Ghosts. What do you carry with you?

  1. I’ve made the cardinal into the symbol of my dad, or he has, I’m not sure. But it stands; when I see one, I remember him. There is a cardinal couple who live in my yard, so I see them often, though often in unexpected places. He was a good dad, human, with flaws that were visible. When I remember him, I am helped, in whatever I am doing. I feel comforted. This is a very good ghost to have.
  2. I’ve been having anxiety dreams about my old marriage. I’m waking up thinking of bad times and its not a whole lot of fun. ‘Tis the season. (not a great ghost.)
  3. Along with the anxiety dreams, my brain has been tripping on old conversations. I don’t entirely understand it, as it is one-sided, clearly, and I have absolutely no interest in engaging ever on these subjects again. Past is past. Is a ghost sucking the life out of me? For those minutes, yes.
  4. I’ve got to deliver a turkey to my mom this morning, so she can get it ready for tomorrow. It will just be the two of us, and thats allright. My kids are with their dad, and thats allright. But I tell you, if I see pictures on social media of large family gatherings, my feelings will not be allright.
  5. Ghosts are heavy. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Heavy. Lay them down. Don’t carry anything but your own damn self. Past is past. Shake it off. Dance to the fucking pop song.

I’m out. five is all i can do today, and i’m going to lay it down. boom.



Today is the anniversary of my father’s death. I’m not focusing on what I have lost, but on where I am winning.


  1. I’ve already had some minutes of kitchen dancing, trying to untie my knots. arms flinging. mostly soundtracked by pharrell.
  2. I’ve got a new cup of coffee and its not bad. I’ve cleaned the counter behind the coffee maker and under the toaster. I’m winning.
  3. I’ve taken my antidepressants. also winning.
  4. am realizing I need to take care of my eyes better, and that might mean I fork out money for the glasses from the eye glass place, which galls me to no end. I just want to yell schiester! all the time, and I’m pretty sure my grip on yiddish is nonexistent and i don’t know how to spell that.
  5. I’m reading a book called Invisible City by Julia Dahl which takes places all around a Hasidic community in New York, so I’m an expert on Yiddish now. (#4 and #5 are slightly contradictory, i know. but facts are irrelevant.) Its good, by the way, the main character is a plucky smart barfly reporter, with ties to the community that she’d rather ignore. I bet she’s going to help solve the murder, but I’m just a quarter in. dig it.
  6. This year is the first time in my life I will not be seeing my extended family for the weekend after Thanksgiving. IN MY LIFE. (Unless I was in a foreign country.) This is a big deal. You and me both, probably. It makes me a little sick. But I’m winning, somehow, because I will take the kids for a walk on the beach no matter what the fucking weather, because I fucking want to and pneumonia is NOTHING at this point. except that I’d have to treat it at home. whatever. WINNING.
  7. fucking hell, I don’t feel like it.
  8. I always fight against the anniversary of his death day, even when it was happening I was saying, no, no, we have to celebrate his BIRTHDAY, not this. not this. But its inevitable, and I carry it every November. ten days after the last photo I have of him, at my daughter’s first birthday. Sigh. Fucking fuck.
  9. I tried to drink heavily last night but made it through half a can of drink and was feeling wasted, so stopped. I think it was maybe 7 pm. I am just no good at the drinking heavily. I love my mornings, see? except maybe today. But that there is a lie. I even like today’s morning, its gorgeous, and I should really take care of the chickens.
  10. I keep looking around the yard, seeing the stuff that needs to be done before real winter. who the hell am i? when did this happen? I also deal with the fact that I might be one of those people who end up with a rusting out car in the yard, because I just can’t muster up the energy to make it matter. I did put the grill away though. So there. ( I hope I never end up with a car in my yard, I mean, couldn’t I sell it or something? )

Sigh. Guys. Not my best work, I grant you. Here’s to today. rah.


NOVEMBER NONO: Seventeen. Wishes ARE horses.

Wish list:

  1. I wish Donald Trump would go completely away and not be heard from again, in any form, (except for/from/by his family, who presumably love him.)
  2. I wish that the sentence, “Black lives matter” just caused nods.
  3. I wish it was more clear to people that I am just what I say I am, and I’m trying my best, all the time and it comes from love, and fear, and love, all the time.  
  4. I wish my kids could live in a bubble of my love for the rest of their lives. And take comfort from the come and go nature of the bubble.
  5. I wish I could feel better about myself on a more regular basis.
  6. I wish I had tons of money so I could not be reliant on alimony and child support and could give a giant fuckoff to it.
  7. I wish I had a spot in the house that was sanctuary like, that I could go to and sit/stand/lie whatever, and sink into worship and thought and holiness.  ( I know I could do it within me, but its not what I am wishing for, damnit. I want OUTER calm. ((now I’m laughing hysterically)) )
  8. I wish everyone had double parentheses at their disposal. Food for their children too.
  9. I wish I liked healthy greens and grains.
  10. I wish I had a personal chef to force me to eat swiss chard. It is so beautiful. I would need to be tied down.
  11. I wish my old friend did not have cancer and dementia. It breaks me regularly. This is the ringer.
  12. I wish my heart would explode and cover and protect this whole world. It is a strong one, and we all need it.




What is sacred?

  1. I am. me.
  2. There is so much in that, because its just today, and I might forget it tomorrow, but today I stood up for myself, and all my people are standing and applauding right now and it feels pretty damn good.
  3. My home is sacred to me. The chaos and the beauty, all the things that drive me nuts. She’s becoming a person in my life, this dwelling place, and that’s something I’ll not turn down.
  4. Life, growth, green things, living things, they are sacred. I cannot be a Buddhist but I do avoid stepping on ants, and I’m aware of the loss of the tiny. And I’m blown away by the big.
  5. The birds in the bush. Their tiny lives as big as mine.
  6. November is the month my dad died. I kept saying I didn’t want it to be an anniversary, but it is, no matter what I say. My daughter turns eight before that though, but once the party is over, I typically fall down. Time is funny, and I allow it to blow through and continue to ruffle things.
  7. Lights, lights in the darkness. Twinkle. Stride, a stridency. A candle flame in the deeps. Auden.
  8. Wind. There is something truly clarifying in it. And danger rides along as well. Maybe the mix is what brings it to the level of sacred. So often it is there, just out of sight, waiting our notice, or acting out until we stare with our jaws dropped.  
  9. Friends. The ones who always answer the phone. The ones who stand up and cheer you.
  10. Skin. Touch. Feeling the humanity of another. Being felt.


Do you still dream of escape?

I have been, lately. I think that suddenly doing the quarantine singly has thrown me back in time a little. I did this dreaming when the kids were little, when the marriage was sucking me dry and not giving me anything in return. I was thirsting for something, and my dreams of escape were daily and full of despair. I was just drowning, all the time, and the shore seemed like heaven.

I’m back to dreaming of escape. My only resource, really, is this house and the equity I will have in it when the kids are grown. So, it’ll be for sale. No home for the grandkids here. Which fills me with all sorts of sadness of the future grief sort. Not to mention the weight of an imagined future grief of the kids.

And its not the same kind of escape as before. Its not an escape because my life is horrendous. Its an escape because of circumstance, and change. And that’s an entire world, you dig?

I don’t know what will happen. I don’t envision finding a partner who wants to take on the financial burden of this place, even if I got the mortgage down to a reasonable rate. Hello, quarantine/reopeningbedamned makes it pretty unlikely i’m going to be making plans of any kind for a while. (good and bad here. patience is a lesson I am always learning.)

AND, I also want to allow that my kids will be fine, that they may not have kids, might not need me to have a net for them for the rest of their lives, as much as I want to spend the rest of my life providing one. Imagining the weight of future grief doesn’t seem like the best use of my life’s moments.

And so I am thinking about what I will do then, when the littlest heads off to college or whathaveyou. Will I buy an RV to live in for the remainder of my days? (nah, probably not)

The idea that I could go anywhere, try anything, be anywhere? Its pretty inspiring. and the reality is slightly scary. Presuming that I don’t have family besides siblings at that point, will I try to get closer to them? Will I head for natural beauty? Will I aim for the small town at the center of every picturesque whitey American novel? With the little community coffee shop bustling with gourmet treats and artistic flair?

Will I just buy a little house and try to stay healthy til I die? I mean, its all the rage to be middle-aged, right? But then comes older than that.

I think I need to widen my angle a little. Maybe I’ll have a real income earning job and I can host lots of ladies here, to rest and rejuvenate and chase chickens for their own betterment. I mean, I could do that too.

There are more possibilities than I know about. I have to keep that in mind, and keep my eyes open. Dreaming of escape without despair? Should be dreamy, right?