December AND 2019 Wrap Up!

Okay, this is it! Twenty Nineteen is in the books. Mostly. I mean we still have 13 more hours but the things that were going to get done, goal-wise are done.

Monthly and Yearly Recap here we go!

Reading! Ended up strong there at the end of November I needed to read four more books to hit my goal and I ended up seven past it so it was a busy book month. It helps that I count graphic novels and cookbooks (as long as I read ALL of the cookbook, no skimming) in my totals. But then again I set my totals higher to make sure those are counted "fairly." But anyway...My goal was 80 and I read 87, so Yay!

The sub-goal under this one was 15 Discworld books and I read 16 so that's good. Leaves 14 more in the regular series and a handful of short stories and I will have FINALLY after all of these years read all of Discworld. But the goal for this year was 15 and I hit that plus a spare so Yay!

Writing! Main goal for this year was 168 total blogs. Fiction goal was 56. And add to that four submissions. I needed 13 blogs at the end of November to hit goal. Fiction was done and submissions were complete as well. This blog will make 169 total blogs so Whew! Fifty nine of those were fiction so that's good. AND I did FIVE submissions so Yay! The writing was interesting this year. I did two fairly long series which is not my normal thing at all. They were fun and interesting and both done by requests from people so it was a stretch all the way around. I can't say I'll do more of that, but I might, who knows? The submissions were as frustrating as ever. I just don't write the right type of writing for the contest circuit I think, and I don't have the patience or passion to write, edit, rewrite, revise, rinse and repeat that it takes to get published by a big house. Or at least I don't think I do. Who knows what the future brings, but for now I hit all of my writing goals with a little (really little) bit extra so Yay!

MasterClass! At the end of November I was rushing through the Joyce Carol Oates one to make sure I hit 12 for the year before my subscription ran out on December 2nd. Made it. And added two bonuses with Doris Kearns Goodwin and Bobbi Brown. So I got 14 of them in. They were interesting, for the most part. I would recommend them if you have spare time or if there are people you are REALLY interested in. Like I loved the Neil Gaiman one so much if I had another year of the subscription I would probably do it again. The Margaret Atwood one was like that as well. Just listening to her talk about her writing was incredible. The Doris Kearns Goodwin one was another favorite. Her love of history made it so enjoyable. The others were on the scale of like it to made it through. But I hit that goal so Yay!

Monthly Museum/Attraction! This is one that seemed like a good idea at the start of the year and ended up being a last weekend of the month oh shit we need to go someplace a lot of the time. December was Pittock Mansion. I've wanted to see one of their Christmas displays for ages and this year it was book themed so it was pretty much perfect. But if I hadn't had the goal I needed to hit I would have probably skipped it. December is busy right? So I'm glad I set the goal, I'm glad we saw a lot of different things. But it wasn't quite as enjoyable as I thought it would be. But I hit that goal so Yay!

Fitness/Weight! Well...you know I put this to the side back around mid-year. Realized that it wasn't budging. That even when I would lose weight I would put it right back on again without changing anything. So all I was doing was making myself frustrated. Down, up, down, up. Ugh. So I stopped reaching for that goal and just set it aside. I kept up with the fitness part. I'm really good about hitting the gym. Injury and illness are pretty much all that keeps me away. And then Mom died and my eating went out the window. It just wasn't destined for me to lose those 10 pounds I wanted to lose. And, well, you know how last year I set my goals by adding four to things? Like this was doubled then I added four, or I took the average and added four? It just amused me so that was my setting mechanism? Well...I added four pounds. So Yay?

Then the little things. Daily Gratitude hit its yearly end on my birthday and I went ahead and carried that through the end of the year. I stopped #selfiesaturday at my birthday instead of carrying it through the end of the year. Honestly I would have carried it forward like Daily Gratitude to the end of the year just for tidiness sake but I knew that Mom was dying and if I did that at some point there would be a #SelfieSaturday with the "Mom's funeral" tag and well...

I got about half of the long term list done. The living room painted was the big one so that was great. I got a new dining room table and some new window coverings as well as had the front and back porch stained. There were a few more on that list that I checked off and some more that still need handled, but that's why it's a long term list. It's constantly being added to.

I kept my star chart going though I did get really tired of it finally. They lost their motivating factor for me as a positive and became a negative instead. Switched from an "I get a star!" to "If I don't do this I won't get a star." Totally different feeling. But I finished it out.

And that was that for 2019. Hit the majority of the goals. Dropped the one that just wasn't working for me anymore and tried not to feel like I was failing by doing that. Spoiler alert...I feel like I failed myself by not doing it. But I'm working on that.

Happy 2019, I hope it was a good one for you!

So Yay!

December 28, 1952

I knew today would be the worst of the holiday season. All of the rest belongs to everyone. Thanksgiving, Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Year's Eve, New Year's Day. Everyone gets a piece of those and has their own ways of celebrating them and you can distract yourself with that. But the 28th is singular.

Yesterday was a little creeping in of it. Which I knew would happen as well. We picked the date because of the 28th, afterall. I had dreamed of a Christmas wedding. Red velvet and fur muffs (faux, of course) and pine and maybe if we were lucky some snow. Which we got. But originally my thoughts had been to have it on the 28th. To get a little shine from their marriage on to mine. But the 28th was on a Sunday so we moved it back. Which worked out well. It kept the 28th just for them.

So I knew it would be hard today. Today is just for them.

I get tripped up on how to talk about it. Or at least since Dad died. Do you say would have been? Or is? When Mom was alive I would say is because she still held it in her heart and still felt as though she was married to Dad. The 'til death do us part thing being a temporary separation in her mind. Now with her being gone as well it's even more complicated. Do I revert strictly to would have been? Or is it solidly is now?

They were married 67 years ago. That's the basic. Celebrating isn't exactly right as they are both gone now so we aren't celebrating their anniversary. Just marking it.

The firsts are the worst. I know it. Everyone who has been through it knows it. The firsts are the worst.

And especially when things come in bunches like the holiday season. You can't really catch your breath. It wasn't terrible for me. Not really. I've talked about it, we moved away a long time ago. We've only celebrated a handful of times with the family since we were married. For the most part it's a quick phone call or text, a card sent, that's that. It's not part of our traditions to celebrate with Mom and Dad. But when Dad died it was hard. Because I knew Mom was alone. And I carried my loss with her grief. It was rough. Especially knowing that right after Christmas would be their anniversary. Now just hers. It was hard.

This year I've felt badly for my sister and middle brother and nephews that did celebrate with Mom every year. She was a part of their on going traditions. I've felt worse for them than for me. I've really been fine.

Mostly.

Up until we would be watching a holiday movie and they would go for the tear jerker moment and I would be staring at the ceiling trying to not cry. The grief was there. Just lower key.

But I could feel this one coming.

You can't avoid your parent's anniversary and pretend it's not a big deal. It's a big deal. Sort of the founding moment of your family history. So...

I knew today would be hard.

But I am comforted knowing that it's hard for me this year not for Mom. This year is the first year since Dad died that she isn't marking her anniversary without him there with her. I will hold that all day. She's no longer alone.

Happy anniversary to my parents. Sixty seven years ago they started their lives together and it's still one of the greatest love stories I've ever known.

I miss them both.

Holiday Travel...

Is there any other holiday that has as much time travel involved as Christmas?

It's so steeped in traditions that it can't really help itself. And not just individual traditions but "Hey MY family does that too!" traditions. We can't really help but take the trip down memory lane every year.

Christmas growing up was a big deal. Religious family so yeah...

I can remember Christmas Eve Candlelight services and how exciting it was to be old enough to FINALLY hold a candle during the closing song. Not to mention how cool it was to stay up until midnight. And beyond. Because after services we would go home and have eggnog and cheese and crackers. My mother had these fancy crystal dishes where the cup had a compartment and there were individual squares to put each treat. I loved them.

I remember the year I announced that Santa had the same wrapping paper as we did and my parents took that as their cue that the jig was up and I knew the secret.

I didn't, by the way, I just thought it was cool he had the same wrapping paper that we did. But the jig was up anyway...

I can remember waiting for AGES for John and Ann to finally get to the house so we could open presents. I can remember the first year we did the White Elephant exchange and some of the hilarious gifts we got through that. And the year Denny kept telling people they really did want his "art" where he had nailed walnut shells to a log and put googly eyes on them. I think Jeff ended up stuck with it which we all thought was so funny, until Denny cracked open the shells and there was money in each of them!

Then there are the decorations that went up every year. The nativity set that had the angel you hung from the barn roof that I would fly all over the house. The old glass balls that came from Grandma and Grandpa's tree that Mom took when Grandpa died. The angel that always went on top. She had a staff that she held (I think it was supposed to be the STAR) and so in my mind I always kind of put her and Glenda together into one beautiful being.

Funny thing, in October when we were home for the funeral David brought out the angel. She was not as large, nor a beautiful as I remembered her to be. I think I will stick with the image in my mind.  That's the beautiful thing about time travel, you can mold it to your preferences.

Then, of course, there are the holidays after Brent and I got married. Calling home on Christmas day and having the phone passed around from person to person. Can I just say how much I hated that? It was always so awkward. "here talk to your sister!" Umm...they want to be playing games or eating or unwrapping gifts and I just want to get off the phone. But okay... I figured out how to time the call to BEFORE the whole family was together so I could just talk to Mom and Dad. Then eventually over the past few years Mom would call sometime in December and we would skip the Christmas day requirement all together.

And then when Christopher came along? Well those Christmas memories are wonderful. There was the year he was 3 and every time he would unwrap something he would announce "It's just what I always wanted!" and then move to the next, "It's just what I always wanted!"

There were the years we were back in Albuquerque and fitting in both families and two jobs and a toddler and rushing from holiday event to holiday event and....

Thank goodness we moved. I mean, it's fun to have a big family at Christmas and play games and eat so much you're going to burst, but...

I love my small family and our small traditions. Going to the movies. Eating fish on Christmas eve. And now picking out our own candy for our own stockings. I like that it's quiet and calm and we just enjoy being together. And of course we eat so much we feel like we could burst.

But part of what makes those traditions so lovely is the time travel that comes with them. The dozens of times we've watched the same Christmas movies, the times we've hung the same decorations. The jokes we've told, the songs we've sung, the places we've gone. And the people we went there with.

This year I have a few friends who are experiencing the first Christmas after losing someone. Parents. In-laws. Sons. Daughters. Spouses. It's hard. I know. And my wish for all of them is that they find some comfort in the time travel this year and know that eventually it will be sweeter, less sad.

Merry Christmas Eve to you all. I hope you enjoy your time travel over the next few days and that the return to the present is lovely and warm and you make some fabulous new memories to visit in a few years.

Raise 'Em Up....

Saturday morning I told Brent that I had a revelation this weekend: talking to Christopher about politics and life philosophy and I realized that he functioned from a moral center that was pretty close to the same as mine was growing up.

Which shouldn't seem odd, he is my child after all, but I grew up in the church and the morals were dictated from "On High" and he was raised without any religion at all.

Then I realized that though I abandoned the church, I didn't abandon the morals. Unlike a lot of Evangelicals that seemed to have stayed with the church and abandoned their morals.

So Brent and I raised Christopher with that same center of "right." If you have more you should give more. If you see someone that needs your help, you should help them. If someone is hungry you feed them. If they are naked you clothe them. You know, the basics. We just did it with the belief system of this is the right thing to do, not do this or you will get punished by GOD!

Humanists label it good without god.

We just called it being a decent person.

When we talk about politics and beliefs Brent and I usually say that he's more liberal than we are. He way more liberal than Brent and a little more liberal than I am. His philosophies would be considered far left. But after my revelation on Saturday I really paid attention the next time we talked political policy and I realized that he's radical alright, he's radically kind.

Now, yes, you have to get past the language (if you aren't me) and realize that there are perfectly kind people who say things like "fuck that guy" but when you break down what he wants (what most of these kids today who are considered radical want) it's basic human decency.

I saw something the other day that struck me and I wish I would have saved it so I could get the wording right but it was basically: You call me radical for wanting to tax the rich. But all I want is the homeless housed, the hungry fed, the sick to have health care and an opportunity for a better life for everyone and for the rich to be a little less rich. I thought, yep. That's really it. It's the basic "How much do you need?" argument. And there are those that fall on the side of "As much as I can get." and those that don't.

I don't have an issue (and neither does Christopher) with millionaires. With people having a lot of money. But...billionaires? Really? That seems like a failure in the system. A hoarding reward. That money should be taxed more heavily. And guess what? They would still be fantastically wealthy. The difference would be that someone else wouldn't starve.

We have this really fucked up idea that there isn't enough in the world and we need to get ours before the other guy. But there is a lot. Plenty really. If we just stepped back and looked at the distribution again.

Conservatives love to quote Thatcher that the problem with spending other people's money is that eventually you run out.

But do you? It's such a weird way to view a resource that is constantly renewing itself.

I mean, be honest here. Do you think Jeff Bezos would be any worse off if he had less than he has now? Even if it were a significant amount less. He'd still be almost unimaginably rich. He just went through a divorce and they split the assets and he's still fabulously wealthy.

And we have a failing infrastructure and kids who won't eat because school is on break so the cafeteria is closed and someone who is about to get a health diagnosis that will bankrupt their family.

And if I tell you that we need a progressive tax that is ironclad and doesn't have loopholes so the rich actually pay their share and business actually pay ANY taxes you would say I was a socialist and how dare I?

And yes, there are billionaires who set up charitable foundations and give huge chunks of their money away and that's great. But...

There are huge tax breaks for doing that. So they end up making money while doing it. Which is great business sense. But it's still not really solving all of the problems that could be solved with a little more focused spending.

And they could still do that if they were paying their share of taxes as well. There is nothing that would prevent them from setting up foundations and focusing on their pet projects. But if there wasn't the giant tax break, would they?

Good without a tax break?

I'm not sure that the ideas of these kids today will catch on. I hope they do. I hope that there is a moment that happens where people look at the income disparity and realize that it's too much. I hope that there is a time when people realize that no matter what your zip code is we shouldn't say you get to starve. I hope that someday we all realize that there is enough in the world for everyone, we just need to spread it out a little better.

Good without god.
Wealth without hoarding.
Do the most with what you have.
Do the best for others as well as for yourself.

Call me a radical.

Where's the Story?

So this morning I was thinking about writing and I was trying to figure out where my Christmas story was. December is often a pretty good spot for me for a themed story. It's kind of a story telling month really. And I've written stories (yes, these will all be links, knock yourself out) about believing in Santa, the companion piece to that about having Santa as your higher power, one more in this series about what happened next. I've written dark Christmas stories, and a piece about Krampus with a companion piece about Santa, and then last year was the series that started on Halloween and took a turn at Christmas from what I thought I was writing about. 

See? That's a pretty good list there. Lots of things. But this year I just haven't had anything and I couldn't figure out why.

So today I took the old fashioned story generator idea out and cleaned house. Dusting, mopping, all the really tedious things that let your mind wander until it finds an idea and I thought about...

2020. How that's going to go. Having a year without goals, will it be okay? Am I really worried about it? Am I not? I have some ideas of things I am going to do, but that's not the same as a goal right? Mapping out where I want to be at the end of the year isn't the same as setting number targets, right? Hmmm....

I thought about the next week, it's Christmas you know, and what I still needed to get done. I told Brent this morning that I'm not really sweating it at all. I mean we have our holiday pared down to just the barest of traditions so there isn't much to worry about. But the fact that I'm totally relaxed probably means I'm forgetting something right? I needed to make a grocery list, settling on the Christmas Eve movie, wrap one last gift when it shows up, pick up Christopher at the airport, hit the mall for stocking stuff. I mean there is stuff to do, but I'm not behind at all so I think it's okay.

I thought about the gym. I haven't been since I got sick and let me tell you, I was working up a sweat cleaning house today. Definitely need to get back. Just a few weeks off (even for a good reason) wrecks your system. Then I thought more about 2020 and if there was a goal...and I stopped myself. Nope.

I thought about the books I am currently reading. One of them is one of those books that gets recommended to you all of the time. The book was highly rated, it was turned into a movie that was highly rated, there is FINALLY a sequel book that people are so excited about and so I put it on hold at the library and 3 months later it's here and I've started it and...well.

I'm not sure if I'm too old for it, the main character is 17 and it's a romance story between him and a 24 year old, and all I can think is that at 17 and 24 that's a really important 7 years. Even if it was 20 and 27 it would be bordering on well...but not as solidly not okay as this. But I'm trying. Maybe I'm being too harsh. I dated a 21 year old when I was 15 so it's pretty much the same. Though I have no fucking clue why my parents let that happen, that's a big age gap at that age...anyway...

And the other book I'm reading is by an author I generally love. He's a humorist and his stuff is just great. This is...well...it's long. That's what I've come up with so far.

But I don't want to abandon either book just yet. I'd like to finish them out this year though so I can start clean with something fun in 2020.

Which pretty soon I'll have to decide what to do about the Goodreads reading challenge. I don't want to leave it blank because I know that it will drive me crazy to have a blank year. It already makes me crazy to have two blank years at the beginning of the list before I realized it was a thing they did, or used Goodreads enough, or something. Either way there are two years listed as just the years while the others all have ornate COMPLETED badges. So yeah, I need to plug in a number there but not one that I will have any trouble reaching because no goals, but still not too low because it will look weird. And...

Still no story idea.

So I gave up. If I get an idea I'll write it. If not I'll just not have a fiction piece this December and that's okay too.

And then the little voice in the back of my head spoke up and said, "You already wrote a short piece this December, don't you remember?"

And the bigger voice in the front said, "Clearly not or I wouldn't have spent so much time thinking about it today."

And the little voice said, "Well yeah, you did it a few weeks ago. It's short, all dialog, whiskers on kittens..."

Ha! Well there you go.

Christmas is done man....

Gotcha!

I have to take it as a compliment when someone tries to get me with an ah ha! statement. You know the ones where they think they've got you backed into a corner and have now proven that you are not as smart as you think you are! Ah ha! Gotcha!

Okay? Good for you. You've proved...something?

Now, I will admit, I'm pretty damn smart. I just am. That's a fact. I read a ton. I ask questions. I study things that I find interesting. It's just the way I am. But I'm not the smartest person in the world. Hell, I'm not the smartest person in my house and when Christopher comes home tomorrow I'll move another spot down the list.

And trust me when I tell you that there isn't much more humbling than discovering your space on the list is below your middle schooler...okay fine....elementary schooler. He's really smart. Just is. I beat him with experience and a broader world view so I can (sometimes) get that massive intellect to view things differently. But just flat out smarts? He's got more than me.

As far as the other person in my house above me on the list? Well to be fair, there are multiple lists and sometimes I'm higher than he is and sometimes he's higher than I am. Overall I give it to him though. But he will tell you that I'm smarter than he is, and pretty too.

See how smart he is?

Even growing up I wasn't the smartest of the siblings. That's my brother. He's really smart.

Not being the smartest person in the room isn't new to me. And I don't think I am. So when you get me! I'm left a little puzzled at your effort. So I've decided to take it as a compliment. That maybe I am the smartest person you know and so by knocking me down a few pegs you can feel smarter, just for a moment, and hold that in your heart as a shining nugget of joy.

Or something.

So here is the latest one and I'll let you see how they got me! and how I feel about it. Spoiler alert...I don't think I was gotten, not even a little.

My vote blue no matter who stance was called out as hypocritical because I rail against people who vote party line. And I especially have issue with Republicans who voted for Trump because of the R.

But here is my reasoning as to why it's not the same. Or at least not hypocritical. At least in my view.

I am not voting straight up Democrat because I think the Democrats are always right. I'm saying for this election, this cycle, this time the way to get Trump out of office is to vote him out. And because we have a two party system the ONLY way to do that is to vote against him. I would LOVE to have that person be someone that I'm excited about voting for. I will be THRILLED if that is the case. But it doesn't matter because the important thing to me is that he is not re-elected.

I'm being very upfront about it. I'm not hiding it. Which is also where I will stand and differentiate myself from what I have criticized.

In the run up to 2016 I had family members who went from saying that they could NEVER vote for Trump because of (take your pick of moral failings) who right after the election were talking about thanking god he was elected. So you know...they could never say out loud to me that they were voting for him, and in fact said they weren't because they were ashamed.

I had friends who after the Access Hollywood tape came out could NEVER vote for Trump because they have women in their lives and they see how he is. Which, let me just say if you have to equate it to your mother, daughter, sister, wife, to understand that grabbing someone by the pussy without their consent is bad then you have another issue to deal with. You shouldn't have to have a personal attachment to have empathy. Anway... They could NEVER vote for Trump right up until they did. And then bragged about it after the win. Again. Ashamed to tell me because they KNOW it's abhorrent but then cool because he won.

I'm not at all ashamed to tell you I will vote for whatever Democratic candidate gets that nomination because Trump needs to go. I'm not voting for someone in spite of the fact that they are misogynistic, in spite of the hugely racist fan base, in spite of the broken morals. Because that's what everyone who voted for Trump because of "economic issues" did. They said, yeah but that shit doesn't matter to me.

It fucking matters to me.

So I'm voting blue no matter who.

I want him out of office.

Then we can go back to talking about how the two party system is bunk and we should look at rank choice voting and getting a wider representation available.

Sorry to take away your gotcha moment. But if you read this and send me all of the edits for poor spelling and grammar you can have that moment. I'll even act like I'm embarassed about it.

Impeach Me? Impeach You!!

So I've tried a couple of times today to tune in and listen to the final arguments on the House floor before the impeachment vote.

And I just can't with it...

So far the Republicans have compared the whole situation to the Salem witch trials, BUT WORSE, like Pearl Harbor, BUT WORSE, like secret Soviet trials, BUT WORSE, like Jesus, BUT WORSE and the Democrats have tried to appeal to the Republicans sense of duty to the country but you know worse?

It's awful. It's just speeches and soundbites and future political ads and "hey, Spike, don't give me a bad nickname, look how LOYAL I am!" and...ugh.

We all know how it's going to go. The House will impeach; the Senate will not remove him, he will claim total vindication and the poll numbers will...well...stay the same.

We all know what we think.

Me? I read the Mueller Report. He should have been impeached for that. But there wasn't the political will to do it. It was all too complicated. People would have had to have things explained. It was too hard... Then the whistleblower came forward and Trump handily provided all of the backup to the claim and that was that. You can't really ignore it when he claims it. No matter how often he says it was perfect! and there was nothing wrong! and many people are saying it was the best phone call he's ever made...

So really simple charge. Really simple concept. Really no way for Pelosi not to follow through. And no matter how often Republicans will try to tell you that she's just been dying to do this, she really would have liked to not. It's a political crapshoot as to how it will affect the next election and the one thing we cannot afford is a crapshoot.

But no matter the fact that we all know how this particular chapter ends (impeached, not removed) I do not hold truck with the people who say it was a waste of time. Just because the Republicans won't ever consider holding him accountable doesn't mean he shouldn't be. There has to be at least some sort of question in his head about what he will be able to get away with. There has to be someone who is willing to say, no. And you can tell from his six (SIX!) page diatribe to Speak Pelosi last night that he's not used to being told no.

He's on his way to a rally in Michigan right now where he will claim it's unfair and they are just so mean. He will say you can't impeach a president who was voted for by 63 million people (ignoring that you can ONLY impeach a president who was elected, that's how it works, and ignoring that he got fewer votes than his opponent so it's not really the will of the majority that he is there in the first place). He will say that it's a witch hunt. So many witches in his coven serving jail time already.  He will insult Speaker Pelosi and any number of other Democratic leaders who have spoken against him. All while claiming his persecution.

It's all too much.

So yeah, I tried to watch but I just can't. This might be the presidency that finally broke me of my joy in witnessing history and following politics. There is no joy here. Just disgust.

And that faint ray of hope that We The People will vote his ass out in November.

Truth...Sort Of...

Never let the facts get in the way of a good story.

That's a bit of advice from my dad.

And since I write fiction I would say I've taken that to heart.

But how much truth do you need? Do you need to know right up front when someone is telling you a story that it's a story, not exactly word for word truth?

I don't.

Again, back to my dad.

One of his greatest story telling gifts was to suck you in to a joke. He would tell these long jokes that you would just think were a "hey, this happened to me today" story right up until he hit the punchline. And no matter how often he did it, you fell for it. Honestly, I was raised by the man and he'd still sucker me in. He was a really gifted storyteller. You just believed what he was saying. And the payoff, for me, was totally worth it.

Last night Brent and I saw Storm Large doing her Holiday Ordeal show. We've seen it live once before and on a recording once when the snow kept us from going. The show changes some each time, the music she performs, the guests she has sing with her, the stories she tells. But it's always really good. And it's always a message of hope and love and being the light in the darkness for people around you. I love it. I cry each time I see her perform anyway, and when she's telling great stories I get the big fat tears. Love. It.

But I don't think they are all true stories. Like verifiable facts. I think they are true stories like this message is truth and hold that in your heart. But the facts? Don't let those get in the way of a good story.

But I wondered last night how other people would feel if they thought one of the really heartwarming stories she told wasn't exactly true to life and more true to love. And even if there were people who thought it was a true story and never even questioned it. Which totally could be. I have a pretty highly tuned bullshit meter. Not for my dad, but for everyone else.

You see the debate this time of year now a lot. Should you tell your kids the Santa story or should you not? We were a Santa house. Hell we still are a Santa house. There is a part of me that REALLY wants to believe in that magic and so I do. Not the gift under the tree part, but the feel of it. The thought of it. The truth of the love if not the truth of the life. So we did the Santa thing. And probably were able to hold it for Christopher for longer than most. It helps if your mother believes as well. But we also taught him not to lie to us and that if he did he'd get in big trouble, mister.

Which is where a lot of people get tripped up. Aren't we lying to our kids? Teaching our kids that it's okay to lie by our example instead of that it's not? And are we breaking their trust in us for other things by doing this story?

Maybe.

I mean I hope not. I hope everyone handles it in just the right way where when their kids figure out their truth of it they can show how it weaves into the whole story of the season and makes it much more magical, like living in a book. But maybe it does. And maybe it depends on the kid and the family and how it's all done. And I don't really know.  I choose to believe that I didn't damage my kid by passing along the Santa tradition. And since he's still talking to me I'm going to go with that.

So anyway...thinking about truth and stories.

I am fine with not letting the facts get in the way of a good story. If you are telling me a story. A punchline or a feel good pay off included.

But I can't stand being lied to.

And there is a real difference there.

And I can't stand when people lie about bullshit things that are super easy to check.

And I can't stand when they repeat the lies enough that people think those lies are now the truth.

And I really don't understand people who know they are lies, know the truth is a foreign concept and will still vote for the jerk...

As an example...

But even not on that scale, there is a difference between a lie and story. I just wonder if it's the same line for for everyone else?

Soup for Thought...

Who do you think was the first person to try soup?

Do you think it was cold soup first and then hot? Like originally it was just the juices from eating were left and someone slurped those up and thought, hey now, this isn't half bad.

Cooked food in and of itself is always interesting to think about. Like did it happen by accident? After a fire people found animals that had burnt and decided to try eating them? So maybe hot soup was the same way. Cleaning vegetables or cooking meat and then discovering the broth was tasty so maybe do it on purpose. Or figuring out that boiling the skins made them more pliable but hey, that smells good now so...

Who knows.

Soup.

So yeah, I've been eating a LOT of soup this week. Happens when you are sick. Soup is manageable. It's warm so it feels good on a sore throat. If you have some already made or in a can it's easy. Campbell's Well Yes! canned soup doesn't have added sugar so I've been using that. The chicken noodle and chicken and rice are super bland so you'll need hot sauce, but the tomato versions are good and the beef with black barley is really tasty.

A lot of soup.

My sister and I figured out that soup is a mourning food for both of us as well. I think because when you are grieving everything seems like too much work. Even chewing. So soup gets nutrients in you without the work.

In the next week or so I will make green chile stew because it's the right time of year for it. So soup is good for sick, mourning and tradition. And when you are chilled and can't get warm. A hug from the inside, wasn't that someone's advertising slogan?

Soup.

OH my god guys I'm so bored...I've been being good all week trying to kick this cold just taking it easy and resting (though to be fair on Tuesday my fever was high enough that I couldn't have done anything even if I wanted to). I'm almost better. Like it's in striking distance. I made the call this morning not to go to the hockey game tonight just to be safe and now I'm like WHY?? Why did you decide that? You could have promised not to yell or cheer instead...

Which, of course, wouldn't have worked. Brent couldn't help but yell last week even though each time he yelled he coughed. But sometimes THE FOUL HAPPENED RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU! HOW COULD YOU NOT SEE IT? so you know...you have to.

But tomorrow we have hair appointments and pedicures and I want to be super healthy for those so today I am kicking the last of this to the curb so no relapse overnight.

BUT I AM SO BORED I'M CONTEMPLATING SOUP!

Like deep thoughts about the things that would have to come first, using fire, obviously, dishes, like pots that could withstand heat, and then the aforementioned who even thought about it? Add water to your meat and then eat.

I can't even imagine what a house would look like if we knocked down a wall, let alone imagine a whole new cooking method. Or, you know, just cooking.

Someone figured that out.

I bet they had a cold at the time and were stuck back at the cave while everyone else was off doing fun stuff so they just started lighting things on fire...

I mean, no, that's not what you do when you are bored. That would be a bad idea.

You just sit around and think about soup...

*sigh*

Ashes to Ashes

It all went wrong when they went to spread their mother’s ashes.

Though it could be argued that it all went wrong the day they found out the cancer had spread and the treatment wasn’t going to work.

Or maybe it all went wrong when the severe weather over the middle of the country prevented the middle daughter and older brother from getting home in time to say goodbye.

But it definitely went wrong when they went to spread the ashes.

They had planned it all out. Sunrise on the mountain. They would each take the ashes and share a memory, or a poem, or a song, whatever they felt at that moment. Then they would take the beautiful golden scoop they bought just for that day and dip it in the bag and spread some of her ashes before passing the bag and the scoop to the next person. And by the time they were done the sun would be up and shining on the spot where their mother would spend eternity. It was going to be lovely. Just a perfect ceremony.

But somehow the beautiful golden scoop was forgotten on the counter in their mother’s house. So they had to improvise with an empty fast food coffee cup that Jason had in his rental car. It was a little larger than the golden scoop, and not nearly as beautiful, but they had all agreed that their mother’s love of a good cup of coffee first thing in the morning meant this was still an appropriate choice.

That wasn’t where it all went wrong.

When Jason opened the bag containing their mother’s ashes and took a deep breath to get ready to speak some, well, some of their mother floated up in the breeze and caused him to sneeze. And as he was trying not to sneeze the thing that happens when you try not to sneeze happened. He sneezed harder, jerking his arms and forcing the larger than the beautiful golden scoop coffee cup into the bag which ripped the side of the bag, which in turn shifted the weight of the ashes tearing the bag completely along the seam and dumping them all out on to the ground with a soft floop like sound and a cloud of ash that then made Jason sneeze again and again. And not only sneeze but jerk his entire body so he then kicked the little pile of ashes at his feet spreading them out and mixing them with the dirt.

It had all gone wrong.

Everyone was horrified.

For a moment.

Then Grace began to giggle. She caught Allie’s eye and she also started to laugh. The telepathy that forms from shared memory spread and Jason began to laugh as well. Their spouses weren’t sure if this was just grief overcoming them or if it was another sign that they had married crazy people.

Grace wiped the tears from the corner of her eyes and said, “The turkey…”

Then Allie gasped out, “The cake!”

And all together the three siblings said, “The pantry shelves!”

They laughed so hard they had to hold each other up.

Finally Allie got enough control of herself to say, “Rest in peace, Mom, we miss you so much.”

That evening the siblings and their spouses shared stories.

The Thanksgiving dinner when their mother had tripped over the dog and dropped the turkey as she pulled it out of the oven. Also known as the day they decided the sides really were the best part of the meal. Or the day their dog, Rufus “Worth It” Jones, got his middle name.

The Welcome Home cake their mother tried to bake for their father when he had been traveling for business. She had put the flour on the edge of the counter not realizing she had caught her sleeve under the bag. As she pulled her arm back the flour had fallen. Hitting the edge of the open drawer below and exploding all over the kitchen. Their father had come home early to surprise her and found her standing in a cloud of flour dust. They were both surprised.

And the time she had pulled the entire set of pantry shelves down trying to reach a pitcher on the top shelf. The resulting mess in the pantry took hours to clean up and they never really got all of it. Years later they would find traces of “the great pantry demolition of ‘85.”

Their mother had not been a beautiful golden scoop, sunrise beaming on the mountain top, perfect ceremony type of woman. She had been a bit of a mess to be honest. So the moment it all went wrong on the mountain top was actually the moment they knew it would be alright.

Favorite Things...

"Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens...who the hell lists those things as favorite things?"

"What?"

"The song, she talks about raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens as being some of her favorite things. Don't those seem like lame favorites? I mean if there are raindrops on the roses then it's, you know, raining and that's that for being outside. And whiskers on kittens? Like some cats don't have whiskers? All kittens have whiskers so why is that a favorite? Oh I like bad weather and animal hair...these are my favorite things."

"Where in the world did all of this come from?"

"I've just been thinking about it. Like actually paying attention to the lyrics. Warm woolen mittens, that's another one. Wool mittens are the lamest. Anyone who ever lived in a snowy place can tell you that. You can't make snowballs with them because the snow just sticks to the mitten. They get all wet and cold if you are in the snow at all. Wool mittens are the worst. And brown paper packages tied up with string? Come on. That's just boring. How about glitter wrapping paper with multicolored bows? That I'd believe."

"Wow. This is really bugging you isn't it?"

"It is. I think we've given it a pass for way too long. Just because Julie Andrews is a goddess that's no excuse to ignore dumb lyrics."

"Maybe the things that are favorites are supposed to be really simple. You know happiness is where you find it sort of thing?"

"I'm fine with enjoy the simple things, but the song isn't Happy in the Plain, it's My Favorite Things. She literally lists winter that melts into spring as a favorite thing. Do you know what happens when winter melts into spring? Mud. Mud is one of her favorite things. Come on!"

"I really think you are taking this too personal. Maybe find a different song to think about?"

"Like what? That stupid George Michael one where he talks about giving someone his heart and the next day that person gives it away? How in the world is he giving your heart to someone else? That's not a thing that can happen. You can't regift a heart."

"I think he means that he thought it was more of a relationship than it was."

"Sure, that's what he means, but that's not what he SAYS."

"So you are only in favor of literal song lyrics is that it?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Kind of takes the poetry out of things."

"Poetry? Like turning the plural of hippopotamus to hippopotamuses?"

"Well, that's a kid's song. It's just supposed to be fun."

"It is supposed to be, but it's not. It's just annoying. Nobody really wants a hippopotamus for Christmas. Where would you even keep it?"

"She's a kid. Kids don't think of those things. You can't be mad that a kid is not thinking logically."

"A kid didn't write that song. An adult wrote that song thinking what would a goofy kid want? They shouldn't be encouraging kids asking for things they can't ever have."

"So maybe there should be a song out there that encourages kids to ask for easier things?"

"Yes! Exactly!"

"Like warm woolen mittens or brown paper packages tied up with string?"

Blame Game!

So who are you blaming right now? Whose fault is it that you aren't getting what you want, doing what you want, seeing what you want? Or are you currently being blamed for someone else's problems?

Read an interview with the head Republican on the Judiciary committee where he was blaming the Democrats for not letting Republicans have witnesses. He was incensed. And he should be! I mean that's not right! But I mean, it really isn't right. The quick fact check on it is that Republicans have been there every step of the way and able to ask witness questions just as often as the Democrats. The people he was furious about not being able to be questioned weren't questioned because Trump told them they couldn't be. The documents he thinks are important to be seen aren't being released by, yep you guessed it, the White House. But it's easier for him to blame someone else than his own party.

And the people in his party will pick up that banner and yell about it not once really considering that it's their own party that's blocking their access to that information.

Because it's easier to blame other people than it is to take the responsibility for yourself.

It happens every day. You see it in politics, like here and also in the whole "IMMIGRANTS ARE TAKING YOUR JOBS!" because it's easier to blame someone you don't know for your current situation than look at the person you voted for who is blocking higher wages and is more worried about loosening regulations so companies can have higher profits than they are with making sure you are safe and well paid.  Blame to the others, don't look at your part in it.

You see it in generations. I've talked about it before, the weird disconnect for me with the hatred of the "Everybody gets a trophy" generation from the generation who gave them the damn trophies. It's easier to blame these kids today for not wanting to do things the way they've always been done than to actually listen to why they might want to do things differently. Spoiler alert, they have some real valid reasons.

You see it when marriages fall apart. Especially if there was an affair. It's easier to imbue the other man or woman with strong mysterious seduction powers than to admit that it had been months since the two of you had a conversation, or complimented each other, or even just sat comfortably with each other. If it's their fault, then it's not yours.

Here's one I know for me. I have someone who (unless they've finally gotten over it) blames me for their business failing. It was easier to say I did it than it was to look at all of the bad financial decisions they had made that led to it happening. It made them feel better to say that my leaving caused a cascade to happen instead of seeing that cascade had already started and I couldn't have held it together anymore than anyone else. But because I was there I was a handy scapegoat so they never had to look at themselves and take on their own blame.

It's just easier to blame someone else than to think badly of ourselves.

Either that we make bad decisions. Or that we weren't paying attention when we should have been. Or we trusted the wrong people. Or the wrong philosophy. It's just easier.

Now that's not to say that sometimes things really are someone else's fault. Sometimes people do horrible things to other people. Sometimes the situation you are in is fully on someone else. But when you realize that you are in a bad place? Well then you need to start looking at what you can do to get someplace better. Don't blame others when you have options.

I write about my faults and my flaws and my craziness. That's all there because of genetics, upbringing, experiences. Those are reasons. But how I deal with them now? That's on me. I can't blame my past for my future. I can only say that because of my past I have this path to walk and be careful of in the future. Does that make sense? 

Be in charge of your own life.
Look at what you can do to make things better.
Listen to other people when they tell you things.
Understand that it's not really on anyone else that you aren't happy.
And for goodness sake, testify before Congress when you are called.

Or don't blame me when we think you're obstructing justice.

Night Vision...

"It's better if you don't look directly, but sort of sideways. Use your peripheral vision."

"Why?"

"I don't know why. I just know it works better. Everyone does that thing where they open their eyes really wide and stare. That doesn't work. Sideways. Look away and sort of sneak up on it."

"You want me to sneak up on what I'm looking for in the dark, when I can't see what I'm looking for to sneak up on it?"

"Yeah. Well, no, I mean, I know you can't see what you're looking for so you aren't really sneaking up on it, but you are sort of sneaking up on the whole night this way."

"Okay..."

"I'm serious. It really does work better."

"How about if I just turn the flashlight on my phone on?"

"So that's great if you are looking at a specific spot. Like if you are walking a trail and don't want to trip or something, that would work, but if you are looking for things in the dark then that just makes everything outside of the flashlight beam basically invisible. Plus it totally wrecks any night vision you might have."

"So no flashlights, no direct looking, anything else?"

"Try to be quiet."

"Excuse me?"

"Not now. I mean when you are looking. Listen. You can't see well, but your hearing is still good. And there is less other activity in the dark so it seems like you can hear things much quicker than you would in the light."

"If there's less activity in the dark why don't we look in the light?"

"Less human activity. Less daily noise. Radios, cars, cell phones ringing, TVs blaring, kids playing outside. All of that settles down. Eventually. I mean you have to wait until full dark."

"Full dark? Like after sunset?"

"Oh no. Like after midnight. Maybe even closer to 2 or 3 AM. Full dark. Time for the light of the day, natural and manmade to fade."

"So how often do you go look?"

"Basically just a few days each month. I look when the moon is full and look when the moon is new."

"Wouldn't a full moon mean there was too much light?"

"Reflected light. So sometimes that helps. But honestly I find more during the new moon. I think I was taught to go out during the full moon to be seen as much as to see."

"To be seen?"

"Yeah."

"By what?"

"Look sideways. No flashlights. Listen closely."

Easing In...

I always wonder if it's better to know you are crazy or to not know and just think you're normal.

I tend to land on the side of better to know, because I like to know things, and also because that way I feel like I can feign control of the things that seem out of control at times.

--------------------------------

We decorate for Christmas after Thanksgiving. I'm not an early goer normally. This year I considered it, Thanksgiving was really late, lights and glitter make people happy and we could use more happy in the world. But I just wasn't prepared to have Thanksgiving by the light of the Christmas tree so I didn't.

The day after Thanksgiving Brent started to bring up the Christmas decorations and I started to put all of my normal things away to get ready and...

The boxes sat untouched.

I asked Christopher if he cared about helping decorate and he didn't.

Brent had a nasty cold all last week so I wasn't going to let him decorate the outside.

So all of the things sat untouched.

Sunday night Christopher went back to Bend, Monday morning Brent went to California. Two days on my own to get Christmas knocked out. It takes a good few hours to get it all out and set up and arranged just so.

Last night I had done...well...none of it.

I just couldn't find it in me to do it all.

Just sat and stared at all of the things thinking, do I want to?

--------------------------------

Yesterday I spent a good chunk of the day watching MasterClasses. My subscription was going to run out today and I wanted to get through the couple of instructors they had added the end of November. This morning I realized that I should have written a blog yesterday because it was my last chance at a five star day. (Stars for goals, it's been my way of tracking my goals for the past few years) The most I can get without the MasterClass star (which is now unavailable) is four. I didn't write Sunday or Monday so zero five star days in December.

Bummer.

And odd that I didn't really think about it earlier. Because, please believe, I would have written something just to get those two five star days. I think because I'm not doing anything next year though I've already started to transition into not thinking about constantly reaching for that star.

Maybe.

------------------------------

Last week when I was talking to Skippy on definitely not her birthday because I could see the calendar right in front of me while we talked, we talked about not watching the news. She has been on a massive road trip for the past 6 months and has been disconnected from most of the news and the daily politics and has loved it. Which I totally get. When we went to Hawaii last month it was during the start of the impeachment hearings and not having to deal with the onslaught of coverage was so nice.

Because nothing changes. Not really. I mean I told you ages ago that Trump will be impeached but not removed. Next month or whenever they get to it he will be impeached but not removed. You see the Republicans changing their defense daily trying to find what will stick, but they don't really care what they are saying, they have made up their minds. The other side is the same. I've listened to a lot of people try to tell me what Trump did was bad, sure, but impeachable? Nah. And I think, you are high. I mean, honestly, I read the Mueller report, he should have been impeached before but it was too complicated for people to easily understand and when Barr lied about what it said that was that for most Republicans. They didn't read it. They think it exonerated him. I did. It doesn't. This is not the first impeachable thing he's done.

But it doesn't matter. Nothing changes.

In 2016 I practically made myself sick trying to get people to pay attention. Conservatives who thought Trump would be fine. Liberals who didn't want me to talk about the Supreme Court because who cares? Well now they care...and every time Ruth Bader Ginsburg gets sick we all feel that stomach drop. Because you should have cared last election cycle and you didn't. So Garland doesn't sit on the bench and Gorsuch and I LIKE BEER! do.

So yeah, I'm thinking that I might sit this cycle out a bit.

-------------------------------

So then...today I started to think. Uh oh.

I don't want to decorate for Christmas.
I'm already unconcerned with finishing my 2019 goals.
I don't care about keeping up with politics next year.

Is this okay or is this a little bit of a depressive swing biting around the edges? I mean, I've been worried about it since Mom died. What is normal sad on a normal day and what is the start of a bad swing? And if it's a bad swing would I notice it? I mean I know when I'm full manic, and I know when I'm not. Even if I don't really have big swings, I know the difference. But what is this? Is this crazy or is this normal?

Which let's face it, my normal is slightly crazy.

So I wonder, is it better to know you are crazy and not be able to do anything to stop it or is it better to think you are normal and not notice when you get crazy?

-----------------------------

Today I put out some of the decorations. I think a few are good this year. I don't want the really busy crowded Christmas this year.

Because my mother was the Queen of Christmas clutter. So much stuff. Inside and outside. And this year I'd really rather not have that, but that's a totally normal reaction. The year after Dad died we had a quiet Christmas as well. 

And I read a few things on the latest impeachment news because that's moving forward. And I really think I should be an informed citizen to make sure that I'm not a gullible one.

And I'm writing a blog because four stars is better than three. And if I were to review the workbook I printed out from the last MasterClass that would actually count (my game, my rules) so I could get five today.

----------------------------

So right now I think I'm fine. I think everything is a perfectly normal response to a crazy world. But I still wanted to write it all down and look at it to make sure. And keep track. And hope. 

Which is better?

November Recap!

And another month draws to a close. This will be the last of the monthly recaps since next month will be the yearly one. Finally.

Fitness/Weight! Got back to the gym much more regularly, if you don't count the mini-vacation to Hawaii in the middle. Though we were active every day when we were there so that actually worked out fine. I was down in weight from last month right up until the past few days...hmm..wonder what happened there. It's been a good Thanksgiving. Right now my end of year goal is actually to try and drop this and get to flat for the year. Not at all where I started the year thinking I wanted to be but as you know I'm trying to reach for acceptance now. Oh, and the circuit thing I was trying last month? Yeah, I stuck with it until we went to Hawaii and then when we came back I went back to splits. I lift too much now for circuits to really tax my muscles and my knees are too bad to be able to really hit the cardio hard enough to balance it. So splits it is.

Reading! According to Goodreads I am three books ahead of schedule and I need to read 4 by the end of December basically a book a week. I've still got one more of the Discworld books to read but I've got it on my Kindle waiting to finish The Starless Sea so that will be done as well.

Writing! After this blog I will be one ahead for the year so I'll need 13 for December. Not where I was hoping to be, since I wanted to be way ahead, but it's a totally doable number. I really am hoping for some fun Christmas story ideas to hit, though I don't need the fiction because I hit that goal this month. So with the submissions being hit last month, the fiction this month, I'm looking pretty good on hitting this one for the year.

MasterClass! After figuring out that my subscription will run out the first week of December I made a shift on the one a month to make it 12 overall and started RL Stine the end of October to carryover and become November's class. I never read RL Stine's books, C didn't really read RL Stine either, that I remember, but I was aware of him, of course. I mean the man cranks out books like Stephen King. It was such an enjoyable class. He doesn't really take what he does for a living seriously, I mean, clearly he is a huge success and has a way of writing that works for him, but he's pretty hilarious about it all. After him I took Joyce Carol Oates for my "December" class. She does take writing VERY seriously and as such the class was not nearly as enjoyable for me. I'm a write for fun because it amuses me writer. I've realized this over the years watching other people I know write and how the ones that take it seriously approach it vs. the ones who are like me and just write for shits and giggles approach it. First hint, I won't proof this before I post it let alone rewrite and edit.

Museum/Attraction! I was so excited for this one. OMSI (our science museum) had been sending me advertising for the Gingerbread exhibit for a month and they do really neat exhibits. So we went to this last Sunday expecting to see some really great Gingerbread creations and some things on the science of building with baked goods and...well...it wasn't that. There were four things. That's it. Two were cute, one was kind of lame and one was amazing. For a $15 ticket (since I wasn't planning on seeing anything else in the museum) it was really disappointing. But since we were there we saw the Exquisite Creatures exhibit and that was pretty amazing. So it wasn't what we went for, but it was worth the price. Sometimes that's the way it goes.

Long Term! I ended up choosing to sort the kitchen. I didn't really get rid of much, or even move much around but I did get a quick reminder of what I have and what I felt like I needed to replace. I'm still debating getting rid of a few more things but for now everything is safe.

So what's on tap for December?

Just finishing out the year. I've got a few more goals to hit so I will work towards those. Then on to preparing for 2020 and the no goal revolution. I think it's going to be nice. Maybe. We'll see.

Happy Thanksgiving!

You May Be Right, But I'm Not Wrong...

Over the past few weeks I've had two different friends say "I told you so" in their own ways about the same thing. One from the left and one from the right. One who would lean more towards anarchy and one towards libertarian. Which, let's face it folks, are pretty damn close really.

But anyway...

They both wanted to tell me that they have been right all along about the government, our government, and don't I feel foolish right about now for the years and years that I have insisted they are mostly trustworthy.

And I have to say for a little bit I was like, yeah, you're right, it's a mess. People are awful. It's so much worse than I had ever imagined. Doom, despair, misery...

But then...

Then I thought, well wait, am I wrong?

For those of you that know me well you know that I will admit when I am wrong, but I hate to be wrong so I will look at it VERY closely to make sure I am. (insert giant winky face here...I'm being a smartass...sort of...I do hate to be wrong, but I will admit it when I am and generally I don't struggle with it)

So anyway...I looked again.

And yes, right now looking at how completely messed up the government is it's really discouraging. But the reason why it looks so bad, why it's so hard to take is because it mostly worked before the past few years.

And yes, I can hear both of them screaming and gnashing their teeth at me right now, that it's only because I didn't KNOW what was going on that I THINK it wasn't this bad and that it's always been this bad and Epstein and the Clintons and Deep State and...

Shhh....

One of the biggest takeaways I've gotten from the Trump administration is how many of the things we all thought were rules and laws were merely formalities and we've always done it this ways. Trump has disrupted the system by refusing to follow the norms. Which a large group of people actually love about him. The same large group that will say "play stupid games, win stupid prizes" when someone gets hurt not following a rule, or "just do what the police tell you" when someone is killed for selling loose cigarettes...but I digress...

Anyway, the rule and order party is populated by a lot of people taking great joy in someone not following rule and order is what I'm saying.

But what that means for me, is that we can get back to a place where the norms are decent behavior. Where the standard is being a little more respectful. Where diplomacy is actually favored. If we were there, we can be there again.

I don't think it will be easy. Not at all. I think Trump is the culmination of years of standards slipping. Of people nipping around the edges of decency. And I don't think he's the worst there can ever be. I mean we've seen worse run and get elected, and re-elected, Steve King, I'm looking at you. So yeah, we should be paying a little more attention than we have been.

We should also look at making some changes in things that have been "just always done this way" and see if the need to be "this is now a law." Which is REALLY going to make my left and right friends crazy. MORE LAWS?? ARE YOU CRAZY???

Maybe.

Or maybe I still have faith that most people are decent and if we can just encourage the decent behavior again we can get to a place where the system isn't the worst. Where people are able to do good for others. That a career in service is an honorable thing.

You may be right, but I hope I'm not wrong.

A Life Story...

She looked exactly like he had always imagined.

The sun was coming in the windows behind her, framing her in a halo of light. Her wedding dress was the most beautiful dress he had ever seen. She had never looked lovelier to him. Her smile, the one that he recognized as her very happiest smile, lit her whole face. No nerves, just joy radiating from her. 

His whole life he had been dreaming of this moment. 

Or most of it at least. 

The first time he saw her he knew that she was going to be the one he married. When he told her she had laughed and told him that she didn't want to get married. Understandable, considering they were four at the time. But he knew. He felt it in his soul. She was the one.

He brought her flowers, weeds really, picked on the way to the playground where he hoped she would be waiting. He brought her colored rocks he found when out on hikes with his Dad. He shared all of his best toys with her. He made sure that he saved the swing she liked best when he got to the playground before her. Anything he could do to make her smile he did. 

But it wasn't one sided. It wasn't just him bringing her gifts and saving her space and laughing at her jokes and listening to her tell her stories. Oh no. She had given him many things as well. He told people without embarrassment that she had made him a better person.

In first grade when the teacher had asked each of them what was important to them everyone had a variety of 6 year old answers. Cookies. Mom and Dad. Maybe a sibling. A favorite toy or action hero. She had said it was important to be kind. Mrs. Youngston had loved that answer. And so had he.

So he had tried to always be kind. 

In fifth grade he had overheard her talking to her friends about the new boy, James. All of the girls had loved James. He was from California and had that floppy blond hair that Californians seem to be born with. He was a practical joker and made all of the kids laugh. But she hadn't had a crush on him like her girlfriends all did. She said he was funny, and he was cute, but he wasn't smart and to her smart was important.

So he had studied hard and made sure his grades were always good. 

In high school he was going to take French for his foreign language, but she said that she was taking Spanish because she wanted to travel in her 20s and more places spoke Spanish than French. She also wanted to do humanitarian work in Mexico in her gap year and so Spanish made more sense than any other language. 

So he became fluent in Spanish. 

Thinking about high school reminded him of how gorgeous she looked at prom. He remembered seeing her that day and thinking that the only time she would ever be more lovely was on their wedding day. They had gone to prom with a large group of friends. Renting out a stretch limo and pretending to be wealthy scions of society. Trying on accents that they thought made them sound rich. James said something in French and the girls all swooned. Or at least almost all of the girls. 

After graduation he had told her he was going to spend a year volunteering with Doctors Without Borders. They had advertised for interpreters who could stay in an area for a few months working with the population, answering questions, helping them get the care they needed. She had actually clapped her hands when she heard the news. "I am so PROUD of you!" He had held that sentence like a beacon in his heart. She had decided to save her gap year for after college.

They wrote to each other that entire year. He told her all about the people he was seeing. The differences that were being made. How he was thinking about medical school. About how his formal Spanish was helpful, but he was learning the regional language was very different. She told him about college. About the weather. How the classes were harder than she had thought they would be. How her roommates were only interested in parties. Then about the sorority she was pledging because she had heard that those connections would help her professionally for years. She was always thinking of the future.

So was he. 

When he came home that summer they met at the playground. She was sitting in her favorite swing. He had brought her presents from a market in Mexico. They had talked all afternoon. She had already been in the sun enough that she had a sprinkle of freckles across her nose. She had 9 freckles. Four on one side and five on the other. She always had. He thought of them as the sign of summer. They came out in June and wouldn't start to fade until October. Just seeing them made him think of watermelon and pool parties. 

That Fall she gave him a tour of her sorority house. Via Skype. He was going to school in another city with a better pre-med program. It had been a hard decision, but he knew it was the right one. He would do his undergrad studies while she finished her degree, he was confident he could finish in three years, then she would take her gap year while he got settled in med school. She could start work while he finished school, or get her Masters at the same time. He had the money and scholarships to pay for his school and so any student debt she had they could manage as soon as he started practicing. They could travel like she had always wanted. Especially with the volunteer work he planned to continue.

He was confident. She had taught him what was important and he had agreed.

He looked away from her for a moment to take in the congregation. So many familiar faces reflecting her joy back at her as she walked up that aisle. He recognized many of her sorority sisters, some there with their own husbands in tow. There were many friends of theirs from high school as well. James caught his eye and winked. He smiled back, he hadn't been sure he was going to make it in for the wedding. James had his wife by his side. He had met her at USC and they had married right after graduation. Already the parents of two little cherubs with that floppy blond Californian hair. 

The minister began to speak, "Marriage is a blessing. How more fully blessed is the couple that has the support of their family and friends as they begin their new life. Who has the honor of presenting this woman to this man as they begin their journey together?" He watched as the tear formed in the corner of her father's eye. "Her mother and I, on behalf of all of those gathered here today, and those who could not be here with us to celebrate this joyous day do."

It was just like he had always imagined the wedding would be. 

Except he had always thought the marriage would be to him. 

Intentionally Goalless...

So a few months ago I made the decision that 2020 was going to be the year I really did it. No goals.

And of course as soon as I decided a little part of me started to panic a bit. And another part of me started to fill in "these aren't goals, merely suggestions with timelines" and then the part that originally decided was all, "Shh! I told you! No goals!" said like Edna says "No capes!" which then amused the part of me that never made it past 7 and started to imagine a goal cape you could swish around when you completed a task...

I tell you, it's very busy up in here.

Anyway...

I'm still in the no goals mindset. And I know that part of the reason is because the last few months I've been very much meh about finishing out 2019 goals. I just don't really have my motivation for them. And I know and I get it, it's because of Mom dying and that has thrown a monkey wrench into my pond of self, BUT...it's still a thing that happened. But to be fair the no goals thing was bouncing around in there with all of the other mixed metaphors before that happened.

AGAIN ANYWAY...

Last month while in the throws of the no goals mindset I bought my calendar for 2020. Yeah, not going to do stars and goals but I still need space to write down my to do lists because cleaning the bathroom or running an errand that needs done doesn't really count as a goal, but it's a must do thing and I like having a written space. I remember things more if I write them down. I can put a reminder in my calendar on the phone (and often do both) but writing it down just sticks a little more.

SO ANYWAY....

I bought my 2020 calendar and somehow instead of a smaller one than I had I bought a HUGE thing. It's got all of this space for writing down detailed plans and checklists and timelogs and what the hell was I thinking? This is much more than I have now and I am running 8 goal checklists a month! What? I'm going to need to find a different calendar that is smaller and more in line with my no goals year.

But...

I keep looking at this monster thing. It has cool quotes and spaces for notes and a place to write down daily gratitude and space for reflection on the day. And...

Well...

Okay.

So.

Apparently my no goals year is all well and good but my subconscious is not super comfortable with an aimless year. Which I am down with. Not the aimlessness, but the not being aimless. I can tend towards sloth if I'm not careful. Even if I am careful I have to budget sloth time in or I feel cheated. But I could see sliding into sweatpant wearing, bon bon eating, six months of the year is gone and what...pretty easily. Especially with the grief nips all around the edges.

And really, I mean it, I'm fine. Mostly. I am not wallowing. I am not catastrophically sad. I was ready and prepared as much as I could be and I would say that 80-90% of the time I am perfectly fine. But what I don't want to happen is to merge grief and a small depressive swing and end up reliving 2015-2016. That would be no bueno.

SO ANYWAY....

What I'm getting to is that 2020 will be the year of living with strong intentionality. No goals, no end game in mind, but not drifting. The weekly and daily plans will be just that, what needs done today? This week? This month? And then really paying attention to those things. When I am doing them, I am really there, doing them. Not thinking, oh okay, after this blog I need to write 16 more (just as a random example).

Intentionality.

That's the theme for 2020.

That and #BlueNoMatterWho  ;-)

What Are You Going to Do?

I don't tan. I burn if I'm in the sun for any amount of time at all. The best I can do is a light beige by the end of the summer, if I'm outside almost every day. I wear a sunblock. Not a suntan lotion, or a sunscreen, a block. YOU SHALL NOT PASS! Block.

I get ill in the heat and humidity. Like sick to my stomach, pounding headache, can't do anything, ill.

I get seasick. Doesn't matter how choppy or not choppy the water is, if I don't take precautions I get sick. And then I'm down for the rest of the day. It's big time sick, not a little queasy and done. But heaving over the side of the boat, then to bed for the day. Out.

I tend to get Mal de Débarquement Syndrome. That's a fancy name for extended sea legs. If we go on a long sailing trip (long being anything over a couple of hours) I have that the boat is rocking feeling for a long time after. As in we went out on Monday and I still have it today. After our Alaska cruise I want to say it was almost a month before it was completely gone. Bedspins without the alcohol sort of thing.

I'm super not graceful. Any sort of physical activity is going to leave me covered in bruises. Some I know how I got (I have three in a row on my leg from the ladder on to the boat where the wave came when I was still half on), more that I have no clue (the dark, almost black one that Brent pointed out on my leg that I would have missed otherwise).

Each and every time shopping for and finding a bathing suit that fits is an exercise in humility, and settling for good enough, and remember when you used to be hot (even though, honestly, suits didn't fit back then either).  Followed by the actual wearing of it which turns into a tug, tug, shift, tighten, loosen, tug, fidget experience of making sure my bits are covered and nothing is floating away (suit or bits).

I am absolutely not made for tropical beaches.

And yet...

I love to sit on the beach and listen to the waves crash on the shore. I love to watch the roll and break and wash of the water as it comes in and then goes back out. I love the hiss of the water as it hits and as it goes back out to sea. I love the smell of the salt in the air and the feel of the mist on my face. I even love watching from a balcony above the surf, just sitting out on the lanai with a book and looking up every few pages to watch the waves is a perfect afternoon.

There is a popping clicking noise that you hear underwater swimming over a coral reef. It's the fish chomping at the coral. clickclickclickclick There is almost nothing that makes my heart feel as full as that first moment I hear that.

Except the sound of a humpback singing. Listening to a hydrophone pick it up makes my eyes tear up each and every time. Being in the water and feeling the vibration of the song in my chest? I don't have a word for that feeling. And I have a lot of words.

Swimming out in the ocean with Brent and each of us pointing out things so we don't miss the cool things. The manta ray eating breakfast, the eel swimming after the school of fish looking like an old man chasing them off of his coral cave, the sleeping honu, the swimming honu, the blue fish, the green fish, the rainbow fish...everything is the cool thing. And we are just out there looking at it. And pointing.

Stepping off of the plane in Hawaii it feels like Brent and I shed a coat, no matter what the weather is, a heavy coat and we are just lighter there. Part of it is that it's vacation, sure. And it's actual vacation not Intel vacation. But it's just different. Like the salt water is buoyant so it holds us up with less gravity.

We talk about retiring there. I picture a life eating fresh fruit and swimming almost every day.

But then I wonder how long you have to be there before it just is normal? When we went to Oahu we were stuck in traffic going from Pearl Harbor to Waikiki and wondered how quickly it would change from "Sure you're stuck in traffic, but you're stuck in traffic in Hawaii" to "I'M STUCK IN TRAFFIC AGAIN!!" A few years ago on Kauai we were there for a week and it rained almost the whole time. Almost everything we planned got cancelled. Flash floods, high surf, trails washed out. And we still had a great time. It was still Hawaii. We found other things to do. Including one of the things I recommend to EVERYONE who goes to Kauai. (Lydgate Farms) But how long would that last?

I know I experience it here. Every once in awhile I am startled by how beautiful it is. I notice again. Fall is gorgeous. Spring is breathtaking. But summer and winter are awfully lovely as well. But on the day to day? It fades into the background. It's just where we live. If I'm not showing it off to someone it's just...well...home.

Where I can wear my sweaters and my boots. And the weather rarely gets too hot. And we have access to concerts and plays and sports. And beautiful hikes and a gorgeous coastline.

And a direct flight to Hawaii.

Because Oregon might be home, and I might be built for the PNW, but I've always been contrary and no matter how much I'm not made for Hawaii I think I should be.

What are you going to do?

All By Myself...

"He once tried to justify cheating on me by saying I had left him."

"Wait, that seems like a valid reason to me. It wouldn't even be cheating at that point it would be..."

"I left him to go to work! Like literally I was gone for 8 hours at work!"

"Oh no!"

With that the whole table started laughing. Nobody was going to be able to top Jenny's worst boyfriend ever story. No one ever could. And the horrible thing was she could win this every time without ever repeating bad boyfriend stories. She had just had the worst luck ever when it came to men.

"At least you can laugh now right?"

"Sure, I laugh now because once I gave up it all seemed very funny to me that it had ever really mattered."

"You gave up? What do you mean you gave up?"

"I don't date anymore. I haven't had a date in five, I think five years. Let me see, the last date was for Em's Halloween party up at Mt. Hood. Was that five years ago?"

"Yeah, that's about right. She and Mark just celebrated their fourth anniversary and that was the party where they met so that seems right. What was so monumental that that was where you called it quits?"

"You just said it."

"What?"

"Mark was MY date!"

"Oh god...that's right! I'm so sorry! I totally forgot that!"

"It's fine really. It was only our second date, we weren't a serious couple or anything and as soon as he and Em saw each other it was clear that was that. I feel worse for the guy Em had been dating. I mean they had been going out for months. He had no idea what happened. I was used to disaster by then."

"But to completely give up?"

"Yep. It's clear that I am not meant to be part of a couple. There is something wrong with me."

"No...you are...."

Jenny laughed and shook her head, "No, don't try to jolly me out of it. I mean it. Something in my psyche around relationships is just broken. I have a bad picker. A monumentally bad picker. I can find the neurotic, the asshole, the co-dependent, the mommy's boy, the emotionally unavailable, you name it, if there a relationship breaker I've found it. If it were just one thing I would say, okay, I have a tendency to find X problem so I need to fix that in me but it's not one issue, it's relationships as a whole. I have found too many new and unique ways to make bad matches and I'm done."

"Have you ever had a good relationship?"

Jenny thought for a moment. "One."

"One?"

"Yes, one. There was a guy in high school. He was great. Really smart, really cute. Interesting. We had a lot in common. We had a great time together."

"And what happened?"

"I broke up with him. Dumped him for a popular jock."

"Ouch."

"Yep. Broke his heart I guess. He pined for me for months, trying to find out what he had done wrong. I told him he just wasn't what I thought I wanted. He wasn't cool enough for me. Ended up killing himself on lover's leap."

Everyone was silent.

"His mother was a gypsy and put a curse on me that day. I was never to find true happiness again. If his soul was restless mine would be unloved." Jenny looked around the table and then smirked. "No. That never happened. I have never had a decent boyfriend. Not even my imaginary high school boyfriends were any good."

"Bitch. I believed you!"

Jenny shrugged and they all laughed.

They wrapped it up soon after that. Jenny walked to the bar to close out their tab. "Did you win again?" The bartender asked.

"Always. Nobody can top my 'he's the worst' stories."

"Someday you and I will have to play head to head. I have a lot of 'she can't really be that bad' ones myself."

Jenny laughed. "You're on. Name the time and the place and we will have a relationship off."

They lingered chatting while the bill was tallied. Making elaborate plans for their big bad date-a-thon. Both of them thinking maybe there was something else there. Maybe what they each needed was someone who had just as bad of luck. Maybe broken pickers were meant for each other.

But then both deciding they liked each other too much to ever risk finding out what was wrong with the other.

Besides there is no way someone would want to take a chance on someone as broken at they were.

Cycles...

"How was your day?"

That's the standard question when I pick up Brent from work. He always asks me how my day was. It's really nice. I generally feel a little badly because I don't have anything really cool to tell him. My day is some combination of chores, writing, reading, maybe visiting with a friend but pretty much the same sort of day. Don't get me wrong, I'm perfectly content with my days but I do wish I had something unusual to tell him.

But last week I picked him up and he asked and I told him, "Not good." And it hadn't been a good day. He, of course, wanted to know why and when I told him, "I just wasn't happy today. It was a not happy day" that made him really concerned. I am baseline happy. Most of the time I am happy. I am a happy person. I can find things to be happy about in the oddest of situations. Genetically I am predisposed to happiness and I also choose happiness whenever I can. So to not be happy is worrisome for him.

I told him it was just the first year. The first year is the hardest.

Which relieved him.

Not that I was sad about my mother dying, but that it was a perfectly normal thing to be sad about.

First years are the hardest.

Grief is difficult. It's a thing we carry with us forever when we lose someone. But in that first year it is still floating at the top of the cup. It hasn't settled down into it's permanent place yet. It sneaks up on you. This past week was a slow sneak into a full on bum rush.

Good reasons and bad.

One of the good ones was that my niece sent me a lovely note thanking me for something I did at Mom's service. Some of you might remember I had to apologize to her after Dad's service for being an absolute bitch so the thank you made me feel like I hadn't fucked it up again. Grief is a valid reason for not acting like yourself, but it's still a miserable excuse for hurting someone else who is grieving along with you. This time I didn't. Whew.

Another reason was this book I started reading. I talked about it on Facebook. It was a really good book. I'm really glad I read it. But...(spoiler alert if you are going to read Maybe You Should Talk to Someone you might want to skip ahead)...I'll wait.

Spoiler section: 

So, it's a book about a therapist and one of her patients is dying. She has cancer. Now, she's very young, it's not the type of cancer Mom had, it's completely different. But...it's the same. Cancer is like grief. It's always different, it's always the same. So anytime she would touch on this woman's story and sessions it was rough. There are other really rough sections as well. You are basically in therapy with four different people and it's brilliant and...anyway...it was rough. I cried a lot. Then today...

Well, I thought it was bad until today. Today we reached the end of her life. She was tired of being sick. Tired of dying. So she stopped eating. Yep. Just like Mom. I had to put my Kindle down, take my glasses off, and just sob. I haven't cried that hard since I got the first call from Susan that Mom had decided to die. It was the type where you hurt afterward, physically hurt, because it's such a wrenching sob.

It was beautiful though. The book, the end, the choice. It was all really beautiful. But man it hurt.

END OF SPOILER SECTION!

Right after Mom died there was an ad in my feed for a Christmas ornament. It's a sparkly owl. It was just so Mom that it took my breath away a little. I tried to find it last week and couldn't and then it popped back up in my feed and I realized I had been looking at the wrong company. So I ordered it. It came yesterday and I haven't been able to open the box yet. I know what's in it. I know that I am going to love it. I know that I really wanted it. But I can't. Not yet. Maybe tomorrow. Or next week.

So yeah, the first year is the hardest. It's all still really fresh. You haven't figured out just yet how you are going to deal with it on the daily. You have really long stretches of just fine followed by not at all fine. This has been a not at all fine week.

It's all part of the cycle of grief. Perfectly normal. Perfectly fine. Then really hard sometimes.

For three months since I got the Mom's dying call I think it's all as good as it can be.

The first year just sucks.