Focus

A friend is writing a history about a nonprofit birth advocacy group in our state. I was one of the founding sisters of that group, so the invitation was extended to me to help fill in my piece of the story. Because I was there and all. But I didn't respond- I allowed the other founder from our local group to take care of it. Because, well, I don't really want to talk about it. That's a lot of emotion to stir up. How did I have so much time to get that group going, to travel to other cities every few months for day-long meetings? How did I ever have so much passion for something? Seems so long ago.

And anyway, I think too hard and too much. I've been given this moment and I will choose to live in it. I live in gratefulness that my husband did not just get blown up in Afghanistan. That I did not just bury my own child. That yesterday I was able to buy my girls new sneakers and hold and kiss my grandson.

Sometimes I get too egotistical and want to believe that I am supposed to do something amazing in the world. But I can't even get a set of blinds up in my house. Need to focus in a bit more. Relish the days I have left with my children who are growing and sprouting wings and learning to fly on out of this little coop.

Windy Weekend

My new definition of weekend: doing all the chores I never have time to do during the week anymore. Which, by and large, is okay right now. The ongoing process of getting settled in our new place continues, and I enjoy getting the counters cleared and wiped off. The sun blazes though the old wavy glass on the old shitty windows and hits the wood, and when it does I want it to gleam. So I sweep- then swiff- then mop. Repeat. At least until I run out of steam. Turning this place into something is going to take a long time.

Last weekend, some family members came to visit and we threw a coat of blue paint over the horrid mauve in the dining room. We were going to throw 2 coats but it began to snow rather fiercely and we got distracted, sipping wine and standing on the porch watching the snow tumble down. Taking photos. The blue looks amazing, and we plan to still add the second coat ourselves. We have this habit of starting projects, getting the area functional and then moving on to the next project. I have paint here for my craft room but have about 76 nail holes in here I need to spackle before I can paint. I also have an art market coming up in a few weeks so I feel like I should be preparing for that first before the room gets torn apart again.

I'm excited about having my own room. A place that inspires me. It's something I desperately need right now. Work drains me of any sense of identity or creativity. I am thankful for this move, and for Joe, whose brains and skills make it possible for us to live in this wonderful old place. I am thinking about the warm weather, about seeing our mystery garden out back begin to bloom and having people over to laugh with us and share the season.

Pushing Past my Ass

Determined to shake this work/winter/fatigue rut I've been in. Pushing past my ass, in the words of an incredibly dear midwife friend. Walking across 12th street to the post office, I was reminded of how much more I can see when I am walking, up close on things. Not flying by in my car with the radio on, low and aimless. My craft room sits dormant, the poetry in my head drowning in prescription refills and Kenlalog injections. I will walk more.

Trying to break out any little way I can.

Thinking about a full-length collection about being a nurse. So much to laugh about. So much sadness. So many who could say more and say it all better than I. But so what?

Thinking of my virtual friend Jo, who always manages to tend to herself and express herself and all that. I am using her for inspiration. She takes a lot of pictures of herself. But, you know. If she didn't I guess she wouldn't inspire me quite so much. I am, after all, a visual person.

Thinking of Joe and how much he means to me. Tonight at the grocery, I saw a mother in an Arby's blouse with her four kids and I felt humbled. I've been given so much. Maybe at times it doesn't seem that way, but may I never forget how much I have been given.

Moment. By moment. Today at work? Sucked. Left work at 5:30 and had to go by Food Lion. Ordinarily I'd feel exhausted and sorry for myself, but this time I tried just digging the moment. It worked pretty well.

Of course, I don't have PMS this week, either.

The past few months of packing and moving have been one long exercise in pushing past my ass. It's been absolutely grueling at times. But slowly, things are settling into place and I become more able to function. I am one who tends toward fatigue, unfortunately.  But somehow, I feel myself growing stronger every day. The hard things do grow us.

Maddie's white cat, who had become practically feral at one point, is turning into a nuzzly lap cat, May I admit that I love this? He is the only cat we have left, now. Brandy was my big, purring tabby who