Accountability…

***

It’s been a good week all up in here, with visible progress to show for it. On Monday I organized email folders, dumping over 5,000 messages in the process, taking the time to unsubscribe as I went along. This situation exists because I don’t really USE email anymore, therefore it slides off my cracker on a regular basis and clogs all the pipes and drains in the communication system. These entities are doing their darnedest to impart urgent information to me, the least I can do is give them a decent burial in the far reaches of space. So that was Day One. On Tuesday I made actual phone calls (GASP!!) to schedule overdue medical appointments, three of them, and lived to tell about it. The problem with procrastination is that it’s entirely self-sustaining — once set in motion it’s good to go forever.

So it’s like this…

***

Since Wednesday I’ve been sitting at the piano for about an hour every morning, which is just now possible again thanks to the spinal surgery. My sweet little concert grand needs a careful tuning, and the neighbors might be suffering since all the steel, concrete, and glass in our building conduct sound fairly efficiently, but it’s heaven to be playing again. Yesterday I combed through a book of show tunes, including some stuff from the 40s that my dad used to play, and it was a party of one, with people I remember well listening in.

Whatever hurts you, feel it and let it go. Music helps with that process. Especially if you’re lucky enough to love music.

***

My recently-adopted motto for 2023:

***

***

***

Having survived it for a while, I tend to yammer on about life, but here’s how it really is and you can take this to whatever bank you trust:

“Life is like arriving late for a movie, having to figure out what was going on without bothering everybody with a lot of questions, and then being unexpectedly called away before you find out how it ends.” ~Joseph Campbell

***

For me, it continues to be about perspective in all things. And this makes me giggle:

***

This week, barring the unforeseen, I shall dispense with a short stack of unsorted mail and empty a couple of in/out baskets, so there’s no lack of inspiration or fodder on the horizon yet and nothing in this house is safe from the urge to purge.

Happy January. It’s almost over.

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Tell me what you like…

*

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…

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The sun also rises…

*

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.

*

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

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Rain, rain, do please stay…

*

Such a lovely HumpDay, watching the rain come down, hearing it hit my windows. It never puts me in a wrong mood, in fact it’s totally healing to this farm child’s heart. Water… what a concept. Falling from the sky, flowing beneath the surface of the earth, carving great canyons upon the face of the planet, maintaining a link back to the womb. Life-giving. Indispensable. It will always feel like a friend.

Rain as a metaphor for life.

*

Enlightenment and acceptance go hand in hand…

And then we can put actual truth in place.

*

Rain reminds me of other soft things, other comforts, among them the inimitable Velveteen Rabbit. Less than three weeks into a fresh year, we’re all too aware how same-same human existence really is, and we feel the toll it extracts. All the stoicism we can muster, our entire store of patience and forbearance, our determination to smile and “keep sweet,” none of that keeps stark reality from our door. So we have to be willing to let life wear the rough edges off of us, keep receiving the love bestowed upon us, and agree to be REAL, come what may. And it will.

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Eat the bear, lest he eat YOU…

*

A thing about life is that it stays unfailingly real, provided we aren’t in the business of lying to ourselves. It comes to us hour by hour, laden with the dull and the unexpected, and every day’s “BEST” on our part will look different from the day before. I see myself these days as far less Pollyanna and more Realistic Optimist. Life will do that to us… so each day has to be a stand against cynicism and discouragement.

I know I’m not alone in feeling a little beat up by recent and current events, so here are a few tips for dealing with the effects, the aftermath, and the immediate future.

In pain? Keep going. Fall down? Get up, keep going. Get sick? Get well, keep going.

When the world feels unfriendly and all indicators point to a negative outcome, our self-talk can turn ugly and destructive. A good thing to do in 2023 is NOT THAT.

*

Word on the street is that, like all of life, it does get better.

*

Don’t we get so tired of crying sometimes, though? Don’t we just finally think “ENOUGH!” ??

End of story.

*

Girls, women, friends, it’s my responsibility to let you in on an important secret to the working out of any and all angst in life, no matter what you’re going through… when you’re desperately in need of an ear, a shoulder, positive therapy…

HAPPY 2023 to us all.

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Doing a Vitals Assessment…

*

Here we are, boys and girls, middle of Week Two, HumpDay, also known as “just make it up, nobody will notice.” How’s your YEAR looking? Yesterday, mine hosted a milestone when I saw my spine surgeon for my one-month-overdue one-year checkup and received my walking papers, signed, sealed, delivered, they’re mine. “Go your way and be well, my child, if pain intrudes again, call us.” I’ll miss seeing him, this kind, young, very tall, very skinny man who almost-casually handed my life back to me. In giving him shit yesterday about his weight, I learned that it’s the same number on the scale as when he left high school. Big deal, I can still wear all the earrings I had back then.

Last year, for all the reasons, will live in infamy in my head until memory fades. 2022 began in a complete fog of pain and opioids, followed by months of hard work. Somewhere along the way I had a second MOHS surgery for basal cell carcinoma, precisely in the middle of my forehead, thank you Ruth Buzzi for the shining example. Fortunately I had a beautiful Middle Eastern surgeon who uses her skills to safeguard women and our spirits, and I’m no scarier-looking than before. In October I fell, destroying my glasses and nearly breaking my orbital socket. The right side of my face and neck were rainbow-hued for too long, and three front teeth are still numb from that little oops. On December 23rd I tested positive for COVID for a second time (first was before all the vaccines), so 2022 ended in much the same way it started… in a fog of pain but minus the opioids, which I really could have used.

So MERRY CHRISTMAS, everyone, hope it was swell. Having totally missed it two years in a row now, I know it all happens whether we’re here for it or not. It’s the days ahead of us that count now, and I’m happy and relieved to have a fresh year to work with. Clearly, time is of the essence as I have a ten-year window to reach this goal:

Goal #2. I’ve already impressed the hell outta 5-year-old me.

That little farm girl is proud of me for growing a backbone over these years of existence, with their never-ending onslaught of real stuff hitting the fan. She’s impressed that I finally found my voice and that I no longer silence it under pressure. She’s living vicariously in the freedom I give myself to be me, and she’s a far happier child than I remember being the first time through.

If you don’t give in, life will try to kick you to the curb, teach you a lesson “once and for all,” and wash its hands of you, so all you can do is hang in and work toward better days, because sometimes life doesn’t know beans. 2022 taught me crucial lessons that will be helpful to have on board going forward, one being that, sometimes, briefly being selfish is the answer. It’s an effective shield if wielded judiciously.

Guard the pieces that comprise the real YOU. Don’t give those away indiscriminately.

I’m taking at least two solid truths forward into 2023. First of all, this… I hope to never lose sight of it:

And its corollary:

I hope 2023 finds me doing the things that make the process of staying alive a better proposition for everyone around me. Happy New Year to you, I missed the last two celebrations but I’m here for it all now. Let’s hold hands and do this thing…

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The view from here, Week One…

Maria Alfie – Marbles III, 1983, oil on canvas

We survived it. If you’re reading this, you got through the intro to the 2023 dance, along with plenty of other brave souls. And if you’re like me, always going the extra mile, you may even have been recognized for your efforts.

The fresh new year is already bringing its daily load of challenges, and that will likely continue unabated, so remember…

*

Life comes at us without letup most of the time, and we each deal in our own way…

*

*

I found this yesterday and it’s so perfectly said that I sat here in silence for a full five minutes letting the truth of it permeate. It’s exquisite:

*

I did an uncharacteristic thing yesterday and clicked on a Facebook link to a “psychic reading.” Turns out they know me there.

Worth sticking around to find out.

*

So here we all are, putting one foot in front of the other because we weren’t offered another option, doing our best, hoping for the right outcome, human-ing like our lives depended on it. We know we don’t have it all figured out, we’re simply trying to get there in time to catch the last train.

*

A message to 2023:

The past decade has extracted a toll while providing growth and insight.

*

“In this universe we are given two gifts: the ability to love, and the ability to ask questions. Which are, at the same time, the fires that warm us and the fires that scorch us.” -Mary Oliver

*

*

Each new odyssey around the sun comes with its own unique set of events and circumstances, none of which humans are privy to before it happens, so if we want to continue our existence we DEAL, end of story.

BEGINNING of story… here we go. You’ve been warned, bright new year.

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Hello? Anybody else here yet?

*

Don’t let me startle you, I’m just over here in 2023 snooping under rocks, checking the temperature, looking at the trends two days in. What I’m picking up so far is that it’s still all about the little things, the crucial details, the fleeting, precious parts of life that we can’t afford to lose sight of or we lose our way.

*

There are unlimited ways to have fun in life… and to BE fun! Amirite??

*

This seems important to carry into the year ahead.

*

As we skeptically eye the blank slate before us, it helps to remember that every new beginning feels this way, and very little of it hinges on us except in the most important ways… one to one, where we have the capacity to make a difference. We don’t know what the year will bring, but experience does tell us a few things: there will be wondrous amazing happenings; there will be heinous horrendous happenings; there will be everything that happens upon the earth with sometimes distressing regularity; and we will deal with it. All of it. Welcome to life.

A word from the truly wise to send us on our way:

“Try not to resist the changes that come your way. Instead let life live through you. And do not worry that your life is turning upside down. How do you know that the side you are used to is better than the one to come?”

― Rumi

*

P.S…………..

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Standing on solemn ceremony…

*

Three mornings from now, it will be a new year. We make such a thing about restarts and clean slates that it tends to crank up the pressure right off the top, making the crispy-clean observance something less than joyful, so this time I’m proceeding on the basis that 2023 is NOBODY’S year, we’re all simply going to stroll nonchalantly to the door, peek through the peephole, open the barrier a crack, read the room, and hang around the coffee machine until the convo starts to sort itself out.

For me, 2023 says less is more. My plan, goal, thought, intent is that if and when the year 2024 shows its face, every drawer, shelf, cabinet, closet, space will have been scrutinized severely and lightened of its load. I feel guilty and heavy-laden if I’m harboring goods of the world for which I have no legit use, especially when I can envision others getting the benefit instead. Excess only adds to my anxiety, and one place that’s due for a purge is the desktop I’m typing on at the moment. Thousands of images, files, and folders must go in the name of mental health. It could happen… bit by bit, step by step.

Random thoughts and admonishments, curated to take us into the immediate future…

Alternatively, I might assign myself the task of adopting more freedom and flexibility.

*

*

Worth keeping in mind during the months ahead…

*

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Almost there…

*

Peace. Quiet. Insulation from the bitter cold. Isolation from the bitter of any sort. These are welcome qualities embedded in The Day After, and with a steaming mug of Kim’s coffee in hand, parked in front of my space heater, eye on the frigid streets below, where absolutely nothing is happening at 9am… it’s an okay perspective, good for processing.

We did it, boys and girls. We’ve survived 2022 thus far, with enough optimism left over for contemplating yet another go ’round. Every new year, with its staggeringly-blank slate, presents an Offer We Can’t Refuse, so off we toddle like lemmings, eager to test the waters and prove the worth of all those valuable lessons we learned in past contests.

I have no idea what to expect from the year ahead, except that it will most likely play out in ways I could/would never program on my own. And it will undoubtedly be more of same in many ways, so the resulting balance/imbalance will be key as always. What will life look like as 2023 progresses?

In these days between Christmas and the New Year, we’re afforded an opportunity to think about that question in detail, should we be feeling especially brave and bold. How might things continue to change, for better or worse, since change itself is a given…

For me, 2022 was the year life actually did change big-time: I was provided a way to leave behind the nerve pain that had haunted the 50 years of my life just prior, thereby opening doors thought permanently closed to me. The effects are ongoing, with no reason to switch horses or alter plans, regardless of any setbacks, which are part of everything. A bad fall in October slowed me down but didn’t stop me, so we’re still bringing you our regularly-scheduled programming for the foreseeable future.

One thing humans are desperate for is restarts. “Let me try again. I can do better.” And more often than not, we do. I’m 100% for restarts and second chances and the grace to use them well, and I’m ready for lots more of that in the year ahead of us… grace, mercy, communication, comprehension. Connection.

This part of the calendar year is packed with holiday celebrations of every sort around the globe, with something in it for everyone. As we take a little time to wool-gather… reminisce… make a pin-cushion of our thoughts… I hope we’ll each gain a renewed sense of respect for each other and what it takes to coexist in the world. And work on doing just that…

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A gift from last Christmas…

*

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

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Christmas happens…

*

Mid week. Hump day. We’ve almost made it to Santa’s birthday, when an angel comes down the chimney and passes judgement on the snacks provided, taking notes for next year. But first… a special weekend with friends… a bit of family time… and then 2023 shows up all shiny and hopeful. The cycle has faithfully renewed itself each year of my existence so I’m going to assume protocol will be followed once again and we’ll be here for it.

Christmas is a Zen affair in our household. No kiddos around to awe and impress, so after our first two extravagant holiday seasons together we’ve foregone the fuss, skipped the middleman, and celebrated in our hearts without need of trappings. TRANSLATION: We’re lazy heathens no longer full of piss and vinegar for every project. We do, however, have a beautiful poinsettia brought to us by friends which is performing a quite admirable solo gig. There are a few people who know to look out for us a little, and I love it so much because here’s the background: farm kids are trusted with responsibility and expected to sink or swim. Same with farm wives. After all that, when I met Kim I’d been looking after six older people… and then two… and then one. He showed up saying “You’re okay, I got you,” and for the first time in memory my personal safety and future didn’t hinge on my own brave efforts. It feels amazing to realize that someone stronger is taking care of the details. And in that vein, I’m grateful to the friends who “see” us and subtly prop us up as things change. That’s an art because WE ARE NOT GETTING OLD, DAMMIT! so it takes a soupçon of tact.

Current outlook encapsulated:

*

So here’s to everyone who takes up the slack… all you real people we depend on in one way or another…

*

In every season of life, I feel an urgency to know things, to understand how it all works, to relate my existence to something meaningful… and that’s why I write. My thanks to Caryn Mirriam Goldberg, a past Kansas Poet Laureate, for sharing this quote.

*

Whatever the days between Halloween and the New Year mean to you, observe them consciously, absorbing their value, and make good memories.

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Still thinking…

*

It’s cold and gray again this morning, which calls for another mug of coffee while I stare out the windows some more. I may be slow getting underway but no worries, all the quiet mornings are belong to ME.

Life hack: give yourself 8 to 12 hours of alone time in the morning to mentally prepare for the day. -Roshan Patel

Three’s perfect but I’ll settle for one.

*

I feel this in my soul.

*

The deep quiet of winter is a boon to anxious humans, soothing like a weighted blanket. [DISCLAIMER: They give me claustrophobia.] If you aren’t personally acquainted with anxiety, it feels like everything-all-the-time-stacked-layered-and-shredded. Your brain runs from one end of the track to the other without letup unless it’s veering off on a side rail or briefly waylaid by sportsing or digital games. And even then…

I have a cousin who’s more of a sister, and we’ve planned since the last time we saw each other… maybe five years ago? … to spend some time on the phone together catching up again. As mom to many kids and grandkids, phone conversations are her life-blood, whereas in my little world they look a lot like this:

Today holds a doctor’s appointment and a Christmas party, one after lunch, one this evening, so of course I woke up at 6am planning for both because they’re mere hours away with nothing between now and then. It makes no sense… but if reason is what we’re after, we can let that go… anxiety doesn’t provide that commodity. Being a neurodivergent bundle of contradictions isn’t a glamorous assignment but I’ve lived to tell you about it so far, which counts as a win every day, and I hope it gives somebody else a spark of optimism. It’s imperative, considering reality, that we pull together any time we can. Life is hard. The more we know, the better.

It’s likely that between now and New Year’s Day most of us will survive the daily requirements plus all the extras. We’ll drift into a fresh calendar with what passes for optimism, and sail on. And we’ll be happy… because we find the stuff of happiness everywhere, we can’t help ourselves. Anxiety as this girl lives it isn’t worry and it isn’t ABOUT anything. It’s about EVERYTHING. The details, timing, deadlines, other people’s expectations, navigating the ins and outs. If you relate, come talk to me in COMMENTS, please.

Sometimes it would be so Zen to be a bug, not seeing every sight, thinking every thought, feeling every feel… until an errant boot heel ended that pleasant reverie, and I’d be quickly reassessing my possibilities for continued existence. Better to stay in my assigned form and deal with what I know, convoluted and incomprehensible as it might seem sometimes. Where are the people who led us to believe we’d have life figured out by age 40 at the latest? Not here are they? I wonder if some of them had an all-encompassing epiphany toward the end and failed to tell us about it. Wouldn’t it save the generations a lot of work if we simply adopted a generous system of file-sharing?

Being an overthinker isn’t entirely bad:

See, not ENTIRELY bad, amirite?

We’ll eventually figure the whole thing out. Or not.

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Sail away…

*

We could live aboard a ship

Hip to hip

And lip to lip

And if we ever lose our grip

We’ll go right back

To lip to lip

*

And if our anchor doesn’t hold

If we drift and get too cold

If we falter, we won’t fold

We’ll go back to lip to lip

*

If we sail for many days

Go too far and get too crazed

I will gladly spend my days

Sailing lip to lip

*

Lip to lip

Lip to lip

On a big fat sailing ship

I would gladly spend my days

Sailing lip to lip

*

Let’s get aboard a big fat ship

And we’ll go sailing lip to lip

*

Composed by Kim Smith October 30, 2020 while attempting to achieve optimum weightlessness in the spa tub.

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On we go…

*

One down in the string of winter holidays if we don’t count Halloween in our race to 2023. Turkey Day was nice. We skipped the turkey and went straight for our personal list of comfort foods… Kimmers and me, Rita and a friend. Easy to make, satisfying to eat. We raised a solemn toast to all those displaced from their homes and traditional lands so that we might enjoy the bounty of life, and thanked whatsoever gods there may be for the gifts.

Our unseen and much-maligned fellow travelers before us paved the way for the societies and civilizations we now take for granted… while they became invisible as a people. We did that. We disappeared them. I’ve been thinking since Thursday about what it means to be invisible, undetected by the world’s radar. My body has almost recovered from my fall in October, but my spirit will never forget the cool detached appraisal from that impeccable young woman as I lay there like a bug on the sidewalk. She made eye contact but never saw me, and went on her way without a second thought. That’s invisibility… when someone or something simply does not exist you’re under no obligation to give weight to it. I’ve tried several times over the past few days to wrestle a feeling into words, but I couldn’t get a handle on it until a story this morning spelled it out: A thing unseen never has to be dealt with.

So true. In a flurry of pre-New Year housekeeping a while back, I sat here and wrote down some honest thoughts, and then before I could change my mind I hit SEND. I did hear back from the person it was sent to, but nothing I said was addressed beyond “hello.” That’s invisibility and it feels like being canceled. I’m getting used to it out there in public… my white hair and wrinkles announce my lack of viability and visibility everywhere I go… but I’m not so familiar with it yet from people I once knew. Such a strange disorienting sensation, and one I apparently need to get used to sooner rather than later because it’s happening with startling regularity at this point. When you say or write something, attempting to keep life honest and real, and not even an echo comes back… do you still exist?

It’s the dilemma of every older person I’ve ever known. Am I still here? Does anybody see me? Does anyone give a flying fvck? Honest answer: No, the world does not care, get over it and fix it yourself. My inner voice, which becomes louder year by year, has been telling me to go where I’m celebrated, rather than stay where I’m merely tolerated, and I’m sure that’s a solution to keep in mind. I only know that if it costs you your peace, it’s too expensive.

*

The world is so full of anger it keeps us off balance. I talked with someone yesterday who’s running primarily on anger fumes right now, and for good reason. We both know we can’t stay this rage-engaged forever, but sometimes it gets shit done from the inside out, where it matters most.

*

*

We are saved by those who tell us the truth… those who come to us bearing gifts of love and grace and an easy transparency that says “I got you.”

Thankful. So thankful.

A special thank you to my husband as we embark on another cold winter, with its lack of sunlight and sometimes unfriendly weather. I’m forever grateful he knew what to do with the grubby old cardboard box full of broken pieces I brought him.

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tonysbologna : Honest. Satirical. Observations

Funny Blogs With A Hint Of Personal Development

ipledgeafallegiance

When will we ever learn?: Common sense and nonsense about today's public schools in America.

The Alchemist's Studio

Raku pottery, vases, and gifts

Russel Ray Photos

Life from Southern California, mostly San Diego County

Phicklephilly

The parts of my life I allow you to see

Going Medieval

Medieval History, Pop Culture, Swearing

It Takes Two.

twinning with the Eichmans

Vox Populi

A Public Sphere for Poetry, Politics, and Nature. Over 15,000 daily subscribers. Over 6,000 archived posts.

rarasaur

frightfully wondrous things happen here.

FranklyWrite

Live Life Write

Social Justice For All

Working towards global equity and equality

Drinking Tips for Teens

Creative humour, satire and other bad ideas by Ross Murray, an author living in the Eastern Townships of Quebec, Canada. Is it truth or fiction? Only his hairdresser knows for sure.

john pavlovitz

Stuff That Needs To Be Said

Gretchen L. Kelly, Author

Gretchen L. Kelly

KenRobert.com

random thoughts and scattered poems

Margaret and Helen

Best Friends for Sixty Years and Counting...

WordPress.com News

The latest news on WordPress.com and the WordPress community.

Musings of a Penpusher

A Taurean suffering from cacoethes scribendi - an incurable itch to write.

Ned's Blog

Humor at the Speed of Life

Funnier In Writing

A Humor Blog for Horrible People

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