It's All About the Journey

I have got to do better for myself. There. I'm not prioritizing my priorities and those who I am prioritizing are not matching that effort. That's a hard thing for me to write. It's a hard thing for me to even think about. My mother told me a variation years ago of "If you let them, they will." I mean, at the time I didn't recognize that as boundary-setting. I think I still thought everyone deep down, wanted to give more than they take, with few exceptions. At that time, I was already setting boundaries and had no idea that's what I was doing. I'm so much better at that now. I feel like I am present and supportive with all I've got and because of that, people rely on me and need me, but that I project this "I got it" attitude, which I live because I do got it. I've always got it. I always have. "You're okay. You're always okay. It's part of your charm." And I can hold all of my shit together and probably a bunch...

I made a new friend from someone's old friend last Friday. An absolutely stunning, naturally blonde "cool girl." We were talking and she mentioned a man friend, older, who really just enjoys her company. A sugar daddy who don't want no sugar. We joked and laughed and now the term is officially "Splenda Daddy," and you're welcome. I'm sitting in my kitchen floor last night. My back hurts. There is no skin left on my fingertips. Before me are the cabinet doors I've yanked off the hinges, removed the hardware, and started stripping. I got to thinking I sure could use one of them Splenda Daddies. Except, just to come over on weekends and maybe help with my house projects, or just have a beer, or maybe offer some advice. I realized, oh wait, that's just a Daddy. I need one of those. I know exactly how my father's hands got to be like granite as I do this project. And my gods, I miss that man. I wonder what he'd say of the job I'm doing...

I can't remember the last time I sat down to write. It's not that I'm uninspired or that I have writer's block or whatever. I have not had time to sit without my usual guilt. I sit here now with "clean out bedroom drawers" written in ink pen on my palm like a '90s phone number. I miss this. The time sitting still, a Tropicalia at my right hand, two in. James McMurtry in my ears, wondering if in a few weeks, I should buy one ticket or two. My God, I'm happy. I guess the time has come to share the news. I'll be a proper Athenian in a week and sixteen hours. I never thought in a million years that I'd own anything. It makes way more sense than I ever thought it would. I always said that with Gabe grown, I'd do this. I'd buy a condo in a city somewhere that I could walk or bike or ride a bus anywhere I wanted to be. Nowhere up North. I get cold. Nowhere out of the country, I have a criminal record, you know. And that seriously limits my opt...

Twice in a week, I have been the calm, compassionate voice of reason, taking care of others in highly-emotional and triggering situations. I don't even really want to talk about the first one beyond saying that I will not tolerate being bullied and I won't let someone bully someone else in front of me. But I did not yell, or overreact or threaten or hurl insults. I do not like when men confront me. I do not like being bullied and I certainly don't respect a grown ass man who thinks it's acceptable to physically intimidate a woman. I may tote an ass whoopin' for it, I may fall all apart when it's over, but I will stand my ground. I'm certainly grateful that in that moment, none of the men I love were there. We'd a gone to jail. I realized during and after all of that, I did exactly what my Nanny would have wanted me to do. She always told us to try to get along. I always thought it was ridiculous to try to get along with someone who disagrees with you. Wh...

Your birthday. You’re not quite as old as your youngest led me to believe. You’re sitting just outside the door now on the screened porch, playing something pretty well put together and singing along just loudly enough that I can hear your voice, but not your words. I’d know your picking if I were blind and half deaf. My dear man, I hope your birthday was magical. I hope that the weather was perfect and the kids behaved. I hope your birthday supper tasted just right and we got the best seat in the house. I hope you laughed and smiled and got all of the things that you bring to everyone else. I’ve never met someone who deserves more joy. You think you got lucky, but I think I got pretty lucky too. I think that’s how it should be. You have the same birthday as my grandfather. I discovered that by chance. You made me find your birthday and wouldn’t tell me. It wasn’t too much of a challenge. It came into my mind a few days later that it might be the same as my grandfather. I went upst...

Two nights ago, I spent my evening after work talking about "mummy brown" paint. Trust me, unless you have a penchant for the macabre, just don't. Then I climbed into a hammock as the sun moved just enough to leave it in the shade with a perfect breeze, overlooking a little lake with a hundred birds talking amongst themselves until I was serenaded by a different song. I was visited by a purple marlin and a rust winged blackbird, "uncommon" and "rare" if you believe the Cornell Lab app, Merlin. We also had the usual suspects: an Eastern towhee, cardinals, sparrows, finches, grackles, crows, wrens, a tufted titmouse, a downy woodpecker and a red-bellied woodpecker, chickadees, blue jays, bluebirds, robins, and those damn Canada geese. I lay in the hammock under that perfect spring sky and the oaks and pines with the sounds of the wind and the birds and the gentle motion of the water close by, sipping a gin and tonic until the breeze was too chilly. I can...

Last night I was already experiencing significant anxiety from the day. I was on the phone in bed, trying to unwind myself. I got up to check the thermostat (anxiety from the bill), count cats (anxiety for kitty prison), make sure there are no packages on the doorstep (anxiety over them getting wet), unpack the Chewy delivery (anxiety about Blanche tearing into the box and eating a month's food in four minutes). I go back to bed. About 11pm, as I'm hearing a story, I hear someone making a lot of noise in what sounded like my backyard. Gabe's not home. I am perfectly calm, of course. Then I hear what sounded like someone tripping over my grill. I do not panic (much), turn on the bedside lamp, grab the tactical war hammer from under the bed, creep down the stairs, turning on no lights because the moon is so bright and I don't want him to see me before I see him. I see Floyd, walking around unbothered, by the patio door to the backyard. Blanche is nowhere to be found. The ...

Swim out past the breakers just to curse the maker's name. What a night. I don't mean it. I don't mean to be sensitive and fragile and whatever... But I am. And I don't think I'd change that. I was counseled tonight to stop feeling everything so deeply. You can do that. You are conditioned to do that. I won't and I don't want to. Stephen asked me if I knew how many in the past four years. I think he said 64. I remember how cold he was when I first brought it up. You can get desensitized. I know.  I heard tonight that a girl I spent an evening with Saturday bashing her ex, well, he died. Suicide. I can't change the face I have. So I just excused myself to go sit down. I went to the office and ugly cried. I never even met the guy. He was not mine to save. Not that I could have. Not that anyone could have. But thank God I still feel it. She's gentle and sweet and beautiful and this perfect little Southern belle. My whole heart breaks for her. I guess if...

I don't think this day ever gets easier. Let me do some quick math. Sixteen birthdays. I think about how small the kids were sixteen years ago. He'd be a grandfather. He'd be both the best and worst grandfather ever. I think about the few strands of silver he had in his dark hair at 30 and what he'd look like now, nearing 50. I know he'd have laugh lines to beat anything you ever saw.  I think I could write about him all day. I could tell story after story and laugh and cry. He'd only want me to laugh. He made it very clear that he wanted me to be happy. If anything ever happened to him, he wanted me to move on. Don't grieve forever and waste a chance to find happiness. I thank god he gave me that blessing. I make sure to do the same thing with anyone I love as well. I've only ever had one person who told me he'd rather I die lonely if anything ever happened to him. I never got over that. Turns out that was a pattern. The idea that you feeling good n...

I so rarely remember my dreams. And when I do remember my dreams, they're usually violent and traumatic. And they are usually just kind of blind glimpses. Last night, we decided to fix that. I had a full feature-length scary movie dream...which didn't scare me. I don't even watch scary movies when I'm awake because they terrify me to the point that I spend nights sweaty and not sleeping. My imagination is amazing. And it also sucks. So, double-edged swords and all that. So my dream involved spending the night in this mansion, obviously. Gabe was there and some of my friends. Oh, look, there's what this means. More on that later. We were all assigned our rooms in broad daylight and the proprietor noted something about getting lost. Of course he did. So we all get settled into our various rooms on the same wing and began shuffling about in our various directions. Wait, here comes a plot twist. I wandered off alone and I went up some stairs and through a door and I was...

I write from my living room's second-best chair, as the best chair is currently inhabited by a giant, orange, single brain-celled organism we call Floyd Mayweather. I haven't got the heart to disturb him, because if I scootch him over, he will bolt and he looks peaceful and happy. I do have my stocking feet on the coffee table. Don't tell anyone that I allowed even myself that concession. I should eat something. I don't think that I will.  I guess I put down the laptop and went to bed without finishing that one, huh? Let me start again. Y'all, be careful what you manifest and careful what you pray for. You might get it, but if you don't specify, it won't be like you want. I'd gained some happy weight lately and I'd been working to drop it in the past week or so hoping for that mystical number I was last year when Lena took me to the beach with the babies. I'd conveniently forgotten that I got to that weight by having literally four plagues at the...

Today would have been her 98th birthday. As it stands, this one is the first one we have to do without her. It's surreal to have these experiences without her. She always made a big deal about birthdays. She'd call every year and sing Happy Birthday to you. She couldn't sing a note. No matter where you were, she always sent a card. The last birthday I had was the one where instead of Nanny's off-key singing, I got a call from my mother to tell me that Nanny was in bad shape and that the end was near. She hung on for four more months, but she was rarely herself in that time. The weekend of Mother's Day, just a week or two before, she insisted that she get out of her chair and hug me hello. I took some videos of her telling stories from seventy years before. And she always told them like they were yesterday. Here's one that I took last year. I sure do love hearing her voice now. https://photos.app.goo.gl/znv1DTdH5cQBUPXm7 For her 90th birthday, we all got together...

I cut the snot out of myself cleaning a Santoku the other night. The damn thing is dull and you know what they say. I keep popping it back open and while it stings, it doesn't hurt like it acts like it should, so I just end up getting blood on everything. Small aggravations of house-cleaning. I've come to realize that being exhausted, combined with heavy conversations just before bed make me have wild-ass dreams. My subconscious tries to make sense of the things that my waking mind would work out in due course. Last night's had me considering how other people feel about the folks I've chosen to give the best parts of myself to for the past year. I didn't have to think too much about it because the people I was spending the most time with are the people who are immersed in it. People worry about it. I never even thought hard about that. I feel fortunate that I have both. I guess it's a good sign to refocus my energy and thoughts. I feel like I'm wearing mysel...

I woke up just as it started snowing out my bedroom window. I could see the light that snow makes brightening up my room and I knew. I love that brightness. Of course, the tiny bit of arthritis in my right hand told me it would snow and it did. Let's add that to the worst superpowers ever. I love the sound of the snow. The way it rustles like tissue paper in a bag when these big, soft, irregular flakes fall. Perfect silence except that barely audible crunch. The way it muffles every other sound. I went out the front for a few minutes just to listen. I heard my hawk in the trees and the sound of the snow. It's not as cold as I thought it would be. About ten degrees warmer than yesterday morning. I'm thankful for a job that allows me to work from home. I'm watching the snow fall hard and heavy out the patio door. My inner child wants to run out in the street and make my footprints the first set in the perfect, even, surface. I guess I should save that for the actual child...

Monday night, a friend died. A musician. The man was always smiling. Looks like flu and then strep that turned septic. He was in his 40s. His daughter is 11. I met her at the hospital the week she was born. Their little family was always on an adventure. They threw the best parties. Everyone is just in shock. I can't think of what to say or how to react or even how I should feel. Mortality comes knocking a little too hard sometimes. I just keep praying for his family and holding a warm space for all of the people who lost him. I'm glad for the company I had when I got the news. I still apologized for crying because I'm still so ashamed of showing any level of softness to almost anyone and it has only been a few weeks. I don't know how to accurately describe how I'm feeling today other than to say I feel itchy. My nerves are all jangling edges keeping time with the screech of the camelia on the gutters in the wind outside the window. I'm set to go to the gym and ...

What's the opposite of an emotional vampire? Someone who seems to draw energy from positively impacting others. Comedians, touring musicians, bartenders... I realize that I'm drawn to people like that. I realize that I kind of also am  one of those people. I mean, maybe it's just people-pleasing, but I think it's deeper than that. It's this need to leave a lasting impact on people who need it the most. I wonder if it's because we're the sort of people who really could have used someone like us at some pivotal moment and either didn't ever get that person, or really, really did that get person. I've noticed lately that when someone does something nice for me, I notice. I hold on to it. I tend to then repeat it for someone else because it made me feel good. I'm typing all this up as I hear faint acoustic guitar chords through a closed door, playing a song I don't know. I doubt anyone knows it. I think I do know the hands playing it. I think I m...