TMI Tuesday – Playing for Time (2024)

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I’ve tried for days to write something, just to sort things a little and get a handle on the current prevailing vibe, but as soon as I sit down here my mind goes blank. It feels almost too big to deal with… the massive governmental changes lurking just over the horizon… the sense of walking on eggshells around friends and family… everything in a state of flux, resulting in endless limbo. Our skies have been gray with rain lately… but there’s also a general charcoaled-out mood to the rest of life as well. Beautiful friends who deserve only life’s sweetness are caught in the pain and darkness of loss and grief… and I’m helpless in the face of all that, just as I am in looking at the planet’s woes and knowing I can’t make any of it better. These are the days that try little white-haired women’s souls.

Closer to home, our Dove family is settled in and weathering the storms so far. We’re increasingly worried about Snoop, though… he’s tiny compared to Willie Nelson and he shivers constantly, even under his mama or daddy’s feathers. We hope he’ll eventually thrive, but it isn’t looking good for lil’ Snoop. Life is hard, dude, and nowhere is it as close to the bone as in pure raw nature.

Willie and Snoop Dove. Best bros. Hatched a day apart.

I scroll social media every day looking for “good news” stories and gentle humor because we all need it right now like a favorite teddy bear. When we least feel like smiling, we need it most. Humor and kindness make life livable because they add up to love.

So… I wrote all of the above yesterday. It’s another sunny morning, and Snoop Dove is clinging to life, but just barely. Willie Nelson stays close and usually has Snoop tucked against his side or under his tail feathers, but Snoop has gotten even tinier and he shivers nonstop. David and Darlene are making themselves scarce most of the time, probably letting reality follow its own course. Willie looks big enough to fly away, so little Snoop’s window is closing. Life on the planet is a fight every day, whether or not we can sense our own struggle. It’s overwhelming, even without the people who do cruel things ON PURPOSE.

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A heartwarming thing happened last week. While speed-romping through social media I caught sight of a page called Dull Women’s Club, halted in my tracks, read far enough to confirm what I was seeing, applied for membership, passed muster, and just like that… women and stories I identify with like a lost tribeswoman. Both misery and joy love company. These poor dull fascinating creatures are joy-filled rather than miserable and they showed up just in time for a needed reset on my part.

First off, it gives me a great sense of relief to put an accurate name to my persona. I’m a bona fide citizen of Dullsville and it’s time to own it. Signs of dullness include but are not limited to: A deep satisfaction in one’s home environment; quiet hours for uninterrupted reading and/or writing; enjoyment found in gazing at the same intersection every morning, the cars, the people, watching the neighborhood wake up; the joys of a walk to nowhere, at one’s own pace, absorbing the sights and sounds of spring, inhaling the fresh air. So dull. So life-giving.

Non-Dulls are the ones who leave the house at 9pm primed to party all night. For a lot of Dulls, on the other hand, 9pm turns out to be the perfect bed time. Non-Dulls thrive on activity and excitement. Dulls thrive on peace, simplicity, and not feeling rushed or pushed.

The so-called Dull Women I’m meeting in “the club” are anything BUT that. They do all the things, they simply do most of them on their own or with a select few people, and they take unmitigated joy in the little things. Same here. It takes a lot of energy to be FUN if you’re faking it. It feels more copacetic to stay quiet and enjoy the things I love, and let the Funs manage the social calendar.

Schematic for a Dull day:

• Get up at 6am and drink coffee in silence until awake enough to communicate nicely. Can take four or more hours
• Look at the internet. Yes, ALL of it
• Do that well-known list of mundane tasks inherent in every 24hr time slot
• Read things
• Write things
• Eat things, wonderful things, from the best kitchen in town
• On a good day there will be napping involved (gasp!!)
• Watch TV with the cook while we sip nightcaps
• Give in to coma-mode no later than 10pm

See? Dull. Kimmers isn’t a Dull. He leaves the house several times a day, he knows people all over town, he has an idea a minute for keeping life NOT dull. In short, he’s a fun guy, so keep a good thought for him… he didn’t realize he was hooking up with a Dull since I was still in shock when he found me.

The past couple of years have been rife with learning opportunities, always a good thing whatever the process. The Dull Women’s Club is a microcosm of daily living, including the inevitable petty squabbles, and it’s affirming, freeing, and comforting to know “I’m not the only one.” That may be one of the greatest needs tied up with being human. “It isn’t just me, so maybe I’m doing okay.”

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Whether you’re a Fun, a Dull, or a Hybrid, be your best you, you’re the nearest one to the subject, therefore the obvious choice.

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Good morning from the heartland. I’ve accidentally fallen off the blog wagon lately… so who’s still here and how’s it going?

It’s been a month since I last published a post and that’s crazy because every day during that time I’ve opened a blank page, sipped my coffee, and stared out the windows while words and thoughts played around in my brain cavity. Sadly, that’s ALL they did, though, so I’ve discarded several insipid drafts and stopped in the middle of a few others but saved them for the one sentence that may hold water sometime.

So… I’m still here and hoping for your peace and happiness today.

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Winter was disappointingly brief, although I realize as I speak that she could whip back around and bite us hard at any moment. It was 80° two days ago… what will THAT ultimately cost us? Nice, though, and we’ve already been haunting the balcony at every opportunity.

With my winter project basically finished, I’m at loose ends again. It’s always good in wild times to have something worthwhile to focus on because although that doesn’t change the situation, it does redirect our attention enough to filter some of the impact of what comes at us nonstop. Goals are good. They help keep anxiety at bay, herd my thoughts toward the positive, prevent existential loneliness from devouring me from the inside, ad infinitum. Better look for another project…

The daily realities of human existence are too ridiculous to be taken seriously… and too serious to ridicule. The maelstrom of emotions that accompanies every day’s load of happenings… it takes all we’ve got to stand up against its effects on us. And since we have no power over any of it the little things truly matter. A Monday morning bagel. A leisurely drive with time to rubberneck at all the progress around us. A just-for-the-hell-of-it Mickey D’s breakfast, shared at our table. Weekend breakfasts into infinity. All the Life-Is-Good vibe we can pack into a day because we do have a finite amount of time in which to do that.

And now we all see why I haven’t been writing… I don’t seem to have a whole lot to say. Except for this: You’ve helped me this morning and I thank you. Thoughts fill my head during every waking hour but by the time I get here to write they’ve faded like mist. Highly frustrating, but ya’ gotta get back on the horse at some point and ride, so instead of a cry morning this is feeling more like a git ‘er done day. Thx for muddling through it with me.

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To the cross-country sister of my heart who messaged me to say “I miss your blog posts” … thank you for saddling my horse for me.

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How was New Year’s Day? Pretty sure we did ours right. Bagels for breakfast, tuna sliders for lunch, and crockpot chicken n’ gravy with mashed potatoes for dinner because every lazy day is about the food. And in between, nothing but wall to wall football, which I love because I watch the parts I’m interested in while locked into iPad cruise mode in the background. We saw actual blue sky yesterday, and I do believe we’re being graced with it this morning as well. Let’s do this.

In yesterday’s post I talked a little bit about my grandmothers. We shared a farmstead with my dad’s parents, my mom’s parents were thirty miles away, and there was a great-grandmother living ten miles from us who was a pretty amazing person in her own right. I’m privileged to have grown up with them, been loved by them, been influenced by each of them in unique ways, and I owe them a tremendous debt of gratitude. My dad’s mom, born in 1889, told me stories of her mother-in-law, my great-grandmother Salome, who, among other exploits, faced down Confederate soldiers who commandeered her Indiana farm. The only Civil War battle in Indiana was the Battle of Corydon, in which Morgan’s Raiders fought, and Corydon was the nearest settled town to the family farm. Great-grandma Sally stood on her porch armed with a rifle and tried to limit the damage being done to her property and belongings, until she saw the futility and gave in to cooking her precious livestock for the invading soldiers. They camped there until they’d gone through all the provisions before moving on, and Grandma Sally lived to fight another day.

I watched and heard about these women throughout my younger years, marked how they handled the things life gave them, kept detailed mental notes, and it’s all served me well, insofar as I’ve stayed present for it.

Facts established after decades of observation:

• Life doesn’t get easier as we age. It gets different, it finds new challenges to throw at us, it keeps us on our toes to the end if we’re paying attention.
• On the other hand, there’s a certain measure of peace to be found in laying down the things that are not ours to carry anymore. That doesn’t make us unnecessary in the world, it just puts the reins in the right hands.
• As we gradually age out, there will always be things we don’t “get,” according to everyone younger. I’m losing the desire to ‘splain, but we do get it. We simply need that self-justifying energy elsewhere.
• This morning I’d love to sit with all the women who directly preceded me and compare notes. “Is this how you felt when… ” “What did you do when… ” “What were your greatest frustrations and joys?” I’d ask if they’re disappointed to see women’s rights in basically the same place they each left them. I’ve outlived my mom by almost ten years so far, and she was writing about that subject twenty years prior to that, so gird yourselves for the never-ending haul, women of all ages.
• The older I get, the less I talk. There’s always something I could say, but if I’m going to keep up my habit of learning one new thing a day it requires listening, which I find infinitely relaxing. DISCLAIMER: Depends on who’s talking and in what tone of voice.
• As a lifetime sentimentalist who invariably had trouble letting go, turning loose of what isn’t meant for me is one of my new favorite things. This includes a past full of people I will never see again. Knowing I can be a psychic handful, I make it a point to let people off the hook in their dealings with me, face-to-face or online, thus I say a lot of silent goodbyes. Nothing personal, I just like REAL, so if someone finally exceeds the limits of my meds, or I feel like I’m being a nuisance, I slip out the back…

You just slip out the back, Jack
Make a new plan, Stan
You don’t need to be coy, Roy
Just get yourself free
Hop on the bus, Gus
You don’t need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, Lee
And get yourself free

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I already broke a 2024 intention this morning, so you know what THAT means! Get back on the horse and ride, girlie, life goes on so go WITH it.

I wish you personal success with any and all resolutions, intentions, plans, and dreams for the coming year. Most of all, I wish you joy.

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See Also

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Three days ago our little corner of the world was on fire in varying shades of red, orange, yellow, gold, and green. By yesterday evening, most of the vibrant hues had morphed to dull and drab, and now this morning’s wind and rain are sending drifts of leaves to the streets, yards, and sidewalks. Soon the naked trees will reveal that the houses directly across the street are still in existence after spending several months hidden within the forest.

It’s a fall day in all its glory… the weather, the ever-changing flora, and the aromas from the kitchen, where Kim’s cookin’ up a batch of chili. This needs to be filmed as background for any feel-good movie you wanna make… all the beauty and none of the angst, isn’t that what we’re after? I felt sad the other day, knowing that all the blazing colors I was seeing from my balcony would be gone in a heartbeat and winter will follow, but sadness doesn’t quite fit the natural tumble of seasons, the roll of the tides. Those things simply ARE and are necessary to our existence, so it’s my outlook that has to change, and as it turns out change is what it’s ALL about. Everything. We don’t come here knowing how to live, and we aren’t allowed an excess of rodeos for finding out, so it’s a scramble to pull it all together within the allotted time frame. The role played by change can’t be overestimated. There ya’ go… musings from someone who’s observed a lot of autumns… just a freebie.

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Unsolicited advice from here: Roll With It. Whatever comes in, put your head down and go. There’s so little in life we can influence in any measurable way, it seems wise to choose our real battles carefully. Fall taught me that. Those unbelievably-brilliant leaves were there for the seeing all weekend, but when they fade, that’s it… ’til next time.

There are two things I hope for you:

1. That your autumn won’t be overly-blessed with melancholy, and
2. that your heart will remember spring.

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Good morning. Remember my childlike boasts about how much I love getting older? Of course you do. You said at the time, “Who does she think she’s kidding?” There are days when I do sort of hate it, but not as much as I despise the idea of being dead, so when I meet a compadre on the road from here to there, it means everything. I’m letting that fellow pilgrim speak for me this morning:

The other day, a young person asked me: – “What does it feel like to be old?”

I was very surprised by the question, since I did not consider myself old. When he saw my reaction, he was immediately embarrassed, but I explained that it was an interesting question. And after reflection, I concluded that getting old is a gift.

Sometimes I am surprised at the person who lives in my mirror. But I don’t worry about those things for long. I wouldn’t trade everything I have for a few less gray hairs and a flat stomach. I don’t scold myself for not making the bed, or for eating a few extra “little things.” I am within my rights to be a little messy, to be extravagant, and to spend hours staring at my flowers.

I have seen some dear friends leave this world before they had enjoyed the freedom that comes with growing old.

Who cares if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 in the morning and then sleep until who knows what time?

I will dance with me to the rhythm of the 50’s and 60’s. And if later I want to cry for some lost love… I will!

I’ll walk down the beach in a swimsuit that stretches over my plump body and dive into the waves, letting myself go, despite the pitying looks of the bikini-wearers. They’ll get old too, if they’re lucky…

It is true that through the years my heart has ached for the loss of a loved one, for the pain of a child, or for seeing a pet die. But it is suffering that gives us strength and makes us grow. An unbroken heart is sterile and will never know the happiness of being imperfect.

I am proud to have lived long enough for my hair to turn gray and to retain the smile of my youth before the deep furrows appeared on my face.

Now, to answer the question honestly, I can say: -I like being old, because old age makes me wiser, freer!

I know I’m not going to live forever, but while I’m here I’m going to live by my own laws, those of my heart.

I’m not going to regret what wasn’t, nor worry about what will be.

In the time that remains, I will simply love life as I did until today, the rest I leave to God.

Dame Judy Dench

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We have crossed the spring equinox and claimed the far banks of the Rubicon, so there’s no going back now, right? Winter’s finished, right? This morning’s rain is entirely made of springtime, am.I.right? Just say yes, I’m ready for the great outdoors in all its friendliness, aren’t you?

The first day of spring was also first day of school for this girl. I registered for two KU Osher Institute classes for seniors, one of which meets two blocks away, the other on campus, and the first 2-hour session was yesterday. I think there were thirteen of us boomers in the room, including the retired professor teaching the class, and the atmosphere was lovely. This one is called “An Invitation to Poetry” and seems to be everything I’d hoped it would be… comfy room, congenial people, teacher who knows his stuff in all the best ways. Twice he made tears pop into my eyes when he read lines from poems I didn’t know but want to, and he doesn’t even seem the type. I’d have guessed he taught history or the sciences, not the arts… and possibly the best part of all is the genuine love of subject that immediately comes through.

It was a happy start, and this morning I’ll begin a class called “Pioneering Stories from the Settling of Emporia and Lyon County, Kansas.” I chose this one because that’s where my grandma grew up, in a dugout/soddy/clay/stone challenge of a dwelling that included space for the livestock. She was born in 1889 and hard times accompanied most everything in her life, but she survived and thrived to the age of 96, a personal goal of mine. I’d never knock the living conditions, but neither do I want to try that mode at this point… it wasn’t for sissies:

Photo taken during a visit by family in the 1950s or so, the homestead having been abandoned long before.

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So for three consecutive Mondays and Tuesdays I get to be a student again, and it feels excellent to be back in that quietly invigorating atmosphere. And yes, I’m scouring the course listings for anything else that might spark new synapses because this morning’s dose of NE Kansas history was intriguing and I’m ready for more. In two hours we covered the years from when Kansas was still a territory, to Quantrill’s reign of terror, including the (at least) thrice burning of the town of Lawrence. We aren’t Bleeding Kansas for nothing… it bought us the privilege of being Free Kansas, a heritage worth fighting for.

I saw the following piece of advice yesterday, have made a similar folder, and will tuck this graphic inside along with any and all encouragement that shows up in my life in coming days. That stuff’s precious and should be kept in a warm dry place at all times.

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Now that spring’s officially here, it’s time to get back to making each consecutive day just a little better than the one before, so…

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It’s morning and the sun’s already climbing the sky, a situation that happens with alarming regularity, so it’s time to coffee up and deal. Some, not knowing better, might consider me the ultimate morning snob, as I strive to speak with no one before their time. Feels best to open my eyes in the semi-dark, consider seriously whether or not to stick a foot out yet, and spend the next couple of hours communing with Kim’s coffee and my own random brain waves, blithely referred to as The Muses. He goes away mid-morning to work out his existence within the parameters of PickleBall and comes home to either visible progress here while he was out, or invisible brain activity yielding no concrete evidence of any sort. No worries… he plays, I play, and we keep the News of the World out of our ears, damped to a slow burn. Some days there are spa soaks, and eventually lunch shows up, Kim having either made or brought it, which is what cooks do… it’s so cool. Afternoons often see a flurry of housework and errands, and evenings are couched in tequila shots, so it’s just all good, and the Life Police haven’t knocked on our door to let us know we’re doing it wrong.

Not really unsociable, not a recluse yet, I simply like having time to savor the best life offers me…

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A thing the years have taught me is that every time I stick my neck out, somebody loops a lariat around it and leads me to a watering hole somewhere I hadn’t planned to go. Never look thirsty, is a rule I like. Otherwise you end up doing THIS:

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Trying the road less traveled these days…

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Because some things are indisputable.

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Look at us, getting all healthy and stuff. Wow.

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It happens every morning, in my experience, and life continues upon the planet. It all comes to us unbidden, with no effort on our part, each wake/sleep cycle delivering its allotment of STUFF TO BE DEALT WITH. And we do, amazingly sometimes, we do. Imperfectly we stumble in the dark of our own ignorance, giving it what we’ve got, and we deal. Humans astound me in every direction, but most of all in our capacity for resilience and new energy in the face of NO. “No” is no kind of answer, so we press on. This staying-alive stuff isn’t for sissies.

But here we are on a beautiful winter morning, with fog hanging in the trees and people showing up to make the day happen. The girls who own the salon in the next block have pulled up in their SUVs and claimed their spots below my window. All three are young moms who do whatever it takes to juggle careers, commutes, kiddos, schools, daycares, home, family, laundry, food for everybody, every day, and my 4th-floor remove isn’t the only space between us. They’re paying a price I never had to pay, that of running my own business while raising a family, and although I could tell you hair-raising tales of woe from past sacrifices, I sit here knowing I’ve been a spoiled girl all my life and at this point I’m merely trying to absorb the lessons coming my way before I run out of time. This I know:

“A wise woman wishes to be no one’s enemy;

a wise woman refuses to be anyone’s victim.”

-Maya Angelou

The first month of the new year has already shown us that it’s going to be more of the same, so what do we do, boys and girls? Right. We deal. We deal with what comes to us until we get it right. Wish I had an easier answer, but I can’t start lying to you NOW.

Dancing my heart out here, boss, keep the music playing.

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I’ve seen other versions of the following, but this was a good laugh yesterday:

There are few things in this life so soothing to me as a dark quiet house just before dawn, steaming mug of coffee in hand, a blank page before me. A day begun in peace and solitude generally turns out pretty okay, because it’s all about attitude and it starts on the inside.

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Fall makes me think about school, and school makes me newly appreciate children with their optimism and natural joy. For them, life is real every second.

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We can remain childlike if we never forget the important things…

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We can ask childlike questions…

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We can stay childlike about history…

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We can stay childlike in our hopes and dreams…

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A timely reminder for the adults in the room…

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If we so choose, we can keep a childlike spirit until the end of our days. We simply have to remember how to dance…

I hope you dance.

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I had a wonderful conversation the other day with someone whose opinion matters to me far more than most people’s, and it ended up being helpful beyond words. I’m pretty sure I’d benefit greatly from talking to a qualified therapist in order to tie up a few loose ends before heading into what I like to think of as the home stretch, may it last forever. There are memories and emotions that have become dead weight over the years and need to be put someplace manageable. After Sunday’s healing convo, I had a better understanding of how this works, and it’s key: Nothing goes away, so it has to be put into its own box and treated with respect, but by its very nature it can’t share daily life with me because it isn’t life-bringing.

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If pain of any kind keeps you from owning your daily share of happiness, deal with it in the present using what you know at the time, put it in the Hurt Box, and walk away… don’t give it life outside the container. The stuff in the box tends to get quieter by the day if we don’t open the lid, and that’s a mercy.

Peace to you in all things on this crisp fall morning…

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Look at the time, it’s the next-to-last day of summer already! We have a nice cool morning ahead of our 100º high… the sun’s shining, the mowers are mowing, the fresh-cut grass smells like a benediction… and I enjoyed my morning walk before 7:30. We’re supposed to be in the mid-80s tomorrow, and then autumn greets us on Thursday with a high of 61º and rain, wouldn’t that be perfection. Seemed like kind of a short summer, but they all do now, and we’re ready for the loveliness fall brings.

It’s been a week since I sat here and wrote anything, but not for lack of opportunity and effort. I learned early on that my muse does not reward effort… she values only my trust. First and foremost: coffee, preferably Kim’s, which is steeped in love and not tainted by Starry-eyed capitalism. 😊 Next, quiet and focus, which might not be exactly what you envision. I can stare at a leaf outside my window while I write a whole paragraph without glancing at the keyboard. Is that a marketable talent? SPOILER: No. No, it is not. But it’s a good exercise when it works.

And then, when the quiet settles down around me, we talk, my elusive muse and I. She brooks no untruth, no dissembling, no dancing around the real stuff, and sometimes she simply goes away until I’m ready for it. She knows the world is a hard place to be right now if you possess awareness… that double-edged sword of knowledge. She knows other species don’t have to deal with this aspect of life on earth, so she tries extra hard to be kind while tormenting me with things I could maybe think about.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about loneliness… what it is and what sort of power we hold over it… and as with all of life, it comes down to balance. Kim gets twitchy-butt if he stays indoors for too long, whereas it’s pretty okay with me in here most of the time. It does get really quiet, though, especially without the talking heads on TV news who used to babysit me. What I’ve realized is that often all I crave is the murmur, the presence of other people, and I don’t even need to be part of the conversation. Times when I’m happy to sit in the corner of a coffee shop with my iPad, on the periphery, listening to the ebb and flow of communal existence while bearing no responsibility for decisions being made around me, simply benefitting from the nearness of others who resemble me. And then I toddle back home, thankful for the grace of peace and silence.

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I think about what it means to be an introvert, an empath, a peacemaker, and a relentless advocate for truth and justice, all wrapped up in one neat little neurotic bundle… and mostly it means that at any given time somebody’s really pissed at me and would love to tell me so, and that my spirit is basically conflicted nonstop… but whaddaya gonna do. Refer to description in this paragraph… by the stars, I never had a chance.

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Life is an endless puzzle, but a bit of awareness and longevity go a long way, and eventually, over years of paying attention, a pattern emerges. Humans are selfish and lazy; therefore, life has only a partial shot at running smoothly at any point in time, and given free reign we will screw things up past all fixing. Are we there yet? Feels like we’re there. I saw this yesterday. It’s real. Feel free to google it.

Dealing with the day-to-day is a contact sport not suited for the faint of heart nor the easily discouraged, and that’s without assholery like the above. Ya’ll can have Orange Jesus 100% to yourselves, thx.

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At 7:00 on a September morn, fog hanging in the trees, a cheese Danish and hot coffee in front of me courtesy of Kim… I’m settling into the fact that today I’m 75 years old. It’s frankly weird to find myself at an age that once sounded unbearably old, life over, stick with your comfy chair, lap blanket, and tepid tea, Granny-Face. But I watched both of my grandmothers live past 95, keeping their minds reasonably intact, and this morning I know you don’t shut things down three-quarters of the way through, so on we press.

When Kim and I got married, I was the reverse of today’s number… 57. A full range of life events has taken place in the intervening 18 years, letting me know for sure that life doesn’t hinge on ages, numbers, or our careful plans. I’ll wake up tomorrow morning and be 75 plus a day, and the days will continue to spool out until I reach the final one, whenever it comes.

The gray flannel morning has crept up against my windows, socking me into my quiet corner with only my thoughts for company… just the way I like it. These gentle surroundings are causing me to be highly conscious of a few key factors in making it to this milestone in a positive frame of mind…

1. After two years of treatment protocols, Kim’s oncology numbers are below zero… success!
2. With the advent of vaccines, boosters, and a lower transmission rate, John’s work at the hospital is becoming a little safer and more conducive to longterm breathing.
3. Since Christmas and a spinal fusion via robot, I’ve been without my old companion of fifty years… nerve pain… and I’m walking my tush off on the surrounding sidewalks.
4. Last week I got new hearing assists with the latest technology… and joy of joys, I can actually HEAR! I’ve been missing so many sounds for who knows how long, I’m having to retrain my ears and brain to tolerate the sheer input of it all and it’s wonderful.
5. Despite every awful thing at loose on the planet, genuine loving humans give me insane hope for a future that is not dystopian. I texted with two of them this morning… day made! People haven’t called me Pollyanna all my life for nothing.

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It started raining sometime after midnight and has paused only momentarily since. Down in the parking lot there’s a small truck with a large green canoe lashed over top of it, which is reassuring as we may have need of it by Thursday. All this spring rain is wonderful and will benefit everything… as it simultaneously adds to the general lethargy. I haven’t yet tested the outer limits of my capacity for the Magnolia Network, even on mute, but it’s only a matter of time… perhaps this is the day I quietly go mad and Kim comes home to a mere whisper of the person formerly known as his wife. Anything could transpire as the chill rain pelts against windows that were just this morning professionally washed via power-lift, despite the obvious liquidity of the surroundings at the time. Don’t ask, I am mos def not in charge here. I’m very glad for that fact, and you should be, too.

Being happy in the rain really isn’t that heavy an assignment for a reclusive Pollyanna, and I thank my friend-cousin for this reminder…

We don’t understand until we get there, but all the “wise” things older people have said to us about life? Those people were being brutally honest, and the process only becomes more honest and more brutal as it plays out. It’s all real, and mostly based on our own choices.

The “love unconditionally” part is the kicker and we all know it. Gud luck to us.

Word on the street has always been that you can’t go home again, and that seems like a wise release-mechanism… you can leave but you can never really return, you have to keep moving forward. In that light, there are places I’ll be okay not ever seeing again, along with the people who determined the atmosphere there. But for about five hours yesterday evening, Rita and I slipped back “home” and it was good stuff. We were with childhood friends… sisters… in a peace-filled house, enjoying beautiful appetizers and wine, talking nonstop, and the first time I thought of the clock it was 6:30… the next, almost 8:30! We picked up where we left off the last time we were together, some seven or eight years ago, and even though we all grew up in and around the same tiny Kansas town, the conversation was far more about life as it is now than about people we thought we knew then, and vice versa. Small towns… where people know or surmise everything you do and say, and consider it their life’s duty to help regulate same. By accepted standards of the times we grew up in, we’re country girls gone wild… tomorrow one sister will fly home to her partner and her wide-ranging interests, and the other will leave for meetings in three different countries. A third sister will keep pursuing goals that have little to do with former dreams and instead are all about the here and now. And the fourth will continue to observe and learn, grateful for another shot at life in a healthy body, and hatching ideas for the immediate future.

We were so busy being together none of us thought to take pictures, which is fine because even a SMART phone couldn’t have captured the essence. Sweet, easy, real, loving… and the kind of acceptance that heals. One of those relationships where you say endlessly “We HAVE to catch up!” and then one day the stars align and it happens… and it’s always worth the wait.

Surrounded by cheap knock-offs of everything in life, it’s reaffirming to see that some things truly never change because they’re the real deal. What solace and joy in this present era.