THANKFUL FRIDAY

I don’t know what triggered me. Wednesday morning, I was walking Josephine in the park and thinking about the Grand Canyon. Then I started thinking about my Gold Star Family pass and how to describe my relationship with J to people; how he was not so much a nephew as he was a little brother. Then everything bubbled up and I was back in that moment on my yoga mat when Mom called. Everything from that moment flooded my cerebral cortex. The sound of my mother’s hysterical voice. Our friend Cindy explaining to me what happened. Me saying “but he’s okay right?” Poor Cindy had to be the one to tell me he wasn’t alright. Then I was crying while walking Josephine through the park as I missed all of what I have lost starting with J. I got home, fed the dog and headed out to the chicken pen to let the girls out for the day and immediately noticed that there was something wrong. White feathers littered the pen and I could see Foghorn’s lifeless body. At that moment, I felt everything inside of me sink down into a dark pit.

I have been staying just afloat of a layer of depression for weeks now. I keep telling myself that I’m just tired. I just need to readjust and get used to being back from traveling. I just need to eat more leafy greens. I’m not exercising enough. I’ve just got to try a little harder. I slap a smile on face and head out into my day and pretend. The homicide of Foghorn was the final pin I needed to deflate my raft. My mood was not improved with my scooter ride home either. Heavy rains caused flooding on the street that I take home. Cars were stopping in front of me. Cars were going around me or cutting me off. Each time a vehicle passed me on the right, where the deepest part of the water was, their car would send a wave of water over me, soaking the right side of my body. I’m pretty sure after the third wave, I yelled out “All of you all can go fuck yourselves.” It was a dangerous and cold ride home, but I made it. Then I looked out the kitchen window and only saw three chickens and Foghorn’s white feathers scattered around the pen.

And I can’t believe I am so sad about the death of a chicken.

So, I gave myself some time to wallow in all that I have lost, which is a lot. I’ve lost a lot. I’ve lost a whole chunk of my heart. So much so, that I am surprised the thing still beats. After a bit of wallowing in my losses, I got on my yoga mat and practiced a true savasana; the act of dying. I laid down on my mat and started saying goodbye to this life and all of the people in this life. I was unable to finish my goodbyes before my timer chimed to end my practice. I have a lot of people to say goodbye to and this is how I patch my raft. I take a moment to remind myself of all that I have. I flip the coin over, changing the focus from lost to found. When we bought the chickens, I convinced Michael to buy an extra one in case one of the little chicks didn’t make it. We never intended to have four chickens. Yet, nothing happened to any of those baby chicks. Foghorn had a very good six years of life before her homicide and that scooter ride may have been awful, but I made it home.

My heart may be missing large chunks, but it is still beating.

BUDDHA BOARD PROJECT

18/52 Buddha Board Project

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The last morning I went into work was more or less a salvage expedition. I gathered up things like gym shoes and a work laptop. I grabbed a notebook and what ever else I had on my desk that I might need during the Stay-At-Home order. I did leave behind a plant. Though, someone has been into the office recently to water it. I assume it is still living. The person who watered it only said they had watered it for me. I’m sure it’s fine. It is one of those hardy varieties of houseplants that can generally be ignored. I think. At the last minute, I remembered to grab my Buddha board. At the very least, I could still keep up with my weekly photo project. And I have. Every morning, right before I pour myself my first of many mugs of coffee, I grab my Buddha board, draw a picture with water and then take a photo.

I thought the practice would be an anchor to normalcy. I saw it as a practice that would give me something in all of this that I could control. The list of things that I can control are ever dwindling. My 5:30 AM yoga and meditation practice has taken a back seat to an extra hour of sleep. Why I feel like I need that extra hour is beyond me. My activity level has plummeted to a new low with weekends spent in pajamas and barely brushing my teeth. I don’t even really take advantage of the nice weather days either, with the exception of Sunday. Michael and I cleaned the gutters and then went on a scooter ride. That scooter was the first time I have felt a since of normalcy in a long time. We turned our scooters onto Ward Parkway, right behind the cutest little blue moped. I gunned my throttle and passed Michael, zipping by him so I could I bring myself up next to the guy on the moped so I could get a better look. We smiled and nodded at each other and then I zoomed on ahead. This put me in the lead and for a brief moment, I was alone on the road, ticking along at a nice speed. The colors of Spring blurred in my peripheral vision. I passed a house that had the biggest, most beautiful tulips planted in their front yard. Turns out you can cry on a scooter. Tears of joy started to leak from eyes and I let the wind carry them away.

Monday morning, the alarm went off at 5:30 AM and yet again, I turned it off and stayed in bed. When I finally got up, I showered and dressed. I started the coffee and fed the dog. Then I grabbed my Buddha board. This practice has become more than just some photo project I can control. It has become a way for me to keep track of time. The background of the image is vastly different from the ones taken at the office. The last image taken at work was one of a completely bare and naked board. I painted nothing, choosing to leave it blank as a representation of how I felt. Blank and uncertain. Unsure of what was coming ahead. Like all of us felt and are probably still feeling. The next four weeks of images where the slow appearance of a bird poking his head out from one side of the board. It starts with just the side of his head. Then the beginning of an eye, the beginning of a second eye. Finally there’s a whole head of a silly bird, looking at the camera with big round eyes.

This week’s photo was not so whimsical. Maybe because it dawned on me that I haven’t really been paying attention to how long I have been at this. This photo marks the beginning of week five. No Cabbage this week because I was a right bitch last week and Michael decided we all needed a break. She’s at her mother’s and I have this week to flip my attitude, take some breaths and clear out the gunk that has settled into my joints. I need to do those things at the very least for her because she’s the last person that needs to be around my dark side. I know this is a luxury. The real parents out there, having to do all of the things all day, every day, do not have the ability to take such a break. So I’m vowing to use this time wisely and not squander it by letting myself fall deeper into the dark hole. The sunlight is there even if the sky is overcast.

I just have to look a little harder.

HERE NOR THERE

Murray

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I've got nothing for you. I started writing about the darkness that's starting to crawl across my brain and then I deleted it. Last night I sat in my therapist's office and wept for twenty minutes because it is the one place I don't have to pretend. I pretend every where else because I don't want to be sad girl. But right now I am sad girl. So instead of me talking about that, let's all look at that puppy in the picture up there. Isn't he the cutest? He looks JUST LIKE Josephine. 

That's Murray. Terry brought him home on Christmas Eve. Things have been hard for Terry and Miles (his other schnauzer) ever since Max passed on. I told Mom about Miles waiting at the door when the vet took Max away and I started crying. Max made an impact on a lot of people, as I am sure Murray will as well. He is 100% puppy and he is so tiny, that Terry has to carry him up and down the stairs. He is so tiny that he fits inside Heather's handbag and she almost took him back to California with her. Murray is a squiggly ball of needle teeth right now and he makes us laugh and laugh even while he is stabbing those needle teeth into our flesh.  

Josephine is going to stay with her Uncle Terry in February. I can't wait to see how she and Murray get along. Josephine is really good with my brother and sister-in-law's little dogs. She's never tried to hurt them and plays well with Rayland. Josephine has learned to give Buttercup her space. Buttercup is the oldest chihuahua in the world. She is a queen who sits on her giant pillow and watches the shenanigans that go on between Josephine, Rayland and the cat, Nero. I think Josephine will be great with Murray and they will play and play and play. The best thing about Murray is that I've heard Terry laugh, really laugh, more than I've heard him laugh in a while. 

Puppies just make you feel better.

MORBID CURIOSITY

Fall

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I opened my Fortune Cookie journal to the first blank page and the prompt for the day was "don't be grumpy! Be grateful!". I tapped the the table with my pen and scrunched my mouth to one side. Isn't this whole gratitude thing something I post about every week? On this day, with a head full of a snot and a cough that just won't go away, I was feeling more grumpy than grateful for sure. Also, I cringed at the sickeningly sweet Pollyanna tale that was going to come out onto the paper. I know myself. Always look on the bright side of life, even when it's a piece of shit. So I wrote a story about a woman named Mavis who started her morning all wrong, stubbing her toe, spilling coffee on her one clean blouse. You know, those kind of mornings that make think you should have just stayed in bed. By the time I had reached the bottom of the page, Mavis was late to work. Her train had been late. She was delayed getting to her stop. As she finally emerged from the station to the sidewalk up top...

I looked at the page and the first and most fitting thing I could think to write was "she looked up just in time to watch a plane fly into the building where she worked." Because sometimes, my thoughts get dark. I mean...it's still looking at the bright side of life. I'm just doing it while eating baker's chocolate. Side note: when I was a kid, we did not have candy in the house. Maybe, if you were super good and the stars where aligned in the shape of a candy cane, you could buy a Hershey bar, but you would have to share it with your sister. And maybe your mom, depending on her mood. I supplemented my candy needs with the occasional spoonful of sugar and baker's chocolate. Bitter sweet is really very palatable. 

Saturday evening we had some of Michael's old high school friends over for s'mores. When Michael told the Cabbage we were having friends over, the Cabbage said "Oh is that funny guy, Chris, coming over?" For a moment I got real nervous. The funny guy Chris that I know is dead. Is Chris haunting the Cabbage? My first thought was not that the Cabbage had gotten the name wrong, but that my dead husband was telling her jokes while she played in her room. I found the idea of Chris haunting the Cabbage to be equally hilarious and infuriating and I looked over at his can of ashes and said "what the fuck, Chris?!?" I was the only one to witness this because Michael and the Cabbage were in the other room. I quickly swept my dark haunting thoughts aside to make room for names of people the Cabbage might actually be talking about. She was talking about Terry. Michael described him to her and she decided that she really meant Terry instead of Chris. He described Terry just as I was getting up to grab a picture of Chris and ask "Are you talking about this guy?!?!?!" Which would have made the whole thing super weird because all the stuff about the haunting only took place in my brain. 

I have read that September tends to be a hard month for people with depression. I still keep telling myself that I am not a depression person. If I continue to deny it all, then it won't be true, but September has been mildly dark. If I'm honest, August wasn't the greatest either. We were driving around town, running errands that seemed meaningless and pointless and at one point I thought about opening the car door and just getting out of the car. In the middle of traffic. While the car was moving. The following Monday, I scheduled an appointment with a therapist because I recognized that it probably wasn't all too healthy to be fantasizing about jumping out of a moving vehicle on a busy street. The therapy helped and I felt like I was making progress in life. I cleaned the basement and threw away loads of garbage. I've deleted the contents on two old computers. I've been writing and working on little projects. Really....things are better. It's just being sick and confined to the couch for a week was a setback. I took a whole bunch of steps forward and then hopped back half way. 

It's been twenty minutes since the last time I coughed or had to blow my nose. I did my cardio at the gym and only had to blow my nose once. I got on my yoga mat for the first time in a week and only had to blow my nose twice. I haven't had to transfer money between accounts to cover bills. I tried a new clearing protocol for work stuff and it worked so well, I lost my samples because they disappeared (Science Magic!). These are forward moving steps. I'm going to buy the rest of the things I need to make my Halloween wreath this weekend and then I'm going to set up Suzanne in her new home out front. And I know those things are going to be huge steps forwards.

TEACHING AN OLD DOG

Clouds

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Just before Christmas, I found out that our local family owned photography store is closing shop for good. Crick's has been around for seventy years. The owners thought about selling it, but couldn't find anyone qualified to run the full service photography shop. I'm real sad about this because Crick's was such a great place to go, not just to shop for all things photography, but because the people working there were always so helpful. I learned so much every time I walked in through their doors. When I found out they were closing, I went in to look at some lenses. The woman working the counter pulled several lenses for me to try on my camera and she talked about the pros and cons of each one. I kind of fell in love with a macro lens that costs about $700. I did not buy that lens. 

I walked away from Crick's with nothing but things to think about. I had to weigh practical versus not so practical. My job is to image things at the microscopic level. Of course I would gravitate to macro lenses. I like to get up close with tiny things, but maybe I should broaden my horizons some and step outside the box. Anyway...I had some things to think about before I chose what lens I was going to buy next and what I finally decided was that I don't need to buy another lens. At least not right now. Did you guys know that I was doing a 365 day selfie project in 2016? Well, I was and I started out with using the Nikon to take my pictures every day. Then I started traveling and I couldn't upload a picture because I was either short on time or there was no internet. I switched to my phone and then when I got to San Francisco, I said "fuck it" and stopped the project all together. It's the first time I've not finished the 365 Day Photo Project.

The truth is, I don't use my fancy Nikon as often as I should/want to/need to in order to justify the purchase of any lens, let alone one that costs $700. It doesn't help that I have entered 2017 unmotivated and uninspired by my view. The clouds have started to circle overhead and Michael has started to do his tip-toe dance around me because this is the time of year that is the most difficult. It's the time of year where I'd rather be curled up in a ball under the covers or staring with glazed over eyes at the TV while shoveling copious amount of hot Brie into my mouth. If I were to look through the view finder of my camera right now, I wouldn't see anything worth pressing the shutter button for because you're supposed to look for the light and I don't even see that right now outside my window. 

Something I've done to help me stay off the couch and away from the hot Brie is to sign up for Skillshare. The first month is free, so I thought I'd give it a go. If I like it and watch some learning videos, I might go ahead and get a subscription. Right now, I've added about twenty different classes on various aspects of photography to my list. My goal is to watch at least two classes a week, depending on the length of the class. If I'm consistent, I'll keep my Skillshare account. If I'm consistent, I might not keep my Skillshare account. Amy told me that our local library probably offers online classes similar to the ones posted here. This was news that I feel the library systems need to advertise more. Or at least talk about in a tone a voice that I won't ignore. 

If this plan doesn't pan out, there's always the adult tap dancing class I've had my eye on. Tappa tappa tappa.