Making Progress

A year end gift I will receive is a CT scan tomorrow morning at 8 a.m. This means I have to drink a creamy white-colored solution made out of kack (not a real word) that tastes like -- I can't really think of what it tastes like -- creamy, white, cold kack -- not good tasting kack either. The technician will also inject contrast dye. When they inject the dye, the body warms up quickly and then you feel a sudden urge to pee. Hopefully you don't.

I'm working this week. I don't mind. It's very quiet. I like it when it's quiet. Even driving to work this morning (on 17 no less) after getting a chest x-ray was a breeze. During the chest x-ray, the technician, in a very chipper tone, told me (as if I did not know already) that they perform a chest x-ray to "see if you have cancer!"

I'm reading a book called The Friend Who Got Away: Twenty Women's True-Life Tales of Friendships that Blew Up, Burned Out, or Faded Away. Most of these short stories are really touching. I highly recommend the book and not just for women. Regardless of orientation, we probably have all lost a friend. It's kind of interesting to think back over the years and add them up - make a list.

I lost a friend when Greg was dying. I doubt I ever really had her but I'd met her at a retreat and we quickly became friends, doing lots of things together. Right around the time of his death, she actually said to me (in person), "I don't want to be friends any longer." It was like a break-up though I had more important things to concern myself with at the time. The 'break up' was something I thought of mostly later rather than at that time. I analyzed the situation and decided that she just couldn't handle the drama of death and that happens a lot around death and dying. People just don't want to deal.

I find myself years later wondering what became of her? Where is she now? Is she still spending tons of money looking for a guru or did the economy undermine her, what seemed like, endless stream of cash reserves?

And since the break-up in July with Chris, I occasionally find myself wondering what he's doing? How his business is surviving in this economy? Is he still complaining on a nightly basis and to whom? Is he eating any better? How's the high blood pressure? I try not to be angry and sometimes that is difficult. When you really love someone, don't you ultimately want the best for them even if it comes at a price that you must pay? I truly believe I loved him.

Next week when I get the chest x-ray and CT scan results back from my doctor, I'll find out whether the broken heart has healed completely, and if the cancer has returned. And somehow I already know the answer to both those questions.

That's Enough!

Looks are deceiving. She poses like this for one photo and the

next shot she yells, "THAT'S ENOUGH!"

Christmas morning dawned with me talking to my cat. Thank goodness for small favors and furry animals. I said to the cat, "Look, Santa came!" And she ignored me as usual. I cannot remember the last time I woke up alone on Christmas morning -- the feeling was definitely different. My son phoned later and asked when he should come over? He lives about 25 miles away so I said, "Now!" He brought me a bouquet of flowers though the presents I unwrapped all came from Shelley who sent me a small care package. I doubt I'll forget her kindness anytime soon -- perhaps post-dementia.

The holiday was fine thanks in part to my best friend, Hannah, who at age 4 is probably near the intellectual equal of my last s.o. I spent several hours on Christmas Eve with her and then again on Christmas Day. She is dear to watch and fun to hang with. I doubt she'll dump me anytime soon. Then again, I doubt that I have much in the way of competition. She's not going to leave me for another woman. If she does, I know it's someone with which I'm related.

On the eve of, Hannah and I drove to my house via a circuitous route into town to fill up on gasoline and visit Joanne before she closed her store. We did not make it in time to see Joanne though we got the gas, and zoomed back up the hill to my house all the while Hannah, concerned, was asking me, "Where your house?" (Yes, that is how she speaks currently. Leaving out certain words and saying things like "Her not home." I believe this is typical of the age and am not in a panic. She used to refer to Christmas at Tismas and called Chris (whom she never cottoned to) Tis. She must have known something I didn't. Next time I'll go with her gut instead of mine.

While riding in my car on Xmas eve, she said, "Your dad home?" I told her I don't have a dad. She was surprised. She said, "Do you have Chris? He your dad?" I said, "Nope. He's not my dad and I don't have him." So at age 4 - kids think that any guy you hang out with is your dad which can feel like a slight ego boost. She is quite the conversationalist. I enjoy our discussions probably way more than she does. Plus some of the things she says just crack me up. My cat is not near as entertaining.

Christmas Day came and went, - I was glad to see it go. We had soup for dinner - sort of making a plan ahead of time not to eat too much though my sister who had WLS made these cookies that were very tasty. I ate 4 of them. When it came time to go home, I took some soup with me. No desserts.

I still ate far too much during the holiday though I am on my way back to normalcy. I can't wait to arrive. Next stop the infamous New Years Eve party! Hannah is going to drive me on the back of her new bicycle!

*HONK*

Cooking a Life

If any of us who are interested in actually taking care of food, actually cooking food, enjoying food, enjoying food in the company of family and friends, getting together with others, nourishing yourself, nourishing others…where does it come from? It doesn’t come out of a package. That’s convenient. But actually nourishing yourself and other people doesn’t finally come out of a package. It comes out of your heart. It comes out of your connecting with food, connecting with others.

Edward Espe Brown

Mizfit requested talent posts on Christmas Eve and one of my (many) talents (aside from attempts at humor) is my ability and love of cooking. Nourishing myself and others is a way to show love and honor both the food and the people with which I care. It's a way to honor myself, my creativity, passion, my body and mind, and in some ways delve deeper into the daily (and sometimes minute-ly) challenge of a food addiction by being mindful of the reasons for food creation. (Excuse me while I go get something to eat. BRB) Is there a deeper expression of love than to prepare and present a beautiful dish of food?

Last night I was baking short bread cookies to serve after Christmas dinner. I used a bowl, a fork and my hands to mix the dough together, three ingredients total. I got the recipe from the Bag Lady, an enthusiastic, courageous cook, always willing to share recipes, cooking tips and very funny stories.

She and I exchanged a recipe earlier this month, eggnog fudge -- that nearly killed me though it was I who sent the recipe to her as soon as I discovered it. She warned me -- having made the fudge before me, that I dare not make it if I were alone, mostly because once I started eating, I may not stop and then I'd die of a sugar-induced coma. Well, she was right to a certain extent though I'm still alive. I think I gained a couple extra cheeks and at least one chin eating that fudge. Eggnog fudge tastes really, really good. I gave some as a secret santa gift but I also ate some. (YUM!) Eggnog fudge is the food of the devil.

While I was mixing the cookie dough, periodically I'd sit down, hands in dough, watching part of the documentary How to Cook Your Life. Needless to say, cooking and watching a documentary at the same time is pretty much the antithesis of zen, instead of concentration and meditation on one thing, I made attempts at multitasking, moving from kitchen to TV and back again, bowl of dough in arm. Blobs of dough snowed onto my lap, the chair, and then onto the floor, on the cat (she deserved it!). Afterward I had to quickly vacuum blobs of flour and butter or risk butter-stained carpet.

The documentary discusses in part, that the act and art of cooking is something holy; there is much more to eating and food than just eating and food. Food and cooking are meditation, koans, opportunities for joy and togetherness, or quiet solitude and concentration, time to work on yourself. With dough-caked hands, I considered the holiness of food pertaining to the holidays, and thought about my own attitude towards food as I was creating something holy for my family.

For a short time some years back, I seriously thought something was wrong with putting forth so much effort to create a meal. Sometimes I felt guilty. I knew making food was one way I could show love though having had addiction-around-food-issues made me feel I might be using the preparation of food as an excuse to eat. Sometimes I ate though many times I'd make a meal and serve it just like any normal human.

While I was standing in my kitchen, rolling out dough, cutting out shapes in the dough, and a memory of the last food Greg ate before he died - it was peach pie, came back to me. That's what he requested and someone (maybe it was my sister - I don't remember now) made it for him. Then if memory serves, he spent at least a days worth of what little time was left for him in the bathroom, sickened by having eaten. Had he known, would he have eaten the pie? He died a few weeks later.

And you know what? If I had to stop eating it would kill me too.

Tonight the shortbread is put away. There will be plenty of cookies for dessert post-Christmas dinner where we will, as a family, connect, love and honor one another with the combined efforts of all the top chefs in the family.

Watch this trailer and/or find the documentary and watch it. (It was on the Sundance channel.)

 Meditation instead of distraction while cooking will help develop your talents further.

The Gift of Celebration

I am not feeling inspired to write so if you aren't feeling inspired to read, I understand completely. Typically I feel more inspired to write when I'm devastated than when I'm feeling kind of bleh or neutral or even in a good mood. I mean, I started writing this blog because I had a cancer diagnosis. Being diagnosed with cancer was devastating. I was so crushed -- I had to do something with my crushed-ness so I decided to write. I don't think I'm depressed - the medication must be working! We shall see what comes of this post. It's mostly all over the place.

*crickets*

I spent part of this past weekend with Hannah (and my sister). The time spent with her was fabulous as always. We did some girly things. I got a manicure while she got a pedi etc. I bought her a pink cupcake and she ate it quickly before her grandma found out and caught us at the cupcake store. She pitched a bloodyhairyhanging fit (not really, she just developed a 'tude) when we wouldn't buy her a gingerbread man (though men, who needs 'em?) but the thing about gingerbread is that no one likes to eat it anyway. It's gingerbread - it a decoration (hellooo). I'm only warning her ahead of time. We walked into Bed, Bath and Beyond where she announced with some funky four year old look on her face that she didn't want to be in there because "my mama already been in this place." Lately when I try to take Hannah's picture more than one time, she says, "Okay, that's enough!" Her smiles are all fakes for the camera. She's over the smile for the camera stuff. Later on Saturday evening we went out for dinner and while at the restaurant Hannah slept, her snoring, warm, slightly damp head resting on my lap for that hour was gift enough for me.

My idea for this season was to not gain any weight though I'm not sure that was a very intelligent idea - I think I've already gained. I am exercising a lot though so anything I gain will be more firm. I'm still attending WW meetings. I love the leader. She is cute, perky, inspirational and thin. Actually I think all those things mean that I really hate her. I enjoy the meetings. On Sunday we were supposed to list things we'd learned or gained this past year and by 'gained' I don't mean weight. These were things such as gaining support, learning ways to manage emotions, ways to cope with holiday stress (other than eat), learning to stop obsessing about food or other obnoxious obsessive things that I obsess about. I made my list of learnings and gainings, and promptly turned the paper over to etch my grocery list.

I took time to do some gardening and actually felt some sunshine on Sunday. This season I've planted bulbs, wild flowers seeds and sweet peas where for the past 6 years I had ignored my own garden to work on Chris's garden. I trimmed fuchsias (perhaps a bit early), cleaned out the pond, and will prune the Santa Rosa plum in January. I put up Christmas lights outside, and yesterday finally got some actual ornaments on the tree instead of just lights. I nearly stopped my attempt at holiday decorations with the lights alone wondering to myself why I was doing it?

It feels slightly strange this idea of celebrating the holidays alone because there is not a whole lot of celebration going on. Did I really celebrate holidays when I was in the relationship with Chris -- especially since he was so turned off by the holiday. I wonder though, if celebration is something that we do more when other people are around? And when I say 'others' I mean family and/or my friends. Is it possible to celebrate alone without drinking a fifth or dropping acid? And if you celebrate when you are alone, what do you do? Get out the vibrator? Do you pour yourself a drink? Light up a joint? Call a friend? Buy lingerie? Bake a cake and eat the whole thing? Or sit in silence? Maybe just being alone to some people is a form of celebration because most times there are too many people. I dunno. If we do any of these things in order to attempt a celebration, are they truly celebratory or are they just things we do? Or is it more a matter of one's definition of the word celebration?

What does it mean to celebrate?

I know what we did when my family was young. We cut down the tree. We pretended Santa was real. We spent far too much money on far too many things. We went to parades. We made cookies. We listened to Christmas music. I still do that though as I've said before, it's all Latin. I know nothing. We ate too much and drank too much. We got together with our families each holidays season. But is doing all these things, celebrating?

Miz has the idea to post some sort of Christmas eve-y post highlight our talent(s) though I can't think of a real talent that doesn't involve some twine, a blackout mask, a paper bag and a nail-file. I can cook and I can eat but are those talents? I can laugh and make people laugh (sometimes) but none of those things on video seem very thrilling (and I'm not doing anything naked). I told Miz I might do a sit-down standup which is about the extent of my joke. I am far funnier off the cuff. Performing canned jokes is not my forte. I can be a riot during conversation. I can play off other people and employ self-deprecating humor but if the pope and Bill Clinton walked into a bar at the same time, they will both fall flat along with my attempt at a punch-line. So keeping with this season of celebration and cheer, I'm going to think of something that shows a talent of mine and post that on Christmas eve. Maybe it will be celebratory -- one way to celebrate talent.

The dictionary defines celebration in many ways; as a solemn ceremony, refraining from ordinary business, to deviate from routine, to hold or play up for public notice. If this is the case, everything I'm doing could be a form of celebration. I need to get over the whole celebrating means people are screaming at each other, upset about what they got as a gift or did not get, drunk, dragging people who hate the holidays along with them, engorged on too much food and drink, topped off with picking up after family members while seething in silent resentment. Once I snap out of the outdated ideas I've carried with me to adulthood from past celebrations, I can get on with a celebration in the present. In the meantime, I'm off for more celibatory celebratory exploration.

Pleasant Surprises

(photo: The dailygreen)

I received an invitation for a New Years Eve party! I am excited, happy. I can't remember the last New Years Eve party. I am not sure I've ever been invited to a party on New Years. I was dreading spending New Years Eve by myself even if my of my most dearest bloggerbuddies, HappyFunPants thinks I am not *really* alone (and can't whine incessantly about my aloneness) as long as I get to share my home with a whiny cat, some spiders, an occasional raccoon and pounds of dust rhinos.

I am already planning what to wear - it's a dress -up affair. And I am supposed to bring an elegant horses-doover though I need to pin-down the host definition of elegant. I'm sure horses-doover and elegant are in two separate categories. Also champagne, wine. Gosh, what's a girl to do!?

This invitation came from people I met through my ex. (And according to the host, the ex is not invited.) I am not going to gloat (too much, here, in this blog post). Gloating is not compassionate, not to me or anyone for that matter.

At the party I'll reconnect many of the people I met during the past several years through my relationship with Chris. They became friends of mine through all the adventures we enjoyed as a couple. I really had fun with these people on those outings and the tours. Part of my heartbreak was the feeling of loss of their friendships because I met them through him. After the breakup, I thought I'd never see them again though some of them sent emails asking my whereabouts and offering support, many of them as surprised as I over what had happened.

And now, a New Years Eve party invitation. I am pleasantly pleased and not at all surprised to receive this invitation. I couldn't think of a more interesting, caring person with which to spend the New Year.

Seasonal Gifts

I went to Murphys to celebrate our company holiday party over this past weekend. The party turned out fine, brief and rainy. I arrived back home on Sunday to a cat that I had forgotten to get approval from prior to leaving town though I left her food, water, a warm house, lights that switch on with timers, blankets, matches, a cat door. She was annoyed. I wish she'd move out. I'd gladly give her "deposit" back though it might have cat litter stuck to it.

When I spent that few days before Thanksgiving in Murphys, I saw some "berries" that I'd wanted to photograph though we drove past them quickly on our way out of town. Darn! But this trip I was ready. I found them again and discovered they aren't berries but rose hips.

I'd like to click my heels three times and have the holidays done. Finished! Either that or I click my heels three times and experience a sudden attitude adjustment. (My ideal.) I don't know why this time of year feels as if life has stopped though some of the regular classes I was taking aren't happening this month. I find I have more free time, less money, and more things that I'm not doing in my free time, like spending money. I'm feeling anxious though everything surrounding me is silent and still. Why can't I just chill? I mean -- baby, it's cold outside. I need to sit with the stillness, and enjoy the quietude (notice we only use the word quietude in winter?) and celebrate the season.

Plants and animals go dormant in winter. While these things hunker down, deeply rooted, resting, warm, I feel groundless and uncertain, like I need to fill a gap. Try as I might, I can't distract myself and I know I need to sit with the uncertainty and the restlessness and STFU. I keep telling myself 'this is exactly where [I] need to be.' I am not able (willing?) to write as much because I don't want you to think I'm whining because this is not a whine. It's just stuff. A lot like cat litter.

Winter sets a good example. Silence and stillness. Would that I could get a clue and accept this restlessness as a gift for the holidays.

Calling the Cavalry

"Knowing there was no cavalry is much better than hoping for a cavalry that never comes.

I am strong because I have to be.

I am the cavalry."

- from "Driving With Dead People" Monica Holloway

I'm feeling a twinge of melancholy this season though I keep trying to talk myself out of feeling caca-y. For me, the holidays seem to drive the ole loneliness arrow (Gee, didn't even know there was a loneliness arrow) deeper. This year I find the idea of holiday celebrations akin to pouring Vicks VapoRub into an open wound. When you're single, that fact is driven home by every holiday card, every party invitation, commercials and magazine advertisements, and most especially Christmas music. (I'll be home for Christmas. You can count on me. Please have snow and mistletoe, and See's can-dee). This is one reason people hate Christmas music. They can't deal with memories that the music re-creates, plus they hate the lyrics, music and the singer of Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer. This is why I listen to Latin Christmas music. I don't know any of the words.

I (can't) couldn't decide whether to get a live (hacked down) tree so under the guise of saving $500.00, I got out the $19.95 special artificial home dumpo tree. (I'm pretending that I'm using an artificial tree in the name of "going green" though this tree is far from green except for color. This plastic, pre-lit "tree" was purchased last year, and already releasing plastick-y green house gases inside of my storage area so why not re-use it?

I thought about the past 6 years in my relationship with YKW (youknowho), how he didn't like the holidays at all. At first (the first week) he pretended to enjoy them though as time passed (week two), the man (kid!) behind the curtain was revealed. I sure as hell didn't get a tree and decorate it for his joie de vivre -- except our very first year together when we used the idea of asking his kids to help this ("poor, sad, lonely") widow woman decorate her tree as a rouse to have his kids meet me. They were ages 10 and 13 that first year. And the tree decorating was mostly successful unless they figured out we were full of it and never told us.

I was thinking that there have to be some good things about being alone during the holidays, right? I asked my sister and she couldn't think of anything at first. I told her to put herself in that single space and she came up with a movie idea. She used the words single and predicament, and I said, "Try not to think of being single as a predicament and it's easier to think of good things about being single during the holidays."

Here I am wrestling with my sappy, sentimental, memory-sodden brain in an effort to figure out what those good things are.

Below is a list I compiled though I'm interested in any other ideas (and invitations and /or presents!)

1. I can listen to holiday music without complaints. I confess I like me some Christmas music.
2. I can buy my own gifts.
3. No interfering car events or sports shows.
4. I don't have to make any plans with anyone's else's kids
5. No trying to figure out what to buy 'him' aka the man who hated Christmas.
6. No extra-special meals to plan and prepare.
7. No requests to attend events at in-laws from marriages long past.
8. See any movie you want on Christmas Eve or day.
9. Decorate or not, it's your choice.
10. Host your own party.
11. Eat all the "bark" off the yule-log working your way to the center ring.
12. Speaking of rings, take your engagement ring back to the jewelers to be remade into something not so engagement-y.

The Mouths of Babes

On Friday Hannah walked into the office, carrying a small bag of almonds while munching almonds at the same time.

I said, "Hey, what are you doing? Eating almonds?" And she said, "These aren't almonds. These are nuts!"

Then I forced her to have her picture taken. She still seems to tolerate enjoy it. She is a dear, sweet child to put up with me as much as she does. There will be a day soon when the wish of a photo with me will no longer be granted.

Speed Dating at Trader Joe's

Not too long ago while in conversation with my mom and my friend PK, I confessed that I'd been secretly speed dating at a local Trader Joe's every weekend. I doubt the young(ish), long-haired, slightly scruffy-looking sk8tr-guy has a clue what I'm up to though.

I started reading a wiki on skating to brush up on my skating slang from the 70s, and lucky me, I found a wiki on *how* to attract a skater (Yummy!) for when sk8tr-boy pops the inevitable "du U want to meAt up l8ter?" question.

Here's some things the wiki says I'll need and/or need to do in order to attract him:

Things You'll Need (duh)

• Skater friends (the more you have, the easier it will be to pickup the lingo) Kewl!
• A little slur in your voice (NP!)
• Try (I love this 'try' stuff)and seem interested in what he loves. Smile and say 'awesome' or 'cool' when he does something really impressive. He is not doing these to impress you though, so don't overdo it. Try it casual--Be friendly and flirty. (That's me!)
• Keep your hair long or short. Whatever is comfortable for you works. Long shaggy hair isn't a sign for a skater, what some people think. You can make your hair spiky, messy, or versatile -- whatever you want.(Perfect!)
• Wear hemp necklaces or shell bracelets and anklets. (Done deal!)
• If you know how to skateboard, do some tricks in front of him.(I hope no one is around to film!) This might (?) get him interested in you. If you're really good, impress him, but be modest about it. (I'm sure he'll be thrilled with my sexpertise).
• If you do a kickflip, the guy will fall in love with you automatically. It's a known fact.(I had no idea!)

So things have been moving pretty quickly, what with my idea of combining my weekly shopping along with speed dating. I am not sure I'm ready to get back into the dating world though, even if this peculiar particular situation is kind of exciting, and a bit flattering. Each week sk8tr-guy is more communicative, asking me things like "Where/how [I've] been? --Where [I]spent Thanksgiving? Why so much tofu? What's that brown stuff?" -- This guy knows how to make conversation!

And best thing of all -- he's already calling me by my first name, mom.

Eating Purple

I finally made spicy cauliflower soup out of purple cauliflower. I don't recommend using purple cauliflower unless you like eating soup that looks like runny baby poo. I'm not a food blogger (I wish!) so I'll spare you the exact recipe line by line in this post though I won't spare you the photos of the bowl of poop soup. My recipe was adapted from a recipe by Alice Waters. You can find this recipe in Water's The Art of Simple Food.

First, go to the farmer's market and buy a cute farmer with tons of money, a enormous "tractor" (if you get my drift), who owns a gigantic, money-making farm on a beautiful, secluded island with rainbows and flowers and hearts a big head of purple cauliflower.

Cut celery, onions, and carrots into teeny, tiny, perfectly cut-up cubes. Saute these in olive oil inside that beautiful Calphalon pan that never lets you down after you purchased it at one of the umpteenth sales specials per month at Macy's causing you to wonder if Macy's, too, is going out of business.

I used Meyer lemon enhanced olive oil. Thai peppers lay next to the olive oil so you'll think I really had my sh*t together though the bananas and lemons were already strategically placed on my kitchen counters (that are not granite or quartz or Corian.)

I tossed in the spices with the sautéed vegetables.

I like to roast the cauliflower because the word roasting sounds so much more trendy. I roast the cauliflower, coating it in the olive oil and tossing with several peeled garlic cloves. After about 30 minutes in a 400 degree oven, I put the whole mess in the crock-pot because the last thing I want to do is wait around for something to cook that isn't just plain boiled water.

Before cooking, the mixture looks colorful and when looking at it in that pot, there's still a faint glimmer of hope.

When you get home from work, the soup looks like this.

Get out your immersion blender (of which I do not own - I use an antique food processor aka a spoon) and immerse the blender into the purple cauliflower and veg mixture. Blender the veg stuff up until it looks like a big pile of brown yuck. Pour into a bowl.

Garnish with nonfat yogurt or fage, and cilantro. Do not offer any of the soup to anyone (except perhaps a starving person) because your family will wonder WTF happened that you'd make anything out of a head of purple cauliflower and have nerve enough to offer it to them for dinner.

When you give thanks for your food, be thankful you live alone.

Taking Notice

I hope everyone enjoyed their holiday or enjoys being Canadian.

I spent the entire holiday week in and around Murphy's, CA. Beautiful area -- tons of wineries, all closed for the week. (Open only on weekends.) I didn't need to drink though I didn't have a car, and found myself bored (and boring!)

I would notice a feeling of what felt like emptiness which is not a real feeling according to the non-violent communication people - You might say, "I feel empty." Or if you're being really dramatic, you'd say, "Oh! dearest-me-oh-my-oh, Jesu Cristo, (*back of hand to forehead*) -- I have such a feeling of emptiness. I dare say." But then if you look behind (you know? psychoanalyze your *what am I really feeling issues?*) your alleged (drama-filled) "feelings" of emptiness, you'd discover that the *real* feelings are... the experience that you are feeling is sadness, grief, loss, loneliness, boredom. We think we feel empty but The Empty (The M.T.) is an actual feeling of sadness or a version of a feeling of sadness (grief, loss, candy).

Gah... did I want to fill my feelings with something! Shopping, food, booze, and at times I *did* fill it. (A bearclaw, a scone, a few potato chips (For crying out loud. I never eat those!) Though ultimately nothing to heinous.

I attempted to decorate my mom's house for Christmas though I didn't want to spend too much money (I'm a tightwad). I bought her a few plants, a poinsettia, some plastic "Made in China" pine boughs. Stunning! (Eat your heart out, Martha!) (Mom was still in Mexico where they have real festive holiday decorations. Creepy skulls!)

I did not have my own car so if I went anywhere I had to either go with my son or drive (which is not a problem). It's just that it's so quiet there, no people around, none of my own things with me, no distractions or at least not enough distractions from feelings. I felt scattered and restless though ultimately I survived or I wouldn't be boring you with post. *snore*

I took my bicycle and road out along Skunk Ranch road and some other unnamed road one day. I had to dodge a lot of potholes. And skunks and cars. On Thanksgiving Day, I went for a bike ride with my sister-in-law. As we were riding, I found myself seeing lots of things I hadn't noticed. I shouted to her something along the lines of, "it's pretty amazing how much we (me) notice when a person doesn't have anything to really concentrate on!" And all week long I didn't have much with which to concentrate, and almost painfully -- I noticed.