Sarah Scribbles

Sarah Anderson nails it, one more time. 

She is awesome. Look for her here: https://sarahcandersen.com/ 

Old Man

He likes the sun on his old bones.

Pathetic

Tiny Dog has pneumonia.

She was in a slow and steady decline, necessitating leaving her at the vet's office for several hours at the end of last week so they could squeeze her in before the weekend. A steroid shot and some strong antibiotics, and she is on the up and up now.

She is so small. And pathetic. I'm glad she is better.

A Little Weather

Closet, Redux

New Old Dog tries out the nest in the closet, so see why Tiny Dog loves it so much.

Overflow

Herself speaks.

So many feelings. Too many.

The primary ones:

RAGE. Rage that people refuse to wear a mask because of a disbelief in science, or a belief that their personal "freedom" takes precedence over the common good in the face of a Pandemic; that racism is so very alive and flourishing; that the government is a bubbling morass of ineptitude and selfishness and again, racism; that the planet is dying, climate change is ongoing and near catastrophic, species are going extinct, and garbage and pollution are everywhere.

HELPLESS: Helplessness that I am powerless to change any of the things that engender RAGE.

FEAR: That someone I love will become ill.

GRIEF: unexpectedly strong, likely called into being by RAGE and HELPLESSNESS. Grief that I may not be able to see my parents, my siblings, or my Cherished Friend, in person for a very, very, very long time, because Nothing Is Safe.

How much can one heart hold?

It is too much. I think my heart is broken.

What can I do?

Nothing, except stay strong. And wear a mask.

Closet

Sometimes, the world is overwhelming, and you just have to retreat to the safety of your nest in the closet.

Can you spot Tiny Dog?

Olox

Take a listen to Olox, singing Zombie by the Cranberries, on America's Got Talent.

It's wonderful. We need more.

Tie a Knot in the End of the Rope

Herself speaks.

Everything is fine: my people are all well and healthy; we have employment and housing and supplies and all the things we might need, and then some. We are very lucky. This I know.

I am still struggling right now.

The intersection of the political climate and the pandemic: politicizing of scientific information -- especially, whether to wear a mask in public spaces -- fills me with rage. I do not trust other people to behave appropriately.

(This, especially, ever since an episode a few weeks ago in which a neighbor whom I had never met before was --in my opinion -- aggressively rude toward me over dog-related-etiquette. I have a different walking route now. The incident reminded me that I cannot expect strangers to be civil, let alone to do the right thing and wear a mask/socially distance in stores.)

I am mentally tired of planning the shopping so far in advance and trying to determine the best means to obtain what we need while minimizing contact with others. I don't see this process changing any time soon, though. Need to keep going.

The small dogs are decrepit and needy, and their frailty weighs on me like a stone.

Work continues apace, and it is hard to get through projects without being interrupted by new, more pressing projects. My brain is full.

I have tried to cheer myself up by working on a venture that I enjoy, that had been set as a possibility for happening for the fall; however, it appears that the venture will not transpire and must be delayed another four to six months. Alas.

I have tried looking for places to go camping, but pandemic safety measures have closed many of the easy, I-could-go-camping-by-myself spots. I am not sure I have the mental energy to continue to research.

Beloved Husband is extremely busy with work, and Cherished Friend is busy settling into his Oceanside domain. My e-mail correspondents are slow to respond (for which I do not fault them; it seems few of us have the time or wherewithal for anything more than the most basic of communication). My siblings are pandemically preoccupied as well, trying to get by as we all are. The Offspring are doing the best they can, and I am trying hard to help them manage their needs and frustrations during these weird times.

I am lonely.

I need a respite from Everything: time when I don't need to think about the terrible state of the world, or address another's needs, or clean the house or feed the pets or pay the bills, or tend to anyone except for myself. I don't know how to find that space right now. It seems impossible.

Childishly, I want my struggle to be acknowledged: I know things are difficult right now and I see that you are trying really hard. I am a grownup, though, and no one validates grownup feelings -- it seems to be a weakness, to need validation. People look away, embarrassed at a showing of such neediness.

I want to be folded into a safe place, to be reassured, it will get better, in a voice that I believe.  You rest now, I will take care of things.

I shall have to tell myself.
It will get better.

I hope.

Fowl

Can you imagine, seeing such delightful birds casually roaming about the neighborhood?

I am so used to the fauna of the desert. It's a whole different world, Oceanside.

Fallen Admiration

Herself speaks.

I'm sure it's pretty clear that I'm quite fond of the Harry Potter series. It speaks to me in many ways, and has brought me consolation at times when precious little else could. The Harry Potter universe is one in which the power of love is enough to save us all. It is truly magical.

That being said: author J.K. Rowling has lately shown herself to be extremely... disappointing.

She has come forth recently with some very hurtful statements about transgender people. I won't rehash them here; better writers than I have dissected and responded to all her commentary. All I can do is try to extend the love and sense of belonging to transgender people, that has been denied to them by one of the (formerly) most beloved authors, and hope that they see that the world she created exists separately from her as an individual.  As Daniel Radcliffe, actor who portrayed Harry Potter, has said:

If you found anything in these stories that resonated with you and helped you at any time in your life — then that is between you and the book that you read, and it is sacred.

Believe this, and believe in yourself. You are who you are. We support you, always.

Succulent

The patio lizards are looking quite... succulent this year.

Comfort

Herself speaks.

Something I hadn't mentioned outright previously (though I alluded to it in the entry, Nice): for a bit of time prior to the Divergence, Cherished Friend was working a job here in my corner of this desert land, and was momentarily residing with me, Beloved Husband, Offspring the Second, and Offspring the Third.

I knew it was temporary. Still, it was a delightful turn of events. I thought briefly about the possibility of local weekend adventures -- hiking, camping, general stuff -- and there seemed so much promise in the air.

And then: Pandemic. 

Although travel-related activities were sharply curtailed, I was nevertheless happy that Cherished Friend was here under our roof. He is an excellent house guest: quiet, tidy, helpful, and outstanding company. Attentively conversational. He patiently fed New Old Dog, even when New Old Dog was finicky; he tolerated our family noise and foibles. He and Beloved Husband went for weekend motorcycle rides. There were a lot of games of Scrabble. I knew that if he came down with COVID-19, we would be able to tend to him; and that he would be helpful if someone in the household became ill. His company was a great source of comfort whenever I felt agitated or afraid or worried about the Pandemic, or about the State of the World in general. Just his presence in the evenings, whether on the couch in the living room or in one of the patio chairs, was a comfort.

Friendship is a sheltering tree. -- Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 

Now he is Oceanside, and I am delighted for him. So much potential for his dreams to come to fruition there. I hope for the very best for him, as Always.

There is a Cherished Friend-shaped hole in the household. Despite the short time he was under this roof, we became quite used to his presence. I am re-learning how to cook less. I no longer catch the ever-so-faint aroma of coffee in the morning. I walk into the garage and see only Beloved Husband's motorcycle, solitary without his companion motorcycle. I've put away the small basket that resided on the kitchen counter, into which we put mail or other items belonging to him. I've been in his room only once since he left for Oceanside; I still feel in many ways that it is his personal space and I don't want to intrude. It still retains the scent that his other domiciles have had, and that is comforting.

There will always be a place for him here. I don't know when he'll next be under our roof; I do know, though, that it will be a delight.

Cinnamon toast: a small comfort in these times.

Scenes from Oceanside

Herself speaks.

I have... so many questions. And yet simultaneously, am delighted by this sign.

The Chronicles of Wilbur

Herself speaks.

I'd like to introduce you to my friend Wilbur. He's quite squishable, and a very becoming shade of pink. We look forward to occasional adventures together.

Nest

This morning we spotted a new birds' nest in the back yard.

Nice. 

I'll let you know when we learn who the inhabitants are. 

First Rain of the Season

Life is Exhausting

Oceanside

Herself speaks.

Three solid days of driving later, Cherished Friend has reached his new Oceanside environs. I am glad he has arrived there safely. It must have been quite the drive. I wonder how the terrain changed -- was it slowly, or was it sudden, like a Time Zone change? I try to imagine. He sent a photo from the road, and I try to picture standing near the landmark. What was it like?

I look at the weather report for his Oceanside, and work at forming a picture in my head. Is there an ocean breeze? What is the humidity like? What are the trees like? Are there squirrels? Will there be alligators, or manatees? What are the bugs like? Are there snakes? What is the sunset over the ocean like?

I have been here in the desert for so long - well over two decades - that I can no longer imagine what it would be like to live in another place. And a good many of my most desert-y memories of the past ten years or so have included Cherished Friend, as we explored various places, from Caverns to Craters to Big Bend to high desert forests; and some of my favorite moments have been around campfires at which Cherished Friend, Beloved Husband, and I sat in a rare moment of peace in this busy world. I am sorrowful that we did not have more time to explore more of this desert land before Cherished Friend parted for points Oceanic; can I find consolation in the thought of future moments elsewhere?

Beloved Husband has reassured me that we will go see Cherished Friend in his new Oceanside land. That will take time. Cherished Friend needs space and time to establish himself in his new environs, and we don't want to interfere with that; and the need to work and to be safe while the Pandemic continues and the world attempts to adjust, will take precedence for quite a while. Nevertheless, perhaps eventually I will be able to imagine Oceanside, and will be able to look forward to exploring it as well.

I hope for the very best.

Just a waypoint between this desert land and Oceanside.

Not Goodbye

Today's earworm: This is not Goodbye by Sidewalk Prophets.  
This one is for you, my Cherished Friend.

I can see it in your eyes that you are restless
The time has come for you to leave
It's so hard to let you go
But in this life I know
You have to be who you were made to be
As you step out on the road I'll say a prayer
So that in my heart you always will be there

This is not goodbye
I know we'll meet again
So let your life begin
'Cause this is not goodbye
It's just 'I love you' to take with you
Until you're home again....

Divergence

Herself speaks.

In the early hours this morning, Cherished friend left eastward, toward his new Ocean Environs. 

I waved goodbye to him with great hope that he will find new adventures, achieve new goals, and grow roots on which he can rely. I hope, too, that the ocean will bring him peace and contentment. 

This new path brings into view a whole new world.  I wish for him, that it will be a wonderful new world.

My Friend. Be safe and be well. Follow your dreams. Know you are loved.

I'll be here for you, Always.

One More Game

Protecting Mom

One with eyes on Mom, the other with eyes out to the room. WE ARE RIGHT HERE MOM AND ARE KEEPING EYES ON EVERYTHING FOR YOU.

Love

Today's earworm: a classic, from days of yore -- Slave to Love (Bryan Ferry).

I've just seen the video. Lovely visuals.

I hope you enjoy.

Horsemen

Herself speaks.

I cannot even begin to describe what is happening in this country right now. All I can think of is George Floyd calling out for his mama, a knee on his neck, dying. This latest murder of a black man at the hands of a police officer is the spark that has lit a conflagration. Where will it end? How will it end? Will a phoenix rise from the ashes, or is it fiendfyre?

Offspring the Third attended a local protest. I nearly held my breath the entire time he was out. My earnest, idealistic, tender young man -- how much danger was he in?  I do not know. The news and footage from protests across the country are overwhelming. I cannot yet watch the footage he obtained of the tear gas, the riot gear, the darkness and the anger and fear and rage. I am not sure I will ever be able to do so.

Pandemic, protests, politics. Unemployment, poverty. Uncertainty about the future of anything. And climate change, once so big a concern, now on the back burner as humanity bleeds.

It is an unbearable amount of grief. For my own sanity, I need to find a way to shut out the noise of the horror, even if just for a little while.

Smell the flowers. Lie in the grass and look at the moon. Feel the fur of the small dogs. Listen to the rufflings of the birds in the trees in the twilight. Ground myself in this moment. It is all I can do.

No Glory

Today's earworm: No Glory in the West (Orville Peck).

His voice soothes, when nothing else does. And nothing else does, right now.