Friday… yeah | Playing for Time

Too soon for ratings?

05 Jan 2024 Leave a comment

***

Good morning, friends. Less than a week in, how is 2024 spooling out for you? Lots of gray days here, a little snow in the air, and next Friday starts a run of cold (to us) days and nights. Daytime highs in the low 20s, with single-digit nights. It’s winter, so…

After reading a Facebook post ABOUT Facebook by a friend this morning, I’ve been sitting here thinking about what the platform means in my own life. My son made me aware of its existence shortly after his dad, my first husband, died, and against all odds (in my mind) it turned out to be my kinda place. Took me a while to navigate it to my benefit, but I was ready because until that point in my life I’d been laser-focused on pleasing the people around me, a tricky habit since it’s different strokes for different folks and somebody always gets shortchanged.

After the first couple of years on The Fakest of Books, the novelty of connecting with everyone I’d ever known was wearing thin, disagreements were becoming a regular thing, and I lacked the interest and energy for dealing with it. I thought about dropping out (which has happened a couple of times since) but decided to take a shot at making it what I thought it would be in the first place. I filtered my friends list big-time (you’re welcome, those who got a pink slip, I saved you the trouble), unfollowed, unfriended, blocked, cut sites I didn’t want to follow, locked things down like a ship in a storm and plowed ahead. The atmosphere changed immediately. It’s time for another big cull because now Facebook puts “things of interest” in our feeds and if we “like” them we’ve thereby adopted them. Cagey.

So, to do what I’m known for, I’ll make a long story longer…

We have to remember at the outset that nothing’s perfect. No environment will 100% nurture and support us, we’re imperfect, the friends we make are imperfect, life is not only imperfect but entirely unpredictable.

It therefore follows that if we were to discover a magically-perfect environment, we would automatically render it imperfect by our presence, so forget that. The only way to fly: try before you “buy,” check the temperature of a few places, set boundaries, and do what works for you. With Twitter now a “maybe” day-to-day I’ve checked into a handful of similar platforms, but the incentive to start over just isn’t there. That’s fine, the whole phenomenon, as we know it, may be reaching its expiration date anyway. Meanwhile…

“What Facebook Means to Me”

It gave me a voice in my 50s when I most needed one
It helped me build a network of support and friendship at a critical time
It opened doors and windows for me, insight into a rapidly-shifting political landscape and avenues for open discussion about all of it
It renews my appreciation every day for the people I meet there, the ones I read about, the creativity of humans, and often the kindness, which means the most
It lets me share this blog, which is far less expensive than a lifetime of therapy
Speaking of therapy, sometimes oversharing is underrated if someone is helped thereby

I’m suddenly uber-conscious that I’m closer to 80 than 70 at this point, and despite all my naive vows before the age of 50, I’m not loving the process. I like the age part and I hope to add a bunch more years to that, but the price of getting there is highly disrespectful and insulting. Facebook, because it’s what’s there, helps mitigate a few aspects of the aging process, including isolation, the blue lonesomes, the need to keep sharpening your wits by engaging with interesting people, the desire to see the world and its wonders because you know you ain’t gettin’ there in this lifetime. The Book of Fakes does nothing for wrinkles except advertise incessantly to us (how on earth do they KNOW??), but the people who remain on my friends list make the cut for being REAL, and they make life a better place to be than it would be without them.

THE END

***

Image by Judy Smith

Pre-holiday procrastination…

22 Dec 2023 2 Comments

***

It’s a rain-ish day here after a steady overnight soaking, good for window-gazing, watching car and foot traffic, waiting for inspiration to overcome ennui. With a couple of things in progress in the lower right corner of my monitor, excellent coffee at hand, and nothing dragging on the guilt chain, this is feeling like a sweet little ordinary Friday. It helps that we’re Christmas heathens, indeed name a holiday and we’ll most likely have a ho-hum take on it. We’re careless like that, except that any excuse to make and eat amazing food suffices, secular or otherwise. Also, of course, any opportunity to be with loved ones. Both will happen on Monday, blessed be.

Because you’re so good about dropping in here, I’ll share a tiny Christmas gift with you. My inspiration comes from a multi-talented friend who knows many things, not least among them how to create the ultimate bowl of ice cream, highly addicting, of course. That isn’t the gift, though, because the recipe isn’t mine to share and the True Christmas Spirit has yet to visit me in the middle of the night, delivering guilt enough to last well into 2024. So… anyway, try not to think of this as a consolation prize, but Kim showed me a coffee trick this morning that will no doubt prove as habit-forming as the ice cream. It’s… Ta-DA!! … several heaping teaspoons of … wait for it… Chocolate Malt Ovaltine in a mug!! Fill with steaming coffee and enjoy the simplest possible nice addition to your day. Not too sweet, just enough to feel the love, which is what I wanted to say in the first place because I love the gift of your presence here. Merry Christmas, Happy Year to you, sincerely.

If you find yourself in a quandary this morning, wondering what you could possibly get for that one person on your list, a cool thing to give is something from the heart…

A simple wish: That 2024 will somehow be kinder, more benevolent, than the preceding decade has been. That we’ll be increasingly conscious of what it means to be human living on a rock hurtling through the universe with not one ounce of actual power to our name. Seems like it wouldn’t hurt to give kindness and benevolence a real shot, maybe for just a year, maybe the one directly ahead of us. Who’s in?

Image by Judy Smith

Full circle… (too late for Friday’s press)

09 Dec 2023 Leave a comment

***

Last time we chatted, which was a long and wide-ranging week ago, it was raining. This morning, fog slipped in on little toe-beans while Kim measured Mass Street stride by stride, top to bottom and back again. The mist multiplied, filled in the cracks and crevices, and kept us cozy for hours before clearing slightly… which was not long before the rain set in, and it couldn’t be more delicious. After a lot of window-gazing, I was inspired to come in here and write something and now I’m proud to tell you that the bedding I washed two days ago is nicely folded, my desk is mostly visible, and I’ve made two phone calls. Hi. Ran out of evasion tactics, and you’re my faithful crowd for the early warmup. Love ya’ mean it, boys and girls.

So yeah, just wanted to say hello, but before obeying the muse, here’s a thought that made my day better. It’s a freebie…

And simply as a leveler…

Image by Judy Smith

Rainy day stuff…

01 Dec 2023 Leave a comment

***

We’re a little socked in this morning, with our parking lot lights still on at 10am. It likely rained through the night, possibly a snow mix, I didn’t wake up to check. Winter is inexorably coming to us, taking its time, dawdling, teasing, scattering rain, snow, ice, and cold temps along the way as early warnings. That’s okay, I’m more than ready for my cozy warm house and many snow days that “strand” me here on my little island.

I read an article this morning about journaling and how beneficial it is as we age, leaving me thankful that I’ve kept up a journaling habit for most of my life while it gradually became an industrial-strength necessity. I’m not sure how I feel sometimes until I see my own words, and then I watch in a sort of wonder as the knots unravel and the angst subsides for whole long moments. It’s a very healing exercise, partly because I can spot a phony at 30 paces and I’ve been onto THIS ol’ girl for a while now, making it increasingly hard for me to lie to her. It always makes me happy when someone tells me they keep a journal, however sporadic they may be about it. It’s all about self care.

You get a lot of melancholy from me, so I owe it to you, here at the end of 2023, to let you know that despite outward circumstances life feels better than it has in some time. It’s been a productive year; we’ve made purposeful improvements to our surroundings, our routines, and our attitudes; we’ve dared to look ahead and consider where we might want to be this time next year. As the scary dip into fascist waters continues, we can’t ignore what’s taking place outside our doors… but neither can it be allowed to determine the color of our days. We aren’t old yet, but we’re starting to see the detritus at the outer suburbs as we holla “Wait! It isn’t time yet, I’m not ready, I’ve only been here a little while and I HAVE SO MUCH LEFT TO DO!” Not a desperate plea, simply a statement of fact, laced with excitement and incentive. A knowing that it’s all Now or Never at this point, let’s get to it. My grandmothers, both amazing women, lived past 95 with minds intact along with their inner youthfulness, so by that standard I’m still in my prime.

Tonight the two most recent teams to win the National College Basketball Championship will play each other in Allen Fieldhouse, mere blocks from our fireplace and comfy chairs. The #4 Connecticut Huskies and the #5 Kansas Jayhawks will face off while this poetic little soul celebrates the drama of it all. No matter what the word on the street is, life’s okay. Let’s all try to hang in long enough to see how the story ends. 💙

Image by Judy Smith

What does it all mean?

22 Sep 2023 4 Comments

***

Best definition of the word VACATION: “A period during which activity is stopped for a time.” So we did it right and it was the truest vacation I’ve taken since I was a kid, when family trips mostly meant camping (with parental units doing all the work) and sunbathing. This time, in response to an invitation, we loaded up our little red wagon, bizzling through parts of four states in search of ultimate relaxation, and our destination did not disappoint. Blazing across the great state of South Dakota at a legal 80mph+ was exhilarating and the interstate is straight as a pin except for one remarkable curve somewhere close to Rapid City, so Kim was happily in aircraft-pilot mode through every mile.

We arrived at the cabin in the meadow on Sunday. Kim turned on the TV for Sunday Night Football and that was the only time it was lit up for the duration. See that front porch up there? We could have romped off to Mount Rushmore… or Deadwood… or Sturgis… or stunning caverns… or any number of other worthy activities on offer. What we did for several days and evenings, as was our intention, was sit on that lovely porch, with its perfectly-aged screen door and softly-creaking floor, and look with our eyes, and feel with our molecules. The air and water and atmosphere are pristine beyond imagination… and it was more than gratifying to experience a spot humans haven’t drained of its essence.

Kim walked most of the ranch’s 30-acre property line and followed several of the trails that cross the terrain. He let that sweet Taylor guitar ring out across the meadow… and even wrote a song in his free time. He also cooked all our meals in the cabin’s perfect little kitchen. I read a little… wrote a little… napped a little… and far too soon it was time to pack up and point the car east. Fortunately, home is never the wrong place to be, and we were welcomed back this morning with a sky-blackening, crashing, booming thunderstorm, accompanied by pouring rain. Our place of choice still loves us, and likewise.

Memories for a lifetime:

Dasher cat keeping an eye on things.

Manna and Midnight

Until we meet again…

So home we drove, past hundreds of miles of corn, soy beans, sunflowers, sorghum, and other crops, some ready for the harvesters, much that looks like it will do well to beat the first snow, all of it keeping us conscious of the basics: We’re a nation of highly-independent souls with a general yen to do right by each other. The extremes are out there but they comprise less of the sum total than we might think without benefit of direct exposure. On a cross-country road trip you’ll see it all, and we did. At a mega truck-stop somewhere along the way we were treated to a large white van blocking traffic and plastered from stem to stern with explicit advice for Joe Biden along with abject worship of the former guy. On the flip side, that was the only in-your-face evidence of division in over 1500 miles of travel, and I like those odds.

Our hosts for this much-needed idyll were Mark & Mary (Wipf) Zimmerman, who have been South Dakota Arts Council artists in residence for 25 years and whose art graces every part of their beautiful homestead ranch.

https://artscouncil.sd.gov/aisc/visual10.aspx

If you’d like to book a stay at the ranch:

The Cabin at Green Mountain

https://grmountain.com/

Endorsements above are unsolicited and 100% sincere. Thank you, Mark & Mary, for everything. And the Vern J. Specials were the pièce de résistance.

Image by Judy Smith

Well, would ya’ look at that…

01 Sep 2023 2 Comments

Darleen, contemplating another sojourn on the Smith balcony.

***

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay! Dave and Dar are back and have refurbished their safe nest for Round Four, so summer truly isn’t over ’til the hefty girl tunes up. Wednesday night we paid proper attention to the Super Blue Moon while celebrating continuity and prolific breeders. What a joy knowing these peaceable doves have tolerated us enough to hang around all summer, and with their patient response to the cycles of life they remind us every day that we’ve 100% survived everything to this point so we should press on. This morning there’s one egg in the nest and Darleen is apparently out carb-loading for the second, all’s temporarily right with the world, and despite news to the contrary, I’m encouraged. I hope you’re feeling that way, too.

After a lifetime of Pollyanna-like hopefulness I’m still at it, still looking for the pony in the manure pile and believing against all odds that life is a GOOD thing.

Now we greet September and the season of letting go. Fall is inherently melancholy for its endings, in fact positively maudlin on my part for endless years until I finally grasped that without endings, beginnings become moot… the world, never mind the human heart, can’t contain it all. So we learn and we let go. We forever honor the past but accept its immutable status and embrace the beginnings… all of the incredible do-overs we’re privileged to encounter.

Forgetting. It’s one small grace we’re afforded… a vital ingredient of being human. If we’re lucky we don’t remember every single detail with its accompanying emotions, thus enabling us to go on human-ing until we’re done. There’s a clear way to help our friends and family with the process and that’s to provide them with less to plow through on days when the sun doesn’t shine…

Summer officially ends in three weeks, so our supply of sunlight will gradually decrease until spring comes ’round again… and it will. Meanwhile, brighten the corner where you are, your friends and neighbors will benefit.

Image by Judy Smith

Waking… rising…

30 Jun 2023 2 Comments

***

Every day the clock resets, offering a fresh chance to get it right. We sleep the “little death” and wake to sunlight that says it’s time to live again, everything new, all for the taking. Each day brings something good/interesting/enlightening if we’re awake for it and can work through yesterday’s detritus in short order.

Speaking of change, sometime in the past hour our renters seem to have flown the coop. Both offspring were in the nest when I got up, stretching their wings and testing them in the wind under the ferns. Went out a bit ago and nobody home. So the Dove family, David and Darleen and their two sets of twins, are likely off somewhere in the East Lawrence forest, doing whatever birds do with their summers. We barely got to know this latest set of chicks, Durwood and Donna, before they ditched the down and ducked out. Derek and Diane, the first set, provided our learning curve, and the whole family sweetened springtime for us so we hope they’ll check us out again next year.

Now summer is here and July arrives tomorrow. I scheduled my next five-week haircut the other day and it puts me into August, a fact which made me catch my breath. Life is a headlong rush from cradle to grave… unless it drags endlessly, each day and its dark night seeming both terminal and a life-sentence… pick your poison, although we rarely get to choose.

So yeah, summertime in Kansas. Totally unpredictable. Tie everything down for which you have a big enough bungie cord and enjoy.

A postscript: I went out just now and there were Durwood and Donna, snug in the nest, smug about knowing how to fly, and contemplating their next foray. So that cozy little bower is still home, or at least a way station, for a bit yet and we aren’t sad about that.

Image by Judy Smith

The gifts of summer…

23 Jun 2023 Leave a comment

***

Summer Solstice… missed it right by. So it happened without me, as most of life does, and we’re swimming in summer vibes now, even though it all looks the same from my windows. I’m finishing a big project for a friend this weekend along with a few other things, and then the assignment will be to screw my head on straight for a while. Time to reestablish the routine where I get up and do the things, including a daily stroll without excuses, so I can fall asleep at night feeling okay about myself.

Anyway, hi summer, glad you made it. Someone asked me the other day about my plans for the fall and it took me a minute to realize they were talking about October, not the collapse of society. Sigh… it’s an old joke by now.

I hope you feel free as a bird this summer, with plans you can take or leave as the mood dictates. Things are copacetic here, notwithstanding the ridiculous perpetual angst of the person writing. Sweet thing yesterday… I went out on the balcony to check on Kim’s strawberries, bent over, scrabbled around in the planter throwing out dry leaves and other detritus, and when I straightened up I was eye to eye with Mr. David Dove, who neither blinked nor flinched. Not a feather moved, in fact he seemed quite relaxed and happy to be right where he was. He wasn’t there when I stepped out, so he had to have purposely landed precisely in front of me, and I swear he was smiling softly. I had a quiet convo with him, telling him again how happy we are to have him and Darleen and their little broods camping with us. When I came back inside, he hopped over to the nest, switched places with Dar, settled in, and looked snoozy immediately. It feels… sacred… to be adopted by a small creature who senses I could harm it, but chooses trust over fear.

It’s pretty cozy in there.

Since childhood I’ve heard all sorts of things about what it means when you start talking to yourself. I’ll tell you what it means – it means nobody else is around at the moment to talk to. I didn’t used to like myself very much, but since getting to know me a little better, I’m really enjoying the friendly banter that goes on here, plus I give great advice. And take this with a grain of salt because I don’t know what I’m talking about, but word on the street is that knowledgeable conversation with yourself means you’re going sane instead of crazy. Think about THAT.

So yeah, making those lists, checking them twice, and we’ll see what happens.

And this, in ways known only to me, is related:

My Christmas wish for me and everyone I know.

I like it when you’re smiling, so here’s a little gem from the week. The woman who bought my farm was a District Judge, now Chief Judge, and one day about ten years ago while she was in court her niece played secretary in her office. The judge returned to find this… and I assume other treasures.

Forecast for the next few days is hot and sunny. Enjoy!

Image by Judy Smith

Hitting the pause button…

16 Jun 2023 Leave a comment

***

All week I had the dumb and couldn’t brain, so I took a No-Brainer Day yesterday to reset. Went for a walk around the neighborhood, slept for four hours, then spent the remainder of the day doing mindless things on my computer, by which I mean I cleaned out both of my Messenger apps click by click because I couldn’t force “select all” to function. I was horrified to find in iMessenger that everything sent or received since 2012 was still there! How do these things happen?? Welp, somebody goes mentally AWOL for five or ten years while pain runs the show and it all stacks up, the evidence doesn’t lie. I was born with a Siamese twin named Anxiety so she’s never not been attached to me. An ordered existence goes far in keeping her quiet, but she could tear up an anvil in a heartbeat if I didn’t watch her, so she has to be considered in every equation. She was feeling much better by bedtime last night.

So an intentional Get Yourself Better Day turned out to be exactly what the doctor ordered: the brain fog lifted, the thinking processes lined up straighter, and a probable answer broke through. Pretty sure my anti-seizure Rx was working overtime, rendering me near-comatose since sleepiness is a side effect if the drug doesn’t have enough to do. BINGO. I cut yesterday’s doses in half and felt the difference within hours. So. ONWARD. The good news is that the focal seizures have been very much under control lately, so no worries.

My secret plan is to go underground for the weekend and show up Monday morning ready to function as a human. Stay tuned.

Meanwhile, a few topical memes on our way to doing Friday right, starting with today’s PRIDE MONTH post:

Topic of the week (read century). Leaving this here for posterity’s sake.

And this last one is for all the feelers who water the earth with our tears and drive the macho-macho-race mad with frustration. I encounter something to cry about at every turn in the day so sometimes I try to get that over with first thing in the morning. Just have a good cry about EVERYTHING and EVERYBODY and proceed, Guv’nah. Then later, when touching or infuriating things pop up, I can say “Nope, gave at the office, already cried my quota for the day, c’mon inner peace.” Believe it or not, I am kicking the snot out of it… it actually works. Sometimes.

Why we cry.

It seems happy little Pollyanna’s work here is done for now, so it’s time to toddle off and scrounge up something more nourishing than coffee before I get on with doing as little as possible. You know what feels good and right on a Friday or any other day ending in “y”? Self-care without guilt. Don’t wait ’til you’re past 75 to try it.

Live your story. Right now.

Image by Judy Smith

Slow-walking it to summer…

09 Jun 2023 2 Comments

***

So far it’s been a slow month in “paradise” and that’s lovely. The morning temperature was perfect during my stroll and nothing hurt, so I’m two for three at this point.

I remember 40. It was just a hint of how shockingly life and death can deal with us. No worries, walk it off.

And so did you. Celebrate!

June is PRIDE Month, and with friends and family on every part of the LGBTQ spectrum I’d be an unfeeling idiot not to state my support.

Every LGBTQ human feels all of this and more, every day of their lives.

This will feel like a 90° tire-screeching left-hand turn but it’s relevant, so keep your arms inside the vehicle at all times and do not attempt to disembark until the ride comes to a complete stop:

Abject confession, I have been this person.

DISCLAIMER: I’ve never made friends easily and can think of only a few people with whom I’ve felt a true bond, but I attract the needy like flies to honey. Something about that equation makes people want to challenge me in order to back me down on what my personal moral code looks like, and I’ve had to not only unfriend them but block them, because they don’t give up. This is relevant because longtime acquaintances I once thought of as friends have felt compelled to convince me of the errors in my thinking, trying to wear me to a nubbin on the “gay” conversation, among others. Let me just say for the record that persistence does not equal veracity and I won’t be tuning in to the gaslighting and shaming. Ever.

Image by Judy Smith

Updates to a scintillating life…

26 May 2023 3 Comments

***

“As The Nest Turns,” featuring David and Darleen Dove, is progressing as soap operas do. Things happen every day, most of them outside our awareness, but the next morning everything still looks the same, with little progress detected. I’ve posted several nest photos but all of them have been “stock” and not taken by us, including the one above, so I must tell you that we STILL don’t know for sure if there’s one baby in the nest or two. We’re starting to suspect there’s only one, based on brief shrouded sightings, but I got a little too inquisitive this morning, prompting a squawk from whomever was on the nest, so I’ve been warned. The parents’ schedule has completely changed since the hatching and they’re very much the hover type. Helicopter progenitors, what can ya’ do? Wait and see, as with all the rest of life, that’s what.

For the clean-freaks hanging on my every word, noticeable headway has been made in the Mantry. We hauled a few big chunks out the other day, promptly delivered them to the new “Goods Recycler” in town, heaved a sigh of relief, treated ourselves to milkshakes, and haven’t touched the room since. No need to get all obsessive about stuff, amirite? It obviously keeps.

Our focused baby vigil makes me smile. Birds. We’re watching birds, caring about the welfare of tiny feathered beings, feeling almost like surrogate grandparents. What is it about achieving level 70+ in the life cycle that causes some people to a grow a new awareness of other life around us? The birds, the bees, the flowers, the leaves, all things that have surrounded us since our birth, are suddenly new and fascinating! Maybe in this ol’ lady’s case it’s because TV mostly sucks, the daily news is unacceptable, and the actual humans who pass in and out of my life are few and far between. So… flora and fauna it is! In conjunction with the foregoing, I’m also developing a great tolerance for sitting on my balcony and contemplating whatever’s within my range of vision. In my “don’t stop ’til you drop” days, I couldn’t have seen myself ever loving a sit-around life, but a grocery list of events in the interim managed to convince me that stopping to appreciate the scenery isn’t a sin. Doing ONLY that, however, does border on the wicked, so I’m once again walking every day, as a counterbalance, yay me.

Balance is key to most of life, as it turns out. While I’m experiencing a new appreciation for the natural beauty that surrounds me, I won’t be wallpapering our loft in florals or buying a parakeet, so no worries I’m still me under these wrinkles.

I hope you’ll be motivated to MOVE today, and to keep your eyes open to everything around you. Earth still has her charms.

Image by Judy Smith

Time to ante up…

31 Mar 2023 3 Comments

***

Last day of March, boys and girls, and the Bradford Pear and Red Maple trees in our neighborhood are blooming and leafing and already showing off because they can. When Kim walked Mass Street this morning before sunup it was a balmy 65° and humid, so maybe spring’s sticking around a while this time. Hope so, I’m overdue for the attitude adjustment and everyone will benefit. Ready for the early mornings when you can pull on a minimum of clothing, lace up your Tevas, and get outside. Hmm. Guess this morning would have been one of those, huh. Oh well, my dance card is already punched twice for this 24-hour segment, so we’re good. Nice, though, to feel the friendly air that smells like rain.

WARNING: 90-degree left turn…

Do you have sensory input/overload issues? Have you ever tried to explain what that’s like to someone who cruises through life as if they own it? How’d that go for ya’? It makes me think of the game Ransom Notes, wherein players have to describe a given situation in abbreviated form. Clear as mud? My version would go something like this:

Assignment: DESCRIBE SENSORY OVERLOAD AND ITS ATTENDANT FEELINGS TO A NOVICE

Ransom Note:

ROAR

PIERCES

PORES AND ORIFICES

MAKES BRAIN CELLS WEEP

Anxiety and excess sensory input are ever-present, as you’re well aware if you aren’t immune to such. And nobody outside it can feel it. Most people march entirely to their own drummer so they can’t imagine, for instance, what it’s like to hear and register every sound equally and be unable to instantly sort, assign, and selectively dampen the individual input in order to translate on the fly, keep sweet and quiet, and deal. All day, every day, until the hearing aids can be put to bed and the lights go out, the brain gets to rest (except for dreams, but that’s another day), and the tension drains from the body’s cells overnight. Being able to hear isn’t a bad thing, in fact it’s crucial, but when you add all the other input a day holds, keeping it together can get dicey, a big muddy mess. There’s interaction with other people, weather, the abominable state of human existence in general, the ouchies of age, and being hangry, among an endless list of possible angst generators.

People with raging anxiety are ridiculous and we know it, but the harder we try to stay quiet and peaceful on the inside the worse it gets. Like… any day that contains an appointment outside the house (or ONLINE, for lort’s sake!) guarantees that I won’t forget it for a second until it’s over. Okay, it’s how many hours away? So that means I have time for… well, no, don’t want to start that NOW, I’m too distracted by these never-ending deadlines. If the appointment is for a pedi or massage, that means I have to leave enough time to shave my legs, and shampooing this silver thicket on top of my head takes another three minutes. And SO MUCH PEEING, ALL DAY, OMIGOD!! All of that, hour after hour, within the brain of a lifetime perfectionist who has likely never once actually gotten it right, isn’t that the shits? Ransom notes indeed… somebody should rescue me from myself before time’s up, maybe.

Anxiety feels mostly like fear of loss… loss of security, safety, competence, choice, independence, respect, love, credibility, control, connection, relationship, anything and everything we value. And bless the people who question none of it, live life on their terms, and go on winning. We hope they know how lucky they are, amirite?

I know this much is true…

For the perpetually anxious, peace is all that matters finally.

And because I always like to leave us smiling, if possible…

Image by Judy Smith

Hello Friday…

17 Mar 2023 1 Comment

***

Fridays will always hold a special place in my heart because they signal the arrival of Saturday and Sunday, the two days when I do even less than on the other five but suffer zero guilt for it. Over a lifetime I earned my weekends, and once they’re yours, they’re yours, so I squander them freely whenever possible.

This morning dawned bright and sunny, despite the fact that we had a mini-blizzard overnight. Precisely as the KU v Howard bball game tipped off, while it was still daylight and 58° outside, the air became filled with sideways snow. Slightly bizarre, but so very Kansas. Most of it made it to Amarillo by morning, but the grassy areas are still white, melting fast.

A Happy St. Paddy’s Day to one and all, says the girl in the lime(rick) green T-shirt bearing the word “sláinte” and a shamrock, gifted to her by her baby sister. Life is good, right here, right now. Celebrate and enjoy!

St. Patrick’s Day strikes me as an ideal occasion for bravery and self-certainty, because how else have the Irish survived? I’m proud and happy to claim a dose of emerald DNA from my mom’s dad… that heritage and my German stoicism have brought me this far and I trust will not fail me at this late date.

A complete poem in one sentence, and can we not all say the same in total honesty? It’s what’s meant by the solitariness of being human and it seems to be largely unavoidable.

Another precisely-stated bit of poetry:

Speaking from personal experience, never mistake small stature and a quiet demeanor for weakness or ignorance, otherwise, in the wise words of our ancestors, the road will eventually rise up to meet your face. That’s what all the little leprechauns want you to have as your takeaway today, don’t disappoint them. And easy on the green beer.

An appropriate slice of melancholy before I let you go enjoy your day and your weekend:

Image by Judy Smith

Tell me what you like…

27 Jan 2023 Leave a comment

The other day, in the middle of a related conversation, Kim asked “In all of life, what’s your favorite thing to do” and the answer, no matter how long I thought about it, was “to read.” His top choices came down to “play guitar, cook, or some kind of sports” and sports won. Growing up in Southern California he had access to nearly unlimited opportunities by at least age eleven. Shop class, boxing, early employment, cars, engines, snow skiing, body surfing, live concerts, dirt bikes, dune buggies, racquetball, plus more, along with a multitude of things he didn’t even know existed.

I, on the other hand, was a Kansas farm kid, living miles from a town center, who was introduced by my mom when I was six years old to the Carnegie Library. Books had been my friend from birth when she added washable versions to my crib and read to me every day, and when I discovered the magic of the library… I was home. Opportunities for information-gleaning and access to the company of your peers are scarce in a farm environment. There was 4-H Club, a gathering of other farm kids with whom you were all-too-well acquainted, for the purpose of sharing awkwardness and inexperience, along with being judged by imperious adults who thought you were a little snot and didn’t deserve a blue ribbon on the project your mom helped you finish. But you know, fun and educational. Also there were piano lessons from age six through my college years, so I should be able to play in several languages but the one I know is sight-reading. BONUS: Since my spinal fusion I can sit at the piano for an hour at a time and morning by morning I’m getting my chops back. Apologies to the neighbors.

Kim’s question was posed with great seriousness so I’ve given it due consideration, because it seems important to me as well. Childhood was childhood. I lived on a farm, went to church with the family once a week, and knew little else of import. Grade school brought disciplined hours, and home meant food we liked, roaming around outside, and reading books. Junior high introduced actual homework, with books tucked in wherever we could manage, meaning my two sisters and me, all avid readers. Luckily, our mom was addicted to books and learning, so we utilized her spaced-off time selfishly to our advantage. All good. High school provided daily revelations, cheerleading, ridiculous homework, more responsibilities at home… and reading was still the escape of choice. Our mom knew it was our one avenue to the greater world, and she cut us lots of slack about it.

If we possess a lick of what my grandma called gumption, we avail ourselves of whatever appealing opportunities come our way, and for me it’s been books. They’ve taken me to locations and inside people’s psyches I would never have accessed by any other means. The scope is unlimited. So cool.

Definitive answer, my favorite activity, sanity-saver, window on the world is BOOKS. They’re what’s been consistently available throughout my lifetime and for an introvert they’re the perfect companion. So maybe I grew up disadvantaged in the opportunity department, maybe I didn’t… I’ve visited a lot of places within the pages of a book, and were I to land in one of them I might be able to manage the experience without culture shock. Books are good for letting us know people are people, end of story. I’m forever thankful for a mom who lived that truth and made sure it’s what filtered through to her kids. Another advantage is that I haven’t felt compelled to make every mistake available to me because I can remind myself of Claire in “______ __ ______, ” who did that thing and lived to regret it.

This seems apropos…

Image by Judy Smith

A gift from last Christmas…

16 Dec 2022 Leave a comment

Finneas is a brother to Billie Eilish and has worked with her from the start of her career.

How do you know
If you’ve done everything right?
Is it the love you have at hand
Or the cash you kiss at night?

How do you know
If it was worth it in the end?
Did every second really count
Or were there some you shouldn’t spend
On anything but anyone you love?
Was this the life that you were dreaming of?
A movie night, a yellow light
You’re slowing down and days are adding up

So don’t waste the time you have waiting for time to pass
It’s only a lifetime
That’s only a while
It’s not worth the anger you felt as a child
Don’t waste the time you have waiting for time to pass
It’s only a lifetime
That’s not long enough
You’re not gonna like it without any love
So don’t waste it

I’m unimpressed
By the people preaching pain
For the sake of some small gain
In the sake of someone’s name

I’m unprepared
For my loved ones to be gone
Call ’em far too often now
Worry way too much about mom

Don’t waste the time you have waiting for time to pass
It’s only a lifetime
That’s only a while
It’s not worth the anger you felt as a child
Don’t waste the time you have waiting for time to pass
It’s only a lifetime
That’s not long enough
You’re not gonna like it without any love
So don’t waste it

It’s family and friends, and that’s the truth
The fountain doesn’t give you back your youth
It’s staying up too late at night and laughing under kitchen lights
So hard you start to cry

Don’t waste the time you have waiting for time to pass
It’s only a lifetime
That’s not long enough
You’re not gonna like it without any love
So don’t waste it

–Finneas O’Connell

Image by Judy Smith

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