Restarting – at least using this blog now as it is readily available to me and already set up.
What has happened since 2010? Not much, and everything. The posts preceding, from 4 to now almost 3 years ago, seem so distant. My determination to post a post a day successful (though I am doubtful the audio post in late December, submitted and posted by phone call, fits the definition of a blog post. Maybe it does).
A new adventure, a new year. It will probably be a long strange trip.
(I know an older gentleman who claims his friend Bob Weir, back in San Francisco back in the day, asked him to be the lyricist for his new band. My friend declined, as he was quite content pursuing his doctorate in John Milton. I use, at least I think of, that phrase – WALSTIB – a lot even though I was never Grateful Dead fan, and I consider that it would not be a phrase in our culture if my friend had accepted the invitation as he was eating his ice-cream cone that San Francisco day.)
Rain is pattering on the window this New Year’s Eve.
I don’t remember that ever happening before.
Melting the snow. Cleaning the muddy detritus hidden in the snow. Pushing it out and down the drains.
Thanks for reading and commenting and camaraderie this past year!
Less than 25 hours more blogging
ashamed at how much was a slogging
don’t mean to grouse
as I’m clicking the mouse
but can’t wait to head out and toboggan
It’s gonna be 2011, dammit, and it’s time to get that jetpack they promised me when I was 10!
such a small patch
of life of time
sandflies twisting alit for an evening
5 years ago today was my Marilyn’s last full day on earth.
I suppose she watched Charlie Rose and then Murder, She Wrote. Cooed to Rudy as she got up and shuffled over into the kitchen to pick out today’s tin for him. Glanced outside at her patio, her chairs and a couple storage tubs in disarray under the snow, thinking about the clean up and little improvements out there I was going to do for her come spring. Frowned, horrified and heartbroken, when she clicked through the channels stopping for a couple minutes on news of the tsunami disaster that had happened the day before.
And she probably fell asleep in her comfy chair, in pain from the MS and her slowly healing appendectomy a month before, to wake up in the middle of the night. And knew something was more wrong that usual…
Posted in life, memory
Tagged day, death, life
cold seeps into the house
like an invasion of
silent slippery hornets
Lately I’ve been thinking about the realization that I’ve forgotten more then I remember. I cannot for the life of me remember what I got or gave two Christmases ago, and all but a handful of the presents I got from and gave to Marilyn.
Maybe I’m just at the moment experiencing the inevitable letdown, or lowering of my guard, after my – for me – hectic and full week and Christmas weekend.
I think about each of our uniquenesses, even my uniqueness, and that that uniqueness will be muted, and eventually dissipated as we will be.
Somehow, I think I am looking at this the wrong way. Or rather, that there is a way to look at this in a way that will create value, and even hope, in the face of it.
Getting dressed and ready to go to early choir prep for the church’s 11:00 pm Christmas Eve service (it’s the only one for Christmas).
Just showered again, getting into fresh clothes, drinking coffee. This is strange – I am not a night person anymore, and I haven’t attended a high church service since I was 17.
This is the altar at the UU church, set up of course for tomorrow night’s Christmas mass (Christmas Vigil? 11:00 Christmas Eve night – the church has no Christmas morning service; the reverend told me they had added one a couple years back, and no one came, no one).
I guess tomorrow night the lights will be out, and the choir comes in behind the altar through doors hidden in the backing woodwork, holding lit candles – and our music. We march up the center aisle, singing, stop along the pews, keep singing, and then the organ plays through a verse alone as we march into the back, and then scramble up to the loft in time to sing the final verse.
We didn’t do this kind of thing in Buddhism. Well, we did, but it didn’t feel like people just trying to do something nice, like this church feels.
Should be fun.