Legacy

 Herself speaks.

My lovely Daddy left me a small amount of money. It was thoughtful, and kind, and helpful - just like Daddy.  

Because of the way the money was left, I need to take out a little bit of it every year from where it is, and move it elsewhere. It's up to me to figure out what to do with the slice of the money each time. That's surprisingly harder than one might think. Right now, it has very much been on my mind since the end of the year (and money-withdrawal-time) is nigh. 

One the one hand, the sensible thing to do would be to pay off a few debts. Or invest it in another place to save for retirement. Practical. 

On the other hand, though: it's an unexpected gift. I did not have this money in mind when accepting responsibility for debt or for building my retirement plan, so it's somehow free money, if that makes sense. I would like so much to take this gift, to use it in a way to make a difference somewhere, somehow. It's not enough to make a dramatic difference -- we're not remotely talking Bill or Melinda Gates here -- but I could perhaps make a teeny impact for the people who are important to me. 

Daddy was always so generous, and so quiet about it. I only learned in passing about all the ways he financially helped other people, because he never mentioned it. It was always someone else who brought it up -- someone to whom money was more important, or who felt it was necessary to give Daddy  recognition for his acts -- and Daddy always deflected, changed the subject, moved the spotlight elsewhere.

When I think of him, I am reminded of Kahlil Gibran's On Giving: 

There are those who give and know not pain in giving, nor do they seek joy, nor give with mindfulness of virtue;
They give as in yonder valley the myrtle breathes its fragrance into space.
Through the hands of such as these God speaks, and from behind their eyes He smiles upon the earth.

I remember Daddy, and I want to carry his legacy on, in this small but meaningful way, however I can.

It is well to give when asked, but it is better to give unasked, through understanding;
And to the open-handed the search for one who shall receive is joy greater than giving.

Jewel: My Father's Daughter.

Moss Meme

Fragile Flower

 Mr. Moustache continues to be a Fragile Flower. Just when we think his gut issues are under control, he starts... pooping funny all over again, and it's back to capturing him twice a day, wrapping him into an Angry Rabbit Burrito, and stuffing meds into his gullet. Poor baby. It's for the best, but he does not enjoy it. (And neither do I.). But I do love him, so I do what's best for him, even though he doesn't appreciate it in the slightest. 

He sure is cute, though. 

Holidays Past

 For the first time, none of the Offspring will be home for Thanksgiving. It's like the end of an era. 

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I so miss having company in the kitchen.  Offspring the Third particularly enjoyed cooking; Offspring the First and Offspring the Second also joined in on occasion, though it was more their presence than their participation that was there (and presence was just as welcome).  There were a few years when Cherished Friend would be facilitate cooking, too. It was lovely. 

Now, we do not even hold Thanksgiving at our house - although I suppose that is just as well this year, because we have not yet recovered and repaired from The Flood. At any rate, this year all the Offspring (and Cherished Friend, too, for that matter) are hundreds and hundreds of miles away. I miss all their faces more than I can say. 

I don't know where to put up a Christmas tree: there is nowhere to do so, given the Flood-related Disarray. My house, my brain, and my heart are all disheveled. 

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I miss simple pleasures. A little Christmas music, the tree, the festive linens on the dining room table. Finding just the right gift for someone. The undivided attention of a kitchen compatriot. A chihuahua, looking for crumbs. One of the offspring, feet up on the couch, providing commentary. The Peanuts Christmas special. 

What do I want? 

I want to wedge myself on the couch right next to someone, just to sit, maybe even to read, to watch a movie. Casual physical proximity, with love. But alas, I am out of chihuahuas and the bunnies are not inclined. The cats, when they are here, want either to stuff themselves up my nose, or to perch on the windowsill and stare longingly at birds outside the window. Beloved Husband is busy, and everyone else is too far away. 

Alas. 

Someone hold me. My heart aches for what has been and will never be again.

Mienteme

 Today's earworm: Mienteme (Orville Peck and Tess Bu Cuaron). 

I heard it for the first time as I drove back home after being away from this desert land recently, and the catchy Spanish lyrics and the tune promptly wedged themselves into my brain, there to stay for the indeterminate future. 

Miente, querida, que viva, baby
Hurt me, I'm yours tonight
Miénteme, vida, úsame
Venga, güey, come tell me lies
Amor no correspondido es tiempo perdido
Pero miente, querida, por vida, miénteme

Kitty Maintenance

While Offspring the Third is so busy working, I have taken on the responsibility for maintenance of his kitty friends. We went for rabies vaccines and annual licenses this week. One kitty quietly gave everyone the stink eye, but the other made herself right at home and conversed loudly with everyone she met.

Good girls. 

Let Us Try

Every time I have one of those infrequent opportunities to spend concentrated leisure time with one of my Important People, I am very conscious of the rarity both of the moment, and of the feeling of peace that accompanies the occasion. It is not at all often that my brain, so constantly full of Work and Volunteer Commitments and Ordinary Obligations, is able to relax and unwind enough to feel unhurried and at peace. I am so grateful to have had one such opportunity this past weekend, and it was Lovely.

Now, as I sit in limbo in an airport in the pre-dawn hours, I am trying to adjust to the inevitability of re-entering the hustle and bustle of my Ordinary Life, while simultaneously holding on to  the Intangible Joy of the time of the past weekend. I am trying, too, not to let Grief creep in - although I know that is inevitable.  As Kahlil Gibran reminds us in The Prophet, Joy and Sorrow are inseparable:

Together they come, and when one sits alone with you at your board, remember that the other is asleep upon your bed.

They are, in fact, opposite sides of the same coin:

When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.

When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight.

The hardest part, is knowing that Sorrow is necessary, in order to have Joy.

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I'll do my best to focus on the mundane for now. I'll go get an overpriced airport snack, continue my DuoLingo streak, and then I'll be boarding the plane back to my desert homeland soon. I will be glad to be back there. Even though I leave a piece of myself behind here. 

We will do our best to move forward, day by day. 

As the French say: Essayons. 

You will never be completely at home again, because part of your heart always will be elsewhere. That is the price you pay for the richness of loving and knowing people in more than one place. ― Miriam Adeney

Meds and Greens

 Mr. Mustache the bun is a fragile flower. He and I spent some quality time with the vet, trying to figure out why his poop looks so funny. He was not quite in statis, but definitely Not Right. 

Many, many meds later, and a new strict diet (that, alas, does not include his favorite bananas), and he is doing a bit better. 

I'm doing the best I can for him. There will be no Death on my watch, if I can help it. 

Bunny burrito, 

all squashed and ready to be stuffed with meds.

Allllllll the meds.

Special greens mix. Tasty.

Hang in there, Mr. Mustache. Smudge loves you, and Poppy and Cookie love to annoy you, and you have a very special place in my heart. <3

Unthinkable, and yet Unsurprising

 You all know the results of last week's election. 

I... just CANNOT.

The despair, and hopelessness, and rage -- all the things that we had momentarily left behind -- are back in full force. Our only consolation is that it's unlikely he can change the Constitution in a way that would allow him another term beyond this one. 

Even if he is 'just a figurehead' for the Republican Party -- even assuming, arguendo, that he will be somehow Harmless and that the Republican Party will be running things for the next four years, this is what we know:

It was NOT a dealbreaker to over HALF of American citizens, that the figurehead of the Republican Party is a racist, misogynistic, sexist, sexually-assaulting, convicted felon; anti-immigrant, anti-intellectual, anti-environment, isolationist; an individual who mocks disabled people, who repeats lies ("alternative facts") and misinformation and ridiculous nonsensical statements ("They're eating the dogs! They're eating the cats!"); who simulates fellatio on a microphone stand at a public event; and who is crass, vulgar, and insulting to anyone who does not immediately agree with him. 

OK, then. 

Trust no one. 

Put On Your Own Oxygen Mask First

 Herself speaks.

Whoops, it's been a bit.

The other morning I was standing in the kitchen, trying to do the usual 500 things for various people, and I realized I hadn't taken my morning meds yet (thyroid, antihistamine, antidepressant). It took a moment to pause, but I purposefully prioritized myself for the 60 seconds it took to fetch my pills.  And as I did so, I was reminded of the admonition by flight attendants as they recite the safety rules on every aircraft: if the oxygen masks descend from the ceiling, put on your own mask first before helping others.

I can't do for others, if I don't do for myself first.

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It's been QUITE A LOT the past couple of weeks. First, there was Beloved Husband's 40th high school reunion, which was a series of events necessitating Getting Dressed Up And Being Social With Strangers over several days in a row (for which I valiantly put on my best Appropriate Outfits and Game Face). They are on the whole very lovely people, so it was just fine, though it was a whole lot of activities in a short period of time (I generally prefer to spread out my socializing). 

Next, was The Deluge: a little-used bathroom on the second floor of the house sprang a leak. There was Water. Lots of it. Nothing of tremendous value was lost, thank goodness, but the house is now partially gutted, both on the second floor and the first floor and in the garage, too. And I am gutted too, because I feel sad for my house, and there is work to be done, and repairs, and rearranging, and my poor house is in disarray and nothing is where it belongs and that is all somewhat terrible. 

Carpet gone, wall gone. Alas.

Insurance will pay for much of the repairs, thank goodness. But still. It is all a bit awful.

Then, I had to make a Duty Travel Trip. Not much to be said about that, except it took me away from home when I would have preferred to be at home with my injured house, and the trip itself was a bit stressful and lonely, and I would have loved nothing more than to have someone with me who could have firmly hugged the tension right out of me at the end of each day -- but alas, it was a solo journey, as so many of my journeys are, and so I soldiered on by myself, as usual. 

At least on the trip, I got to see some very lovely fall colors and shuffle through some leaves. Nice. 

And after my return, one of my much-loved and aloof rabbits has decided to look slightly... peaked. I am keeping a tight eye on him, lest he need to see the vet. I do not enjoy when my pets are ill. I do not have time to worry or to spend an entire day at the vet's office, fretting and calming a hysterical furball. Alas. 

Now we come today: election day here in the United States. I don't have much to say about that right now. I feel nauseated. When I voted early last week, I stood there in the voting booth with my ballot for a while just wanting to cry. Hope is hard to find. 

So that's what is transpiring, and why I have been missing in action here. I am putting one foot in front of the other, needing more than anything for someone to put their arms around me and tell me it will all be OK. 

One day at a time.