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Wait, why is this wet?

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
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Sometimes we re-route

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 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

Thanksgiving with a twist

 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

So, here we are

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 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

New Day

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

The run

I have the body of a sprinter, but always ran long distance. My wind would stabilize, my muscles would synchronize, my mind would 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