Rain

Tonight's earworm: Make It Rain (Ed Sheerhan).

The seed needs the water
Before it grows out of the ground
But it just keeps on getting hard
And the hunger more profound
Well I know there can come tears from the eye
But they may as well be in vain
Even though
I know these tears come with pain
Even so
And just the same
Make it rain

Traffic

This poor city has terrible traffic.

Pretty

Tonight's earworm: Cry Pretty (Carrie Underwood).

You can pretty lie and say it's okay
You can pretty smile and just walk away
Pretty much fake your way through anything
But you can't cry pretty

I like this song, because it is an honest acknowledgment that feelings, when out in the open, are not easy. Sometimes, though, the best thing we can do is to let a few tears flow. We feel better. And then we dry ourselves off, and keep going. 

Fomite

I have a cold. I feel like a giant fomite, and worry about infecting those around me.  It makes me surly.

However, the patio lizards are out in full force, and that is nice.

Old Man

Just in Case

Herself speaks.

I have had a Dementor. Its origin is uncertain, though its presence has been clear. I am trying very hard to banish it. To help, I have been listening to the Harry Potter series on audiobook (Jim Dale version, always) yet again, because the books are consolation and enjoyment even in the midst of difficulty. I just finished the fourth book. One moment in particular struck me this time:

The morning after Harry's name has come out of the goblet of fire, he does not want to face the great hall for breakfast, and yet does not want to remain in the Gryffindor common room. As he exits through the portrait hole, he encounters Hermione; she has toast wrapped in a napkin, and suggests that they go for a walk. They do so, and talk about what has happened. She then provides ink, quill, and parchment so that Harry can notify Sirius of what has happened. 

There is nothing complex about Hermione's actions -- and yet, they show the great depth of her love for her friend Harry. She anticipates what he does not want (to appear in the great hall), what he needs (food and conversation), and what would be most helpful for him (to write to his Godfather).  She listens to him, supports him, and reassures him. It's simple, and lovely.

-----

C.S. Lewis is quoted as saying: Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.  Harry Potter would no doubt agree that his friendships give tremendous value to his survival: they ease his burden, and bring him joy. He is lucky to have the friends he does. 

I would agree, too -- for I have drawn on strength gathered from time spent conversing with a friend, and am finally able to cast a patronus to protect myself against the Dementor. Lucky am I. And grateful.

We should all be so fortunate. 

I love my friends
neither with my heart nor with my mind.
Just in case…
Heart might stop.
Mind can forget.
I love them with my soul.
Soul never stops or forgets.

- Rumi

I'm Awake!

No, you are not, Elderly Dog - though we appreciate your effort to remain engaged in the kitchen activities.

Sunset

Take Me To Your Leader

27

27 years, in the blink of an eye. Happy anniversary, Beloved Husband.

Mediocre

I'm trying really hard, but it still seems like I'm still just going through the motions each day. (Which is OK, I suppose, as I find my new normal after The Task.) I feel as though everything I do is mediocre. I am a mediocre mother, mediocre wife, mediocre friend. I could do so much better.

Actually, perhaps right now, I cannot do any better.

My soul is tired, still.

My peoples -- have patience. Know that I love you, and that I will find my way back to how I would like to be.

Fly Over

Tonight's earworm - a little country: Fly Over States (Jason Aldean).

We hope you enjoy.

Lick

The Offspring always share popsicles with Tiny Dog,  and she is grateful. 

Pushing the Season

In stores this past weekend.

Motivation

I have lost mine: have you seen it?
-----
It has been very difficult for me to find a regular schedule in this post-Task era. Because of the confluence of various circumstances and activities, I'd been working all day, every day and every evening, for nearly eight months straight by the time The Task was finished. Now I don't know what to do with myself. I don't really want to fold laundry or cook (although previously those were welcome diversions from work). I have read a couple of books, which were satisfactory; and started a few others that were less so. I have used my coloring books and played my piano. I have sat outside in the evening twilight, just because.

I don't know if I am sad, or just still drained, or both.

There might be more -- the minutiae of being pecked by one thousand ducks -- but I am Too Tired to parse or write about it.

One day at a time. Things will get better.

A Small Creative Endeavor

Iris

Tonight's earworm: Iris (Goo Goo Dolls).

I am currently listening to 80s and 90s hits on Pandora, and this cycled through. It especially appeals to me because it begins with the word "and" -- breaking a grammatical rule. Plus, it is a call to be seen and understood. And isn't that, ultimately, what we all want?

I hope you enjoy.

Cozy

Last of 50

Herself speaks.

Today is the last day of my 50th year.

It's been a long year.

A year ago, I did not look forward to turning 50. It was such a dreaded milestone. And then, suddenly, there I was. And it was OK, in its own way.

Two-thirds of my 50th year was consumed by The Task - application, preparation, and The Task itself. By the time I receive the results, it will have been a full 11 months of time, that will forever be associated with 50. Let us hope that it, like 50, becomes a thing of the past.

-----
This evening, as I sat alone with the small dogs on the back patio, I thought about goals for the year ahead. What will I do? What creative endeavors will I attempt? How much camping can I squeeze into the year? How will I tame the beast of loneliness that lurks in the corners?

How will I learn to handle with Grace, the Things over which I have no control?  How do I meet the needs of others, without giving away too many pieces of myself in the process?  How do I learn to ask for what I Need (and to care for myself when asking goes unanswered)? And how do I mold my soul to be as self-sufficient as possible? These seem like complex tasks. Yet, I have all the time in the world -- each and every day -- to figure it all out.

If I had only one birthday wish, though: what I want, most of all, is that the Offspring flourish in the upcoming year.

What will 51 bring? We shall see.

Hold The Line

Current earworm: Hold the Line (Toto).

Ah, the 1980s. Good music.

Some things never change.

Ten Days Later

It's been ten days now since The Task was finished. Life has not yet returned to normal, though it is on the way. I have read two books for pleasure, played my piano, obtained Ruth the fish, and returned to work.

(Did I mention that I took a leave of absence from my employment to prepare for The Task? Work held down the fort for me while I was absent. It will benefit Work in the long run for me to have met The Task, provided that I am successful, so it was in everyone's best interest to help me accomplish the preparation needed for The Task.)

I still dream about The Task.

The first few nights were difficult: dreams that were flashbacks to the content of The Task, to questions and failures and unknowns. Time attenuates all things, though, and now the dreams are more factual. Less nauseating. This all shall pass, in due course.

I wondered how others who have faced The Task manage this post-Task phase. Upon my quiet inquiry, three different coworkers affirmed to me that they too had flashbacks to the Task for some time afterward. I feel better, knowing that we all can get beyond what needs to be done, and move forward.

I am still tired, physically and mentally. Need more aftercare.

I'll do what I can. One step at a time.

Ruth

Post-Task pet acquisition: this female veiltail betta. 

Her name is Ruth, after Ruth Bader Ginsburg. (Ruth Betta Ginsburg? Ruth Bader Finsburg? Ruth Betta Finsburg.)

I would have liked to have guinea pigs, or possibly some other kind of mammal - I do best tending to furry critters. A solitary, low-maintenance creature was best, though. 

Ruth shall do. She's lovely.

Reprieve

Received the results from Monday's testing. All is stable. I'll go back in six months.

Hallelujah. 

Compliment

My parents continue to downsize their possessions as they move house. I received a mysterious blanket in the mail. "It was your father's blanket from his carriage. I thought you should have it, since you are very much your father's daughter."

What a lovely compliment.