Humanity

FLudge: transition kicks my ass.

I’m not good at transition, I never ever have been. And here we are, in transition. again.

I went from working every second of every day and feeling like an asshole absent parent to having all the kids in school and three days off a week, in which i am supposed to fit all the writing and editing in forevermore.

i’m okay, but not okay. i’m not happy with that blank space in my income, in my adventure, anymore, as much as last year was still all tentative about schools and kids and quarantines, this year does not feel that way. So I’m a bit at a loss, and a bit afraid.

I can pivot and turn and react on a dime, yes.

but when it is an ACTUAL dime? more challenging.

i’m tidying. i’m writing every day so far. i’m reading more. these are the things that are necessary for me when I transition back to work at home, they ground me and get me all ready to go sit in front of the screen. I find that the more I read, the more there is in my brain that opens portals to all that I have ever read, and felt, and I can find it again. the words spill, the gardens are remembered and I can see the jar of buttons for the wild source of story that it is.

It will be a short transition, this, into working too much again, or being torn between what is ‘work’ and what I can be distracted from, and complaints of a sort about chauffeuring kids. They aren’t real complaints anymore, as I see the end of this chapter of my life in the air before me. Just noticings. A habit of complaint, maybe, but no honest one. I see it in its last days now, and already know I will long for such simple time spent with my kids.

Its time for me to rocket off in search of another thing to tidy. I’m not ready to face the applications for jobs yet, its my least favorite part, though I can submit in a flurry fury once I am ready.

love you guys, see you soon.

-me.

  • I’ve had two offers of an ax, by the way, so it looks like i’ll have to save my fancy outfit and candles for some other event. Maybe I’ll chop the wood in it? Or maybe hold the candles up while my boys split? I’ll decide as I go.

Pink candle to bring the light.
Humanity

The busy dead.

I’m braindead and dreaming about cigarettes. I can’t find my phone. I’m stalling going into work at the greenhouses because oh my god, its august, and greenhouses are over a hundred degrees. i run to the 95* shade like its a relief afterwards. I cannot drink enough water. I am frequently dead.

I sent a picture of myself to my best friend in wisconsin who is a nurse. and she jumped into high alert, which was not my intention. it was funny sad because i was fine, but could see her distress and feel my own distress at humanity not really being suited for outside work when the world is spinning too fast and is losing its protection from the sun.

tomorrow i drive to maine, leaving my middle at the camp of his dreams. he’s such a cool kid, and this summer i’ve been feeling all the sadness of a mom who works a lot and is not with her kids enough. and now he is gone for two weeks. bliss, for him. and bittersweet for me. sports tryouts start directly when he gets back. its a wrap.

i’m trying to write more, guys, and its not all ending up here, which is probably a relief to you, loyal readers, as maybe what i write here will begin to have more form, more direct glow/flow. Clearly, this is not happening today. I think its the impact of the driving day, the time spent just staring and thinking. I really do. I don’t even always listen to music, and the car I drive is a very zippy jetta. I am wholeheartedly in favor of the jetta, and who knew i’d ever have an opinion about a car? who knew? But I LOVE IT, and will actually consider foregoing a subaru when next I am forced to consider car buying.

zippy.

sigh. i’ve got to get ready for today’s work. the boss called and said today is a wear what you want day, which means i can forego the pants, which is a blessing of MAGNITUDE. so there is that.

love love, stay cool,

-me

Well, on second glance, i can see why she was concerned! … 😂
Humanity

my problem is rapture.

Alternate Title: THE DAHLIAS ARE COMING! THE DAHLIAS ARE COMING!

Rapture is a problem for me these days. I can hardly stand to make a bouquet of flowers, because each SINGLE BLOSSOM sends me into a state of rapture. The color, the intricacy, the variety? I gasp so frequently, I am left breathless.

Have you looked at flowers ever? I mean, if all things are logic, biology and scientific advantage, and survival, then what the hell is a snapdragon? Chamomile? Daisy? Hydrangea?

The weeds by the road are only that because we can’t control them. ‘Weeds’, the anarchists. Me, ‘the man’.

I choose not to be ‘the man’ this week, or in this life. SO. I make bouquets of wildflowers and lose my breath frequently as I walk through greenhouse after greenhouse of astonishment. I feel the constancy of the bursting heart. My heart is growing with the experience and I feel lucky about that.

Change is coming, and I wonder a little bit about what sort it will be. There are some clear ones coming. My children are growing and the changes of who lives with me are coming soon, and my heart is breaking daily, in preparation. Maybe it is making me more resilient in the long run. I can’t believe its already here, this time.

I don’t know much of what I want to be in my life, I just know how I want to be. I just know that I want to hang on to being overwhelmed by beauty. I just know that I want to be laughing, and making people laugh. I want to be loved and appreciated and I want to glow when I look at the people I love. (i do that already. I’m smiling at you, people i love.)

I’ve got a lot of worries, like most people. I’m confused about how to bring in more money and more stability financially. I’ve got to start doing more of all of that. AND my friends, why are we living in a society in which beauty-gazing is not a career? I kid, and I do not, all at once.

Just found out I didn’t win powerball again. This time, I had actually bought a ticket.

Sigh. Go on, tell me about the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, the breath-taker.

Go on.

Zinnias, black-eyed-susans, wild sweetpeas, chamomile, hydrangea and snapdragons, waiting to be bouquets.
Humanity

Sweeps

I’m at a baseball game in the middle of the day. I mean, I guess they are all in the middle of the day. Fair enough.

I spent the morning trying to arrange rides for all the kids. It was successful and everyone is going to have a good time and that makes me feel all glowy, while i feel like shit at the very same minute because I am absent. this is not good. (goddamned school vacation, and all) and then i drove to my mom’s so that she could drive me to work.

Then, at work, I spent the morning walking my boss’s dogs because one of them was having surgery and my boss was feeling crazy stress and worry and so I went with her to the vet.

And now I am here, having gotten my car out of the shop for an insanely large amount of credit card usage. Its another one of those splits. 1.I am thrilled to have my car back and I would throw any amount of debt-incurring at it to have it back. who cares? and 2. I am feeling nauseous about finances.

But i have my car, and i made it to the game to see him play. I’m good. Its all good.

And I’m sitting in my car, looking at the greens and the golds, and the faintest blue of the sky, and being swept with meloncholy. I feel watery.

I don’t see a way out of some of where I find myself, well, not a way that I like.

Sigh. You know what new phrasing has arrived in our american language that I really like?

I am feeling some type of way.

I am.

I am feeling some type of way.

But I have my car, and I made it to the game, and I am sitting in my car doing something I really love to do, write, and think, simultaneously.

So there.

I am going to find a pigpile of joy today, never you fear. But for now? Watery.

Humanity

Two tings

Firstly. I did not get the refinance that I wanted. The bank ties my income to alimony and child support, which they must, and one of my kids will be 18 in the next two years and the bank is afraid of what that will mean. I get it. I have moments of being afraid too. Dat is ting one.

Second ting. I have been meditating most days lately. I just put the phone near my working ear and I listen to the ramblings of the quiet newaged people, who are actually following super old age traditions. The other day I was sitting for a long chakra balancing guided meditation, which i loved, in its entire entirety. BECAUSE. a) i love chakras and can follow my energy up and down my body like a boss generally. b)because sitting quietly does give me a minute and i come out of it feeling refreshed, like i’ve had a good sleep. and c) the woman who was giving the guidance had the appearance of a honky but she had an accent that I couldn’t quite place. It was fine, until she got to the Third Eye chakra, the seat of intuition and wonder. (i say) It was then, my friends, that I realized she could not pronounce ‘th’. Why, kate? How could you recognize that?

Welcome to the TURD EYE.

I cannot even think about it without belly laughing and having a hard time catching my breath. This was now several days ago, and still.

TURD EYE.

OPEN YOUR TURD EYE.

GO ON, I DARE YOU.

TURD EYE.

close up view gray feather
THIS FEATHER HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOUR TURD EYE. Photo by Irene Lasus on Pexels.com