Life of Wry

Or… wake me up in November.

This being the first month of 2020  (how ’bout that) (hello), I’m getting in a bit under the wire on my sorta New Year’s Resolution to resume blogging. I’m encouraged by Jim’s reaction when, on my way downtown, laptop onboard, he asked, “Where you off to?” and I answered, “I’m going to Cloud Forest to blog.” He reacted just the way you’d hope your husband would — delighted, supportive. And he did that because he knows I’m seriously in the political doldrums and desperately need to change courses here. (Doldrums.. what an understatement.)

We’ll see if I even write about that today.

So here I sit at Cloud Forest, 3:30pm. In an act of defiance, or maybe rather self-preservation, I am forgoing my regular Thursday afternoon postcard group. That’s big for me because if I’m in town, I am there. For the last three years, I have been there. Could probably count on one hand the number of times I did NOT show up if it were humanly possible to do so.

In a probably-too-lengthy email an hour or so ago, and somewhat embarrassingly, I ranted to Kelly — postcard group organizer — who absolutely does not have the time to take care of my fragile nerves (what with the mountain of people, organizations and efforts she coordinates on top of a full time job, and, undoubtedly, the challenge of care-taking her own sanity).  In explaining why I probably wasn’t going to be there today, I used words like demoralized, soul crushing, loss of democracy, power.. and said I wasn’t really sure what my next course of action would be, but that, while I wish I were more savvy and able to better compartmentalize, I was in need of finding a more thoughtful balance between keeping informed/engaged and preserving sanity. A gal’s gotta protect her soul, heart, and sense of inner peace. Methinks.

Because, honest to god, I cried in the shower. I just can’t take this shit.

So I might write more about that later — I’m sure I will — but for now, I want to shift my focus. Just sitting here, listening to some Pink Floyd, a low-fat latte in a huge ceramic mug within reach, and the sun streaming in, I’m already feeling a bit released.

And that’s excellent, right?

Jim suggested I not backfill the first 29 days of January, which of course would be my inclination. Tidy person that I am. Tidy with a New-Year’s-Resolution-to-blog-every-day person that I am. So.. today it is. January 30. The First Day of the Rest of Your Blog.

To that end, this is what happened today.

Lauren and her husband Lucas stopped in Davis for a visit on their way from Mapleton, Oregon to San Diego for a Winter break. We got a decent amount of visiting in during our nearly 24 hours together — a couple walks, a couple meals, and lots of talking.

What’s interesting to me is how bonded I feel to Lauren, even though I’ve only seen her three or four times in the last 50 years. We are largely strangers if you measure our friendship by how much we know of each other’s lives. But given our history and our membership in the Hesse-Osborne-Peterson family triad, the fact our relationship dates back to the 50s — even if it was limited to annual Christmas Eve gatherings — it’s something of a sisterhood. At least I, otherwise sisterless person that I am, find some connection in that.

Unlike my average relationship to folks, there is a safety and unconditional aspect to the bond. And that’s nice.

So..

I’m feeling a little clumsy with the the WordPress software. I trust this will upload… text, photos, and all. And I trust I will get more comfortable with the daily rhythm of posting. No commitments, but this was fun enough.

Also.. impeachment.. what impeachment?