Desert Magnolia

There are things in the world that should be wet. Water. Aquariums. Showers. The inside of washing machines when they're washing. Gentle spring rain. Not the ceiling above your kitchen sink.  The morning after the plumbers came back to 'correct' some work they'd done that the city inspector didn't like. Now, in all fairness, the acts may be unrelated. But the evidence points to someone NOT CHECKING THEIR FUCKING SEALS BEFORE THEY LEFT FOR THE NIGHT. Goddamnit. Just when it felt like we were about to have a relatively normal New Year's Eve, someone's oversight mistake ensures yet another day of hanging out while large men invade our home, ascend into the attic to troubleshoot the newly laid piping, and then talk a lot about how 'these things happen, we don't spend too much time worrying about them, we just make them right.' Alrighty, then. Knock yourselves out, boys, and know that this menopausal, COVID exhausted woman on the edge is watching and

We live in a house we bought when our children were young. We scoped out good schools, drove around many neighborhoods, even made an offer on a house down the street (which we backed out of when they countered for a $1500 increase in the asking price - we'd found this one and fallen in.love with it and were happy to have a legal and graceful way out of the other deal), and finally chose the one we're in now.  It's a home. We've celebrated many many family occasions here - a full 23 years of them. We've been here 24, but COVID. Anyway, it was built in 1976. Our city was growing quickly, and demand outpaced supply of single family homes. Subdivisions sprouted where there was land. Our house is on the north side of the city, in a nice, middle class (albeit rather uninspiring, architecturally) neighborhood. The contractor was busy. And from what we've discovered, first hand and often to the tune of thousands of dollars each discovery, he cut corners. Wherever he

 Who knew how hard it would be to find Cornish hens this time of year? Apparently we are not alone in scaling back our poultry roast this year. Finally I found some, at Whole Foods. And they are securely nested in the freezer for the moment, to be brought out and thawed on Wednesday. For the last 30+ years, with the exception of one escape to Ruidoso to gorge on a sumptuous buffet away from our local family, we have hosted Turkey Day. It's been a thing. We love to cook, our house is big enough to accommodate everyone, etc. Yes, there's been family drama, and some years we've questioned our decision to host, but that goes with the territory.  Every single year I've wrestled with enormous birds, seasoned and roasted them to perfection, then created many many sides to accompany the roasted beasts. This year, though, no big fat bird, We're scaling down and it's Cornish hen time. We entertained the idea of having MIL over and eating outside, but the weather is foreca

I think I need a social media break. Here's why:    (1.) I am becoming annoyed by all of the well meaning spiritual guidance. Every.damned.time I get on Instagram there is an endless stream of advice based upon advice I've liked in the past. I get it - I've provided the behavior for the algorithms. And I truly do believe...in whatever I liked in the past, but I'm overwhelmed with the variety of insights and sheer volume of it all.   (2.)My relatives are batshit crazy. And they are insistent upon sharing their batshit crazy views, repeatedly. Ceaselessly. The crazy is far left/spirtual/convinced we are about to ascend...and far right/Trump lovers/flag wavers/right to lifers. My family, it's a mixed bag of nuts, but honestly....they wear me out. And social media gives them a platform from which to distribute their brand of nuts.  (3.)I have less self control than I'd like. Honestly, I love beautiful blue jeans, responsibly crafted, well, anything , and when that

Every day the sun comes up. And with that comes an opportunity to view life with renewed optimism and energy. Today was no exception. I realized that the dark cloud that had been following me dissipated while I slept.  The world itself was the same, in fact a nasty storm had added to the chaos by hammering Louisiana and Texas with Cat 4 forces overnight. But, for some reason, my skies cleared. My breaths deepened, my shoulders lifted, my spirit decided to lighten the hell up. Was it my guardian angels answering my soft plea for guidance through this shitstorm? Was it the endless hours of Qi Gong finally taking hold and settling my nervous system and emotions? Not sure, but something (or somethings) worked. And well. For this I am grateful, for obvious reasons. Today was a day of myriad domestic tasks, one of simple pleasures derived from creating order from chaos.  There was cooking, there was tidying, there was organizing, there was a calm from focus on just those things, nothing else

Months into this, I find myself just...bone tired.  Tired of the conversations.  Tired of the reality of daily fear layered over the reality of yearning for a quality life.  Tired of the politicization of a terrible health crisis.  Tired of the buildup to an election, the results of which hold our futures in balance - darkness and light are at work, this time.  Tired from being upbeat and supportive and so very very positive with each of my patients each and every treatment, day after day.  Tired from an endless summer of oppressive heat, big wind, very little rain.  Tired of being tired.   I really really want to take a deep breath, awaken one morning without the crashing realization, a few seconds after waking, that life is super complicated, rather dangerous, and without many of the simple opportunities I've come to take so much for granted.  I want to be able to hug freely, meet casually, feel a sense of lightness, and gather in casual or chic or fun or any fucking setting I fe

I have the body of a sprinter, but always ran long distance. My wind would stabilize, my muscles would synchronize, my mind would clear...at about mile 2.5 and just improve after that. For decades I ran. My high school P. E. teacher, Ms. Vidano, instilled the love of the run, and it remains to this day, long past when I should endeavor to tread the roads for miles and miles. The run sustained me after my (very early life) divorce. The run helped reconnect with a childhood friend, who had ventured far for college but returned for work, and who found me enjoying a post-work cigarette and glass of wine on my balcony one night and said, 'Oh, no, this isn't right. Put that fucking thing out. I'll be here in the morning. We're going shopping, and we're going running.' Loved that. He was right, and he was awesome, and he got me back out of a trench and into my running love zone. Then I met my now love, my man of many years, father of my children, partner in

So I got a Kindle, and I read a LOT. It's convenient, easy for my aging eyes to read, and thanks to my friend Lisa, I am part of a fun book 'club' that sends daily deals and provides fun reading ideas. I am in a club... and it's been great so far. I can now carry oodles of options (I have about 25 books loaded right now) so no matter what mood I might find myself in, I can indulge. Full disclosure, I am a totally sucker for FREE books, so my collection may not be up to the 100 books everyone should read before they die expectation, but there you have it. Amazon gets me...and FREE is good. I have been known to pay for a book if a friend recommends it, but I like a bargain too. In other news, the world is still in the shit soup.  We are facing the consequences of a hasty reopening after COVID lockdown, consequences that may include yet another lockdown since we've allowed what is being called a surge to happen...with daily increases in the virus exceeding any prior

I'm a voracious reader, have been since I was a child. I was born into a TV free household, where management insisted 'The Man' was behind TV, and that our thoughts and reactions and habits were subject to undue influence if we watched.  At the time I resented that we were the only people IN THE ENTIRE WORLD without a TV, but now I respect and understand the wisdom behind that decision. Our bookshelves were loaded with everything from art history to social commentary to mysteries to science fiction to gardening references. I read everything, all of it, in spite of my young age. I have reread some of the early tomes, and realize I missed much of the intent of the authors due to my lack of maturity at the time, but since I've reread them, I got it later. Anyway, I love to read. I also love to write, mostly because I love to read - they're connected in my mind.  A few years back I got a library card, and am a frequent flyer at our neighborhood branch. I take my ba

At the beginning of last week (Week 1 of this self-imposed distancing extravaganza attempt to flatten the curve and slow that bitch of a virus down at least a little in the short term) I was touching base with friends. There was texting, there were phone calls. There was communication of one sort or another. As you may know if you've been reading my blog for any period of time, I am, at heart, a writer. Always have been.  When I was in grade school and we'd have to write something, I would be jumping for joy and outlining and plotting. I guess writing is my first and possibly enduringly most powerful artistic outlet. I was born with the urge. This urge has powered me through a career, has provided a therapeutic outlet, and remains a soothing pastime even now. So it's no surprise, when faced with the prospect of time and space unfilled with the normal clinic, patient care stuff I thought about writing. An aside. My son is encouraging me to write about my mid-life shif

I thought you should all know I decided to wear shoes today. Real shoes, with laces and everything. Most days, now, I hang out in my Minnetonka moccasin slippers most of the time. When it comes time to prepare a meal, I don my trusty Dansko clogs, which keep my feet and back happy while I cook. Our tile floors are nice, but they are treacherous on backs and my feet are always cold. So I have the two favs lined up side by side, right outside my closet, for easy donning. Slip on, slip off, slip on, and so on. The ritual of (post shower/grooming), slipping on footies, then getting into my favorite Keds? Well it represents forward movement of a sort. It means 'hey world, I am ready to meet and greet you, no matter what gives today.' Or something like that. Also, today is a jeans day. With a real (not sports) bra, and a real (not technical gear) blouse. Bring it. I am ready for whatever comes my way. Huge hugs, Stevie

It has come to my attention that I am lazy when it comes to grooming, these days. Let me be clear - I always wash up, via sink baths and such, but have spent less quality time immersed in or under a stream of hot water in the last two weeks. I'm not sure why this is, but feel that 'adjusting to the new normal', wherein we socialize virtually and isolate intentionally to slow the spread of this horrid virus, plays a role. I don't like change, I guess, and this reality represents change on a level my generation hasn't yet experienced. Until now. I've also noticed that when I do groom, I kinda go over the top with it. I seem to be an all or nothing girl right now. I'm either fully plucked, shaved, exfoliated, moisturized, mascaraed, lipsticked, perfumed, or I'm pretty raw. Always flossed and brushed, always wearing deodorant (I'm not an ANIMAL, y'all), always moisturized and possibly SPFd, but the plucking and shaving stuff...seems to be less

Mid week, week 2. Here we are, making the best of social distancing. The governor just declared our state an emergency, so the distancing is mandatory, which I totally support. It's odd, though, to be a health care professional but deemed non-essential. It makes sense, but it stings a little. Does that make sense? I am important, but not emergent important. But that's not my point. Having time to think (ruminate?) about life, my choices, my career, etc., has revealed some areas of focus/clarity. First, I have learned I  am not a work at home person. I need people. I am an extrovert, and a healer, so I really need people. Literally. To do my job. Also, I really like people. Interacting is important to me. The give and take in a normal day is something I've not really thought too much about since becoming a D.O.M., it simply is. Well, now that it's not, I am missing it all. A lot. Second, as the big relief package takes effect, I am concerned. I am an Independe

Week 1 is nearly over. We've weathered some days with distancing, have begun to understand what this is going to feel like, and must all process in our own way. Risks I see at this point: I may never ever believe an assuring word from our leaders about, well, anything, but mostly about the nature of a pathogen threatening our world and way of life. Ever again. I may never want to wear jeans again. Yoga pants rule. I may never want to wear makeup again. Or at least I may never wear as much as before, which wasn't a lot, but now....a hint of liner, some mascara - that's gonna be it. Done. The first time I have to get up at 6 a.m. to my alarm, I may chuck my phone across the room. Benefits I see at this point: The obvious - we may be able to flatten the viral curve enough to prevent completely overwhelming our fragile health care system. The flaws of our current system have been revealed in a glaring way, and now that the ugly cat is out of the bag, things are