Anniversary/Lens

 Herself speaks.

My calendar reminded me that today is the wedding anniversary of my Daddy's brother and his wife, Uncle S. and Aunt M., who have both passed on. I hope that somewhere, somehow, their spirits are celebrating together. Such kind, gentle, and thoughtful people. Good souls. 

Thinking of them makes me think even more of my lovely Daddy. I have been thinking of him a lot lately.  There are things I wish I could say to him: things I didn't know I wanted to say -- until I had over a year of his absence from this world, and had time to reflect on all I have learned from his being gone.

Sometimes, Daddy, I think I understand you even better now. Or perhaps, I just understand myself better, through the lens of what I perceive parts of your life to have been like.

I miss you, Daddy. 

Rest easy. 

Thank you. 

Auburn

Herself speaks.

I've decided to move my hair color away from the brighter red, back into an auburn/brown. 

Not sure why. I used to joke that the red was my middle-aged-rage hair color, and that I wouldn't change it until I was less angry. (And at the time, it seemed appropriate, because I was nebulously -- and very -- angry.) 

In truth, I'm not as angry any more. It's not that anything has necessarily changed.  Perhaps, though, I've come to terms with the fact that this is the way things are. 

Anger is not usually a productive emotion for me, unless it causes rage-cleaning or other type of anger-induced activity. So the absence of anger might be more useful. Unless apathy sets in instead. 

Let's see if we can keep that from happening. 

Wristwatch Kitty

Miss Ma'am the kitty needed a dental appointment to try to resolve her ongoing mouth issues.  She mercifully did just fine. I am on kitty patrol to make sure she heals well and quickly. 

She has little bald spots on her front wrists (ankles?), which make her look as though she has been wearing her watch too tight. 

Feel better, kitty. Good girl. 

Hand-carved Daggers, and Achilles Heels

 A bit of vagueness ahoy. 

Those who know me well, or have spent time reading here, know that I have abandonment issues. (For purposes of this conversation, let's call them The Issues.) It's not a secret, really. I acknowledge The Issues honestly with certain people very close to me, and have even pointed them out openly (though carefully) when specific situations have arisen in which I wanted to explain that I was feeling a particular way because of The Issues. 

I've been doing better in handling them. I know The Issues are around, so I know to be aware of them and take remedial action with regard to my feelings and actions when they make an appearance.

And then there was a test -- and I passed, and I didn't know I'd passed, until later.

-----

I while ago had a conversation with someone meaningful to me, who told me they'd been deliberately distancing themselves. And my biggest concern in the immediate moment, was the reasons why they had been distancing. I focused on the person's concerns and needs, and on finding some kind of path forward.  

I did not, however, panic about what -- lightbulb moment, an eternity later -- looks like a hand-carved dagger, specifically designed to target my most vulnerable spot: abandonment. 

Deliberate distance. Withdrawal. Abandonment. 

What was once my worst fear, come to life, there in person. 

And it passed me by, with hardly a blip on my radar. 

-----

I once thought the worst thing that could possibly happen to me, would be another person choosing to step away from me. And when that moment finally came, it was terrible, yes, but it was no worse than anything else.  I still needed to address the situation, to remedy what I could, to accept what I could not change, to move forward however possible. And I did, and I am still whole, and I am still me. 

What was once my Achilles Heel, is no more. 

-----

I don't know if I am glad for myself, that The Issues are not as terrible as they once were; or if I should be concerned, in that it seems that my soul on some level feels that abandonment is inevitable (and therefore not to be feared). Perhaps I am a little sad, though. I would like some promise from the Universe that someone will always be there for me -- but the Universe cannot make that Promise. 

What I can do, though, is promise my Important People that as long as I am able, I will be there for them, when they need company. 

That's my promise to you. 

Protecting the Innocent

 Herself speaks.

One of the reasons that posts have been a bit sparse here, is because some of my writings of late, are not for public consumption.

I write in order to process. And, in fact, I can only fully process through writing. Verbal processing -- through conversation with another person -- is insufficient, and is, in fact, not fully reliable. It is far too prone to misunderstanding, interruption, gaslighting and historical rewriting, especially when there is an additional second person in a conversation who might perhaps like to reframe themselves in a better light or might import their own history or judgment into the mix. Foibles of human nature: we cannot, in fact, understand what is happening inside someone else's head -- and sometimes, we misinterpret.  

(I do realize that solitary writing is also subject to some of these deficiencies: we all, after all, want to portray ourselves in the best light, and it is hard to look at our own failings objectively. Nevertheless, it is easier when only one person's feelings at a time are subjected to scrutiny, in the form of the written word.)

There is an added consideration, too: the protection of other people. 

If I have a bone to pick with someone, that is between me and the other person. Or perhaps, even, in my head alone. It's not for public consumption.

Furthermore, sometimes calling another person's attention to what I perceive as their failing, would serve no useful purpose. I disagree with them: so what? Their knowledge of that fact would do naught but hurt them. I'm not in the business of hurting others, specially when I know that no good change can come from their knowledge of my sentiments. They do not need to see everything in print, out in the world. 

An additional goal: protecting the innocent. There is no reason for me to tarnish a good person in someone else's eyes just because I have a grievance. We don't tell our dentist that their favorite movie star doesn't floss -- the dentist would only be disillusioned, and it doesn't matter, really. Let people have their favorable opinions of other people. Life is short and full of disappointments already; we don't need to add more. 

The world needs more kindness. And sometimes, that means: the world does not need to see in writing, all the words that are bumping around inside of my head. 

Father's Day

Happy Father's Day, Daddy, wherever you are. 

Window Kitties

The kitties are visiting for a couple of days again. It really is nice to have a warm kitty welcome when returning home. 

Stasis

A day and a half after our trip away, Mr. Mustache... was not right. He was sitting in the corner, not eating, not hopping around as usual. 

Cue my internal panic.

I know just enough about pet rabbits to know about stasis: the GI condition where digestion slows down or stops. It can be deadly. It's always been in the back of my mind, every time one of the buns has been slow to take a snack, or hasn't attacked the lettuce pile with enthusiasm. 

I watched him for an hour.  Nope, not moving. Not good. I called the vet, and off we went.

Nearly five hours later, he'd had 170 ccs of fluid, five different meds, and we were home with additional meds, instructions for syringe feeding, and more. And for the next forty-eight hours, I dutifully plied Mustache with various syringes of various things, encouraging him to eat, mentally willing him to get better. 

(Statistics show that with early vet intervention, 70% of rabbits do survive stasis. I tried not to think about the other 30%. The very kindly vet student who had been assisting did give me a gentle warning, just in case, so I would be prepared.) 

And, mercifully, he did get better. And he got angrier and wigglier, too, as he got better, until it was nearly impossible to hold him and get a syringe into his mouth.  And then he began to nibble at his lettuce again, and his hay pile, and that's when I knew everything would be OK.

The other three rabbits were mystified at all the fuss and were fine. We have no idea why Mustache chose to have this Moment, but what a relief that it has passed. Let us hope it does not happen again. 

The rabbits are terrible pets: they consume resources, make a mess, eschew patting, and generally are aloof and un-cuddly. But I love them, and want the best for them.

Good boy, Mustache. I am glad you are better.

Boxing Ladies

The ladies both enjoy sitting inside a box on occasion. 

Good buns. 

Memorial

Item three: while we were nearby visiting Offspring the First, Beloved Husband and I took the time to visit a few New York locations: in particular, the September 11 Memorial. 

I have always wanted to go. I feel we owe it to the people who died that day, to remember them. 

It was... even harder than I imagined. 

A locus of ghosts.

One of the first visuals is a piece of one of the original buildings, right there by the escalator leading down into the memorial. It is shocking. It brought me right back to that terrible day, twenty-three years ago, but like yesterday, fresh in its terribleness. 

It was hard to look at all of the exhibits. I went through quickly, and escaped to a bench to sit down in the quiet. Beloved Husband took far more time, digesting each bit, but I did not want to become (more) overwhelmed. 

After we looked at the exhibit inside, we went outside to the water features. They really are quite beautiful, and haunting, all at once. There's an urge to walk around the edge of each, to touch each name inscribed there, to acknowledge. To remember. You are not forgotten. 

We will always remember. 

Three

It's been three years since my Small Fry entered Sto'Vo'Kor. It seems hard to believe that so much time has passed. She was the bravest, and mightiest, of tiny dogs. 

Thinking of you, my fine fur friend.  Say hello to all of our other fine fur friends who are with you. Perhaps, with a great deal of luck, we will see one another again someday. 

It's Been A Bit

 Well, gentle reader, we started this Journey together on June 8, 2009.  It's been a lot of water under the bridge since then.  I know the past year and a half has been particularly difficult, too, and that words have been sparse.  I'm grateful that you, and I, have persevered over all this time.

It's been quite the journey.  let's see where we go next. 

Visit

 Item two: Beloved Husband and I visited Offspring the First and her Beau.  They are doing well.  It's nice to see them together -- they seem so happy, have such nice communication, and seem so happy with each other.  It's refreshing, in this jaded world, to see.  I hope that they continue to grow and flourish together. 

Thirty-fifth

Item one: I recently attended my thirty-fifth college reunion.

It seems absolutely impossible that so much time has passed since I graduated from college. So much water under the bridge. 

I saw my roommates from that time. Such lovely women, so kind and warm and witty and thoughtful. I feel that I am undeserving of them -- why should they be so very kind and warm to me? Who am I? I am nobody. I am History. 

To experience affection from someone, due to shared history and experiences from thirty-five years ago with little contact in the intervening decades, is an odd thing. Yet on the other hand, it felt so natural to me, to want to hug them and spend time with them and be near them. I am extremely fond of them. They are genuinely marvelous people. I appreciate them so much more now, than I did in my youth. 

And to love them is, in a weird little way, to also love the me that I once was, thirty-five years ago. That me does deserve a little love, after all. She was underloved by me back then. 

I do need to see these lovely women more often. I should make it a mission, to let them know how much they mean to me now. Because life is short, and people should know that they are important. 

The world needs a little more love in it. 

Bridge

Well, it's been QUITE A WEEK.

At first I could not decide whether I should go through all the things step by step, in one post; or parse it little by little, in multiple little posts.

I've decided to do bullet points here, and then I'll fill in details as time permits over the next several days. For I am so behind on everything, I am practically paralyzed by inaction due to the so many things to do. 

And so: in the past two weeks, these things have transpired:

* I attended my thirty-fifth college reunion (help, I'm old)

* Beloved Husband and I visited Offspring the First (she looks great, in all possible senses of the word)

* We also visited a few scenic spots in New York City while we were adjacent (one moving and difficult, one lovely)

* The return trip to the desert was tarnished by a weather delay that resulted in being trapped in a distant portion of Texas for far longer than anticipated, including a hotel that was possible the most... appalling that we have ever encountered (aka the "Hot Sheets Motel")

* The level of relaxation upon our return was distinctly marred by one of the rabbit's sudden descent into serious illness, which necessitated an urgent vet visit and near-constant hands-on care with multiple medications and hand-feeding for several days (until his appetite returned and he turned into a ball of wrath and feet)

* Another urgent matter of a relative required intensive conversation and attention coextensively with the return trip and the rabbit care (we do what we must for the people we love)

* Mother Nature looked at all this and said, now's a good time for you to start having hot flashes (BRING IT ON) 

That's the story, in a nutshell. 

So many things.

I... am tired. 

One thing at a time.