It Takes A Worried Man

I've been listening to the Kingston Trio since I was a tot. They were favorites of my parents, along with the Yarbirds, and Peter, Paul and Mary. I know so many of the KT songs by heart and many of them were what I first learned to play on the guitar. Some years ago I was lucky enough to see them in concert, and the guitarists strings broke and he quickly changed them during a break. I was next to the stage and asked if I could have those strings, and he put them in their paper packaging and handed them to me. I have no idea whatever became of them. I also recently read that Bob Shane, the last surviving member of the original Kingston Trio, died on January 26, 2020 due to complications from pneumonia. He was 85 years old.

Gleeful Music by Bob

Well, here's an artist I've never heard of, but my Blogging friend, Bev, who lives in Nova Scotia, posted about him on Facebook. He was born in Toronto and bought land in Nova Scotia when he was in his mid-twenties, and really lives simply on that land. Like, no electricity! A very small cabin. He loves it. This delightful song is very clever and I laughed a lot listening to it. Hope you like it, too.
Have a great weekend!

Sign of the Times

There's a guy who stands on a street corner near my house. It's a busy intersection, one where I take a right turn whenever coming home from downtown. He's there come snow or shine, and he dances holding a sign advertising I don't know what. Perhaps you have seen these guys, too. I've never seen a female out there doing this. A guy thing. I got curious and did a little research: they are called, get this, "Human Directionals!" Businesses love them and think they are a very cost effective way to advertise. I personally think they are a distraction for drivers, and I can't tell what they are advertising because they are, well, spinning those signs super fast. The other term for this Human Directional is 'spinners.' Towns are trying to regulate them, to keep them from both blocking pedestrian traffic and from spilling out into the road. I find them annoying and I'm really not sure how much business they bring in for their employers. I do admit, however, there is a skill and an art to what they do.



Can you tell me what in the world this sign is advertising? Sign spinning has become such a thing that there are championships where spinners compete. Who knew?

What a week we've had, eh? While all the political turmoil was raging, I at least was taking care of my business: new driver's license for my new state, new vehicle registration (difference office, wouldn't you know), driving to Loveland to get fitted for a new CPAP mask, mailing back my old iPhone since I purchased a new one, and faxing the County of Yolo for my husband's certificate of death. Feels pretty damn productive to me. All while the snow was falling in big fat flakes and we had -3 temps the other night. I'm becoming acclimated, I tell you.

But really, the state of the world and the politics of the U.S. has got me concerned. Will my grandchildren have a healthy planet and political climate when they become adults? I shudder to think. I despair. I've seen some pretty awful stuff this week, like the video of the woman in Iowa who is shocked to discover that Pete Buttigieg is gay and is asking if she can have her ballot back. "Can't have a man like that in office." she says. Does she get her ballot back? Hell no. The caucus worker is very calm with her, which is the best way to handle this kind of bigot. The bigot starts paraphrasing the Bible, all wrong of course. But the highlight of the political week for me was when Speaker Pelosi rips Trump's State of the Union speech at the end of his chest thumping, lying, oration. You GO, Nancy! Of course she's being criticized by the GOP, the same GOP who knowingly voted to acquit our Liar in Chief. They dishonor the constitution and their oath of office, and they want to complain about Nancy's behavior?! Puh-leasssse.

This song is pretty bleak, and that's how a lot of people are feeling right now. When will we ever learn? I've spent the week listening to the good old protest songs of the 1960s. Give it a try -- it uplifted me, particularly Dylan's The Times They Are a Changin' and Trini Lopez's If I had a Hammer, sung by Peter, Paul and Mary. I hope if you are full of despair, that you will come out of it and join those of us who can still muster up some hope that we can vote the Cheeto Bastard (and the GOP senate) out of office this November. Or at the very least, play some good old and new protest songs, like Green Day's American Idiot. That's an excellent one.

Music Is Life

Music is one of the first senses we humans respond to.  Tiny toddlers dance, clap and sing to the music before they can even talk or walk.  Music is also the last sense to leave us when we are dying.

In the last few days of Steve's life, his daughter Rachelle got his iPhone working again and set  up a giant playlist of all the classical music he had on his iTunes.  Though fading in and out of consciousness, Steve would raise a hand and conduct the orchestra, as was his way all his life.  Sometimes he could get quite animated!  I thought he may have missed his calling.

We both love the music of Erik Satie, and I added it to the playlist.  It was exquisitely beautiful and heartbreaking to listen to.  His music was used on the soundtrack to the fabulous documentary, Man on Wire.  If you haven't seen it, you must.


Satie was an influential artist in the late 19th- and early 20th-century Parisian avant-garde. His work was a precursor to later artistic movements such as minimalism, repetitive music, and the Theatre of the Absurd. Steve would cry listening to this music. The full album of songs is called Gymnopedies and the music was first heard in 1887 in Paris. Steve's love affair with Paris was life-long, and he passed that passion on to me. He was exceptionally knowledgeable about classical music and perhaps his love of it was second only to his love of photography. But the music came first. Frequently going to live performances of the Cleveland Orchestra when he was younger. Check out Satie if you don't know his work. I think it's brilliant, and certainly very moving.

The Supreme Joy of it All

A merry Christmas was had by all.  On the eve of, we went to a tamale and cookie making party, with plenty of fun games to boot.  My daughter and son-in-law have some great friends, and these particular ones she has known since High School.  In California.  They've all made their way to Colorado.

My grand daughter's good buddy is this smiling fellow below.  At three years old, he is full of energy and provides plenty of exasperation for his moms.  The night we were there, he kept locking the front door because he wanted people to knock.  Didn't work so well when one of his moms tried to come with an arm full of gifts...and he couldn't figure out how to UN lock the door!

 I really enjoy the company of these people who are about thirty years younger than I am.  I feel lucky that my daughter wants me there and includes me.  I hold my tongue when something 'old ladyish' pops into my head and I don't give advice.  I don't want to be their mom, I want to be their friend.

We avoided any snow and the temps were a balmy 50 degrees.  Snow may be coming this weekend, so I'm getting out while I can.  I did some post Christmas shopping to scoop up ribbons, ornaments and decorations at 70 percent off.  And I purchased a new artificial Christmas tree for a mere $63.  My current one is 7 years old and is a shorty, which needs to be up on a table in order to look good.  It's pretty unstable perched up there, especially with active grand children.

I have no idea what I'm doing for New Year's Eve, if anything.  I might make an early night of it and snuggle in bed with the best little dog in the world.  Binge watch something on Netflix.

I hope you enjoyed your holidays and found ways to celebrate the light and all the good things in your life.  Let's cross our fingers for the new year, shall we?

TGIF

I saw, finally, the movie "The Sound of My Voice." Linda was a favorite of mine in high school - years 1972 - 75. I wore down the grooves on her "Heart Like a Wheel" album. The movie is a powerful portrait of her life and career. She grew up in a musical family and the making of music was just a part of family life. No wonder she was a natural, and ready when she moved to Los Angeles to start her big career in earnest, after starting small with her sister and brother in Tuscon, AZ. "It Doesn't Matter Anymore" was on the regular playlist with my little trio, albeit uptempo unlike this version. I like the slow version, but the two fellas I was playing with preferred something faster. It really took my breath away -- literally. Practice, practice. So, anyway, back to the movie. So many wonderful songs, and great artists: Emmy Lou Harris, Dolly Parton, the Eagles, Jackson Browne, Bonnie Raitte. If you go to Youtube you can see the special upon her induction to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Not to be missed. Have a lovely weekend!

TGIF

I was sick this week with a cold that settled in my chest. Sunday was a lazy day, barely moving about at all except to let Lucy out for a pee. I watched a lot of recorded programs on the television, notably, for this post, a John Sebastian special on Folk Music (PBS). It was extremely bitter sweet to see...so many of the singers and songs from my teen years, and the artists that I emulated when I was playing music with friends, and later, publicly. The Lovin' Spoonful, The Kingston Trio; The Limelighters were early influences and music that my parents listened to. Those early ballads and songs adopted and adapted by white American folk singers also had a common style: smooth (too smooth), mournful, too removed from their origins to feel authentic. I didn't know that then because this was the first time I'd heard many of the tunes. One of the reasons I grew bored with folk music of America was because it became, well, boring for me. Too slow, too down tempo, too mournful. Some songs endure for me, of course, and this one is particularly bitter sweet.

 One of the songs I sang often was Guthrie's Deportee. I was all about folk music with a social conscience. It was a great song for my voice, but after some time I just felt sad when I sang it, so I dropped it from my song list. It is a fine, song, however, and so I'll include it here.

  And what, I ask you, has changed? The music of Peter, Paul and Mary, the artists mentioned above, the adapted folk music sung by Joan Baez and Bob Dylan, these informed my view of America and the world. They were songs that called out social injustice and clamored for change. Maybe I'm under the influence of my illness still, maybe melconcholy from my recent relationship split, maybe being in a new town and state and still finding my way, but I'm just not feeling all that warm and fuzzy about the human race as a whole. Of course our President and Republicans in Congress aren't lifting my mood either. The rich keep getting richer and the poor get poorer. This song, written in 1934 by Goebel Reeves, still rings true in 2019. I performed this song, in a workshop, for Ronnie Gilbert who was leading the day-long workshop way back in the early 1990s. Mary McCaslin was also in that workshop and she and I worked on a song together (Ronnie asked us to) and performed it later in the day. I have no recollection what song that was! But I'll always remember with great happiness that Ronnie thought I ought to be performing. She said, "I don't care if it's in somebody's house, but you've got to be singing." I may not have followed Ronnie's advice, but I sure still enjoy music. And I sing in the shower. Here's what I finally listened to in order to lift my spirits and steady my heart.

TGIF

(click on images to enlarge)

I had some photos from my Paris trip three years ago show up on Facebook this week.  I love that city, its people and the whole vibe of it.  The photos bring back many wonderful memories of walking, walking, walking through Paris streets and observing people.  Stopping at a cafe for lunch or a Perrier with grenadine to refresh and take a load off the feet for a bit.  I probably won't be returning to Paris for many years, as my financial situation is now not what it was.  But I am thankful for the opportunities I had to travel in Europe and Africa over the last five years.

 I won't miss the crowds, however.  My trip this year was marred by the crowded conditions.  It's one reason I don't go to large museums like the Musee du Louvre. I don't want to jostle with other tourists to get a look at the Mona Lisa.  I heard recently they are considering removing it because it attracts too many people.

The walk around Giverny was similarly ruined by too many people.  It would really help to limit the number of visitors at any one time. 

And don't get me started on Versailles.  What a sea of humanity.  Shoulder to shoulder snaking through hallways with no ability to linger or turn around.  There's plenty in Paris and nearby to enjoy without putting yourself through that.

In other news this week, I called the university to see what the heck was up with my change of insurance coverage.  After weeks of unsuccessfully navigating their website (which is undergoing renovation) I got hold of a real live person on the phone, gave her all my information and was assured she would expedite it.  That was October 23.  Nothing has happened since then.  WTF?!  I spoke with a live person again this week and she said she can't  understand why it wasn't processed, but it wasn't.  I gathered up my fist shaking anger and tucked it away so I could have a civil conversation with her and get the job done.  I am not the kind of person who sees a doc once or twice a year.  I'm a very, very frequent flyer due to several chronic illnesses.  So I've been livid that this is taking so long.  She said I'd have my new insurance card by the end of the week, but it came the next day.  A Christmas MIRACLE.  I have a doc appointment today for follow ups and referrals.

It's a very scary proposition to be as ill as I am and have no coverage for a few months.  I mean, I have coverage, but it's in California only, and I've been limping by here in Colorado without a doctor (or in my case, doctors).  I've been able to transfer my prescriptions to my new home and they've been paying for it.  I did have a visit to the ER a couple of weeks ago, and obviously I'm out of area, as they say, so we'll see if it gets covered.  The gal on the phone was explaining that they are switching to a new on-line system for all nine campuses, and they've been having a lot of problems with it.  Great....Same ol' university I've known and disparaged for over thirty years.  And still...I get health insurance, so there's that.

Have a wonderful weekend.

"Don't let the behavior of others destroy your inner peace."  

~ Dali Lama

TGIF

The Mr. Rogers movie, and Mr. Rogers himself, is getting big buzz.  I think it's due in part to how uncivilized our public discourse has become -- we long for kindness and for someone who cares about his fellow man.  Truth be told, when I was a child, I didn't like the show.  I found him rather too solicitous...a trait I wasn't used to seeing in adults.  He kind of creeped me out.  One wonders why my young mind skewed that way, but it did.  When I watch clips of the show now, I see a little of that, but I also see a very gentle and considerate man.  He did great things for racial equality, hosting the first regular black character in the form of Mr. Clemens, a police officer.  The gentleman was also a brilliant tenor, and sang often on the show.

I also remember Mr. Rogers' testimony before congress when the funding of PBS was in doubt.  Eloquent, urgent, and compassionate.  So, I celebrate that his values are being held before the public spotlight once again, and that people are reminded of the importance of treating one another with good will and dignity.  I don't think I'll see the movie, however, as the few clips I've seen of Tom Hanks (playing him brilliantly) just brings back all that slow sweet sugary goodness that rubs me the wrong way.

What's the matter with me?!

This week was eventful in that we had a major snow storm that dumped two feet in two days.  The most snow my kids have seen since moving here two years ago.  Oh, and I suffered two slips on the ice.  I went down hard each time, two days in a row, and now I am admittedly sore all over, from ankle to shoulders.  Turning over in bed last night I noticed that even my torso hurt.  Thanks to the recommendation by friends, I have ordered some modern urban crampons to strap to my shoes. They haven't come yet, and so, this morning I did not take out the recycling because when I looked at the driveway I saw too many ice patches, despite having salt sprinkled there last night.  My poor old body just can't take another fall.  My neighbor Ann said the lady across the street fell in her driveway two years ago and broke her hip.  No thanks.

I put the tree up earlier than I usually do, mostly because we were snowed in and I needed an activity.

The second day of the snow my grand kids and daughter came over to cuddle by the fire and watch Disney movies.  So, two good consequences of the snow.

The plows came through mid-afternoon, after my daughter's car got stuck in my driveway.  She shoveled it out so she could pull all the way in, and then decided to shovel the rest (bless her heart).  I did a bit of shoveling earlier, to clear the driveway before her arrival, and I was a miserable failure.  I took tips from internet on how to shovel -- take a top layer off first, in a big snow, and work your way down.  Much easier on the back.  But still not easy.  I may invest in an electric snow shovel, which works well if you don't let the snow pile up too much.  So you shovel a couple of times instead of once, but it is supposed to be worlds easier and keeps the driveway clear so you can get out if you need to.  So much to learn, including keeping a well stocked pantry and not letting the supply of necessities run low at any point during the winter.

It's a learning curve, and I'm learning.

Thanksgiving was a lovely interlude in the week.  My kids hosted, and their only guests were me and my daughter's father, my first ex-husband.   We all had a great time.  Kevin brought a delicious treat:  pecan stuffed dates wrapped in bacon.  Wow. A party in my mouth.  He's always been a good cook. 

After dinner we watched ET, which I haven't seen since it was released in the early 1980s.  I had forgotten so much of it.  It was more tragic than I remembered, but it all came out right in the end.

I experienced a wee bit of sadness at this, my first holiday post break-up, but I observed it, had my feelings about it, and moved on.  I'm experiencing resilience.

Now if my aching body could bounce back so quickly, I'd be in excellent shape!

"The tragic consequences of life can be overcome by the magical strength that resides 

in the human heart." from the novel Bless Me Ultima.

TGIF

Tammi Brown and Bob Reid are singers I have known for decades. I sang with Bob briefly when I was just out of high school. We had a trio with another fellow named Chris Piper. Don't know whatever happend to him. Bob went on to work for arts programs for elementary schools in the Monterey Bay area and made several cds singing with those schoolchildren.

He was also a good friend with Pete Seeger and spent summers on the east coast in music workshops with him. Bob dropped off my map for quite some time, but last year I found in again on Facebook and he is now singing with Judi Yeager, mostly house concerts and small venues. This is a beautiful and familiar song to many:
Lastly, my friends, let me introduce you to Tammi Brown. A million years ago when I was partnered with Lynn, Tammi and Lynn worked together at the university. Tammi was already an accomplished singer but still trying to break in to the music industry. She had been recording at a state of the art studio north of San Francisco. When Lynn and I had our commitment ceremony (remember those quaint vestiges of marriage inequality?) Tammi sang at our ceremony. Tammi is now experiencing great success, performing frequently at Yoshi's. Her range is wide: gospel, popular and jazz.
It fills me with joy to see how her gift has grown over the decades.

There it, folks. My musical friends. Thanks to Robin over at New Dharma Bums for getting me started on the nostalgic musical journey. Hope your Friday is a good one, and your weekend even better.

TGIF

Another Friday, more music! Here's a video by my friend Lynn Zanetta. Lynn and I went to high school together, and reconnected about eight years ago. I was surprised to learn that she has quite the musical talent, as a song writer, musician and singer.

She played a lot locally in her small town of Downieville CA. I went with her to a concert in Sacramento and she was singing along in the audience. The person on stage marveled at her voice and wanted to know who she was. I've been to a couple of her house concerts as well. She's a lovely and loving person and I wish I had more opportunities to sing with her.

Nancy Northrup is another friend whose musical career really took off shortly after I met her. We thought we might sing together, but I didn't pass muster with her. I was out of practice, and not really good with improvisation and harmony, which is what she was looking for. So, she went on to team up with others and has had three cds produced by John Beland, famed Nashville studio musician who was also a part of the Flying Burrito Brothers.

 Next week:  Tammi Brown and Bob Reid, two more friends with actual music careers!

Have a great weekend, filled with music!

TGIF

It's Friday, and it's Bonnie Raitt's 70th birthday.  I'm listening to a marathon of her music, of course.  Speaking of music, Robin and Roger over on New Dharma Bums are going to be posting music on Fridays for the foreseeable future.

Music keeps me afloat and it always has.  Especially in these times.  My tastes are all over the place, including some grunge, punk and metal on rare occasions.  I also very much enjoyed the Ken Burn's series on Country Music.  His series on Jazz was phenomenal.




Angel from Montgomery was one of my favorite songs to sing back in the day when I was performing. My high school friend Laurie Hofer (now Romero) used to sing this one hanging out in a classroom and school, and  people would stop by and be amazed.  Laurie still has a professional career.  I used to think I did, but folks, it is hard work and requires dedication.  I didn't have it.

I did take a class at the local junior college after I retired.  I thought I'd try my pipes out again and took a Jazz and Pop vocals class.  It was great fun, and we had a piano and bass to accompany us and our final exam was performing at a local restaurant/bar.  What a kick!  But like I said, it's work.

I have several friends who have gone on to have long lasting careers in music, and it's taken quite some time (decades) to develop a following.  You've got to live it, breathe it, want it, no matter what.  I'm in awe of their talent and dedication.  There are so many talented people out there, I can understand why artists like Madonna and Lady Gaga had to develop a shtick in order to get the attention.

Here's Laurie burning it up:


I'll post videos of the others I have known who have music careers, next week. Robin has started something here.

Hope you have a wonderful weekend, full of music.

TGIF

November is National Diabetes Awareness Month.  I've had Type 1 for 27 years now and I can't even tell you how many times I've pricked my finger to do a blood test; how many times I've injected insulin into my belly, my thighs, my upper arms.  Sometimes the purple round bruises on my belly are like quarter-sized polka dots all over the skin.

Since moving to Colorado, one of my main tasks is to get my University medical insurance switched to a plan that will cover me outside of California.  Once that happens, I need to connect with a doctor pronto to ensure I continue to receive my insulin and other diabetic medical supplies.  I cannot have a lapse in care, as it is life or death.  My biggest nightmare is that I'll run out of insulin and not have a valid prescription.  It's worrisome.  I also experience the same kind of worry when I contemplate natural disasters: if I ever need to evacuate, or if pharmacies are shut down and I'm low on insulin, I am perilously close to serious illness or death.  One of the solutions to the problem is to stockpile the drug, but that's impossible to do if you use your monthly supply completely (which I do).

What all of this amounts to is that I am tethered to this drug to keep me alive.  I keep abreast of the latest technologies and medical procedures that will 'cure' diabetes.  So far, most everything is experimental and not covered by insurance.  What I/we really need is a cure.  Meanwhile, I do the best I can and I wait.

I say proudly that I had just one mini Snickers bar last night!  I spent Halloween with my daughter and grand daughter, handing out candy to the goblins, princesses, mice, Ninja warriors and even a giant Panda.  Dylan and their dog Gracie kept watch for more trick or treaters:

We watched The Nightmare Before Christmas, intermittently, and stopped when good friends arrived with their toddler son to spend some time.  I didn't even get to see my grand son, as his dad took him to a friend's neighborhood.  When I left at 8 p.m. they still weren't back.  I trust a good time was had by all.  I was so happy to spend the evening with the people I love the most.  It's always fun to experience these winter holidays through the eyes of a child.

I'll leave you with two quotes by author Robert Brault....

“There is a child in every one of us who is still a trick-or-treater looking for a brightly-lit front porch.” 

“Enjoy the little things, for one day you may look back and realise they were the big things.” 

TGIF

Yesterday marked the 30th anniversary of the Loma Prieta earthquake in California.  I was living about 7 miles from the epicenter, having vacated my marital home two days earlier.  I left my husband and took our 20 month old daughter with me and moved in with friends for a few months while I figured out what to do next.

Jump thirty years into the future.  I left my second husband September 13 and moved to Colorado from the Sacramento area.  This time to join my daughter and her family, who had moved to Ft. Collins two years ago.  So, here, now, on this anniversary again, I have been out of my marital home for just over a month.  Strange how things work out, isn't it?  What is it about autumn?

The earthquake was quite a trauma, though leaving my husband at the time was not.  It was a big relief, even with the daunting task of being a single parent.  I was out of a bad situation that had been going on for years and wasn't going to resolve.  I'd had it up to my eyeballs and needed to get out of that relationship to save my sanity and my health.  Luckily, my daughter and her father had a good and consistent relationship after the divorce.  A few hiccups here and there, but still, on the whole it worked well and she's turned out to be a lovely human being who is very close to both of her parents.

My latest departure, well, it was much more fraught.  Sudden, unexpected, intolerable.  The only thing that propelled me forward was the knowledge I was going to be near my family, whom I love very much and am happy to report the feeling is mutual.

It is a bit odd being out of the only state of the union I've ever lived in.  I've been coming here for twenty years to visit friends, so am no stranger to the area, but still, actually living here is going to take some adjustments.  We've already had our first snow and trying to coax my five pound chihuahua to do her 'business' in the cold and wet was impossible.  She held herself for an entire day and night before going out when the temperatures rose and the snow began to melt.

I've got to buy snow tires soon.  Oy.  Never in my life....I'm counting on my son-in-law to steer me in the right direction.

I've got to buy furniture, since I left most of it with my husband in order to spare him the burden of doing that himself.

So many things to do...and the movers come next weekend to move me from the Boulder area to Ft. Collins, an hour's drive north.  I have been fortunate to be living with friends of thirty years, who have, once again, helped me navigate the early days of divorce.  They were there for me 30 years ago,   and every Wednesday night I went there to do laundry, have dinner and fellowship.  The babies played together, the mommies drank a little too much wine, and daddy busied himself in the kitchen whipping up simple but delicious food.  I think this ritual carried on for over a year.  They saved me.  They are saving me again.  The first couple of weeks especially, when I cried all day long, When no words would come out without being strangled in my throat, when I didn't bother putting on make-up because the tears would just make a mess of it.

I realized the other day: hey, I haven't cried today.  I was witnessing my coming to terms with my physical separation from my husband.  I marveled at that fact.

I still do.

TGIF

Especially now, with the current President's rampant racism. It's important to remember that once upon a time, our President sang "Amazing Grace." Leave it to Joan Baez to bring us such soulful music about very hard times. It's a sad and frightening time, my friends. I weep most every day with the frustration that comes with watching the country you love disintegrate into bedlam. All needless and avoidable if those who hate could somehow come to see the light. I rely upon my friends, and uplifting music, and the arts, and CBW Sunday Morning. No kidding! I'm also reading dystopian science fiction, which suits my mood right now. What keeps your head above the stinking cesspool?

TGIF - Dieting Saga

What a week.

I had been waiting for a call from the nurse at the Bariatric Center to schedule my sleeve surgery, but that call didn't come.  So I called her.  She told me that I am now required to lose 17 pounds before they will schedule surgery!

That could take months!  I've been on a 1200 a day calorie count for about 3 weeks and lost a total of 2 pounds.  Sigh.

Yes, I did have a big ol' pity party, and I was angry. But I 'talked' with other patients through our on-line support group, and a few reported the same thing.  One woman was told she had to lose 38 pounds!  She lost 20 and then they scheduled her.

These docs and nurses are not foolin' around. It's an elective surgery and they want to make sure you are as prepared as can be.  There is also a battery of tests that need to be done pre-surgery:  colonoscopy, mammogram,  "Well Woman visit with Pap smear."  So I at least have these scheduled so they'll be out of the way by the time I get approved.  I have this terrible feeling I will go through all of this and then will be denied by my insurance company.  Not likely to happen, since they approved all the visits to get to this point, but still.  I'm tired of surprises.  Neither one of the nutritionists I worked with mentioned this large of a weight loss this quickly. 

After two days of raging and crying, I got real.  I ordered a meal-replacement shake that has all kinds of good nutrients in it, low sugar and high plant protein.  I had that for breakfast and lunch today.  I also took a thirty-five minute walk this morning (see lovely trail above) which I haven't been doing. I know I should have been.  I've been taking fifteen minute walks a couple of times a day.  After feeling pretty sluggish starting out, I felt very good when I returned home, both physically and emotionally.  I did it!  Now to keep doing in five to six days a week.  Next week I'm upping it to two thirty minute walks.

I had this scrumptious salad for dinner:  lots of greens, carrots, red pepper, grilled asparagus, garlic, 1/2 cup ow fat cottage cheese and 2 oz. sliced turkey from the deli.  I used 2 tbs of Newman's Own Balsamic to dress it.  (yes, I use measuring cups and spoons) It was delicious and I was starving.  I savored every damn bite.

Granted, I could have been doing this for the last two months.  Dieting is hard; it requires mental and physical discipline.  Frankly, obviously, I wasn't up to it.  The conversation with the nurse was the wake-up call I needed.

These are all  habits I let go of when my lap band was removed in January this year.  I was like a kid in a candy shop -- I ate much more than my body requires, and so I gained 19 pounds in six months.  It was a frickin' free for all, I tell ya.  Moments of pleasure that had very negative side-effects.  For now, lesson learned.  Big time.

I plan to use this post when my resolve is flagging.  And it will.  But not today.

“All things are difficult before they are easy.”  Thomas Fuller

TGIF

I had my birthday on Monday this week.  I got a few sweet birthday cards, and many Facebook posts wishing me good things.  I planned on not making a big deal about the day -- I was happy, content to let the day unfold quietly, perhaps a dinner out with my husband.

Now, however, it is a day that will live in infamy, and will color a few birthdays to come, for as implausible as it seems, I was informed by my husband that he thought we should "split." 

What?!  

He was dead serious, and the conversation he started came in fits and starts, him try to find the right words.  He was clearly agonizing about it.  I was asking questions to draw out of him what he wanted to say -- slow, careful questions to probe what could be going on.  I told him to be brave and say what he obviously very much needed to say.

Need I say I saw stars before my eyes from the virtual bomb that was dropped in my living room, on the white sofa, surrounded by houseplants and my beloved dogs?  My chest was feeling crushed, and I could not think straight.  What do you do when something catastrophic is unceremoniously dropped into your lap on a day that you expected to celebrate your 62nd birthday? 

I have two surgeries coming up (thyroid and stomach) in the next two months, so I asked him for time and he agreed.  We are living amicably.  We have dedicated ourselves not to fight.  I will get through this.  After my initial grave upset, I am remarkably calm now.  I'm focused on my medical procedures, staying healthy as I can, and talking with friends.  It's a strange in-between state....

He may change his mind when reality reaches him.  Will I?

A definite WTF moment in my life.  I thought I'd seen it all.  I'm planting a flag on June 10, 2019.  Could be a big turning point.

It's awkward to say out loud, to post on my blog.  You may feel awkward reading it.  There is no need to comment, really.  This is the place I write about my life, so I decided to write about even this painful piece of it.

I am supported by friends and it has been a great consolation.  I am surrounded by people who love me and care about me.  I always look for the opportunities that crises can bring.  I've got a therapist and a wealth of inner resources.  This ain't my first rodeo.

A Spark, a flare,
A fire rises in the air.
The heat. the smoke,
Our eyes water and We choke.

The flames spread,
And Our houses, Our memories,
Burn, burn to the ground.

Trees dead,
Our home wreathed in flame.
Burns till there is naught but ash.

We cry and cry,
And curse Our gods.
Our tears put out the flames.

When all is quiet,
And stillness takes hold,
A new fire is kindled.

A fire of grace,
And of love.
A fire We all share.

And from the ashes We rise.
To rebuild Our memories and Our home,
A fire inside ignites.

From the ashes We rise.
To not search for hope for Ourselves,
But create it for all those We love and cherish.

From destruction,
We find mercy.
From despair,
We find strength.

From grief,
We build happiness
From guilt,
We build love.

From all that was lost,
We Find all there is to gain.

From the ashes of the flames,
From the ashes of the fear,
From the ashes of the past,

From the ashes We rise.

Author unknown.

TGIF

Ode To Tomatoes by Pablo Neruda.      

The street
filled with tomatoes,
midday,
summer,
light is
halved
like
a
tomato,
its juice
runs
through the streets.
In December,
unabated,
the tomato
invades
the kitchen,
it enters at lunchtime,
takes
its ease
on countertops,
among glasses,
butter dishes,
blue saltcellars.
It sheds
its own light,
benign majesty.
Unfortunately, we must
murder it:
the knife
sinks
into living flesh,
red
viscera
a cool
sun,
profound,
inexhaustible,
populates the salads
of Chile,
happily, it is wed
to the clear onion,
and to celebrate the union
we
pour
oil,
essential
child of the olive,
onto its halved hemispheres,
pepper
adds
its fragrance,
salt, its magnetism;
it is the wedding
of the day,
parsley
hoists
its flag,
potatoes
bubble vigorously,
the aroma
of the roast
knocks
at the door,
it's time!
come on!
and, on
the table, at the midpoint
of summer,
the tomato,
star of earth, recurrent
and fertile
star,
displays
its convolutions,
its canals,
its remarkable amplitude
and abundance,
no pit,
no husk,
no leaves or thorns,
the tomato offers
its gift
of fiery color
and cool completeness.

TGIF

Many of us are hearing a new term, a new concept, called "cultural appropriation."  I've been confused about what it really means, and after some research, I am learning that appropriation v. appreciation can be an extremely nuanced thing.  I have some learning to do, and the first thing to learn is to get over my own defensiveness.  For instance, when black women complained that white women wearing hoop earrings was cultural appropriation and we should stop it I reacted defensively.  Wait.  I wore hoops back in the seventies.  After doing my research on that, I discovered hoops have been around for generations.  In 2,500 BC Sumerian women wore them.  Even cats in ancient Eygpt wore hoop earrings. 

Trying to learn here.  Interesting that, if I wear a piece of jewelry with cultural significance, my INTENTION is everything.  If I got to know the artist, heard her story, etc. that is appreciation.  But how does anyone else know my intention behind wearing the piece?  They could assume I'm appropriating instead of appreciating. Oy.  Oh, wait.  Is that appropriating?  I'm not Jewish but I speak some Yiddish (more than my Jewish husband).

Also, being of Irish ancestry, I've always taken offense at the celebration of St. Patrick's Day in our country.  What a farce.  An excuse for people to get drunk and act inappropriately.  But have I ever stated this?  No.  People would tell me I'm a party pooper.  I can hear them now, "Lighten up."  "We're only having fun."  "Get a life!"  I can also afford not to make an issue of it because, hey, we Irish are not exactly discriminated against in America -- at least not any more.  Plenty of signage, back in the day, "Irish need not apply."  Along with Germans, Italians, etc. etc.  We're always playing catch-up and learning that people are just people.

For people who grow up in small towns of 100 percent whites and don't get out much, I can imagine that all of this is even more confusing.  If I, a college educated, advocate for equality, urban Californian get confused, then anyone can.  Do I get sick of all the fighting?  Sure I do.  But I'm not sick of the people who ask to be seen and heard -- I'm sick of all the people who make it necessary for the disenfranchised to continue the fight. 

Despite our troubles, we are the most diverse population on the earth.  We are the melting pot, the land where people risk their lives (still) to come to.  We are the beacon of hope for many, and it's been this way since our founding.  This is where lives begin again.  I would do well to remember this when the tumult overwhelms me.

Baba Ram Dass: "The question we need to ask ourselves is whether there is any place we can stand in ourselves, where we can look at all that is happening around us without freaking out, where we can be quiet enough to hear our predicament, and where we can begin to find ways of acting that are at least not contributing to further destabilization."

I've had a pretty good week, and saw my doctor today and it was a great visit.  She is ON it!

Have a happy weekend.

TGIF

I'm reading Michelle Obama's book, Becoming.  It started off a little stiff, but halfway through it I am now enthralled.  One of the most beautiful passages is about the death of her father at 55, from MS.  Her description of his last days in the hospital are incredibly sad and sweet.  The kissing of her hands, over and over, because he could no longer speak.  Each kiss telling her a story of his love for her and his family.  After his death in the middle of the night, the family faced the strange new reality to be navigated while planning a funeral and grieving deeply.  There is a funny bit there, too, wherein mother, brother and Michelle were sitting at the kitchen table after coming home from the funeral parlor to choose a casket.  They were weeping copiously, and her mom said something in a wry little way, "Look at us."  This led, slowly, to peels of laughter.  Such is the emotional roller coaster of death.

That passage reminded me of one of own experiences with death, which was grim, and then jovial. One can only take so much sadness.  My former life-partner, Lynn, and I, watched as her alcoholic father slowly died of throat cancer back in the late 1990s.  A heavy smoker and drinker his entire adult life, he could not fathom why he had contracted this cancer.  He was in denial, an alcoholic's most stalwart trait.  Throughout his surgery, chemo and radiation, he was convinced he was going to beat this thing, despite his obvious and shocking decline. Lynn's parents told the oncologist they did not want to hear the prognosis.  They preferred not knowing.  Lynn and I, however, wanted the information and so we knew how dire things were at the end of that year.

We had been visiting for Christmas, his last, and returned home from Seattle to Santa Cruz.  A week later we received the call that he has died during the night.  We boarded a plane hours later and arrived in time to be with his body for awhile before he was carried away.  It was one of the few times I had visited a dead body, and his eyes were still open.  I gently closed them.  I slipped a note from my then 8-year-old daughter into the pocket of his pajamas, and I held his lifeless hand.  No one in the family had touched him.  Such was the Christiansen family. All the while, Lynn's mother was preparing lunch and she called us to the kitchen table.  Everyone's eyes were red and puffy and we were a somber bunch.  Lynn's brother Steve and sister Janet had been at the family home for hours, and their exhaustion showed in their disheveled hair and clothes and the way they shuffled slowly to the table.  We began to eat (I can't even remember what).  Brother Steve looked over to the living room where dad was lying in his hospital bed, deader than a door-nail, and started a small, hysterical giggle.  

"How weird is it that he is a few feet away, gone from this world, and here we are chowing down on hot food and cold beer?"  Steve asked.

Here we were, around the old family kitchen table, everyone but Dad.  We began to wave in his direction.  

"Hi Dad! We're having our lunch!"  

"Hey dad, come on over here, the food's great!"  

"Dad -- you want mustard with that?"

We were laughing uncontrollably at this point. The absurdity having a normal family meal seemed, totally bizarre.  Our reality had been flipped onto its back, desperate legs and arms flailing to right itself.  Laughter was seeing us through the initial shock.

When the mortuary came to take his body away, there was a clutch in my heart.  The finality of it was a jolt to my system.  They gently loaded him into the van while we stood around on the gravel driveway.  When the door shut on the back of the van, Lynn's mom began to wave good-bye.  It was something that Dad had done each time the kids or guests drove away: he'd stand there in the driveway, in all kinds of weather, and raise his had with a gentle left to right wave and a smile on his face.  He'd stand there until the car was out of sight.  Then he'd sigh and slowly walk into the house. Following his example, we stood shoulder to shoulder, doing the "Dad wave" until the van slipped out of sight over the hill.  We then sighed, and collectively turned left to walk into the house, crunching over the gravel on a cold January day, with the low gunmetal sky of Seattle punctuated with the dark empty branches of winter trees.