today, and a long conversation about nothing much. Well, and the situation in Ukraine. I chose to hope. Not because it's objectively accurate, but because it makes it possible to keep going. And we must keep going. 

Seeing the usual Saturday friends tomorrow, as well. We got together last Monday to play Fuse and Crew. And eat. 

It's been a week full of friends, rest, cats, good food and idleness. 

Feeling not bad at all for 60. 

Miss

 Not to worry, this was yesterday's word.  I started out with 10 letters that utterly missed.  Pulled it out at the end, though. 

Wave

Got rid of the last of the grey paint, and covered the mucky bottom. The top is still white, allowing for light. But down low is this lovely purple, and it feels so much warmer, welcoming. I'm delighted with how it turned out. As usual for any of my projects, it is not perfect, and that's just fine by me. 
 

Garlic

 Most of the time, I hate receiving gifts.  As a child, I had to be effusive in my thanks for anything given to me, or there would be punishment. I had to put on a big smile and gush about how wonderful the thing was, and it made me so uncomfortable - it was acting, and it was lying. So much so that when I genuinely DID love a present, it looked like I didn't - because when they really did find a real Gift - my real reaction was quiet and overwhelmed. 

When pushed about a gift, what did I want? What about this? Or this? I struggled to answer, because to say, No, not that, no not quite, I sounded greedy. I didn't really want anything at all. 

It happened this past week at work, they wanted to buy me lunch. Decided on pizza. Asked me what pizza I like. Well, I like pizza dough from Trader Joes, and mild salsa, and their shredded Mexican cheese... Other than that, I don't much like commercial pizza. They put garlic in their sauce, often a lot of it.  They opted for The Pie - a local place that has been very popular for decades. I ate there once, and did not like thin crust, crispy pizza, did not like their sauce - I've figured out since that I have a garlic intolerance (that is getting worse over time.) I've had a bite or two since when it's been ordered for work lunches, and it's still not to my taste.  I told them to just get it for themselves, I will maybe have a slice, and I appreciate the thought (which - I do.)

When they brought it in, I asked Don how much garlic he thought was in it. 

"Oh, lots! Everytime I have this, my wife can smell it on my breath."

I got out my own lunch, said "I'd love to eat with you."  And meant it.  The whole thing of eating food they bought for me put me into a silent panic attack, while they were out of the cubicle. 

They wished me a Happy Birthday, then wished each other a Happy Birthday, and I added Merry Un-Birthdays to the chorus. I tried to mention my own weirdness with food, my mother's yoyo dieting, and apologized for being "funny about food." I hope they knew I appreciated their intention. And that they don't try to do any more gifts. 

Don asked me if my birthday was the next day. I said no, not until the next week. Then volunteered my age - so that he knew it wasn't about that. I don't mind a bit of teasing, especially since they are clearly all so kind. I think they realized they'd pushed just a bit too far for me. 

I got a card from Dylan's parents. It had a metal bookmark with a penguin charm.  They know I read, they know I like penguins as a sort of totem. But I have never used non-disposable bookmarks because I  lose or break them, usually on the first book. For the past decade or so, I've used the flat silicone tip protectors that come in a lot of surgical devices, they slightly stick to the pages without holding it open too far. I have scores of them collected, I fiddle with them while I read. 

They apparently got the perfect little gift for me. But it really shows that they don't know me, and now I have a bit more clutter, made in China, that I will never use. And I have to thank them, which I will. Inside I'm thinking, "thank you for making me uncomfortable, stared at and yet unseen." I'd much prefer not to get anything at all. I'd rather be actually not seen, at all. 

This is why I go to such lengths not to be at work on my birthday, to avoid the worst of the well-meaning, guilt-inducing, awful-feeling attention. 

It's not my birthday. It's not today. It's not my birthday so why do you lunge out at me?

Heatingpad

"So, I sat on that earlier.  Why do you like it so much?"

"because sometimes it warms up"

"I love you, Aunt Eleanor. You are so wise."

 

Reflection

"The heart is a leisurely muscle. It differs from all other muscles. How many push-ups can you make before the muscles in your arms and stomach get so tired that you have to stop? But your heart muscle goes on working for as long as you live. It does not get tired, because there is a phase of rest built into every single heartbeat. Our physical heart works leisurely. And when we speak of the heart in a wider sense, the idea that life-giving leisure lies at the very center is implied. Seen in this light, leisure is not a privilege but a virtue. Leisure is not the privilege of a few who can afford to take time, but the virtue of all who are willing to give time to what takes time - to give as much time as a task rightly takes."

 - Brother David Steindl-Rast 

Gratefulness, the Heart of Prayer

This week I hit a new learning point, after the past two weeks of finding my errors and correcting them, I am now at the point of realization of the scope of my job. A whole new swathe of details that need attention, but I'm not quite at the point of being able to see them from afar and take care of them before they bunch up around me.  But, I am getting there. 

Seeing it is an important step, without which it wasn't happening. 

Learning both how to manage my tasks, prioritize and organize. And still take all the time needed to be thorough.  I'm more comfortable with calling patients and fellow providers and just asking. 

Oh, and both my colleague/instructor got our evaluations, and got top marks all around, we think. She's done the job before, and came back to the job several months before I did. I'm new at it, just passed my 6 month mark. We aren't sure how we were rated, looks like a chart review - focused on our notes.  Either way, glad I'm doing what is expected of me, and improving. 

I've also benefitted from all the writing I've done in this space, so much easier to be precise and accurate and clear, because of comments on my writing for the past ~2 decades practice.  

So, thank you to all those who read and respond and honed my words for so long. Most of the main readers from 15 years ago are gone, but at least one or two still visit. I'm grateful to all of you. 

Mostly, though, I am learning a sort of deep and abiding kindness. A patient attentiveness. 

Yes, I can do this for five years. 

And then, I can step back and ... well, not DO, but be. I will find what joys I can in not Being Useful - the guiding star of my life so far. I will soften and warm and allow, find and let go. 

From the point that I started dying my hair, not being ready to turn grey in my 30s, I promised myself I would, at 60, let it be whatever color it wanted. I would accept.  And a week before, I cut off all the remaining stained hair, and I am, indeed, all grey. It wasn't specifically in my mind that I was fulfilling the promise to myself, not until after I'd already done it. 

We are refinancing our House today, finishing up the process. Get the loan out of the hands of one of the more evil banks (not our choice, it was sold to them by our original mortgage institution) and into a less evil Credit Union. Lower payment, shorter pay off, better interest rate too. 

Next week I'm taking off, let my mind settle and reflect. 

Damn

This is what we are fighting and what we are fighting for.  Damn the confederacy, damn the slaveowners, damn them all. 

Longer

 Good morning. 

Well, you see, the last vestiges of the henna I put on last year, and hated, were seriously bugging me. 

I cut it to shoulder length a couple of weeks ago.  And Sunday I cut off more.  I may go get the back trimmed up at the barber shop, if they will do it for a reasonable price.

 Morgan Donner inspires me. 

I have been thinking about just buzzing it all off, but letting it grow out after is an enormous pain in the butt, and I'm not really up for a year of shaggy hair. 

It's actually chin length.  Most of the stained hair is no longer. 

I think my vitamin D levels are back in normal range, I have new hair growth, and I'm getting my energy back. Or maybe I'm just recovering from years of burn-out. 

It also occurred to me this week that my Social Security will be higher when I retire, because I'll be both full time and better paid at that point, than if I'd stayed in the OR working 30 hours a week for a lower wage. Going through that last April was one of the hardest things I've done in a long time, but I'm glad I was able to work through it and emerge out the other side. Well disguised blessing. 

My team went to lunch yesterday, my colleague insisted on paying for my lunch - I had a very nice half sandwich (which was plenty and tasty), and I covered the tip for the table. Which went over well for the two NPs who had worked as waitstaff. It just happened that I was the only one with cash on me. 

Yesterday was nuts, so many different, often complex problems. Thankfully everyone was around, and there was a lot of group participation.  There was also a lot of patient EMOTION!! Seriously, one guy sent several (secure, MyHealthEVet) messages with many, many exclamation points. Every patient had a serious grip on the wrong end of the stick, and very upset about it. Spent a long time on the phone calming people down. Couldn't get a lot of what I planned to do even started until about 2:30, and was dealing with one last problem at 5:15. Well, they pay me until 5:30, so fair enough. 

I've been doing wordle, and love it. Love doing exactly ONE a day. It reminds me of playing Mastermind with my friend Anna in 6-8th grades. Our teacher had the game, and we were allowed a portion of each day to play various games. Anna and I spent a lot of time with Mastermind. Wordle is the same idea, but with words. 

Zeppo had a mat on his back haunch. Not sure how that happened. I secured him, to his displeasure but he didn't skedaddle, and cut it off. There didn't seem to be a scab indicating an injury, just matted fur. He's not got long fur, but it is fairly coarse. Maybe he slept funny?  Got his claws trimmed at the same time. He doesn't seem to mind that. And once I have him, he kinda freezes - it's not relaxed, he certainly does not purr, but he doesn't struggle either. Mostly, he hates the idea of being picked up. There is certainly a story there, and we can but speculate. 

Futures

Zeppo is a spherical cat. 

When I head out from work, I send Dylan a message.  Often without words. 

I walk the tunnels to get some exercise in. This job is much more desk-bound than any other I've ever worked. It's about 3K steps. I get into my thoughts, and often I find answers to problems. Thinking deeply is part of the work. This week was all about finding mistakes I didn't even realize I was making. And then fixing them. Moving forward, resigned to knowing time machines do not exist.  Tomorrow I will do better. 

 

Wintry

 "Deep in the wintry parts of our minds, we are hardy stock and know that there is no such thing as a work-free transformation. We know that we will have to burn to the ground in one way or another, and then sit right in the ashes of who we once thought we were and go on from there."

 - Clarissa Pinkola Estés
Women Who Run With the Wolves

I continue to write a page, by hand, most days.  Today I was downright restless for hours, pacing. 

I cleaned a bit of the spare room. 

Starving

The new glasses are so different from any other style I've worn. I do like them, but it's taking some getting used to.

Cats are starving. Always starving. We never ever feed them.

 

Permeable

 

Not the sort of writing that wants a readership. This is raw and angry, despairing and destructive, meandering and weird, without explanation or apology. This is not for public use, or even my own reading. It's the blockage to be cleared so that the words can pour out clearly again. 

A volcanic mess.

I watch the Tongan volcano news with a geological impassivity. 

I have to cancel surgeries, and listen to people who have suffered, and deliver them more disappointment. 

If I let this all tear at my heart, I could not go on. I try to let it pass through me, but some always sticks. 

I can't remember the name of the book Pete recommended, about the sailor and the bird and all the other animals that wind up on his boat journey.  He's told me again, before, so I hesitate to ask again. 

And last night I dreamt we were still living in an apartment, or at least also in an apartment. 

Decade

We have lived here for ten years. It doesn't feel that long, and it feels like we've always been here. Such amazing good fortune, such a marvelous decision. All our big decisions have proven to be good solid choices. Not perfect, perfection is neither possible nor desirable. But we have a good house, a good car, a good sofa, terrific cats, and we still adore each other after over 30 years together. 

I've been writing a page longhand in the Tibia notebook nearly every day.  Although it's been nice for my general state of mind, it feels like digging the moat - which has not started to fill up with creativity yet. Or at least not in terms of words enough to write here regularly. 

There is time. However rapidly it whizzes by. 

Happy Houseaversary, House!

Hare

Good New Year to all.  

We've been enjoying Reservation Dogs this week. I love shows and stories that force me to abandon my cultural assumptions. Bury Me Standing and Atanarjuat The Fast Runner are two more. And this video about the issues of Black Hair. 

 I've got my own issues around 

Hair

I Got Tears in my Ears from lying on my back in my bed while I cry over you, might be this year's theme song.  Rabbits and ears and tears. 

Márquez

New glasses.  

And so I rest here

A day ends a year ends here

At the end I rest. 

This is not what I could have expected, but I think a year ago I would have been glad to know there was respite. Not salvation, no paradise, but an easing, less pain, a chance. 

I have been vaccinated just over a year now, a second vaccination, a booster. Tested and shown antibodies, likely had it two years ago now.  Love in the Time of Corona. 

The war started long ago continues, the outcome unknowable.  The peace lays in our hearts, in our love for each other, and will not be extinguished. 

Lantern

Dylan and I gave each other Lucy. She is so soft and gives wonderful hugs. 

Our tree is less shiny this year, but full of our ornaments. 

On the advice of an artist friend, I got some paints and touched up the old lantern that belonged to Granny. 

It was a light, lit up when I was very small. The paint was almost gone on one side, worn away on top and bottom. This is good enough for me, and it's come back to life. 

From earlier years, the wear is visible. Of course I didn't take a good Before this year.

I may touch up the weird baby ornament next. 

A time for renewal. 

 

Culture

 Thankfully I asked about the culture in the new job, in several ways, of various people. And I got olive wood spoons from trader joes and holiday cards. Because my three close colleagues got presents for us as well.  They seemed to be appreciated, not food, not smelly, but pretty and useful. 

These will get the most use. 

The other two gifts were scented, the hand soap in festive theme is actually really nice. The candle will go to a different home, although it is visually pretty. 

Token gifts, not extravagant, thoughtful enough in a professional setting.  I also gave our schedulers cards, with a bit of cash. Seemed important. 

I have my usual Thursday off, Friday off as the official holiday, and of course Saturday and Sunday. Next week will be the same.  Since the hand clinic I'm responsible for is on Fridays, it means two really slack weeks. The last three days I had way too little to do, but had to be there to handle alerts and a few fractures.  So, I had some use, but not enough to fill the whole day.  Sort of guard duty, be available in case.  Getting a reputation for keenness, due to disliking being idle that much. I love a slow day as much as anyone, but this week was too much of too little. 

Grocery shopped this morning, since our only absolute requirement for this holiday is to have enough food. 

I keep thinking tomorrow is the holiday, and it's not. Not that it much matters, really.  Storm coming in, warm and windy. Hoping it will be mountain snow valley rain. MSVR. 

I think they are planning to give us a mouse, don't tell them I guessed. It's a surprize. 

Encrusted

When I finally headed up to work the other day, the sun was out. Usually this means a lot of melting of our typically fluffy, salty snow.  Not this time. The trees are still thick with snow in branches. And a lot of trees in this area have lost a lot more branches than is typical with this much snow. 

Eleanor adores the heating pad today, I've been keeping it on for her. Took her a moment to realize what it was, but once she figured it out, "OH! it's That!" she was stretched out and not going anywhere. 

The tree is mostly decorated, less than usual for me. That could change as the week passes. Or I might leave it with just enough rather than my usual "totally encrusted" style.  We shall see. I have time. 

 

Later

The Utah Highway Patrol asked motorists to work from home or delay driving if possible Wednesday morning.

 I FINALLY get to follow this direction, for the first time since I was in school! No patient is waiting for me, no doctor tapping their foot, nothing so urgent I can't delay it a few hours. The snow started last evening, and it's still plummeting down. I got a text from my colleague saying she'd be in late. And I texted back, What a coincidence! 

 I'll go in later, no problem. I'm up and dressed and ready to go when it's safe. BUT THAT ISN'T NOW! and I don't HAVE to. I can use my judgement and stay off slick, slushy roads. Gosh. I get a Snow Day.

Granted

 I've noticed a degradation in my writing here. The job really is sucking up my mental energies, not surprisingly. I have to trust that my flow will return, once I get over the steepest curves learning the work. I know I can get it back with consistent, daily practice,  that simply isn't possible at the moment. 

I'm not even making photos daily, which takes a lot less brain work than writing. 

It does feel like a new phase of my life. The beginning of the last third - if family lifespans hold true for me. I've worked on all the damage, created and found and salvaged. The future is unknowable, and the past is a fading dream. 

I love and am loved. This is never to be taken for granted. And can never be taken. 

Lachrymating

Showed up in the Atrium at work. 

Then it snowed, and it deflated. 

Zeppo looking out. 

Before the storm. 

"When we meet somebody whose separate tunnel-reality is obviously far different from ours, we are a bit frightened and always disoriented. We tend to think they are mad, or that they are crooks trying to con us in some way, or that they are hoaxers playing a joke. Yet it is neurologically obvious that no two brains have the same genetically-programmed hard wiring, the same imprints, the same conditioning, the same learning experiences. We are all living in separate realities. That is why communication fails so often, and misunderstandings and resentments are so common. I say "meow" and you say "Bow-wow," and each of us is convinced the other is a bit dumb." -Robert Anton Wilson, Prometheus Rising 

 The cold rain and snow falls 

Tired eyes raw with blue screens 

Hope sleeps deeply now.