And now it’s Monday…

It was a windy, rainy Sunday but happy and cozy all up in here, and I heard from my claim to motherhood first thing, working the holiday to help cover for all the moms, sons, and daughters who called out for the day. There was a perfect omelet and a spa soak… a Royals-White Sox game (we lost, but baseball is Zen even on a bad day)… peach malt smoothies… veggie lasagna for dinner… and I’m seeing a definite festive food pattern here.

A belated Happy Mom’s Day to all who signed up in any way.

Speaking of parenthood… the concept has somehow worked, after a fashion, down through the millenia, without improving massively during that time. It’s still a nebulous proposition, given that the scenario is always an original. First-time Mother Human meets new Baby Human, and neither has a clue, so they do the best they can with what they know at the time. Later, they realize they could have done better with more knowledge and experience… but since it doesn’t work that way, we’re all golden if we live through it and end up friends. I call that a win, and my job is to care for the relationship.

Nurturing each other, from inside or outside the confines of family, requires a compassion that takes in the whole picture, isn’t easily come by, and is always costly in some way.

My first instinct is to try to understand where someone’s coming from, in the interest of real communication, but after 25 years, I’m admitting defeat in the face of fascism’s propaganda arm, whose steady onslaught of conspiracy theories and general nonsense has been unrelenting and stops intelligent conversation in its tracks. Its presence in the world is an oppressive gray curtain, masking and obscuring clarity and truth, seemingly impenetrable after a quarter-century. It astounds me that they’re still in business… until I remember the 71 million keeping them there.

The Pro Wrestling of news…

There are clearly limits and roadblocks to human understanding, but given even half a chance I’ve been known to try for it anyway. It’s the Pollyanna in me that won’t quit, and in the face of pandemics and upheavals… no apologies.

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Her rules…

Art Piece by L. Lichtenfells

Today’s guest post is from Lezlie Gwynn via Facebook…

Meet Madam Jeanne Louise Calment, who had the longest confirmed human lifespan: 122 years, 164 days. Apparently, fate strongly approved of the way she lived her life. She was born in Arles, France, on February 21, 1875. The Eiffel Tower was built when she was 14 years old. It was at this time she met Vincent van Gogh. “He was dirty, badly dressed, and disagreeable,” she recalled in an interview given in 1988.

When she was 85, she took up fencing, and still rode her bike when she reached 100. At the age of 114, she starred in a film about her life, at age 115 she had an operation on her hip, and at age 117 she gave up smoking, having started at the age of 21 in 1896. She didn’t give it up for health reasons; her reason was that she didn’t like having to ask someone to help her light a cigarette once she was nearly blind.

In 1965, Jeanne was 90 years old and had no heirs. She signed a deal to sell her apartment to a 47-year-old lawyer called André-François Raffray. He agreed to pay her a monthly sum of 2,500 francs on the condition he would inherit her apartment after she died. However, Raffray not only ended up paying Jeanne for 30 years, but then died before she did at the age of 77. His widow was legally obliged to continue paying Madam Calment until the end of her days.

Jeanne retained sharp mental faculties. When she was asked on her 120th birthday what kind of future she expected to have, her reply, “A very short one.”

Here are the Rules of Life from Jeanne Louise Calment:

“I’m in love with wine.”

“All babies are beautiful.”

“I think I will die of laughter.”

“I’ve been forgotten by our Good Lord.”

“I’ve got only one wrinkle, and I’m sitting on it.”

“I never wear mascara; I laugh until I cry often.”

“If you can’t change something, don’t worry about it.”

“Always keep your smile. That’s how I explain my long life.”

“I see badly, I hear badly, and I feel bad, but everything’s fine.”

“I have a huge desire to live and a big appetite, especially for sweets.”

“I have legs of iron, but to tell you the truth, they’re starting to rust and buckle a bit.”

“I took pleasure when I could. I acted clearly and morally and without regret. I’m very lucky.”

“Being young is a state of mind, it doesn’t depend on one’s body. I’m actually still a young girl, it’s just that I haven’t looked so good for the past 70 years.”

At the end of one interview, the journalist said, “Madame, I hope we will meet again sometime next year.” To which Jeanne replied, “Why not? You’re not that old; you’ll still be here!”

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An awed “Ohh… “

“Ordinarily, I go to the woods alone, with not a single friend, for they are all smilers and talkers and therefore unsuitable… I don’t really want to be witnessed talking to the catbirds or hugging the old black oak tree. I have my way of praying, as you no doubt have yours… Besides, when I am alone I can become invisible. I can sit on the top of a dune as motionless as an uprise of weeds, until the foxes run by unconcerned. I can hear the almost unbearable sound of the roses singing… If you have ever gone to the woods with me, I must love you very much.”- Mary Oliver

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Life Force

An established habit, good or bad, is hard to break, so my first impulse every morning on my way back from the bathroom is to put something in writing. That starts my clock, shapes my mood, and sets the day in the starting blocks. Today feels like the Friday it is – the sun’s dazzle has prevented us from opening the blinds yet and it’s a good omen when the future’s so bright you gotta wear shades! 😎

I managed to toast a bagel to perfection this morning and didn’t burn my fingers getting the veggie schmear right… it’ll be 50s and sunny today… the laundry’s caught up except for a little stack of leggings and t-shirts to fold… and I have only one daunting phone call to make, telling a medicare entity “I do not owe this bill. Thank you.” Easy slide into the weekend…

It isn’t telling someone to “back off, Jack” that’s daunting, it’s the talking-on-the-phone part because I have a mental block about it since losing my hearing, even though bluetooth puts the conversation directly into my ears/brain. I dread encountering an accent that I’m slow to grasp, making me sound like a finicky white-woman. I assume that people will talk too fast, too muffled, too dismissively… but those roadblocks seldom actually occur. I’ve simply turned into a social chicken – it’s a lot of work, I’ve been there done that, and couldn’t we handle this via more advanced technology? I like my comfort zone, but my access is being noticeably tampered with this month. When Kim was trying not to die recently of what may have been extreme food poisoning, I made three trips to Stabby Dillons in as many days – the girl who hadn’t been in a store in an entire year – and lived to tell the story. There’s the occasional business detail that can’t move forward without my say-so, thus requiring an appearance or an assurance via phone call that I am indeed ME, which is a definite Comfort Zone Violation. But… I will make that call today and I’ll finesse the shit out of it, and won’t even miss the comfort I’ve sacrificed. Then, as conditions improve and people can mingle again, the Zone will shrink further, perhaps even to a healthy level at some point (?) making social interaction a no-brainer… and that’s when I’ll really miss the ol’ CZ. 😂😷

Twitter’s a complete minefield today, the Jayhawks don’t play until tomorrow, it’s too chilly for balcony time… what to do, what to do. It would be just darling if I accomplished something, so I’m giving that some thought…

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A year in the time of COVID… page 233

Day 365 – 03/16/2021

One full year, with a diary page every day & a half to show for it… I’m calling that creativity. These 233 pages hold joy and tears, light spirits and heavy hearts, my truth, reality as it happened, shock and awe. Kim and I created our own environment in here when we sheltered, and fine-tuned our routine to meet the circumstances. We’ve creatively avoided driving each other screaming yellow bananas in this open loft, and managed to create an even better vibe than before. Creativity matters in a crunch, as does patience.

The only thing I’ve had no patience for is the jerks.

This year in the catacombs could have been so much easier on everyone, and infinitely less deadly, but it was what it was, we went through some things, and eventually it’ll all just magically fade away. The mantra from hell still haunts…

All year I’ve railed against injustice on these pages, grieved cruelty and loss, damned stupidity, sought answers to the human dilemma, wished for connection… but a speed-skim from March 16, 2020 to today tells me it’s been at least 85% sunshine all up in here, and I’m glad I can look back and know that.

After the steady outpour, it could be time for a sabbatical, so I’ll be consulting with the muses… when they fall silent, I follow suit. Writing it all down was a wise plan… likely the best care I could have provided to myself and anyone who’s had to deal with me.

But tomorrow restarts the clock for 2021 & a half, as all of us survey the wreckage and wonder where to start. The challenges will gradually become less life-or-death, and more life-or-less. But it’s hard to settle for less, knowing what we know, and being alive all the way seems like the only choice. Thinking about sunshine… thinking about all the good hearts who got us this far.

So, Diary, I’ll take you underground again and close the book on the past twelve months. It was a microcosm of everything good or bad about the human experience, and it’s a valuable bit of living added to my arsenal of understanding. I learned things I wouldn’t have comprehended any other way… and it was past time.

My personal regrets in life are almost solely over stupid things I’ve said, leaving people with wrong impressions. But regretting circumstances isn’t in me because if you change one thing you’ve changed everything. So we live what’s in front of us and hope we do it right… and I have no regrets over the year we just survived. We kept up with the science, we followed the protocols, we’re fully vaccinated, and everything from here on out is gravy. Hmmm… wouldn’t it be nice.

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Bits & pieces… page 227

Day 356 – 03/07/2021

It’s a sunny Sunday morning, but it’s quiet all up in here so far except for the steady murmur of the TV. Kim spent another rough night, so I’m trying to let him sleep it off, not the easiest thing in an open loft with one wall and few doors. I can “go deaf” and sleep ’til someone wakes me up, but he doesn’t have that handy defense. He’s gonna be fine, but coronavirus itself is something to be taken seriously in every way so no wonder the vaccine for it can temporarily knock us stem-winding. Zero regrets – it’s all part of our dues to keep living on the planet.

Past noon, and there’s a little bit of life in the house. We’ve been on a movie marathon for a while now, by which I mean Kim scans ’til something stops him, and 99% of the time it’s a winner. It might be something we never got around to seeing, or an obscure entry we’d never heard of, but he has the same nose for finding quality viewing as he does for finding the good parking spot. They’ve all been timely in some way, and most have had me in tears at least once, therefore cathartic. I ❤️ cheap therapy.

Spoiled Me missed out on her weekend breakfasts, so if Kimmers is dropping weight, I am too. I haven’t eaten enough to keep a flea alive since Christmas but my body hasn’t noticed because if you don’t move much, it’s all same-same in the end. The status quo needs work.

Truth, but won’t happen today because we’re just gonna hang right here until the immediate world squares itself a little, while we gear up for whatever’s next. Every day of this trek through the past year has meant something… and sometimes a day means “You got through this one, you did okay.”

Doing okay.

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A Saturday P.S.

Image by Paula Belle Flores

You’re not imagining it, nobody seems to want to talk right now. Messages are brief and replies late. Talk of catch-ups on zoom are perpetually put on hold. Group chats are no longer pinging all night long.

It’s not you. It’s everyone. We are spent. We have nothing left to say. We are tired of saying ‘I miss you’ and ‘I can’t wait for this to end.’ So we mostly say nothing, put our heads down and get through each day.

You’re not imagining it. This is a state of being like no other we have ever known because we are all going through it together but so very far apart.

Hang in there my friend. When the mood strikes, send out all those messages and don’t feel you have to apologize for being quiet.

This is hard.

No one is judging.

Donna Ashworth, author of poetry book, ‘to the women’

https://www.amazon.co.uk/…/ref=cm_sw_em_r_mt_dp…

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