How Does Your Garden Grow?

She stood on the sidewalk looking at the rocks in the yard.

The owner of the house had come out to ask her if she needed anything.

She was just looking at the rocks.

They proceeded to tell her all about how they had hired a landscape design company that specialized in xeriscaping. They pointed out the fake dry creek made with darker rocks that ran through all of the other lighter rocks. They told her all about the different types of rocks they had used. 

They talked about how much easier it was to take care of. How much they saved on water bills. 

Why she would be shocked at the way the yard used to look. The people that had owned the house had a massive flower garden. Drip irrigation. Timers set to make sure each flower and grass got exactly the water it needed. Rain gauges. Fertilization schedules. It was ridiculous!  

And besides all that they were allergic to flowers so this was better there as well. 

She mumbled something about the cost. 

Oh sure, it was expensive to tear everything out and replace it but they had gotten such a good deal on the house they felt it was worth it. Seems the previous owners had a nasty divorce and unloaded the house just to get rid of the shared asset. 

She had nodded. 

They told her she could take pictures if she wanted. They didn't mind at all. A lot of people were interested in xeriscaping now and if they could help spread the message they would. 

She nodded again. 

The new owners finally left her to stare at the rocks. 

She remembered the day they planted the first flowers. How they had dreamt of a yard full of life and color. How much joy it would bring her every time she looked out her window or pulled up to her drive.

Now they were gone and a dry creek made out of rocks was all that was left. 

She turned and walked away. 

Aged Out...

I went by our old house today. I wanted to see if the seeds that fell from my Morning Glories last year had grown this year. They hadn't. It made me think that there was no mark left now of us living there. Which made me glad and sad at the same time.

And it's fitting for this week's theme. 

I am always torn between feeling like I should do something to make a mark on this world and taking great comfort in the fact that I am an insignificant piece of dust in the grand scheme of things.

When I was younger I often leaned toward the "I should do something" mark. But it was always "I should" not "I want to" which I think most of the people who do major things that we all remember or are changed because of fall into the "I want to "category. Because you really need to be driven to do that. You can make a difference for a few people just by being kind or helpful or generous but that's not the same as those people who are really driven to DO SOMETHING, MAKE A MARK, BE REMEMBERED!

I don't expect to be remembered past one, maybe two generations. 

And I really do like that. 

It brings me a lot of comfort to not matter in the grand scheme of things. I mean, don't get me wrong, and please don't think this is some sort of "pay attention to me" whine. I know that I deeply matter to a handful of people. But in the big picture I am not that significant. And I like that. 

When I came back to work for the advertising agency after being gone for a few years I kept a picture next to my desk. It was from a pitch they did while I was living in Colorado. Everyone who worked in the agency was in the picture. A "we are all here for you" thing. I wasn't in the picture. I kept it by my desk because I wasn't in that picture. I wasn't there and the agency was just fine without me. It kept me from thinking I was indispensable. It reminded me that I wasn't my job and they would all be fine if I left. It wasn't my responsibility to keep the place afloat by working too many hours and putting too much of myself into the place.

I took great comfort in knowing that I was not that important. Because sometimes we get really wrapped up in thinking that what we are doing is so important that if we don't do it the world will collapse and it will all be our fault so we really need to keep working even though we are sick or tired or really would rather be hanging out with our families eating bon bons.

It was a good reminder that I was a speck of dust in the universe.

Now, when I left the agency the second time they went bankrupt within a year and the whole thing collapsed but that's not my fault. (it really wasn't, but it's kind of funny to add on there after talking about how they were fine without me)

When I was younger I thought I wanted to write books. Like hold them in my hands physical books. And I would try, over and over again, to get that done. I would force myself to do outlines and take seminars and do NaNoWriMo and...then I realized that I really like to write. I love when you all give me feedback on my writing, especially when you like my fiction. I REALLY like that. But, I don't need to publish. I don't need to have a book to show for it. In fact I really don't want to have to work like that. This was a recent discovery. Because I knew that if you were a writer what you really wanted was to be published. But that's not my dream. What I want is to be read. What I want is to talk to people about ideas I post in these rambling blogs and entertain them with the fiction posts. And I get that with my blog. 

Now, maybe someday I'll change my mind again and think I want to be published, but for now at least, I know that what I like is writing. I don't need to make a bigger mark than that. I don't need something that will be around after I'm gone.

Being a speck of dust in the universe takes the pressure off. It frees you up to live your life without as much worry. Yes, I'm going to fuck up sometimes, but that's okay. In the grand scheme of things it's not even a blip on the timeline. I'm just not that important. It's like the comfort I take from the fact that there is no afterlife. I don't have to worry about eternity after I die any more than I am aware of anything that happened before I was born. I'm a blip. And I'm really happy with that.

....

One last small bit about aging since this will be the last July blog. August was for a few years my celebration all month Birthday Month which turned into Cake and Compliments Month. I tried really hard last year to recapture that feeling. That joyful bounce of ending and starting a new year. But I can't eat the cake anymore and I hope that one of the things you've taken from being my friend or being my reader is that you should always give the compliment no matter what month it is so there is no need for Cake and Compliments Month.

But honestly it's mostly that I can't shake that feeling of August being the month my mother spent weeks dying. 

I don't know how long it will take or if that feeling will ever fade. 

Birthday Month rebranded into Cake and Compliments Month had a good 15 year run but I'm putting it aside. I'm okay with that. I really am. 

Part of this aging thing is that I do my best to accept people where they are. And that includes me. And where I am is August is kind of a melancholy month for now. It sort of fits with the heat and the end of summer sluggishness anyway. It's okay to feel your feels. Even for insignificant pieces of cosmic dust like myself. 

Age Before Beauty...

"You look good for your age."

I hear that a lot. 

And what it translates to is "You look younger than you are."

And I do. Genetics. My parents both looked younger than they were for their entire lives. I started hearing it in my 30s and it really took off in my 40s. Which lets me know that the only really acceptable age is somewhere in your 20s.

Or at least that's our timeline for what we consider beautiful. Once you hit your 30s and 40s and 50s and beyond you no longer look good, you look good for your age. 

Which is nonsense.

I have so many gorgeous friends who are my age and older. And none of them look like they are in their 20s. More than a few have embraced their gray hair after the pandemic sort of forced it on them. We all have skin that looks a little more lived in. A few wrinkles around the eyes, some lines on the forehead. And I'm going to tell you right now that one of the things I used to love about my mother's looks was her skin. And now, as I age and I see it happening, I see that the thing I like about it was her aging. Her cheeks always looked soft to me. Not just like silky smooth skin soft, but like they would be like feather pillows. Like marshmallow fluff. Like clouds.

When you are younger your skin is tight. Those collagen bonds are firm. Super good structure. As you age that all sort of lets good. Cosmetic companies and plastic surgeons will let us know they can fix our jowls for us. But man, I used to love the soft look to my mother's face. 

I'd like to translate that to love for my own. But I hear and see the ads I've watched all my life. I hear and see the "you look good for your age" comments. I hear and see that feeling that I'm not getting better, I'm getting older. 

Which is such bullshit. 

I mean I look good. 

Period. 

I look good because the crinkles around my eyes match my smile. Full face smile. Even in a mask people can tell I'm smiling at them.

I look good because I know who I am. 

That's huge. And that's something that comes with age, not in spite of it. 

Very few of us are blessed with confidence in our 20s. We don't hit that full stride until we start sloughing off some of the bits that aren't us that I talked about. As we crystalize into ourselves a little more. You have to know who you are before you can be comfortable with it. 

I will never get tired of being told I look young. But part of that is that I want to disrupt what people think of when they think of aging. What did you think 53 looked like that you think I don't match? Because I am 53 so clearly this is what it looks like. I want people to rethink their beliefs. 

All of the time about everything. 

This just adds to it. 

My friends who are in their 50s look good because they are who they always wanted to be, and if they aren't they have figured out that they didn't really want to be that person after all. 

We look good.

Our age isn't a hindrance it's a bonus. 

Maybe we should start telling 20 year olds that they look good for their age. That we can't wait to see what they mature into. How great they will eventually be. 

Nah...at 20 most of us couldn't have heard that without spiraling into waves of self doubt. 

So yes, I look good for my age. I look good for your age. I look good. 

And so do you.

Aged to Perfection...

I have a theory that as you age you don't really change, you just become a more distilled version of yourself.

That you are basically who you are your whole life, and you try at different points in time to maybe soften the edges, or present a little differently but as you get older all of the parts that aren't really you just sort of slough off until you are the most basic crystalline pure version of yourself.

You hear people talk about it when they hit their 40s. The relief they feel when they stop giving so many fucks about what other people think of them. And that just carries forward. If you think you don't care at 40 wait until 50, and I've been told 70 is pure no fucks to give gold.

Part of what can happen though is you start to be sure you are always right. That your way of thinking is the correct one. That you have nothing left to learn, just an abundance of advice to dole out. 

Looking at my "on this day" feed always gives me examples of that. 

I tend to do things my own way. I march to beat of my own xylophone player. Over the years I have received a lot of comments from mostly older men, not always but typically, that I should do something else. That I need to get a life, a hobby, a job. Basically stop doing what ever it is that I'm doing and do what they think I should be doing. 

When I was younger that sort of thing could send me into an existential crisis. Am I not doing what I should be doing? What should I actually be doing? Why isn't what I'm doing an okay thing to do? What is wrong with me? As I aged my responses changed to telling them they could get a life, hobby or job but I was fine with what I was doing. Thanks and ta. 

I also tend to have a very colorful (blue is a color) vocabulary and I have received a lot of comments from women, not always women but typically women, that are tone policing me. Don't say that. Don't use those words. I won't engage with a potty mouth. How very dare you...Basically don't talk the way you talk because I don't like it. 

When I was younger, much younger, I might apologize for offensive language. But the weak apology, "Sorry that offended you" not actually being sorry for what I did, but that they were offended. When I got a little older I stopped apologizing. I would let them know if they couldn't get past the language to the actual message then I was not the person they should be having a conversation with. 

Both of those things are ways people shut down discussion and conversation. The "I know best and don't approve of what you are doing" messages. Just presented in different ways. Older people locking into the "in my day we..." and never moving past it. In my day women didn't swear and they sure as hell didn't color in coloring books or play online games or jump in rain puddles! And because I don't think those things should happen I will loudly tell you that you shouldn't do them and act like it's wisdom from above. 

Now, I'm not saying you have to get rigid and never learn anything new once you get older, but that does happen. Not always though.

For me, for instance, a huge part of who I am, is questioning things. Why? Why is that like that? How? How does that work? What? What can I do to make things better or easier? That hasn't changed at all. In fact I think I've gotten more inquisitive. The more I learn the more I know I don't know. 

As I've gotten older I've become more and more me, and more and more comfortable with the idea that I don't have all of the answers. What I do know I feel like I really know, right up until I read something, or have a discussion with someone, or watch a documentary that upends it all. I am super comfortable being in a state of constant learning. And exclaiming things like "Holy shit! I didn't know that!" when I do learn something new. Just pure crystalized me. 

I'm also really aware of the aging people around me and what they are crystalizing into. And some of it isn't pretty. Calcified shit is the worst shit. 

Now I just have to find out why this happens, what is going on in our heads, and how we can stop being so rigid in our thinking.

The Age Old Question...

I touched on it briefly yesterday but going to talk more about it today.  It's been quite the eventful uneventful health year. 

Brent and I are normally really healthy so we have a high deductible plan for insurance. (my overseas readers hold on for a second and I'll try and explain what that means) He doesn't have a monthly amount taken from his paycheck to cover medical, the plan charges as you use it basically. Preventative care is covered, think annual wellness exams and flu shots, and anything else we pay for it out of pocket until our limit is reached, then insurance picks up the rest of the year at like 80%.

We still get the negotiated discounts from Blue Cross, but pay the balance instead of just a $20 co-pay.

Normally this is a good deal. Sometimes there are exceptions. The year Katie broke her ankle we hit our deductible by March, for instance, but most years we don't come anywhere close to hitting that mark.

This year, depending on what Dr. Rask says tomorrow, we might sail past it. And if I were a betting person I'd say I will have a battery of tests tomorrow and discover that my quick Dr. Google search Thursday was right and it's tendonitis.(De Quervain's tendinosis to be specific) Because that is the way the year has gone.

Something odd comes up (vaginal bleeding, a lump on my leg, wrist pain) I get a full medical work-up with the "this could be nothing, or it could be significant" talk to find that yeah, it was nothing. But because of my age I can't just let things slide.

What a bitch that is.

And it really is age related. Things that aren't a big deal when you are younger become issues as you age. Sometimes it's just things don't happen to your body when you are younger that do happen when you age. Skin bumps and tags and raised areas. Most of them are no big deal. When you are younger you don't get the proliferation of them that show up when you are older. (full disclosure, I had three biopsies done before my mid-40s, one was precancerous so I am absolutely not advocating for ignoring any odd skin coloration or bumps!) I have so many spots, raised areas, odd texture spots and what the hell is that now places on my skin and it seems like I get a new one every few months. Usually at my every other year full body scan I get the hand wave, looks good dismissed. This year I could have as well but I had a spot on my leg that was in just the wrong place. It was constantly aggravated. 

My dermatologist was pretty sure it was nothing, but spots that don't heal are an issue. So was it not healing because of where it was located so it was always sore, or was it always sore and that's why it was so noticeable?  The biopsy came back that it wasn't a big deal. Just doctor cost, extraction cost, lab cost.

Pretty much the same as when I had the random bleeding in February. Initial doctor visit, specialist doctor, biopsy, lab, ultrasound. It's nothing, your uterus is just old and shriveling up. It's normal. 

 It's frustrating.

I mean, I can logic it out and say,  it's better to know for sure. Both of those things were nothing but if they had been something the leading contender was cancer so it's for sure best to know. But...

It's a hard adjustment. This new/older body. I've done a lot to make sure it is healthy and lasts for another 46 years. But I can't stop the age thing. I can't make it revert back to the easy bounce back from injury and illness 30 year old body. I can't banish the arthritis (hello new house) or the loss in muscle tone or the loss in flexibility. I can just keep doing what I'm doing to hold things in check.

And sometimes that means expensive doctor's visits. And starting to think about health insurance and is this the year we have to go to a more expensive plan and start assuming we will be doing more visits?

And the final question...

Why does this happen?

Remember when we were younger and we'd mock our parents and grandparents for reaching that point where conversations seemed to revolve around their health issues? How we swore that would never be us? And now it is? Ugh, of all the things that make me feel old lately that could be the number one thing!

So a week on the theme of age. I think this was the best place to start. And maybe finish. And maybe a blog in-between as well. I mean this heat...it's so hard to deal with, makes my joints so sore doncha know...

Wisdom for the Ages...

I had my annual wellness check today. When I got home Brent asked how it went. I said fine, that I'm in really good health. He laughed at that..."says the woman in the wrist brace elevating her arm."

Okay, sure, except for my four fastest ships...

And in a way it is crazy for me to talk about being really healthy in a year where I've spent literal thousands at various doctors. I've been examined, biopsied, ultrasounded, blood tested, x-rayed...but all of the tests and scans have come back fine. Dr. McCormack even let me know today that there is a chance when I see my orthopedic doctor on Wednesday he is going to say that it was a false positive read on the x-ray and I don't have a bone chip.

I'm pretty healthy overall.

So why the giant jump in medical costs?

Because I'm old.

And that's this week's theme.

Aging.

Won't that be fun, kids?

Faulty 400...

Well, that was fun. Five super short 400-word fiction pieces and all of them dealing with fault. That wasn't part of the original theme but when I started the second story and realized it was also about fault, I knew I had a secondary theme going.

Trying to decide on a theme for next week now to wrap this month up. Typing one handed right now so the theme might be "typos, and how to ignore them."

It is seriously a challenge to do the hunt and peck with one hand. I am used to watching the screen when I write. Sort of write and read to establish my flow, but right now there is no flow. It's stare at the keyboard and type for a bit, then look up at the screen and correct all of the mistakes, then go back to typing.

They say that doing routine tasks in new ways helps build new neural pathways which helps to stave off dementia so I'm trying to take this as a positive. It's also a challenge to focus on other things while the wrist pain is distracting and the steroids they gave me are making me a little scattered as well. But at least the steroids are only for a few days.

Though I have to say the wrist thing kind of fits the fault theme. There is a fault in my wrist right now. There is a fault in my pain response that somehow I broke a bone in there and have no clue as to when or how. I mean hitting your wrist hard enough to break it should be memorable, shouldn't it?

I'm torn between making up a good story on how I broke it and just telling people the truth and seeing how they react. Though thinking about it, it is the thumb I had the nerve damage from the bee that tried to kill me so maybe I just thought I had all the feeling back and it is still numb underneath. Though we know it's not numb because the pain is what sent me to urgentish care. Dangit, theory busted before it even got a chance to take hold.

Any ideas for a wrap up theme? Something I could get five more pieces out of? 

And this sentence is just filler to get this wrap up to 400 words, because it amuses me.

Contagious...

 "It's your fault."

"Mom, honestly, we covered this. It's nobody's fault."

"Not your divorce. What I've done. You made me think about being happy and what I needed to do to get some happy back."

"What? You aren't leaving Dad?"

"Oh don't be silly. I don't have the time or the patience to teach another man how to be a good lover."

"Mother!"

"What? Your mother has orgasms, deal with it. Your father is an excellent lover but it took a lot of coaching to get him there."

"I don't want to hear this!"

"Even putting aside his considerable skills in the bedroom, he's a lovely man. And aren't you the one who said divorce wasn't like the flu?"

"It's not contagious, but you said this was my fault so what have you done?"

"What have you done; so dramatic."

 "You are enjoying this aren't you?"

"Maybe a little."

"Okay, let's start again. What is my fault?"

"Me realizing that I did focus entirely too much on being a wife and mother and not at all on what I needed."

"Oh. Okay."

"And I'm going to do something about it. I can't change the past but I can start now doing something just because it makes me happy."

"That's great, Mom."

.....

"This is all your fault."

"Dad? Hello to you too."

"Hello. Did you want to explain yourself?"

"I'm not sure what I've done."

"Your mother is carrying on about finding something to make her happy. I thought I made her happy!"

"Oh trust me, you do."

"Then why is she saying that you made her realize she wasn't happy? Is this about your divorce? Is she planning on divorcing me? They say those things are contagious you know."

"No, Dad, she's very happy with you. We just talked about how she should find something for herself. Like music or teaching, the things she liked to do before she married you and had children."

"You suggested music or teaching?"

"I did. What did she choose?"

"Skydiving."

"Skydiving?"

"Yes. And she wants me to do it with her!"

"Really?"

"Yes, she says it would be bonding and that it would make her happy and that you said being happy was the most important thing. It's not you know, people who are happy all the time are pathological."

"I've heard that before."

"This is all your fault."

"I've heard that too."

D-I-V-O-R-C-E

"It has to be someone's fault."

"It doesn't. It's even right there in the name, No Fault Divorce."

"If nobody is at fault why get divorced?"

"I'm just not happy."

"Oh, your generation and your need to be happy! Whoever told you that happy is the goal?"

"Literally you and the parents of every friend I ever had. You all said, 'I don't care what they do as long as they are happy.'

"Well we obviously didn't mean it!"

"What?"

"Not all the time, anyway. Nobody is happy all the time, that's just pathological."

"I don't need all of the time. Just more of it than I have now."

"But you took vows."

"Yes, and one of those was that we would try to make each other happy. We aren't doing that anymore so it's time to make a change."

"But we don't get divorced in this family."

"Well, we aren't getting divorced, Mom, I am."

"I just, I mean...what do you think would have happened if I had left when I wasn't happy?"

"I imagine you would have found things that made you happy."

"You made me happy!"

"I'm not saying that being a mother didn't make you happy. It just didn't make you happy all the time, I mean that would have been pathological."

"Don't get smart."

"A little too late for that. But honestly? If you had left to find your own happiness; I would imagine you would have maybe gone back into music or teaching. Things you did before Dad. Before you were married. Before you had kids. Even not leaving I think you should have focused a little more on you than on us. "

"Impossible. I mean, you might have been okay, but your brother certainly wouldn't have."

"My brother is a spoiled and inconsiderate ass so maybe it would have done him some good."

"Oh! You don't think they will get divorced too?"

"What? Why?"

"All of the ladies' magazines always said that if you have friends who get divorced you should stop seeing them because divorce can be contagious."

"Wait, the advice from the magazine was if your friends are going through something hard you should shun them incase divorce is like the flu?"

"When you say it like that it sounds awful."

"Because it is awful!"

"Well, I won't shun you. Even if it's your fault. Is it your fault?"

"Mom..."

Work Place Accidents...

She really had thought the girl was ready to do more on her own. Clearly she had been wrong. Some important information had been skipped in her training. 

Like how to read a basic map. 

She should have done a few tests when she took over the mentorship. She definitely would now. There would be a battery of checks to see what all the girl had learned and had not learned with her first mentor. She also would never again make the mistake thinking that they all taught the same basic things to start. In fact she'd be sending in a suggestion to the head office for some benchmark requirements. Mistakes were meant to be learned from and she was learning a lot from this one.

But none of that was going to help her clean up this mess. As soon as she saw what was happening, she had thrown up a bunch of scaffolding to keep everything still. Now she was trying to figure out how to slowly move everything back into the right place without too much jostling. One slight wobble and it would all crash down. And this time she wouldn't be able to stop it. 

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

She took a deep breath. Again, this was as much on her shoulders as it was the girl's. If not more, actually. The girl hadn't known any better but she, she should have never let her work unsupervised. 

"No. What I'd like you to do right now is compare the map you used with the map I have laid out on that table. Then write down a few notes about what is different. What you can use to tell them apart from one another."

"I'm really sorry I..."

"I know. Don't apologize. Learn."

She watched the girl for a few moments until she recognized that moment of "aha" cross her face. The one where now that she knew exactly what was different, she would never again make that mistake. She knew she would make more mistakes, but never that one again. That was what learning was all about. 

After all, she herself would never again assume that an apprentice of hers knew to never ever lay out a spell using fault lines instead of ley lines. 

Now to make sure California didn't fall into the ocean a few hundred years ahead of schedule. 

Fault Lines...

"First off, I think we can all clearly state that it was not my fault. I think as soon as we are all really comfortable with that then it will be easier to get to the bottom of the situation."

"Ma'am, normally that's something we decide."

"Well, I know. But you weren't saying it and I felt like it should be said out loud, not just implied so everyone knew that it was not my fault."

"If you know it's something we usually say, and yet we are not saying it, don't you feel like that means something?"

"It could mean you might be new on the job, or under a lot of stress or just having a really bad day, I don't know, but I try to make sure and give grace to people when they forget the common niceties."

"That's very generous of you..."

"I know, right? People just forget to be decent to each other. Cut everyone some slack, right? So I'm not going to make a big deal out of you forgetting to say that it wasn't my fault and just make sure it's been said and we all agree and then we can move on like the friends we are."

"Friends?"

"Okay, maybe we aren't friends just yet, but I like to think that every new acquaintance is a future friend. So, friend, now that we know we are going to be friends and we know that it wasn't my fault, we can get to work."

"I'm not sure that we do know all of those things."

"Okay, maybe I am rushing it just a little on the friend part. You're right. People have told me in the past that I can come on a little strong, so how about we just table that piece for now? But trust me, I will bring it up in the future! I'll be all 'remember when you didn't know if we would end up friends?'"

"Ma'am, if we can get back to business here."

"Absolutely! So, we know it wasn't my fault what else do you need to know? But can I just hear you say it before we go on. Because it seems like you haven't said it yet, and it's starting to get harder to write it off to you having a bad day, you know? It just seems a little rude at this point."

"Ma'am..."

            

Next Question...

"Well it was the cat's fault. Wait, is that okay? To blame a cat? I mean it's not like he did it on purpose or anything and really he didn't do anything except get chased by the dog. Oh! Maybe it was the dog's fault?

I mean the cat never liked going in that room. Ever. Would roam all around the house but even walked wide around the doorway to that room. Like sort of hugged the opposite wall in the hallway. Didn't hiss or carry on, but just didn't ever go in or near to it at all.

Except when the dog chased him in there. 

So is it the cat's fault? Or is it the dog's fault?

I could say it was my fault, I guess, but I didn't know. And if you don't know how can you be blamed? 

I know they say that ignorance is no defense but that's just dumb. Of course it's a defense. If I don't know something is wrong how in the world am I supposed to realize I'm doing something wrong? Right? But I did sort of know something was wrong. I mean the whole thing with the cat. But I didn't really know what it was, because how could I?

So anyway, not the dog's fault, not the cat's fault, not my fault. Just one of those weird things that happens sometimes. The dog chases the cat into a room he never likes to go. The cat freezes inside the room and just starts yowling like crazy but doesn't leave the room. I get frustrated and yell, 'You don't have to stay in there you know! You can come out whenever you'd like!'

And that released the ghost that was trapped in the room and now he's wandering around the whole house just being a huge pain the ass. The dog and the cat have had to go stay with my mother. I can't keep fresh milk in the fridge, it spoils almost as soon as I get it in the house. I haven't had a good night's sleep in weeks. He keeps making the walls drip blood and yeah... it's a lot"

"Okay, well, let's not put all of that in the listing. We will just say 'Older home with a lot of character' and how about if anyone asks you are just looking for a change in scenery?"

Context Matters...

Okay, now that I've established that I am all for trigger warnings except in my own fiction, that I am a fan of Woke, PC, Liberal, Progressive, Consequences Culture let me make a post that makes it sound like I'm not.

I hate that liberals eat their own while Republicans hold their noses right up until they decide they actually like the smell.

You saw it with Trump. He molded the party into his own because Republicans will walk in step. Their whole belief is that any R is better than a D. Any. R. Even really horrific, morally bankrupt Rs. It's insane.

I don't want that for liberals. 

Except...

Look, it's a two party system right now. I'd rather it weren't. I'd like to get ranked choice voting in place so we had a better chance of getting a different batch of candidates in office. I'd love to see more progressive YOUNGER politicians get a shot at making a real difference. All of these things would be my ideal. 

But right now, what we have is a basic two party system and our options are often voting for the lesser of two evils. SO VOTE FOR LESS EVIL.

It makes me crazy to see people who have the same basic beliefs and same basic frame work tear each apart so badly that the clearly worst choice ends up in office. 

There are more people who identify as at least somewhat liberal than there are conservatives in our country. 

Every. single. poll. shows that people are in favor of more gun regulations and fewer health care bans. Every. single. poll. shows that people want to actually help those in need instead of criminalize being poor. (which is what a lot of the Republican "plans" to end houselessness are, just criminalizing it)

So how about we all try to be a little less...well self-important? Is that the word I'm looking for?

You know, the woke Olympics. The I'm more concerned than you are about the environment. I am more aware of issues than you. The instead of just saying "hey, did you know that you can take your batteries to Lowe's or Home Depot and they will recycle them so they don't end up in landfills" you say "YOU HATE THE ENVIRONMENT YOU MONSTER!" and of course your suggestion to go to Home Depot is met with "YOU CAN'T SHOP AT HOME DEPOT THEY CONTRIBUTE TO TRUMP!"

Lizzo had a lyric in a song recently that was met with "hey, did you know that's actually a hurtful word?" to which she responded, "no! I didn't!" and then changed the whole song with a new lyric. Which is a great story right? It's exactly how this sort of thing should be handled. But that first "hey, did you know?" message was then met with a ton of people piling on with not as helpful of responses. Instead of assuming that she didn't know, they assumed she did as was just being awful. Even though she had already addressed the issue, apologized and changed the song. 

That's the shit that drives me crazy.

People get to make mistakes. People get to learn from those mistakes. People get to change without being judged by their past mistakes. 

Who I am today was formed by who I was 30 years ago but who I was 30 years ago is not who I am today. And if you bring up something I did 30 years ago as a reason why I'm awful today that's a problem. 

And those are the times where you see cancel culture veer away from consequences culture into no context culture. You have to look at the time period, the normal acceptable language and attitudes of that time AND if the person you are looking at has changed and shifted beliefs.

The Republican party is the party that fought on the right side of history in the Civil War after all. Things change.

When someone on the left is more concerned with other people not being left enough or refusing to vote or work toward change because "both parties are just same" we lose. There, at times, might not be as much difference as I'd like between individuals or organizations, and I am pretty ticked off that Dems used Roe v. Wade as a fundraising tool and a get out the vote tool instead of codifying it into law (which to be perfectly fair, I'm not sure when they could have done it, maybe the very beginning of Obama's term?). But there is a huge difference between the parties. Especially now. (Caveat: I'm pretty sure Manchin is a republican in all by title and I'm not sure why he calls himself a democrat)

So stop fighting with each other over word choices and who has the most recent correct language and if the US is more racist than it ever has been or is less racist but still too racist. Stop taking your marbles and going home when things don't go exactly the way you think they should go.

When given the opportunity always go for less evil. 

AND STOP FUCKING THINKING THAT A LITTLE LESS WOKE IS EVIL!

Honestly...

It's fucking exhausting. 

I've Got Your Cancel Culture Right Here...

Liberal.
PC.
Woke.

These are all things I've been called in my life. Things I've been called by people that think they are insulting me. 

Okay...

I am liberal. I'm a progressive. I believe we should always be moving forward or we stagnate and rot at the roots. That when you know better you do better, Rest in Power, Ms. Angelou.

PC has always struck me as an odd one as well. Politically Correct. Like being politically incorrect is a good thing. Like being incorrect at all is a good thing. I will also say that when I think of PC it is usually really easy to swap in Practicing Courtesy and see what it really means. 

Woke. So you'd rather be asleep? You'd rather continue to walk through the world with your eyes closed to other experiences? Your comfort at the cost of someone else being acknowledged. Interesting choice. 

Now people are on and on about cancel culture and how it's just the worst thing ever. No due process! Too easy to abuse! How dare you say someone can't have a different opinion! Blah blah blah...

What do all of these things have in common? The Right uses them as scare tactics. They say a word over and over again until it loses its real meaning and becomes a bad thing. They manipulate the message until you are the bad guy for expecting people to be decent to each other. 

Oh, are you triggered by that? Let me drink your liberal tears...

No, asshole, I have no tears for you, I just want you to stop being an asshole. 

Because really that's all most of that is. Your pronouns are different than what they used to be? Okay. I'll change the way I refer to you. Because I'm not an asshole. You are tired of seeing your race used as as a mascot for a sports team? Okay. Let's change the mascot. Because I'm not an asshole. You are offended by that word or phrase or inaccurate historical presentation? Okay. Let's stop using that word, that phrase, and start teaching the actual history. Because I'm not an asshole. But what if you don't want to change and you want to be an asshole, but you don't want to cop to being an asshole then you say you aren't Woke, you won't give in to this liberal PC bullshit. And oh no now the cancel culture people will be after you!

Cancel culture is actually consequences culture. And let's be real here, there aren't very many consequences and people don't get canceled for long. If you can even count some people will stop giving you money or attention while other people will give you more money and attention as cancelling. 

The Right is really good at this. They always have been. Part of that is they control the main sources of media. Oh I know, they will tell you that they don't and it's that demon liberal media, but who owns the media? Big corporations. And who owns big corporations? So yeah...When The New York Times writes its 20th column on the dangers of cancel culture keep that in mind. 

When you see an onslaught of opinion pieces and memes and bot posts about how Amber Heard proved that the Me Too movement was bunk, try and notice where they are coming from. And listen to the quiet voices pointing out that she got her restraining order years before Me Too took off. And the times it was left to a judge to decide he was in the wrong (restraining order, the 12 out of 14 but you are though points from the the case in England where he tried to sue for the article that said he was abusive). It took a jury, a not sequestered jury in the US to give him one victory out of three.

And who was one of the first to post a 'yippee he won' post? The Republican party. Why? Because they are trying to turn Me Too into a bad thing. The case never should have been a public discussion. It never should have been must see TV. But someone made it that way. Someone convinced you that the last few movies he made were genius instead of 'what the hell is he doing?' Someone left out the details of his work ethic, the current case against him by a crew member he hit, the production costs from when he just wouldn't show up, that was all put to wayside so Amber Heard is proving the Me Too movement is a witch hunt narrative could take place. 

The Right is really good at this. 

And part of that is because Liberals really do just want everyone to get along. It's why we are willing to change pronouns and mascots and history lessons. Is what was happening before hurtful? Well, let's stop that. And the Right capitalizes on that and weaponizes that. Co-opts it as something to be mocked or unabashedly use it to mean something else. Anti-vaxxers using My Body My Choice, for instance.

And when liberals aren't hoping everyone could just get along they are willing to take in new information and make different decisions. It's part of what being progressive is, right? You want to keep changing and moving and seeing what you can learn. Well, if you keep getting told something you actually start to believe it, no matter if it's true or not. Look at the number of people who were concerned about Clinton's emails, for instance. 

It's fucking exhausting. 

I'll probably write one more piece about these issues. Something more specific. But I really wanted to get this general DON'T LET THEM CONTROL EVERY FUCKING NARRATIVE message out there. 

Being aware of other people's needs is a good thing. 
Not being an asshole is a good thing.
Not giving attention to assholes is a good thing. 

You don't have to be a pushover, you don't have to be soft, you don't even have to be sweet and docile. 

I mean, hello...

Just don't be an asshole. 

And ask who is telling you that cancel culture is a threat? Who is telling you that Wokeness is ruining the world? Who is telling you that being PC is just the worst thing ever? Pay attention to the messenger then question the message. 

I'm a liberal.
I'm progressive.
I try really hard to be PC and woke. 

And I will cancel your shit if it needs canceled. 

How Safe is Your Space?

I was going to write about Safe Spaces on Tuesday then Monday night the fire alarm in our house went haywire so I was up at midnight with the house literally yelling FIRE at me which I was like, I just wrote about free speech and how yelling Fire! shouldn't be covered so I thought maybe don't cover safe spaces today just incase the full moon is bring some sort of weird ju ju to the proceedings...

Yes, that opening paragraph was a lot but it's the way my head was going on Tuesday so I felt like you should get the raw footage. 

So instead I thought about writing about an encounter I had when I decided to get my toe nail polish changed.

And then I realized..."fuck me...this is a safe spaces story."

So I let it sit for a few days just to show the Universe it can't tell me what to do!

(yesterday was going to be cancel culture so I guess I cancelled the Universe for a day, which let's be frank, is about how long cancelling someone lasts)

Anyway...

I was planning on getting a pedicure on Tuesday. The shop we normally use is near the old house which is a bit of a drive but there is a shop right at the end of our street so I figured I'd check them out. Then I dropped the car charger on my foot so no pedicure for me. But I am going to need to wear open toed shoes for awhile so I was back to really needing a pedicure. Decided to split the difference, get a polish change and check out the new shop at least partially. 

One of my core personality traits is I give the compliment. I do it to people I know and to strangers. Everyone likes compliments. Even if they make you a little uncomfortable in the moment (trust me, I get it, it's taken me years to learn how to say "thank you" instead of discounting the compliment) later on when you think about it you know "I do have great shoes." or "This is a lovely color on me." or "My hair does look fabulous." But, as most of you know, I'm also not overly social. I'm not shy, like Brent and Katie, I will talk to strangers, but I'd rather not talk for long. I usually give the compliment as a fly by or when I know I'm leaving or they are. 

For instance Sunday at breakfast there was a family seated near us and the mom was wearing a really cute dress. I did not tell her it was a really cute dress until we were leaving. I didn't want that awkward rest of the meal space where either one of us felt like we needed to chat. But I did want to let her know that she looked really cute. 

So Tuesday...I'm waiting in a short line to see if they have time to change my polish and there is a woman at the counter who has gorgeously tanned skin. The kind of tan that you know she works on to get that way. She was wearing little white shorts to really emphasize the tan. So I let her know as she was leaving. "You have gorgeous skin tone. Really lovely."

And...

You know how I say if you are going to be an activist, if you are going to be mouthy, if you are going to stand up to authority you need to know you can take a punch in the face? Well if you are going to be a compliment giver to strangers you need to be ready for the onslaught. Especially if, like me, you are cursed with FFS, Friendly Face Syndrome. Strangers tell me their life's story. Even when I don't give them the opening compliment. But when I do start it I know what could be coming. And oh boy...

I pretty much knew instantly that I might have made a mistake. This was her reply (or at least as much as I can remember): "I cheat. I go to B'Tan to make sure I've got a good base layer. And then yesterday I was on the river for like 6 hours and I did get burned, but it fade quickly because of that. As soon as I got home I took a cool shower to draw the heat out and then I buy from Costco these really big containers of coconut oil and I use that on my skin. I really shouldn't be out like that in the sun because I have Lupus," (cue horrified look on my face with me starting to say, no you shouldn't! but not being able to get out any words before she went on) "but I do it anyway. I also have rheumatoid arthritis and osteoarthritis so I just want to make sure I'm moving all the time while I can. I told myself I'm 50 so I need to do what I want and not be so worry about anything else. I was born with Klinefelter Syndrome, that's where you have both masculine and feminine parts and traits, and it comes with a whole host of health issues so I just want to make sure I do what I like to do. And I go to the gym everyday."

(she took a long enough breath here for me to get in.)

"I understand that. I have arthritis as well and I keep moving so I can keep moving, it's really important." 

Then the woman who had been next in line was done so I could take my turn and I thought our encounter was over. She left with a wave over my body, "Well you look great too so keep it up! When you are 50 you will be glad you did!"

I just smiled and told her to have a good day. 

Then went and took a seat to get my polished changed. 

I hadn't be there long when the door opened and she came back into the shop. She had messed up her nail getting in to her car and needed it fixed. Then decided that while she was back she'd just have them take her toe nail polish off as well and plopped down in the chair next to me. 

Oh it's one of those encounters. 

And I was well and truly stuck. So I settled in for the ride. I know where she vacations, what she does on those vacations, I know all about her slipstream camper that she refurbished herself in a steampunk style. She showed me pictures and it's really adorable. I listened to her for about a half hour as she talked about SCUBA diving with sharks in Hawaii, SUP in Alaska and all over the world really. She's very active. Especially since she's 50. She told me her age a lot. And I love it. I mean you all know how I am about aging. We need to be joyful in it. Fifty is nifty!

She mentioned how different things are now than when she was a kid and I agreed. She said, "Well you're Gen X like me right?"

And I said, "I am. I'm actually older than you are."

"Oh you are not."

"I am, I'll be 54 next month."

I love that moment and hope that I will be like my mother and get it for my entire life. The one of disbelief. The you look so good for your age. I know I do. I know it's vain and shallow and I did nothing to earn it. My parents both looked younger than they were, it's just genetics. And not doing anything to really fuck that up. I mean if I had kept smoking and kept trying to tan my skin to her shade I would look like a fruit roll-up by now, but I didn't so I look younger than my age. 

When she had run out of things to keep her in the shop and I had subtly mentioned I would be running a lot more errands after I was done with this stop she said her farewells and left again. The woman doing my toes smiled and told me I was a nice lady for listening. I told her we all need someone to listen sometimes. 

And that's really it. She needed someone to listen. 

I had a lot of things I would have liked to ask her but didn't. The first thing being does she always lead conversations with the fact that she has Klinefelter Syndrome? I mean, I assumed she was trans. Even before she turned around and I was just admiring her skin tone I suspected she might be. So why does she put that out there right away? Safety? Separation from other trans folx? Hoping that someone who might be a trans bigot would be more understanding if they knew she was born with both male and female aspects? If I were friends with her instead of just a friendly face I would have asked. 

I also would have asked her how safe she felt traveling in her camper by herself. And on cruises and on the river. That's been my biggest fear for Katie. Will she be safe? But what would it tell me if she said she had been safe, or hadn't?  Nothing really. 

But I didn't talk much. Supportive noises mostly. A few shared stories about Hawaii and Alaska. I told her about a friend's daughter who does stand up paddle boarding on rapids and how amazing that is to me to watch, especially since I couldn't even stand up the time Brent and I tried it. 

It was a tidal wave of information from her. A series of photos off her phone she shared with me. And bright red toe nails to finish the visit. 

And, like I mentioned, later when I was thinking about it, it was a safe space story. 

In the blog before this one I mentioned the blog I wrote a few years ago about safe spaces and how I don't really believe they exist. There is always something unsafe lurking. And how I don't believe they should exist in the academic realms, at least in the we never talk about uncomfortable topics realm. But I do know that it's important to feel safe. To have moments where you feel like you are going to be okay.

To have moments where you interact with a stranger who doesn't treat you oddly because you have Klinefelter Syndrome. 

I give the compliment. I'm prepared to get hit in the face with a lot of information when I do. And I try my best to take it all in and be that moment in someone's day that is pleasant. That is safe. 

I am a safe space. 

Aint that a bitch?

New Theme!

This week's theme will cover: Trigger warnings, safe spaces, PC, woke, cancel culture and other things that a certain type of conservative twists to mean something bad and a certain flavor of liberals use to beat other liberals up with.  

I wrote about safe spaces and trigger warnings a few years ago. Mostly that old blog is still my opinion now. I think you need to be able to defend your ideas and know why you hold them, so banning all speech that is not what you believe is a bad idea. I know at the time the push was from liberal colleges banning conservative speakers who were pushing pretty awful ideas. The thing is that banning them from speaking didn't stop those ideas from spreading, it just fed into their victim narrative. It ended up giving them another platform from which to spread their bad ideas. "They are so worried about what we have to say that they won't even allow you to hear it!" Ooh...that sounds like something fun to hear!

I thought at the time it was a bad idea. Debate them. Show why it's a bad idea. Sharpen your own ideas and reasoning. But banning speech is almost always a bad idea. Yes, I do have areas where I abandon this stance, the whole yelling fire in a crowded building line. There are things that if you choose to say them, you should face consequences for that. Calls to violence, inciting a riot. But for the most part I think that free speech is too important to hamper. Though it's government interference that we are speaking of when we talk about the right to free speech. Governmental consequences, banning speech and books by government control is where problems lie. Personal consequences are different. You are never free from consequences of your speech. 

But right now we are seeing the right pulling in the force of the government to curtail speech. You are seeing schools being stopped from teaching about racism. You are seeing teachers told not to talk about LGBTQIA+ issues. Or if a student tells them they are in the rainbow they have to tell parents. You are seeing Governor DeSantis waging a tax war with Disney for objecting to the "Don't Say Gay" bill. Even though the Supreme Court decided years ago that corporations were people and had freedom of speech as well. These are clear violations of the Constitution. But as we now have a court who makes decisions based of the law of "because I can" there is little hope that anything will be done about it.

I am going to revisit a lot of those original thoughts separately this week. Updating what I think now on some of it, touching on how it's all been weaponized as well. But today I'm going to talk specifically about trigger warnings. 

I mentioned in that blog a few years ago that I appreciate when friends warn me that a movie has vomiting or hand injuries because I have a really hard time with those. They make me nauseated. For different reasons, but still, ick. But a lot of entertainment and think pieces come with a whole list of trigger warnings now. Does it deal with rape? Does it deal with suicide or suicide ideation? Is there questionable language? Is there smoking? The list of trigger warnings is long. And people will for sure jump in your shit if you don't include them. 

I do not include them in my writing.

At least not in my fiction. 

I sort of feel like maybe I should put a general trigger warning on the description of my blog, or on my Facebook page for my blog. "Trigger warning: I won't give you one."

Because trigger warnings ruin the story. The way I write my fiction pieces I don't want you to know right away what I'm writing about. For instance if yesterday I had opened the story with a trigger warning about suicide the whole story would have hit differently right from the start. I wanted that to be a reveal. The fact that her grandmother had killed herself and then why. I want you to come on a journey with me, I don't want to spoil my own story. 

You know how I feel about spoilers. Very triggering...

It's hard to write the way I do if I'm worried about posting trigger warnings. Or worried about triggering people in general. I write a lot about death. I feel like once you've been reading me for awhile none of that is shocking, but at the same time I have had people reach out to me asking why I didn't warn them. Well, because I didn't want you to know.

And I do know that that means for some people my work can be really disturbing. And I'm sorry about that. But only a little. I am sorry that they felt discomfort and were upset. But I'm not sorry that my work can sometimes be disturbing. I think, for the most part, I'm actually a pretty optimistic writer. Even if it's a story where the main character ends up having been dead for 30 years and just didn't realize it. Or if the story is about getting ready to sell the house that your grandmother died in. I am not for everyone. Hell, I'm not for most people, but that's just it, I'm. I am. This is my writing. My place. 

My space. 

And it's not always safe. 

And it never comes with a trigger warning. 

And I'm not likely to change that. 

The Planning Type...

The walk through with the realtor had gone well. She didn't think it would be hard to find a buyer, even in the slowing market. 

"Your grandmother took wonderful care of this place."

"She did. She was very particular about things."

"Well you can tell. Lovely home. So clean and well maintained. And these high ceilings? Gorgeous. And all one story is very hard to find. I think you'll be happy with the offers."

"Thank you. We are, as they say, motivated to sell. We'd like to get everything wrapped up here before the summer heat really starts. We just aren't used to it anymore."

"I understand that. I'll send over the paperwork this afternoon and if it all looks good I can have it listed by tomorrow."

"Perfect. Thank you."

The photographer joined them in the living room. "I think I've got everything I need. Really good light today so they should come out nicely without much editing. Love what she had done in the bathroom with the tile."

The look of horror on her realtor's face almost sent her into a fit of inappropriate giggles. Her realtor grabbed the photographer's arm and almost ran to the front door.

"Yes, well, we're good. I'll talk to you later, thank you so much for the opportunity to help you sell your grandmother's property."

"No, honestly, thank you. We are glad to have someone we can trust."

The realtor and photographer were ushered out.

She walked back to the master bathroom and tried to look at it with fresh eyes. 

She understood the photographer's reaction. It was lovely. The tile in the shower area went from floor to ceiling which made the room look even bigger than it was. The ceilings were at least 10 feet high. The paint in the room was the same color as the veining in the tile which gave it all a seamless look and feel. It would probably be a big selling point. 

The thought of her grandmother on a ladder hanging protective plastic sheeting made her shake her head. You could have fallen and broken a hip. She then had to laugh. Well, yeah. I guess she could have just broken a hip...

The plastic had been hung with painters tape. Multiple rows of tape to make sure the sheets would stay up but wouldn't mar the paint on the ceiling when they were taken down. Though by the time she got to the house one of the walls of plastic had fallen in on itself. 

The rest was easy enough to pull down, and her grandmother had been right, it didn't mar the ceiling at all. 

Her grandmother was a very particular person who took excellent care of her things. 

She found the letter on her grandmother's desk. It was on top of all of the important paperwork. That's how it was labeled. A stack of paperwork with a sticky note on top, her grandmother's once beautiful flowing handwriting now a little shaky around the loops, "Important Paperwork." And on top of that the letter. 

It was the official letter from her doctor's office denying her the palliative care she has requested. She was 95 years old. The cancer wasn't going away. She had a limited amount of time left and she wanted to go on her own terms. Before the pain was too great, before she was nothing more than a body in a bed with a constant drip of morphine in her veins. She was a very particular person and that was not what she wanted.

But her doctor had denied her the care she requested. 

Instead of a gentle death surrounded by her family she took care of everything herself. In her tiled shower stall. Surrounded by plastic sheeting. 

She wondered if her grandmother's doctor felt good about his decision. If he still felt like he had done the right thing. He had the ability to help her grandmother leave on her own terms, gently, easily, surrounded by love, and instead forced her to stay, in pain, deteriorating until there was nothing left.

Or at least tried to force her to stay. 

She hoped the house sold quickly. She hoped there were more people like the photographer who did not know what happened in that beautiful tiled bathroom. And she hoped that telling her grandmother's story would make a difference for someone else. 

Let people leave peacefully on their own terms. You cannot force someone to live, but you can help them die with grace and dignity. 

She placed her hand on the cool tile of the shower...

"I am so sorry, Grandma."

Time To Go...

Everyone has embarrassing coming of age stories. Starting your period when you weren't expecting to and bleeding through your outfit. Having a random erection right as you needed to stand up and walk to the chalk board. Having your voice crack in the middle of presentation. A giant zit blooming on the tip of your nose just in time for class pictures. 

She had a few of those and also the bonus stories that only other necromancers understood.

Hers were, luckily, much tamer than some of her cousins' stories. She got the spirit portion instead of the physical portion. No dead pets sitting at her bedside after digging themselves out of the back yard grave. That was how her mother started. It's actually so common that she wondered why any necromancy family would have a pet. 

But it was typical for necromancy powers to come to full bloom during puberty. The surge of hormones seemed to flip the switch from, well, dead to Dead. 

Her first few encounters were with older spirits. Ones who had made their peace with staying in this realm for a little, or a lot longer. They were the ones who enjoyed watching humanity pass through the ages. The ones who didn't feel a need to see what was the next life as they liked it where they were. And they really liked to chat. Among her normie friends she was the only one to start having invisible friends at age 13 instead of 5. 

And she really didn't count it as cheating when they helped her on her history exams, just for the record. 

She was grateful for those easy encounters and their stories when she had her first traumatic experience. Not traumatic for her, though some of them were, but meeting up with the spirit of someone who died traumatically and suddenly and hadn't really been prepared. Sometimes a sudden death is met with quick understanding, sometimes it's met with just terrified confusion. 

She was 16 and at a slumber party. They were telling ghost stories and trying to scare each other when she saw him. The 19 year old brother of her host. Who was away at college so couldn't possibly be standing in the hallway. He was standing with his back to them, not moving. She got up mumbling something about using the restroom and went to talk to him. As she approached he turned toward her and she could see the damage. His face was a bloody mess. Part of his scalp had be severed and was hanging loosely over the opposite ear. He was staring at his hands which were covered in blood as well. His or someone else's she couldn't tell. 

"Who are you? Why are you here?"

"I'm Sherri. I'm a friend of your sister's and there's a slumber party happening. Can you tell me what happened?"

He blinked slowly. Blood flicking off his eyelashes as he did. She tried not to flinch away.

"I don't know. I mean, the last thing I remember was Pete and I were headed to the movies. I... PETE? WHERE'S PETE?"

She reached out and put a hand on his arm. Or technically she reached out and put a hand where his arm appeared to be. There was nothing physical there to touch. Just an image she could see, and an energy he could feel. "Pete isn't here with you. I don't know where he is."

"We were in the car. We were...oh god...the light. The truck wasn't going to stop. We could see him coming but it was too late. He wasn't stopping...he..."

"He hit you."

"I don't remember. I don't know. I didn't feel it. But, look at me. And how did I get here? I couldn't have driven here. Or flown like this, they wouldn't have let me on a plane like this right?"

"I'm sorry. I really am sorry." She ran her hand up and down his arm. Sending as much soothing energy toward him as she could. 

His breathing slowed. The panic in his eyes started to recede. "I'm, I'm dead, right?"

"Yeah, you're dead." She didn't know how to put it more gently, or even if she should.

"So why am I here?" She watched as the wounds on his face healed. The blood on his hands started to disappear. He now looked almost exactly like the senior picture that was hanging on the wall behind him. His face a little more mature, but not much. 

"You didn't know where else to go. This place, this is home. You knew you'd be safe here."

"Now what? What's next?"

"That's up to you. You get to decide. Do you want to stay around here, watch your family, your friends? Do you want to travel this world and see anything? Or do you want to let go, move on, leave?"

"If I leave where do I go?"

"I don't know. I only know that some people leave and some people don't. But if you want to leave I can help. And if you decide to stay you can always find me later if you change your mind."

The phone started to ring. 

"I don't want to rush you but I have a feeling that phone call is going to mean the end of this slumber party so I'm going to be going home soon. You can find me there, or I'll be around here sometimes as well, checking on your sister."

"No. I mean, no, don't go yet. Do you have time to help me? Now? I mean, I don't want to stay. I want to go."

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. She didn't need to close her eyes, but she didn't like watching when they left. "Okay, put your hands in mine, hold them tightly for a few seconds, and then just let go."

She felt him leave. It was like a breeze against her face. 

"Oh well done!"

"Graciella, I didn't know you were here."

"I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd pop in just incase you needed a little help. These cases can be a little different than the old souls you've helped in the past. Sometimes they get a little belligerent. Helps to have someone who really understands to talk them down if they get difficult."

"He wasn't difficult. Just confused."

"And you handled it all brilliantly."

The sounds of sobbing reached them. "Oh dear. I always hate this part. I'll see you around, sweetie. You did good, know that."

And with that Graciella was gone. 

She soon wished she could go too.

It was easier to help the dead stop living than to help the living deal with death. 

Staying...And Leaving...And Staying...

I'm sure my parents must have fought with each other. They were married for over 60 years, they raised a lot of kids, some of them more difficult than others. They both had tempers but different flavors. My mother was a quick short fuse. She would get mad, spark at you, then was over it. My father was a slow long burn. It took a lot to get him mad but once he was mad he didn't get over it quickly, if at all. 

They also came from very different backgrounds. When we were visiting my mother the year she died she told us a story about her mother reacting to someone basically calling my father's family white trash. Now they, by definition, probably were, but my grandmother was having none of it. "Marshall is a lovely boy, very responsible, I'm proud that Ruby is going to marry him." It made me think highly of my grandmother and gave me more of an insight into my dad as well. I knew he had been the responsible adult in his family from about the time he hit double digits, his dad was an alcoholic and my grandmother was a bit of a mess but in a totally different way. Dad worked and supported the other kids. My mother grew up on a working farm. Her oldest sister was the favorite child and was treated as such. She and my Aunt Dorothy talked about resenting it, but dealing with it. 

Different backgrounds so they had to have fought. At least at first. 

I came into their lives when they had already been together for 16 or 17 years. By the time I have very many memories at all of them as a couple it was at least 20 years into their marriage. They had figured some things out by then. But still...we were broke. Everyone worked a lot. All of the time. And, as I mentioned, some of us were challenging kids to raise. 

But I never saw them fight. Ever. 

So my assumption was that a good marriage was between people who never fought.

Yeah...well...

Brent and I got married at 18. I always said I had the worst of my parent's blend. I was a hot head with a short fuse who held a grudge. Brent's parents fought all the time. For fun. Arguing and being snarky to each other wasn't a bad thing, it was their way of communicating. They didn't take it personally. I was not used to this type of communication. At all. And for Brent his actual angry stance is leaving the room. He doesn't want to say something he can't take back. He doesn't want to ever cross that line, since it was crossed in his house growing up and he hated it. That didn't work for me. I wanted him to argue with me, hash it out and move on. It took us awhile to figure out how to balance it. 

It still is a challenge at times, not going to lie. But now I know that he's not giving me the silent treatment when he's angry (and to be clear it's not even angry at me, it's frustrated with the world and he doesn't want to take it out on me) he's not punishing me, he's protecting me in the best way he knows how. 

I know that now. 

But when we were first married it would just make me angrier. And then it would shut me down. I stopped telling him when things were upsetting me. I figured it was on me to figure it out. My parents never fought so clearly we should not fight. And because I knew this, it was up to me to swallow down anything that might lead to a fight and just deal with it. 

Which works really well. 

I mean, it doesn't. Not at all. 

There were two times in our marriage that I knew for a fact it was over and one more where I wasn't sure, but it didn't look good. Brent might have more or different times. But I have three.

And all three started from the same place and were due to not dealing with an issue but just pretending it would go away. In fact I could make a case for the second and third times being directly related to the first. Because I never, we never, dealt with the problem. You can do that with some things, and you can't do that with others. It's tricky sometimes to figure out which type of problem is which. 

The first time was about 8 years in to the marriage. Brent had just gotten out of the Navy. He hadn't found a job yet and we were living with my parents. I had gone back to work through a temp agency and we were at a company Christmas party. I wanted to dance and he wouldn't. I thought, "If someone asks me when I knew my marriage was over, this will be the moment." Sounds horrible right? That I would mark the end of my marriage because he wouldn't dance with me? It wasn't the dancing. It was that I felt like he didn't love me anymore. That he didn't want to spend time with me. That he resented me. He was so angry all the time and I just couldn't deal with it. 

Did I mention he had just gotten out of the Navy, hadn't found a job yet and we were living with my parents?

See, when we were planning on him leaving the Navy everyone was getting these great jobs with great pay. We could leave, I could still stay home with Katie and we would have more money and no more 6 month cruises. Then right before he got out the economy tanked. Bottomed out. Instead of a few weeks with his parents as we decided where to go, we ended up living with them for a month, then up to Albuquerque to live with my folks so I could get a job easier. The whole reason Brent joined the military was so he could support us. So we could get married and stay together. His parents had told him it was a mistake and he needed to go to college so he could have a real career. Now here we were, and Brent felt like a failure. He had no job, unemployment and detachment pay were going to run out, I was back at work, we were living with my parents. 

Looking back I can see this all really clearly. I can also see that there was absolutely nothing I could have done to make it better for him. I couldn't come sweeping in from the future and let him know that in a couple of weeks he was going to interview with Intel through their veterans hiring initiative and get a job that would lead to a "real career." That he wasn't anywhere close to being a failure. That his wife didn't view him as such even right then, she was just getting quieter and quieter because she wanted you to not be angry. 

But at the time? I was just hurt. I didn't understand why he was so angry. I mean, I obviously knew it was hard, but I grew up broke. I grew up in a family where everyone worked. Where if someone was laid off, someone else picked up an extra shift until things got better. It was fine. Brent viewed it as a time he wasn't holding up his end of the bargain and I just wanted him to see it was our burden not his. But since I couldn't talk to him about it, I just kept pushing those hurt feelings down until that moment when he wouldn't dance with me at a party and I thought, well that's it then. He doesn't even love me anymore. 

Then he got the job with Intel, things started to get better financially and that stress lifted. 

But we never talked about it. I never told him how much it had upset me to be shut out like that. I just squashed it and resented it. 

Fast forward a few years and he is working and going to school to get his bachelor's degree. It was hard. I worked full time, he worked full time and went to school. It was such a stressful time. Then finally we were at the end of it. A break! We got transferred to Colorado Springs which was less expensive than where we had been living in Oregon and I would be able to go to part time work and we could take a breath.

Then the house in Hillsboro didn't sell. I hated Colorado Springs. And Brent went back to school. Again. I can remember the phone call when he told me he wanted to get his Master's Degree. I told him I understood that it would help him at work but that I really needed at least a year breather before he did it. There was a long pause then he let me know he had already signed up for classes.

Now, again, looking back from where I am I can see it all pretty clearly. It was a program through work, just like his bachelor's degree had been. An opportunity to get an advanced degree without the college debt. A chance to further his career instead of stalling out at the level he was at. I was working part time so I had the space in my schedule to pick up the parenting slack, and honestly I was already handling most of that since he was working 70 hours a week or so. It was too good to pass up and I would clearly see that. 

I did not. 

I do now, but I did not at the time. I was furious. I was living in a city I hated, stressed about the expense we took on having the house in Hillsboro not sell for so long. Trying to shuffle Katie around to all of her extra curricular activities and doing it all by myself. The whole reason I didn't want to have kids until he got out of the Navy was that I didn't want to be a single parent and it felt like he was asking me to be a single parent. But, it was already done. So I swallowed it down and took care of things.

With a huge dose of resentment. 

And he was stressed during that stretch. I was clearly tense the whole time, he was working insane hours and going to school. Katie was having some adjustment issues (odds are she was picking up how tense I was and reflecting it through her own behavior). 

Then I told him I wanted a divorce. 

He was not expecting it. 

He had just gotten transferred back to Oregon. He was this close to finishing his degree. Life was finally going to relax again. And I wanted out. 

As soon as I asked I regretted it. 

I knew it was a mistake and that I didn't want to be without him. I just didn't want to be in the life we were currently living. It was too hard. I was too miserable. I wanted him, I just didn't want that. 

He took me back. But we didn't deal with the issue. We didn't talk about all of it. I took the blame since I was the one who asked for a divorce. I carried the guilt of shattering his trust that I would always be there. I made promises to change some things I was doing but took all of the fault. 

With a lot of resentment.

Oddly enough, that didn't work.

It took a few years for it all to blow up again, but it did blow up again. I have the worst blend of my parent's tempers; short fuse long grudge. I had never worked past the first round of hurt from ten years earlier, and now I was trying it ignore all of the shit I had piled on top of that. 

But that last time? When it really looked like we might not make it through? Because I had already left once, I knew if I left again it would be for good. And I knew that I didn't want to leave. Not really. I wanted to fix what was broken between us and stay. So we did something weird and talked about it. What we each needed from the other. What worked and what didn't. And then we did the work. The little and big things that are important to each of us. We know what works and what doesn't for the other one and we try to make sure we are doing the right combinations. 

Because even when things were bad, we still liked each other. We still had a good friendship. And when you are looking at losing your best friend as well as your spouse? Well you do what you can to not have that happen. And to do it without resentment.

That's the key. 

My parents never fought that I know of. So I never learned how to do it well. I just learned how to keep quiet and resent the fact that I wasn't getting what I needed. I don't recommend that. 

We still argue, not often, but it happens. He still leaves the room when he's mad. I still would rather hash it out and move on. But now we both know that there are some things you can just let slide, and some things you need to deal with.

And he's still my best friend. 

And I will always be grateful he took me back when I left. And I will always be grateful he did the work with me when I stayed.

Should I Stay or Should I Go?

New week, new theme! Staying and leaving. 

"We hold these truths to be self evident..."

Brent tuned in to NPR this morning to hear their annual reading of the Declaration of Independence. He really felt like it would be good to have a reminder. A connection. NPR did something different this year instead. They spoke with a descendent of Sally Hemings and Thomas Jefferson about the "all men are created equal" portion. What that meant at the time. How it has been used since then. 

It was an interesting listen and I recommend it. 

It's very strange to be contemplating leaving the United States on the Fourth of July, but here I am. 

We talked about it when Trump was elected. That maybe it was time to go. Who wants to live in a country that would elect someone like that? And who knew all of the damage he would be able to do in four years? We went as far as looking into what it would take to immigrate to Canada. Get a work Visa to move and be able to stay. 

Then we decided not to. We decided to stay. Why should we leave? It's our country. We should stay and continue to support those people and causes we believe in and vote to make the changes that are necessary and hold on. It's a Republic for as long as we can hold on to it. We decided to hold on to it a little tighter.

And now here we are five years later looking again at if we stay or if we go.

We've seen the damage that four years of Trump did. We had an attempted coup. We have an activist Christian Nationalist Supreme Court that for the very first time in our nation's history took rights away from a group of people. Not just denied rights, which the court has done in the past, but actually took something that was considered a settled right away. And they are signaling that they are not done yet. 

We are losing our country. It's being dug out from under us. 

Five years later, we are even more worried. And it's not abstract worry this time. Hundreds of anti-trans bills have been proposed and passed. Trans people are the big bad of the Republican party. They are bringing out all of their old greatest hits that they used against communism, people of color, gay people, and those scary liberals. They found a new target to focus their hate. And then added back in the old targeting of gay people and people of color, and people who believe it's wrong that in one of the richest countries in the world we have people who are starving while we have people with so much money they can pretend to be astronauts with real spaceships. 

So what do we do?

The debate is the same. Do we stay and continue to fight for what is right? Not right with a capital R but right as in morally right. Not the kind of morals dictated by misinterpretation of an old religious text, but the kind of morally right that you know is true because it's self evident. Self. Evident.

And trust me I know that even being able to contemplate leaving is a huge privilege.  

There are people who cannot leave. Who cannot even temporarily leave a conservative state for medical care let alone a country to live somewhere else. 

And because of those people it feels right to stay. To continue to fight. To continue to vote and donate and speak out. 

And we live on the West Coast in a liberal enclave so really how bad will it get?

The court is taking on a complete dismantling of our voting rights next term. Looking at handing over who wins and who loses not to any sort of popular vote, everyone gets to vote, system but to a small handful of people who can just declare a winner. So voting, which has always seemed like such a tenuous way to gain freedom is now even more limited. 

The court is taking away the separation of church and state. They are more and more using religion to dictate laws. 

The court is taking away any sort of regulatory powers. You know how your food and water is safe? Well...

The court is right now performing a coup. A take over. Minority majority rule. And Rule is the right word. There is no interest on the Right for voting by the majority, because the majority doesn't follow what they want. Rule by strength, punishment, a police force that cannot be held responsible for excessive force. This is where we are. This is where it gets bad. 

So how bad will it get where we live? 

How bad will it be for our daughter? 

Do we stay and fight or do we leave for safer enclaves? For ourselves and for a path for her?

It's a weird thing to be contemplating on July Fourth, but in a way it's completely appropriate. After all the Declaration of Independence doesn't start out with "We hold these truths to be self evident..." It starts:

The unanimous Declaration of the thirteen united States of America, When in the Course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bands which have connected them with another, and to assume among the powers of the earth, the separate and equal station to which the Laws of Nature and of Nature's God entitle them, a decent respect to the opinions of mankind requires that they should declare the causes which impel them to the separation.

It might be time to dissolve those political bands. 

Rotten to the Core...

Wrapping up the core theme for the week! And as promised I'm going to talk about why I identify more with the villains than I do the princesses. 

There are a few parts to it. First off as someone who thought for a few years that they wanted to act, villains always have the better parts. They get the better lines. They get the more dramatic scenes. They are just more entertaining. Check off one for the villain. 

On the flip side of that heroes tend to be boring. Or at least traditional tales of them are. Part of that is that we hold our good guys to rigid roles. First off, most of the time, good guys are guys. The heroes. If we do make a woman the hero we are being "edgy" or in today's parlance "woke." So male for the hero. I'm out. But also we force them to be perfect. If they have any failings at all we strike them from the hero book. Nuance isn't strong with the hero story. Not if you start there. 

You can be a villain and have a redemptive arc and become a hero. People love that shit. 

But if you are a hero most likely people are going to dig around until they find something awful about you so they can turn you into a villain. 

Watch the way the internet works. It's just this dynamic on fast forward. WE love you! Oh my gosh you're the greatest! (dig, dig, dig) OH MY GOD! IN THIRD GRADE HE RUBBED A BOOGER ON AN AMERICAN FLAG! BURN HIM!!! And done. 

But if you started out knowing that in third grade he was a booger rubber and now he's Captain America? What an arc! Even though it's the same fucking story. 

Villains get more leeway. Check another one off for the villain. 

Of course that only matters if you want to become the hero. I never have. I mean, I want to make sure I'm helping those that need help. People I went to high school with (when I was at my meanest and scariest) will tell you I was a pretty strong proponent for the underdog. If you were a bully you were in my sights. I have never been a believer that if you ignore a bully they will stop. All that happens if you are ignoring the bully is you get hit on your blind side. And I also don't think you should always stand up to the bully. Remember when I talked earlier about being hit in the face? Bullies will hit you in the face. If you aren't able to take that hit, and to hit them back, then you need to either walk away or find yourself a villain. 

Ta Da!

I'm also not nonviolent at all. A seemingly big requirement for heroes. If they are violent it's a last resort and causes them great concern. Hmm...well...I've talked about this before. I think there are people who could use a good ass kicking, or more.

I don't believe in the death penalty only because the State gets it wrong more times than it should. Zero being the correct number of times you should get that sentencing wrong. It also becomes State sanctioned premeditated murder. I'm not in favor of it. I don't think people who did not intend on ever killing someone should be tasked with the process. I think the weight that executioners have to bear is too much. Unless they enjoy it and then it's a different problem.

But not being in favor of the death penalty doesn't mean that I don't think some people should die. If there was a way to make sure it wasn't abused, some way to take the other side of the human toll out of the procedure, then I would say for sure we should have a death penalty. And I would expand who all it would pertain to. The recidivism on child molesters makes it very difficult for me to believe in rehabilitation in that instance so if we could know for sure who would reoffend and could not put the burden of their death on someone else then death penalty for sure.

But there isn't a way to do that so I say lock up certain people for the duration of their lives and call it a day. 

Check another one off for the villain. 

And as most of you know I have a particular affinity for Maleficent. I mean, how can you not like her? She's a gardener, she's an animal lover, she's got a great fashion sense. I was already a fan when I met someone with a gorgeous Maleficent tattoo. I commented on it and she said Mal was her favorite because unlike other villains with convoluted stories Maleficent just wanted to be invited to the party. She said once people heard her reasoning she was always invited to every party. 

Check another one off for the villain, I mean, that's a great line. 

Of course I don't want to be invited to the party. Or well, I do. I just don't want to actually go. So it's a good reason to add to my list. 

But if you look at my other reasons look at Aurora. She falls in love with the first dude she meets (common in the princess oeuvre), she is has no agency at all, and she can't even get a good nap in without someone disturbing her rest. She's boring. 

Maleficent? Not boring. She can turn into a dragon after all. And she's strong enough that the curse she lays on the family can't be lifted, it can only be modified and she still just bided her time knowing that they wouldn't bother actually keeping an eye on the princess for the one day in her life they needed to. I mean, honestly, you lock her away in the woods for 16 years but bring her back and don't watch her on the day the curse is supposed to be activated? What? 

The new movies bug me. At least the first one. One of the things I like the best about the original cartoon it's that there is no back story. Maleficent is named MALEFICENT for goodness sake. She didn't need a reason to become "evil" or mad at the fucking King. She is who she is and should be dealt with accordingly. I hate stories where there has to be a rape (or rape analogy) to turn a woman into a villain. There are so many shitty things that can happen to someone that it's just lazy story telling and reductive to women in general. 

But it's not just Maleficent. When we watch TV the number of times Brent shakes his head and says, "Is it bad that she reminds me of you?" is very high. Alice in the Luther series was one that he thought should probably really worry him more than it did. We agree that I deserve credit for every time I don't go on a psychotic rampage and burn down the world. The times I use my powers for good instead of evil.

And that's really it. 

I get painted as the bad guy by a large number of people because I don't follow the traditional rule book they would like me to. I don't believe in your god or your religion (any of them), I don't believe in your limitations and rules (I'll follow a rule if I see it as reasonable, but I'm not a rule follower by nature), and the piece that gets me called a lot of names; I am not quiet. I speak my mind. I don't just hope for the best. And if someone needs popped in the mouth I'm okay doing it. Actually popping them in the mouth or more often doing it verbally. I will shut your shit down. 

I'm a bad guy...duh. 

And I'm really comfortable with this. 

This morning a friend of mine commented on a blog from earlier this week and it reinforced that she gets it. She sees me. She is one of those that I've let in more than others. We don't stand in the same place in the world but we stand in the same way, if that makes sense. If she hears you are struggling she doesn't send thoughts and prayers; she'll pray for you and buy you a hot meal. One of those Christians who actually follow their own rulebook. I have a few of them in my life. I think if your religion makes you a better person and motivates you to do good things it's a good choice. It's not the choice for me but it works for her and for others around me. 

Today this is what she told me:

"Warriors don’t spread peace, love and light along the way. You, my friend, are a warrior. You don’t back down from a fight and you don’t compromise. I LOVE that about you. We don’t always agree 100% but you are one of the few people whose perspective and opinions matter to me, even when I have the “yeah, buts…” 

Standing firm for what you believe in does not mean you are evil. It doesn’t make you a villain. Our society has forgotten that submitting and compromising doesn’t create lasting peace - some times peace can only come on the blade of warrior’s sword.

And I will take this opportunity to recall that the Biblical analogy to the sword was the word."

I am comfortable being the villain, but I agree that being the villain doesn't always equate to being evil. 

But sometimes it helps. 

Kidding.

Maybe. 

Now excuse me while I go polish my sword.