A place for family and friends to see what I'm up to. Visitors welcome here.

Hail Guest, we ask not what thou art.
If Friend, we greet thee, hand and heart.
If Stranger, such no longer be.
If Foe, our love will conquer thee.
-Old Welsh Door Verse

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

All is well.

The sunsets have moved back to the studio.

The financial mess I inherited is straightening out (uncountable phone calls later) and I will be reasonably comfortable by Christmas.  My 2013 taxes are postmarked today and I'm confident I will be able to pre-pay the 2014 in January as my accountant wants me to do.  Making a list of repairs and maintenance that must be done on the house to save for - with optimism that I can actually get some of it done.

My retinal surgeon (who, I'm told, is one of if not the best in the state) was visibly excited by my progress at my post-op today.  My eyes are closer to matching each other, and with his special equipment he was able to conclude that it is quite possible I will end up with very decent vision in that eye.  For now it's blurry and distorted, but the other eye is trying to work with it and I can see a little better every day.  Was taken off most eye drops and restrictions on lifting and high altitude travel.  Disneyland for sure.  And maybe Utah.   So incredibly appreciative.

I treated myself to lunch at Lure today, and have the clam linguine and lobster spinach dip leftovers for dinner.  Since I've been eating peanut butter on English muffins most nights, this is enough to make my salivary glands downright giddy.

Have been enjoying Mraz's album, YES.  Every track has meaning for me.

Yes.  All is well with me.

God Only Knows - BBC Music

Serious spirit comfort.  I danced to the Beach Boys as a kid.  Wore my hair long and straight and my jams bright with flowers.  I know about the licensing controversy but am na├»ve enough to hope a damn big chunk is going to Brian Wilson.  This music still brings great joy to my silly teenage girl heart.

And it ends with a feather.

Saturday, October 04, 2014

And. Alone.

A strange place to be.

I have some regrets.

I regret that I never continued with the violin.  If I'd had even a little encouragement from my parents I think I would have.  I'm a human metronome and have a terrific sense of music, both of which I entertained and expressed through dance.  But I know I would have loved to play an instrument and would be enjoying it still.

I regret that I stopped with a foreign language after year three of high school Spanish.  I'm good with languages.  Great accent.  Now, of course, I know that once you've learned your second, others come easily.  How fabulous it would be to converse with half the world.

For years I have regretted that I never lived alone.  Like most good girls of the fifties, I went from my parents' house into my marriage.  I wonder how my life would have been different - how I would have been different - if I'd had some time to think in complete thoughts without interruption, and starve a little without rescue.

Guess I'm about to find out.

I spent the last couple of days with my mom, who drove me home and returned to her own home after being with me since the day before the surgery on  September 22.  The surgery went very well, I think.  My vision in that eye improves a little every day.  Still blurry, still cloudy and still distorted, but it has improved enough that the other eye is trying to coordinate with it.  My surgeon released me to return to work Wednesday as long as I don't do any heavy lifting.  I live less than a mile from school so should be able to handle the drive, then will try the longer drive to Mom's again on Friday.

I feel vulnerable in this aloneness.

I didn't during the days after my husband's death.  I felt strong and capable to handling what life had tossed my way.  But to be here with impaired vision - both in my eye and in my view of the future - is...   Maybe not frightening, but certainly confusing.  It was on my drive to Mom's the following Friday that I took a deep breath and admitted to myself,

"I can't fix this."

I couldn't make a to do list and dive in.  I could only take one piece of paper at a time and deal the best way I could.

And that's pretty much where I am.

I am so fortunate.  At the edges of this aloneness, there is a community of people who love me.  They help make it easier to breathe, trust and let go.

I'll just have to wait and see what happens.

In baby steps.