Four decades of red shoe regrets, resolved

I've had a love hate relationship with red shoes for so many years ... stalking them, loving them, lusting for them, even buying them again and again, only to find myself unable to wear them because they're just way too red. There are at least three pairs stashed away right now in a box in the garage that I've never worn, even though part of me still loves looking at them. I even get them out to try on every once in awhile.

Anyway. Today I break my long blog silence to announce that the curse has been lifted: I've found some red shoes that I love, that I can actually wear. Check 'em out!

OK, so maybe they're not the height of fashion ... I actually worried as I was ordering them that they might look like clown shoes, or children's shoes. But they don't (well, maybe a tiny bit, but in a good way). I'm happy with them. They're red enough to be red, without being TOO red. I love the slight platform, the soft thick leather, the comfortable strap. And you can't tell from this picture but they're very wide across the toes, just like my feet. I plan to wear them all summer.

What else? I still think about blogging every day, but so much of what I think of saying seems kind of unnecessary to say. That's a spell that seems to have been broken lately too – my decades-long compulsion to document my experiences, rather than simply living them. I think that practice helped me, more than anything else I've done, to learn how to really inhabit my own life. Writing it all down – and paying close attention to myself, so I can be accurate in my account – has taught me to love it all. I read something the other day that rang true to me:

The great Japanese film director Akira Kurosawa once said, "An artist is someone who never averts his eyes." In 1923, the Great Kanto earthquake killed 100,000 people and destroyed Tokyo. Kurosawa was just 13 years old and walked amongst the devastation of human and animal corpses. When he tried to turn away, his older brother instructed him not to avert his eyes. As a result, Kurosawa came to believe that looking at the whole of life was a way to defeat fear.

That's a big part of what I've been doing until lately with this blog, and with journaling in general. Learning to defeat my fears. I can't say they're totally defeated, or that I expect them ever to be, but I do feel safe in my life and in the world right now, and that makes me feel generous and strong, like I have more to offer than this inward-turning exploration of my own ego. I guess that's why I'm not writing much right now. I'm feeling more like expressing myself in other ways.

While I'm quoting people, here's another quote I've been meditating on for awhile, that I feel I've finally internalized to the point where it's truly how I see the world. I have it on a little card on the refrigerator and have been painting it in calligraphy on little cards to leave around town ... just for fun, and maybe to share the blessing it's been to me:

Hm, what else? It does seem like a long time since I've written anything down. Just for utilitarian purposes, I'll go ahead and document some highlights, in no particular order.

1. I'm about half way done winding down with the antidepressants. They did their job for me again, and I'm grateful. Once again however they did cause me to gain weight – about 20 lbs since August – and that is not good for me. Actually, I don't think they directly caused the weight gain; what seems to have happened (again) is that they make me sleepy and hungry, and hungry specifically for carbohydrates, so that it's very hard to exercise and eat like I know I should. So I'm weaning myself off them and forcing myself to do what I need to, even though I really, really don't feel like it.

2. The job is still going great. I don't think it's possible to overstate how much I love it. This, too, I think, is a huge part of why I'm feeling so good these days.

3. Not that everything is perfect. I don't feel like cataloguing everything I don't like, though. It's all just normal stuff, no different than what most people have to deal with in one way or another.

4. We found out last week that Tater has diabetes insipidus. It isn't the same thing as diabetes mellitus ("sugar" diabetes – the kind I have) – it's caused by a deficiency of a different hormone, and isn't life-threatening; it mainly just means his kidneys can't concentrate urine properly so he needs to drink a ton of water, and pee a lot (that's how I realized something was going on; he was just drinking soooo much water). We're starting him on a medication that should help. Other than that, he's still doing great, enjoying his food, toys and walks, and even inviting Bea to wrestle with him every once in awhile, just like a big puppy. He'll be 13 on June 1.

5. Bea is just a wonderful, wonderful little dog. We're doing an agility class together, and she's also evolved into a major ball hound. That's fun for both of us and makes it easy to exercise her – I just throw the ball for her for 20 minutes a couple of times a day and that about does it for her.

6. I think I am officially turning into the nutty middle-aged dog lady. And I'm pretty much OK with that.

7. My latest obsession is finding the perfect underwear to wear under summer dresses. I'm pretty sure I'm going to have to figure out how to make it myself, and I have a plan. It's based on a pair of ladies' old-fashioned silk combination underwear from the 20s that I found at a vintage shop a few years ago, and is basically a full slip with a camisole top and a long-ish split skirt at the bottom, and possibly some kind of drop flap at the crotch (this is the part I'm still working out, how the crotch needs to work in combination with the longer legs. The piece I have is more like tap pants on the bottom, but I wanted something that will work better on a bike). The goal is to create something that is loose, cool and comfortable, with no clinging waist band or straps to fall down, and with two legs so you can ride a bike without worrying about the whole thing flying up over your head.

8. We've been putting up birdhouses all over the property this spring and as of this weekend we have over 90% occupancy.

9. My early morning yoga experiment lasted exactly one day, at which point I pulled a muscle in my back (in an un-yoga-related incident) and was out of commission for almost two weeks. By that time I'd basically given up on the whole idea of my spring practice period, and decided to just do what I can, when I can. I'm still going to my class at the gym and practicing a little bit at home each day. I want to do more and when I can, I will!

10. The early rising thing was not a total loss, however. I'm learning how to go to bed earlier and gradually it's getting easier to wake up earlier without such a struggle. Part of the problem, I've realized recently, is Mr. A's schedule – he's up between 3 and 4 a.m. every week day, and even though I sleep in my own room, with ear plugs, I always seem to wake up at least partially whenever he's up and about. Synchronizing my sleep schedule with his, at least a little, has helped some; instead of going to bed at 11 or 12, I've been trying to be asleep no later than 10 p.m., which gives me a chance to get into and out of one good solid cycle before he wakes me up at 3. It's not a perfect solution but I think it's better than before.

11. I got through the whole winter without knitting a single thing and am now getting involved in summer sweaters, and tiny little pink sandals for newborn babies in Japan. This is not just any baby, but the baby of my first true love from high school, who's lived there for almost a decade now and is having a daughter in just a couple of weeks with his adorable Japanese wife. Apparently nobody does baby showers or shares baby clothes over there, so they are having to outfit the entire enterprise alone ... Except, they're not really alone – I'm crocheting furiously .... Wishing I had had the time and inclination to do more of this kind of thing when my own nieces and nephews were being born, but I guess better late than never.

12. Speaking of family, I've been more homesick for my brothers and sisters and parents over the last several months than at any other time I can remember since I left home at 18. I'm not sure why. I just love them so much, and miss them so much, and wonder sometimes why I'm still living out here so far away ... except that I love my family here – Mr. A and the dogs, and my friends – and I love my job, and the landscape, and the plants and trees and beautiful clean fresh air ..... Anyway, I'll be traveling to Utah at least once or twice this summer, and possibly to a few other places too. Looking very, very forward to that.

P.S. One more thing – I'm on the lookout for an extremely wide-brimmed straw hat, for gardening. The biggest one I have right now is about 18" across and I would love to have one that is at least two feet across, or even wider. Almost like a parasol for the head! Oh wait – maybe this? I'm actually picturing something more a little rougher, more rustic ... Let me know if you see something like that, won't you?

I had a dream / the river

It happened last week. I meant to write it down that day, that very morning, so I wouldn't forget any of it. Then I got busy, and a few days passed ... and now all I can remember is that it featured my ex-husband introducing me to his new family, including several kids he's had with his new wife (this was just in the dream – I have no idea if he's actually had more kids with her), and ended with me feeling happiness and compassion for him, suddenly somehow completely cured of that last lingering smudge of resentment and/or contempt that's been dogging me ever since I left him, whenever I happen to think of him.

It seems to be lasting, too. I still don't want anything to do with him, but I no longer have any real negative feelings left toward him. It's a huge relief. Those feelings take up so much space in your heart, when you let them.

Another wonderful thing that's happened this week is that the creek behind our house is finally flowing again. Last Friday it started to rain, and it rained pretty steadily all day weekend. Saturday night on my way home from an awesome restorative yoga class (a gift from my old roommate S., whom I've been enjoying reconnecting with lately) I stopped to check the creekbed and it was still empty. By ten o'clock the next morning it was as full as I've ever seen it, except when it's flooding. I took both dogs back there and we spent over an hour playing at the edge of the water, in the pouring rain. It was Bea's first time ever to experience that kind of water and she loved it.

I love it too. People have written more eloquently than I ever could about the healing properties of water ... so I'll just say, yeah. It works for me. Watching and listening to that creek flow is one of the most calming, affirming and happifying things I know. Every year I wait for the day the flow begins. And every year there it is again.

I've had two job interviews and calls for two more since the last time I wrote. I'm still a little ambivalent, but less and less so as I get more used to the idea of working full-time again. Late this afternoon I got a voicemail from the manager at the job I think would be best, and when I call him back tomorrow I suspect he's either going to ask me back for a second interview or offer me the job. This is the one where I would be driving ten miles, but you can take dogs to work. I've also had several calls from the manager from the other interview, the low-paying one that is closer to home, who is waiting for budget approval from her boss but seems to want to not let me get away in the meantime ....

So – to summarize – still no official offers yet, but things seem to be starting to move. Take it as it comes, I suppose. Even if I don't get any of these jobs, I'm getting a lot of great feedback from people and that always feels good.

And finally, since I seem to be incapable of writing a post that doesn't focus in some way on my anxiety, I'll close by saying that it seems to be mostly pretty manageable lately. I've sort of recommitted myself to cutting way way back on carbohydrates, especially processed sugar, and have been doing well with my exercise "routine," such as it is – basically, two to three yoga classes a week, plus walking the dogs about two miles a day, plus the occasional running on the treadmill (a great way to burn off extra adrenaline and blood glucose, all at the same time). I've had a few bad mornings in the last week or so, but nothing too disabling. It will be interesting to see how the transition back to work affects my chemistry .... I've decided to assume it's going to be just fine, however it all rolls out. Again: Take it as it comes.

What else? I think I might have run over a cat today. I didn't see anything, but I heard a little thump on the side of the car and when I looked in the rear view mirror I saw something (a cat? a possum?) sort of jumping and leaping in place by the side of the road. I turned around at the end of the next block and went back to see if I could help, but by the time I got there, whatever it was was gone. It's sort of been haunting me all day. I've only ever killed three other animals with a car, that I know of – one rabbit, one squirrel, and one bird – all completely unavoidable. Just another reason I'd love to never have to drive.

Don't know why I'm even mentioning that. It seems kind of gloomy. I guess I just don't want to forget that it happened; the life of that little animal, whatever it was, deserves to be acknowledged.

My favorite place: an update

This is where I've been spending as much time as possible lately. It's a tiny little beach but because you have to hike a bit to get there, and probably for other reasons too, it's never all that crowded. I've been swimming as much as I can, just floating and diving and letting myself be carried by the waves. We saw dolphins doing the same thing a couple of weeks ago ... probably they were hunting too, I suppose ... anyway, it was cool to see them.

I appear to be entering perimenopause. The infamous fuzzy thinking has definitely taken hold, and I'm considering it one of the blessings of this time of my life that I'm not presently encumbered with a job that would make fuzzy thinking a detriment. When it takes over, I'm mostly able to just go with it. Which is not to say that I'm not getting anything useful done, just that I'm doing it at my own pace and timing rather than feeling bound to work by someone else's guidelines. It's actually pretty great. The hot flashes, not so much. I'm fine tuning my diet this month though and am expecting to be able to continue just riding them out when they happen. So far they've been few and far between, and uncomfortable, but not unbearable.

We missed the window of opportunity to live outdoors for a month or two while redoing the entire house, so have been focusing instead on doing other stuff that doesn't require emptying all the furniture out into the yard. The carpets have been shampooed and re-shampooed to within an inch of their lives, and amazingly, they look almost new again – so much so that I'm a little embarrassed at having waited to so long to do them. I really thought they were beyond hope. We now have the whole winter to look at flooring, cabinets, lighting and fixtures and make some well-considered decisions about what will work for the rest of our lives – since I never want to have to do this again – instead of rushing into a quick choice that may or may not end up making us (meaning, me) happy.

I've been looking at pictures of places I used to live in, and remembering things I liked and didn't like. The good news is, I still like a lot of the same stuff I've always liked, like unpainted solid wood doors, wood floors, checkered tile in the kitchen, certain colors and patterns ... If I've already liked it for 45 years, it's a good bet I will continue to like it. So we'll probably end up going with that. With some variations just for fun, of course.

Yoga is going great. I love, love, love my practice and my teacher. I'm riding my bike a lot more again now too, now that Bea is old enough to be left alone for more than just a few hours at a time. That's been really wonderful. Mr. A took me to test ride a few full-suspension mountain bikes and I'm thinking maybe I'll get into some off-road riding this year, in addition to my usual riding-for-transportation. It was amazing to ride off a curb on a bike so springy I hardly felt the bump. Also, I've started running, very tentatively, and swimming at the gym every once in awhile. And walking the dogs two to four miles a day. For all the work I've been doing, strangely, I haven't lost much weight ... I still look about the same as I always have. I feel good though. The depression seems to be fading too, for which I'm very grateful.

Not much is happening on the job front, though I am starting to look more seriously again. I sent several resumes last week, including one where an old friend is at least partly in charge of hiring (so, fingers crossed for at least an interview), and received a rejection notice from a barista position at Whole Foods. Hrmph. I've been working 10-20 hours a week on various web projects, and starting this week will be working one day a week at my friend's froufy home furnishings shop again, the same one I worked at last time I was grievously underemployed. She is sweet and the shop is beautiful, and I'm looking forward to getting out of the house and interacting with actual human beings on a more regular basis again.

As for school, I'm contemplating whether I want to reapply to that program now or not. I still don't have the experience they want, and not really any prospect of obtaining it, so it seems kind of pointless. There are other programs, though. In the meantime I'm looking for a place to start learning Spanish. Seems like a good thing for anyone living and working in California to know, and I've got the time. And I like languages. So there's that.

The dogs are great. They're a huge part of my life right now. Is that pathetic, or wonderful? I choose to think of it as wonderful. Bea is 45 lbs now and won first prize in the games at her graduation from puppy school, for mastering and demonstrating the most tricks and commands. She has several puppy friends that we meet at the dog park every once in awhile, and is turning out to be a complete and utter sweetie pie. She's still breaking in her big girl teeth on everything she can get a hold of, and she loves to dig in her water bowl, but the incessant frantic barking is finished and she's finally starting to enjoy snuggling and snoozing without constantly chewing on our hands and faces.

Yesterday we found out she's now tall enough to reach things on the kitchen counters – for example, the 3/4 lb steak that was cooling on a plate, waiting to be sliced over salads. I thought Mr. A had put it in the fridge, and he though I had, so it took us awhile to realize that the puppy snoring away on her back in the middle of the floor was not just sleepy from playing all morning, but from the aftereffects of a very large protein snack. I still don't know how she did it without pulling the plate off the counter, or leaving some tell-tale greasy mess somewhere ... But I know it wasn't me who ate it, and it wasn't Mr. A, and Tater can't stand up on his hind legs like that anymore, even if he wanted to – which he never has done in his life, anyway. What with him being the world's most perfect dog and all.

It was actually pretty cool to imagine her enjoying that steak though. I wish I could have seen her. Especially because it will (must) never happen again. I'm working with her now to make sure she understands the counter is not a place for dogs to eat, ever, ever, ever. Kind of sad, in a way, but probably best for everyone.

In other news, I just looked into a little mirror I have here on my desk and saw that I seem to be growing some new little nose hairs I never noticed before. Oh dear.

And finally, fall is time to dream of boots ... I haven't decided yet if I'm going to spend any money on boots this winter. It turns out I don't really love the ones I got last year, and have hardly worn them. Possibly I will sell them on eBay ... they're seriously almost brand new. I even still have the box. Anyway, in closing, here are a few that I've been looking at for 2010-11.




What are you wearing on your feet lately?

Bad news / good news

The bad news is I just got an overpayment notice from the unemployment people. Apparently I forgot to report some income I had back in February – despite my sincerest efforts at accurate record-keeping and reporting – and now I have to write them a check for the amount they paid me, that I wasn't entitled to. Plus, they "may" add a 30% penalty. Not to mention they "may also assess a penalty denying future benefits that I might claim for up to 23 weeks." Which would really suck.

I know it doesn't do any good, but man, I'm so mad at myself about this right now. I don't know how I could have overlooked it, but looking at the check stubs, it appears I did. The worst part is knowing that it doesn't matter that it was an honest mistake – when I call them on Monday to ask them to please not add those penalties, I fully expect them to think I'm a liar and a cheater trying to rip off the system, and to treat me as one. It's so maddening. I didn't do it on purpose! Also, anyone who knows me would know that the anxiety I feel at the very thought of possibly getting caught in a lie is more than enough to keep me in line.

So I'm just going to have to try and let this go, accept whatever they decide, and write the damn check. But for the record, I do want to state: I am not a liar!

On to the good news. We may have found a puppy. There's a litter of golden retriever / black lab mix pups at a rescue up north of Sacramento that we're going to look at tomorrow. I'm nervous and excited. I just found out about them this afternoon, and am feeling a little overwhelmed at the idea of having an 8-week-old baby dog to look after on only 24 hours' notice. With Tater it was so natural and easy; I knew his parents, and visited several times a week starting as soon as the pups were born. My friends and I spent that entire summer in puppy mode, so by the time he was old enough to come home with me I was totally in sync with the energy and routine of taking care of a very young dog.

I knew even at the time that it was about as perfect an experience as anyone could hope to have, and I appreciated every minute of it. It would be so great if I could do it that way again this time. There's something kind of weird about walking into a room, spending a few minutes with a dog, and then having to make an on-the-spot decision about whether you're going to invite that dog to be an intimate partner in your life for the next twelve to fifteen years.

Normally I would expect someone from the rescue to be intimately involved with each of the dogs, so you could get a more informed impression of each dog's temperament, energy level and personality. The lady I talked to on the phone today sounded like kind of a dingaling, though. She just kept saying how "sweet" the puppies were – which I didn't find very useful, since pretty much all puppies are sweet. I guess there's really nothing to do but drive up there and see for ourselves.

(Out the window: A small gopher standing at the edge of a garden path, chewing something.)

What I would like to Not do is spend every weekend for the rest of the summer driving all over the state to look at puppies that either aren't there anymore by the time we get there, or that turn out to be not the dog we want. Or, adopting a dog and then finding out that she's totally insane, untrainable, or otherwise incompatible with our family. Or, waiting too long, and ending up with a broken heart and an empty house utterly devoid of dogs.

I think I mentioned recently that Tater will be 12 years old on June 1. When he first came home with me I remember thinking, "This dog will be with me until I'm almost 50." I still really hope that happens, and it could. His health is good and he's happy, energetic for his age, and always up for a walk. Still. There's that saying about eggs and baskets. Going from two dogs to one was hard. Going from one to zero would be unbearable.

It's impossible for me to imagine loving any other dog as much as I love the Taterman. Is this how parents feel when they contemplate having more than one child? Maybe I'll be surprised to find I'm capable of more love than I realized. I hope so. Actually, I suppose I do already believe that's what will happen – it's kind of the whole reason we're getting another dog. Our family feels smaller these days, because it is smaller – by two members in the last year, with more to come – and we need to renew ourselves.

With all the hospice work and other death-related stuff I've been doing, this has really come home to me in the last few months – the need to renew. The older I get, the more I seem to see what it looks like at the end of things. Sickness, old age, death – they're all inevitable. If you don't make a point of mixing it up a bit with people who are still just starting out (babies and kids, in other words), it's easy to start feeling kind of fatalistic about things, like why even try when it's obvious it all ends the same way for everyone?!

The trouble is, I don't know many kids around here. I have 18 wonderful nieces and nephews but I only see them a few times a year. The kids I know here, I can count on one hand. One finger, if you want to know the truth. In this whole entire town I have exactly one friend who is a child.

Bizarre, eh?

So – a perfect time to start re-balancing my life in the direction of youth, growth, and puppies. And maybe start thinking about signing up with the mentoring program; it might be nice to know a few more kids, too.

Another month, another depressing post

Yep, I'm not posting much these days. The depression seems to be taking a lot out of me this winter. I've come to a slow realization that is actually has been taking quite a lot of out me for some time now – years, really. A couple of decades, if I'm going to be honest. Strange to think I've never really noticed the extent of it until recently. Partly I think that's because of a semi-stoic attitude I absorbed while growing up, this inclination to always try to minimize anything that might be going wrong ... a need to keep trying, and appear positive even when suffering, in order to not draw attention to myself or add to other people's burdens. Even when I've been completely falling apart, when anyone asks how I'm doing my automatic response is to reassure them that I'm OK, or at least getting better.

Part of that, of course, is also to reassure myself. It's scary to admit when I'm just not able to cope. Talking about it makes it feel more real; talking about being better makes that feel more possible.

But there is such a thing as denial. This winter, it's true, in the very large scheme of things I really am OK. Overall, though, I have to say ... not so much. I've been reading a lot and going over my old journals lately and am somehow now seeing it all from a different perspective. There have been many times when I've written about how I've deliberately designed my life for a minimum of stress, and I always thought of that as a good thing. Now I'm not so sure. I'm almost 45 years old and starting to see some of the results of my "take it easy" strategy, and am realizing that not only has it kept me from achieving some of the more important things I always thought I wanted out of life, it also has failed in its main (only) purpose – to protect me from anxiety, stress and depression.

I was willing to give up a lot – almost everything – to avoid the kinds of crashes I've experienced before. Who knows, maybe if I hadn't been living this way I really would have gone off the deep end by now. Or, maybe I would've developed more of the kind of strength I'm feeling the lack of now.

It seems pointless to wonder what might have happened if I'd done things differently. All I can do is start living differently NOW. I met with a new therapist this week and am feeling really positive and excited about working with her. She's someone I've known socially, sort of peripherally, for over 10 years, and I've always liked her and felt very comfortable with her, and in our first session I was impressed at her ability to identify themes and trends, and also to point out disconnects and contradictions I wasn't seeing on my own.

I also have an appointment for a physical next week, to check in on my diabetes plan and all the basic blood work, and also to talk with him about my depression. I'm feeling like for now, I want to avoid going back on meds ... although it scares me to think I might crash again. I went on a business trip to Southern California with Mr. A for eight days last week and spent most of the time at the library or reading by the pool – reading about depression, and antidepressant medications, and the brain, and trying to figure out how to get myself well ... And everything I was reading seems to indicate that I'm a damn fool not to take advantage of pharmaceuticals as early as possible. According to what I was reading, depression isn't just a mood disorder – that part is just a symptom. What's really going on is far more serious, and permanent. In super simplified terms, untreated major depression eats away at the brain – these are physical, structural changes that you can actually see. The longer you leave it untreated, the worse it gets, even if nothing appears to be changing ... As I've seen in my own life of late, you can go along for years apparently doing fine, and then one small shock (like getting laid off) can be enough to push you back over the precipice. Antidepressant meds can protect the brain from further damage and even help repair damage that's already been done.

That's the short version. The long version includes side effects, social stigma, long-term safety and maybe most compelling – the question of just who I would be if I were no longer "this way." Am I really ready to try to change this aspect of myself, when I've spent the last 18-20 years designing my whole life around it? And what if I do try to change it, and it won't change? What if I really am stuck being fucked up and having no energy or confidence or ability to concentrate, forever?

I guess if that happens, at least I'll know. This situation didn't develop overnight, and just because I have an appointment next week doesn't mean I have to start taking drugs again if I don't feel ready. I've never really tried St. John's wort, or any of the other herbal supplements that are recommended for depression ... That might be a more comfortable place to start, although I'm not sure I see herbs as being all that different than a pill from the pharmacy. It's all just chemicals, right?

And the fact that I've made a commitment to work with a therapist, and have actually started therapy, is a good indication that I am ready to try to do something about this. Change is scary, even when it's a change for the positive. Not as scary as the road I'm already on, though.

In other news: One of the first things I want to nail down with this therapist is – what the hell am I going to do for work now? The fact that a whole month has passed since I had the idea of getting an MSW, and I still have done almost nothing to move myself toward that goal ... That's disturbing to me. It shows me that there really is something wrong here. One thing I have figured out is that it's unlikely I'll be able to just apply to a program and be instantly accepted. There are prerequisites I haven't met yet, including a requirement that I demonstrate my involvement with related work (and be able to provide references detailing my contributions).

However. Last night I came up with a tentative plan to start moving in that direction. I don't know if it's a feasible plan, or if I'll be able to follow through, but the basic plan is to invest in a certificate as a massage technician, and complete training as a hospice volunteer. Both are things I've wanted to do for years and years, and never had the time. Right now, I have the time and the money, and can be actively working toward both goals within the next two weeks. I have an interview for the hospice training program next Tuesday, and could start the course for a massage certificate on February 2. The massage part is partly just because it's something I've wanted to do, and also because I love the idea of having that skill available to use in hospice work, either with patients or with their loved ones. And with my own loved ones, too. Touch has been so important to me all my life, and especially now, when I'm feeling so disconnected from life.

Another piece of this puzzle is that when we were on that trip last week we had dinner with Mr. A's old boss, and he offered to start sending me some editing work – Mr. A thinks it could average out to be as much as 10-20 hours a week. If that works out, it could be a great way to keep some income flowing while I get my prerequisites and volunteer experience under way, and start moving toward grad school.

So maybe that's a contradiction right there – I just said I'd done almost nothing about achieving this goal, and yet ... that's not really true. I've started therapy (for necessary support while I make these changes), done a lot of research, made appointments, set aside funds for all of the above. I guess I do have a habit of being hard on myself when I talk about things I want to do, because so often my ideas are so much bigger than my ability to follow through. I don't want to give myself even a molecule of credit until the results are in. But maybe now is a good time to practice giving myself the benefit of the doubt, and at least a point or two for having made the effort to clearly frame some intentions, even if I haven't finished (or really even started) acting on them yet.

One final thought. Maybe it seems weird for someone who's been so affected by depression to choose, out of all possible volunteer opportunities, to work with people who are dying. I can't really explain why it feels right for me, but ... well, why does it? Hmm. Maybe part of it is just because I've never seen death as a scary, terrible thing. Especially when you know it's coming, it can feel more like an opportunity, and I think I could be good at supporting people through the experience. The connection with depression, I'll have to think about. I know that when I'm in a bad depression, I often feel a weird sort of longing to just Not Be Here anymore. To just disappear. Or not really to disappear, but more ... to be absorbed back into life. I can understand how it could be scary to die. And also, how it could be a blessing.

I want to figure out what it really means to be here, and not here. I suppose this is something I'll need to get a little more clear on before my interview with the hospice program next week.

P.S. Another exciting thing – I rescued a dog the other night! We'd had an insanely incredible thunder and lightning storm that afternoon, and he jumped his fence and was several miles from home when I saw him jogging along the highway in the dark in the pouring rain, inches away from rush hour traffic, looking for a place to cross. I pulled onto a side road and parked, and went back for him. He was soaking wet and filthy, an 8-year-old Brittany spaniel named Cash. He hesitated a bit, tried to escape under a bridge, then saw the creek was too full and followed me to the truck and jumped right in when I invited him. I called the number on his collar and got him back to his person. I made a joke about wanting to keep him instead of giving him back; it made me feel so good to be able to save him from being hit. Then last night the guy called me back, wanting to know if I was serious about adopting Cash. Apparently he's home alone almost all the time, and the guy's son lives with his mother now and doesn't have time for a dog. He did seem like a really cool dog, smart and gentle and well-trained, though I have my doubts about taking on such an accomplished escape artist. Probably the answer will be no, but I'm thinking about it.

Clarity (a brief moment of)

So one of the possibilities I've been reading about is becoming a Certified Diabetes Educator. I just keep coming back to it ... As much as I try to tell myself it would make more sense to get an RN, just as a way to qualify for a more stable kind of job than I've had until now, my heart really isn't in it. Visions of bedpans, etc.

However. Certification as an RN might be the fastest way to open a door to something that does interest me – it's one way to meet the discipline requirement to sit for the CDE exam. I could also do it by becoming an occupational therapist or dietician, or by getting an MSW or a master's in nutrition or health education. I'm interested in all of those things (there are also other options that don't interest me at all – optometrist, podiatrist, etc.). But I think the RN is the shortest program, and possibly the cheapest. Not that I think it would necessarily be all that easy, assuming I could even get into a program.

My first choice of paths here – what appeals most to my heart and soul – would be to do the MSW, then the practice experience required to sit for the exam, then to work in a clinical setting (not a private practice) with diabetic clients on both physical and mental/emotional health issues. How the hell long would that take? How would I pay for it? Am I really smart enough to do that? Am I healthy enough? Do I have the stamina? Would I be able to find a job when I was done?

This is where I realize the RN is probably not the best way. Because ultimately, even as a CDE, I would still be working in the discipline I'd chosen, and I don't really want to work as a nurse. I need to be honest with myself about this. I don't want to be a nurse. I want to be a health educator or some kind of therapist. I think. Maybe. Unless it's all just too exhausting.

Still ... I do feel like I need to make a change. Today I read this article, written by one of my clients. It's exactly the kind of thing I used to write for a living and reading it confirmed that I have absolutely zero interest in pursuing that kind of work again, ever. Less than zero interest – negative interest. Infinity negative. I just don't think I could do it again. And I don't have much enthusiasm for design work anymore, either. Good to feel clear about that, too, I suppose.

Ugh. It's the middle of the night, and I can't sleep. Maybe it's just because I'm not doing that well right now, but the thought of scrapping my last 25 years of professional experience (such as it is) to start over from scratch in a completely unrelated field ... I guess I need to think of it as "exciting," and it is, but also: it just kind of freaks me out.

But – the reason I wanted to write it down tonight is because I've been thinking about what feels good when I let my mind consider every possibility, and this is what feels good to me tonight. A teacher I kind of like has this saying, "What is inclusive of how." I've been keeping that in mind too. Because anything that is going to happen, has to start with the "what." The vision. Not that is has to be 100% clear and complete before anything can begin ... I'm expecting that like any other living thing, the vision will evolve as I nurture it and start taking steps to make it happen.

There's also that other metaphor, the one about walking in the dark – the flashlight only reaches far enough to show you the next little bit of the path ahead, but if you just keep moving, you can get all the way there like that.

Anyway. Right now I'm concentrating on developing an informed, actionable and energizing vision of what I want to be doing over the next 5, 10 and 25 years, with faith that this will make it easier to work out the specifics of "how."

And now that I've emptied the contents of my brain into this post, I'm going to go see if I can get a little sleep before the sun comes up.

Considering changing direction(again, and in more ways than one)

I've just discovered something new about myself this weekend: When it comes to looking for work, at least as far as Monster.com is concerned, I'm OLD. They didn't say so in so many words ... but tonight I was googling for inspiration to help me rewrite my resume, and ran across several articles about the "40-plus job seeker." Until today I hadn't realized I'm considered basically over the hill, expired goods, in need of special help ....

Among other depressing information, one article offers the opinion that any experience more than 10 years old is irrelevant, and recommends that in drafting my resume, I "compare myself to younger workers, who are engaged with the job market and know what employers want." Another article even goes so far as to suggest I consider cutting or coloring my hair so as to not "give away my age."

I was planning to get my hair cut anyway, so I guess I won't take that one personally. But wow. Instead of feeling empowered, these articles sort of make me feel ... the opposite. Far from helping me solve a problem – how to present my earlier experiences as being relevant to the job at hand – they've informed me I have a new, bigger problem I didn't even know about.

Well, they may have a point. I am older now than I've ever been before. And while it's certainly possible to write up my most recent experience in positive terms, the truth is that I haven't had what I consider a "real" job in almost nine years. My plan when I left the software industry was to stop commuting and commit myself to living and working here in town, conserving resources, dedicating myself to supporting the social and economic health of my local community, blah blah blah. I've been lucky enough to be able to somehow always cobble together some sort of job, but it's never been very interesting, challenging or secure, and I've certainly never made much money at it. Still, until now it's been working. Sort of. But then the other day I ran across a folder full of emails I wrote right after I moved here in 1995, and realized as I read through them that it's never really been feasible for me to do what I've been doing – trying to do – in this town. It's been a struggle the entire time.

I need a new plan.

It's time to let go of the struggle and get real about where I'm living, and what I can do here that will be sustainable for the next 25 years. Even if I find another writing, editing or design job now, I'm feeling pretty clear that over the longer term I need to start moving toward doing something else. Something that brings me into closer contact with other people, that doesn't require me to sit at a desk all day. Something I can keep doing until I'm old. Something that can't be outsourced. Something that means something to me.

It's hard to get my mind around the idea of doing something completely different from what I've been doing for the last 20+ years. Especially since I'm not sure what else I might do. The main thought I keep coming back to is "something in healthcare ...." – a category so enormous I hardly know where to begin thinking about it. In my 20s I went through a period of being obsessed with childbirth, and began some training as a lay midwife. In my early 30s I finished a certification as a labor and delivery doula, although I only ever attended one birth – and that was a caesarean, so I wasn't allowed in the delivery room. Lately I've been interested in diabetes education, and health education in general – and I've obviously been interested in therapy and mental health issues for a very long time. There's also hospice ... I've had some very interesting conversations with a friend who's a hospice nurse ....

So I'm starting to look into various programs I could do within a reasonable distance from home – RN, MFT, MSW .... And also trying to figure out what jobs might actually exist locally, or within a short commute. At some point I'll also need to figure out how to pay for my new education, assuming I can even get into a program. I keep hearing it's not easy. And then, of course, I'll also need to find an actual JOB in my new field, so I can pay off my student loans ....

See how good I am at scaring myself away from actually doing anything? Like rewriting my resume, which is what I'm really supposed to be doing right now?

Well, one thing at a time.

Maybe the first thing I should do is revisit the question of whether I'm really going to be able to live the rest of my life without anxiety meds. Getting off them was a big part of the reason I took the "go local" route – I thought I would trade in the big paycheck and high stress level for a simpler, easier life with small but pure pleasures and a focus on quality over quantity ... and in a way, it sort of worked. I did go off the meds, and have stayed off them. But how well is it really going? I'm still hamstrung by anxiety, even though I've made my life just about as simple and small as it can possibly be. And it just keeps getting smaller.

On the other hand, how much did the drugs ever really help? I really can't remember. Would they help me now, at least to get my mind together enough to apply for a job, or a master's program? I can sit here and write this kind of drivel all night long, but when it comes to really focusing on something important (like my damn resume!) the anxiety leaps up from the floor where it's been snoozing and grabs me by the throat, and my heart starts pounding and my mind starts racing and I just can't concentrate at all.

Even so, I have to try. I am going to send that letter and resume to this company on Monday morning, whether I'm satisfied that it's perfect or not.

P.S. I just reread this and almost want to delete it ... I sound so boring and pathetic. Maybe next time I'll make a point of reporting something interesting, encouraging or beautiful. One thing I could mention today is how much I've been enjoying the fall colors, and the colder nights. We've had the wood stove going pretty much continuously for the last couple of weeks and I love to sit and watch the flames.

I'm here

Just a quickie to write down something interesting that happened to me this morning.

I've been waking up way too early as it is, and Daylight Saving Time has not helped. Usually the first thing I notice when I realize I'm awake is that flood of adrenaline sloshing through my guts. Once I'm up I can get it back down to a manageable level by exercising – I feel fine as long as I'm moving fairly fast, walking or hiking or riding my bike. If I go hard enough, the effect lasts awhile, at least long enough to give me a few good hours to focus on freelance work. But it always seems to creep back up again, the longer I sit ... bad news for someone whose only source of income depends on spending time in front of a computer.

I feel good while I'm walking. But I can't walk all day.

This gives me pause, when I think about what I'm going to do next for work. Am I really going to try to find another job that involves sitting at a desk? What else do I really know how to do? When I get back from this little Utah trip (driving out tomorrow for a few days, with a friend who's going for business – so, free gas and hotels!) I'm thinking I might re-activate my substitute teaching credential and see if I like being in a classroom at all. That's a job where you actually get to stand up every once in awhile ....

Anyway – on to what happened this morning, and then I've gotta get out of here and get some exercise so I can get this little project finished before I leave tomorrow.

So this morning I had an experience of pure, open awareness, just as I was waking up. I realized I was awake, but there were no thoughts there – I was just there, warm and safe and quiet with the sun shining through the window. Then, the first thought that came into my mind was, "I'm here." That was all. It was just like what the Buddhist texts describe as emptiness – I was just there, and there wasn't any story attached to that moment, or emotion, or judgment, or anything.

It only lasted a few seconds and then there was a thought, "NO JOB!!!!!!!!!!" Then an immediate stab of adrenaline, a gush of terror .... And then for a few more seconds I was actually able to clear all that out and go back to just being there. Then it came back, and I started twitching and shaking and had to get up. Sucks to be sensitive.

What caught my attention thinking about it later was that nothing had changed in my circumstances to cause the change in my physical state. I hadn't even moved my body. It was the story that was being told inside my head that was causing all the hullabaloo. It was in my mind, and not in my body – because my body was totally fine, relaxed and even kind of happy until the story asserted itself again.

Not to discount the story, exactly – it is true that I don't have a job, and I'm going to need to figure out what to do about that. But that fact doesn't have to be the central defining feature of my existence or my state of mind.

So today I'm thinking about how I might learn to have more of those moments of OKness, by practicing refocusing on the present instead of letting my mind go to town on hyperinflated fear stories.

In the meantime, I'm just feeling grateful to have experienced it. The memory of that moment feels like something I'm going to be able to work with for a long time.

Another sunny day

(Click here to download the soundtrack to this entry.)

I was sorting through the folders on my computer this afternoon and ran across this guy. I don't remember where I got the picture but I'm glad I kept it. The look on his face makes me feel calmer about my present state of uncertainty, reminds me that even when I think I know exactly what's happening and where I'm headed – nobody ever really knows, until they get there. And so it's OK to let go sometimes, and see where my life takes me. Try and have a little faith.

In one of those documentaries about the stock market crash I saw an interview with a couple of elderly guys who'd been stock brokers on the floor the day it happened. They talked about what it was like that day, seeing guys just walking around stunned – and later, hearing about people jumping out of their office windows rather than face financial ruin. "It's not like everyone was committing suicide," they said. "But some people did." They shook their heads and exchanged a glance.

The thing that struck me was that they were smiling and even laughing sometimes, as they told the story. Who knows what that really means – sometimes people smile and laugh because they're trying not to break down in tears – but I got the impression that they were expressing tenderness for their former selves, remembering a difficult time with the compassion that comes from taking the long view of things. I do that sometimes myself, when I start to feel overwhelmed – remind myself that someday I can look back on my own hard times with a smile, and hopefully with gratitude for whatever there is to be experienced.

And there is a lot of that. Music, for one thing. For a few years I've been in the habit of not ever listening to it, holding it in reserve for when I really needed it – kind of like reserving caffeine for days when you have a bad headache – and it's working. I've been pulling out old recordings I haven't listened to in a long time, and checking out lots of new stuff from the library too. It's pretty amazing to have such an easy way to feel better. And singing! I'm learning so many new songs, and singing everywhere – in my yard, on the roof, in the garage, walking with the dog ... that feels good too.

Another thing is the sun. Everything is warm and green and lush after the rain a few weeks ago. The yard is full of birds and fall flowers. Everything smells good, and I'm getting a lot done around the house – daily stuff like baking and cleaning, and more complicated chores I've been putting off literally for years.

I might even have time to write some decent blog posts again one of these days. Right now though I'm going to take Tater for another walk. The sun is going down and the colors are amazing, and it's supposed to rain this weekend.

Happy birthday, Taterman!

Today is Tater's birthday. He's eleven years old. Celebrations include games with Kongs, cheeseburgers and a box of original flavor Frosty Paws.

We've been sort of sporadically looking at puppies, though still have no official plans to step up the search. A shelter not too far from here has this little beauty available – a baby pit bull with very human-looking eyes. I swear I did not Photoshop her picture. Isn't she great? The tiny little claws and everything?

In other news, in the last week I finished two huge projects – the summer issue of my huge quarterly work project, and a new website and blog for one of my freelance clients. As if that weren't enough excitement, I am also on the verge of beginning to shop for a replacement for my 30-year-old folding hair dryer. Not that there's anything really wrong with it – it still works just as well as it did the day my mom said I could snag it from my brothers' downstairs bathroom, to take with me to college. That was in the fall of 1983, and it was already several years old then. But the other day we were in one of those bedroom, linen & shower curtain stores and I somehow managed to become mesmerized by all the different kinds of new hair dryers they had ... cool colors, mysterious and scientific-sounding new "hair drying technology" and a guarantee that they no longer need to fry the hair in order to dry the hair .... which in a roundabout way is probably the reason my 30-year-old dryer has lasted so long – because it gets so hot I've rarely used it. It's also very noisy and has a tendency to suck my hair into the motor, which causes the hair to snarl and burn. And sometimes, when I look inside, the coil is glowing red.

So yeah. Lots going on at chez tinarama. Stay tuned.

Rains but pours

And yet another opportunity to examine my boundaries – someone I know, one of the first people I met here in fact, has just gone through a long and painful breakup, and has been away for several months working, and is now back in town for a few weeks and wants to camp out in our back field for "one or two weeks." There are a number of reasons why I don't want this person staying here, but really all I want to record here is that it took me several days to return his call, because I was so nervous about telling him how I felt. Finally today I realized that the very fact I was feeling that nervous was proof that I was doing the right thing by saying "no." So I called and told him, and it was actually fine.

I also realized that the primary reason I was feeling so anxious about talking to him was not because I necessarily thought he would argue with me and insist on staying even though I don't want him to, but more because refusing "shelter" (the word he used in his voicemail) to someone who thinks of me as a friend clashes with my view of myself as a generous, compassionate friend. Which in turn forced me to acknowledge to myself that I don't really think of this person as a close friend, and in fact many of his actions over the years have made me want to avoid getting any closer.

That kind of thing isn't pleasant for me to admit. If I'm really a good person, shouldn't I like everyone the same? And shouldn't I be willing to help everyone I can, whether I really like them a lot, or not?

Hogwash, of course. But these are the channels my mind finds its way back to when it's under stress. And receiving messages day after day and feeling too guilty and conflicted to return them has been very stressful!

Several other cool things happened this weekend. It rained again and everything is still very lush and green – beautiful. Yesterday we drove a couple of hours north to look at a vintage handbuilt mountain bike Mr. A found on Craig's List or somewhere. He knows quite a lot about these things and thought it sounded like a pretty rare find, and as it turns out it was built by somebody who later became famous for his handbuilt frames, though of course I have no idea what his name is.

Last night I made a lot of progress on my current freelance project, which is turning out kind of better than I had been picturing it. I've worked most of the last two weekends on it and I'm happy. There are still a couple of technical things to figure out but so far no major glitches.

And today we went to a mall down in Marin and I found the pants that are going to be the cornerstone of my spring uniform! Totally unexpected to find them there – I was actually looking for jeans to replace my fat jeans that don't fit anymore – but I happened to notice a sale rack next to the door and there they were, and they are the most perfect fitting pants I've had in many, many years. They're a variation on my habitual green canvas cargo pants, if you must know, but these have a lighter, slightly stretchy fabric and a skinny cut and lots of zippers. Perfect color, perfect fabric, perfect pockets, perfect rise. I would've bought several pairs if they'd had them.

Finally, when we got back to town I dropped off Mr. A at home and went shopping for dinner, and by the time I got home he'd made a new rustic wood top for the new little outdoor breakfast table I picked up at a yard sale a few weeks ago. It came with a round glass top, which is sitting on its side, wrapped in a towel, in the space between the back of the washing machine and the garage wall, for fear I'll manage to crack it in half before it's warm enough outside to eat breakfast on it. Which I plan to do first thing in the morning, if I can drag myself away from the computer long enough to get a little sleep.

My dad is on Facebook!

I had the coolest experience on Facebook today – my dad friend-requested me! I accepted the request, of course, and then tonight I called and had the nicest conversation with my parents. Apparently one of my sisters had been telling him about something that happened on Facebook and he thought it sounded cool, so he googled it to find out what it was and then signed up for an account. It totally made my day to see him on there and I just wanted to take note of the occasion.

In other news, Spring Practice starts tomorrow and I've got a whole slew of activities I've decided to undertake – chief among them the commitment to non-wearing of black until after Easter. Others have to do with my diet (I changed the wallpaper on my cell phone to an old encylopedia illustration of the pancreas, for inspiration), my exercise routine, and my regrettable habit of talking trash about people who make me feel threatened.

Details to come, though I don't know when. Still very busy, and found out today I'll be working through the weekend again, long hours alone in a cold building while the rain falls and the wind howls .... I can use the overtime money and should come out of it with a few "free day off" vouchers so it all works out in the end.

Where oh where

So, have I totally abandoned this blog? No. At least not in my heart ... I still think all the time about things I want to write about, and will write about them someday – I hope in the not too distant future.

For right now I'm way over-extended at work, both in my day job and with a couple of freelance projects that arrived at the same time and which, the economy being what it is these days, I felt compelled to say "yes" to even though what I want more than anything else at this time of year is to curl up in a warm little ball of blankets and pillows and nap my way to spring.

However. I can sleep when I'm dead, I suppose. I've heard people say that, and always thought it was a pretty stupid thing to say ... Not least of all because in my opinion lack of sleep is one of the top four or five conditions that cause people to die before their time – and also because I find the process of falling asleep and waking up one of the most pleasurable activities I know. Especially lately, since I'm such a terrible sleeper to begin with and all this crazed and frantic activity (relatively speaking – it might not appear so to others more accustomed to a speedier pace of life) makes it even harder for me to fall into dreamland, and the resulting exhaustion makes it even more tempting than ever to stay there in the morning despite all the work I've committed to ....

In any case. I just got back from a meeting about one more little project that looks like it could actually end up being kind of fun, and I know my brain is just going to be spinning and twirling all night long with ideas about where I want to go with it. Plus, I have a couple of books I've been reading, plus all the trees are busting out in blossoms, plus it's almost time (in less than 48 hours!) to begin my annual spring practice period (formerly observed as a weird non-Catholic form of Lent, sort of) and I still haven't totally decided what I'm going to do.

Restricting my carbohydrate intake to less than 80 grams a day would be good for me, and hard and unpleasant, so it would qualify as an appropriate discipline to undertake ... Other possibilities I've considered include not riding in or driving a car, increasing my daily exercise from 50 minutes to 90 minutes, establishing various other food and exercise related habits I won't bother to detail, brushing the dog every day (not as easy as it sounds, since he doesn't really like to be brushed – but it decreases the dog hair quotient around here by a factor of at least ten thousand hairs a day and would be a good habit to instill in him, too), and finally, the one that I really want to do but am unsure I'm capable of – not wearing black for the entire 40 days plus weekends from midnight tomorrow until Easter Sunday.

I know I don't look good in black. When I look in the mirror I always think I look okay, but when I see pictures of myself wearing black it's clear to me that I don't. With my hair and skin I mostly just look pasty and overwhelmed in black. The main reason I wear it so often is because it's easy – it always matches, and it hides dirt and stains, and as long as both of your dogs are black it doesn't show dog hair either. The trouble is that, were I to take this on starting on Wednesday, I'm not sure I actually have enough non-black winter apparel to keep myself clothed warmly without doing some major layering and/or shopping, which I don't have the time or inclination to do right now ....

Still, I've been thinking about it for several weeks now and it still seems like a good idea. Maybe the difficulty would make it an even better idea. The whole point is to stretch myself, right? To form at least one positive new habit a year, even though it's hard? So I might try it despite my limited wardrobe and see what happens.

P.S. I just realized too that I really hate this winter header. Look for a new one soon, probably this weekend.

A very bikey Christmas

Bike to Work Pants from Cordarounds on Vimeo.

I ought to also mention that Mr. A and I created the Yule-timate Celebration of the Bike this Christmas by giving each other mostly bike-related gifts. The product in the video above was not one of them, but it's a cool idea, no? Work-ready pants with built-in reflective technology! Maybe next year.

It feels good to be all stocked up on lights, tubes, lube, chain, tools and other various bike-related gear. The best thing, or at least the most immediately useful thing, was a pair of warm wind-resistant cycling gloves, to replace the pair I lost one of sometime over the summer. The coldest weather I've ridden in here was only in the low 40s, but that's still pretty cold – and the regular gloves I wear the rest of the time (for example, while working in my freezing cold office) just don't cut it when the wind is blowing freezing rain onto my hands.

We've also been planning ahead for next summer's garden, first and foremost by reading this book titled, most appropriately, "Gardening When It Counts: Growing Food In Hard Times." The book's main point is that the high-fertility, high-intensity small-space gardening that has become so popular over the last few decades is only really possible when both water and soil amendments are cheap and abundant, which they are fast on their way to not being anymore, what with peak oil, climate change, and the global economic crisis. For people who are not hobbyists but hungry folks in need of real food, he recommends a return to climate-specific plants grown by older methods that require much less water and fussing with soil, and much more room – the idea being that when plants have plenty of space to develop the root systems they need, they can more consistently withstand a wider range of stresses and yield vastly more nutritious food.

His ideas mostly make a lot of sense to me, and we'll be adapting them as best we can on our hard-scrabble scrap of a garden, which is basically a 3-foot-deep box backhoed out of the boulder-choked alluvium that is our lot, and filled with soil and compost from the building materials yard. The sad fact is that even though we have plenty of space (about three acres), we have very little actual soil, and we'll probably never be able to have the kind of garden here that we both would like to grow. I was thinking today that rather than growing vegetables we might be better off fencing off part of the back field and putting a few goats back there, or sheep ... but meat is still relatively cheap, and livestock are more work than I really want to commit to right now. At most I'm still thinking about getting a few chickens again, sometime this spring.

I'm also starting to casually peruse the offerings of the various colleges and universities within a reasonable distance of home, with the half-formed thought that this might be a good year to finally get back to school and finish my master's, or start a new one, or complete some kind of certification for something. What that might be I still don't know. Living in this very small town, and feeling more or less committed to staying here, and to trying to make a living here rather than commuting – this has severely limited my options, to say the least. To the point where I'm sort of starting to think maybe I ought to at least consider changing my mind about one or more of those prerequisites.

Because really, what am I gonna do for a living in a town like this? Especially given the additional requirements that I must work for a company that offers health insurance (since I am excluded from being able to buy my own as a self-employed person, even if I could afford to), AND that I must also avoid at all costs any endeavor that requires networking or work-related socializing of any kind? That last requirement, I suppose, I will need to ease up on, though it throws me into a sweat just to think of it.

Maybe all I need is a good girdle, or a really beautiful suit. Some kind of business-person disguise that I can put on and pretend to be the kind of person who loves to mix & mingle & talk shop with aftershave-scented acquaintances.

But back to the idea of school. There must be something I could do in this town that would be more interesting and satisfying than what I'm doing right now. Something that would allow the use of my mind, and that would not require that I become a totally different person – though I'm willing to work outside my comfort zone, within reason, understanding that the zone will tend to expand as I spend more time at its edges.

I could also consider working outside the valley again, though that would require me to buy and maintain a car, which means the new job would have to offer more than just a little bit more money than I'm making now. Public transit is not really an option; I looked up the route to a job I was considering in a town just ten miles from here, and found it would take me two hours and a four-mile bike ride each way just to get from my house to the office – a trip that takes about 20 minutes in a car. No wonder nobody uses the bus around here.

Nobody's said anything about hours being cut again at my main job, but the first few months after Christmas are historically the slowest of the whole year, and this has already been the worst year in the 130-year life of the company. I'm thinking I need to be ready to hit the ground running if necessary, or at least have the beginnings of some kind of plan.

One of these days I also need to figure out if there's any way to keep what's left of my investments from disappearing down the drain along with the rest of the sinking economy. Must call broker ....

Just rambling now.

Pre-Thanksgiving cheesecake (beefcake?)

One of the things I still love about my job is the time I get to spend looking through weird old historic photos of the various famous people who have lived in my burg/village/valley over the years. Recognize this handsome fellow? He's going to be the cover guy on the next issue of the magazine I art direct – a different photo, but I think I'm going to find a way to use this one somewhere inside. It would make a great cover though too, wouldn't it?

Work continues to be insane but I've managed to get a day off for Thanksgiving tomorrow – though I worked four hours after everyone else had gone home today, and will also work most or all of the weekend. The reasons why are annoying and I hope they will be dealt with, but I have no authority to do anything about the situation except complain on my blog, so I'm going to let it go. As it is, the press check has been pushed back two weeks, to the very last possible moment we could push it and still have the book out before Christmas. Which means I'll be able to narrowly avoid traveling in the Christmas rush at the airport. Good news.

The boots arrived today and I was right – the ones I wanted are all wrong in the toe. Why do the shoe designers think every woman wants her feet to look dainty and slender? This is actually a pet peeve of mine from way back: I hate it when the proportions of things are wrong, and trying to apply a single standard of proportion (long, narrow, pointy) to every foot on every woman's body regardless of the shape, size or proportion of the rest of her body is just so WRONG! I may have mentioned this before but I have a rather serious aversion to long, narrow and pointy things, especially hands and feet – to me, the ideal shape for hands and feet is more square in overall proportion, with square or round ends on all the pieces. There are exceptions, of course. For instance, a long, thin person with a beautifully shaped head (the shape of the skull is critical to the overall look, in my opinion – and there's only so much a good haircut can do to mitigate an unfortunate cranial configuration) is perfectly welcome to also have long, thin hands and feet.

But a person whose hands and/or feet are too small for their body, or whose head is too small – this will drive me to distraction. I have this problem a little bit with my own head, actually. Not that it's too small, but I have a sort of flat spot on the back of my skull that makes it impossible for me to have very short hair. (By the way – hats are the perfect solution for a disproportionate head. I'll never understand why people stopped wearing them.)

Pointy-toed cowboy boots, or fetish boots, or certain very beautiful vintage pumps (with or without kitten heel) are OK with me. I'm not able to wear them myself, but I appreciate and approve of them.

Anyway. The boots are too narrow and tapered in the toe, and they will be going back. Next, I will try a pair of the plain old classic Frye engineer boots – the 12R, in black. These, as I've already mentioned, have the problem of the curvy heel ... which I just don't know if I can get over. I'm going to try. And if I can't stand it, I guess I'll just get the black version of the round-toed riding boots I've been wearing for the last two years. It wouldn't be the end of the world.

Enough boot talk. Enough frivolous fashion talk! This is what it comes to though when I'm brain dead from overwork, and preoccupied by thoughts of all the yummy desserts (for tomorrow! not tonight!) just a few feet away, over in the fridge. Not to mention the Iron Chef Thanksgiving Challenge going on in the background – they're doing duck, my favorite. And venison!

Happy Thanksgiving.

Home again

I'm back – just too busy to write. I spent a quick and wonderful weekend in Utah celebrating my dad's 70th birthday, and the moment I stepped back into my California life a gigantic wave of work and activity washed over me, which I am still surfing to the best of my ability.

It's a good thing. Although I don't like being this frantic all the time, it's very satisfying to feel necessary, to know I'm contributing, to finish a few big projects and see that my work is good.

More pictures and activity reports to come; right now it's back to work.

Keep calm and carry on

I love this poster – not my own design, but a real inspiration of late.

So much has been changing over the last few months – things I've written about here, and a few I haven't – and on Friday another king-sized turd flew into the proverbial fan: when I got to work I found out they'd just announced they're shutting down the whole publishing arm of the company. A full third of the remaining employees will be jobless at the end of the month. That's the real reason our insurance changed – not so much because of the people they've already laid off, but because of the plans to close the press.

Supposedly this will not affect my job, but the blast of adrenaline I've been feeling is not from a surge of confidence, I can tell you. I made little mini-posters of the "keep calm" sign and handed them around on Friday when everyone was freaking out. The owner laughed and clapped me on the shoulder and said, "That's great, thanks for the kind thoughts." I was glad he took it the way I intended it; someone had told me he and the other owners were up in the business office before the announcement, crying. I wouldn't have wanted him to think I was being a smart alec at a time like that.

The main thing this means for me is that I really need to start getting ready to do something else for money and insurance. I was realizing over the weekend that having our insurance go to crap is actually kind of liberating, in a weird way – besides the money (also not great) it's been the biggest tie holding me to this job, and now it's been significantly weakened. There must be other large companies I could work for here ... maybe I could find something to do at Whole Foods. In any case, I'm thinking. But as long as I do have a job, an adequate job that is sort of fun and somewhat creative and only three miles from my house – I'm going to hold onto it as long as I can.

Still ... anxiety. Not the paralyzing kind, which so far I've been miraculously able to keep at bay – but more just the everyday, back-of-your mind kind. The fact that the whole country is supposedly on the verge of a total economic collapse is not helping. And I've been watching the vice-presidential debates and became even more horrified than before at the thought of Sarah Palin having any political power at all at a national level. As someone said the other day, McCain already has at least one foot on a banana peel in terms of his health and age, and that just ... I just can't bear to think of them winning. They just can't!

But really I think it's my lackluster social life more than anything else that is making all this seem bigger and scarier than it needs to. True, I do tend to hermitize ... especially when under stress. But I do other stuff too – I reach out, I get involved, I show up, I make contact, I follow up. And somehow I just have not been able to create the kind of community life here that I grew up believing in (though I didn't realize it at the time). In all the years I've lived here I haven't been able to find more than handful of people who really feel like we belong to each other. Incongruous and sad, but true. Maybe it's because I don't have kids – maybe that's how people find each other at this stage of life.

Anyway, I miss my family, I miss the friends I had in Utah (though almost none of them live there anymore, either). Most of the people I meet here are mostly only interested in making money, drinking wine, and congratulating themselves on their Elegant Wine Country Lifestyle. I'm socially isolated in a lot of ways, for a number of reasons (including my own preference, which I've decided to start indulging a lot less), and it's fucked up and I need to try harder to do something about it. I need to be more accepting of people, more generous with what I see as their flaws. God knows I have them too.

I've been reading Grace Paley and I keep finding my jaw hanging open at some of the things that come out of her characters' mouths. It's a stereotype I'm familiar with from Woody Allen movies, etc., but still I have to keep asking myself: Are there really people in the world who are this frank and outspoken? Personally I can hardly imagine it. How would it be to just blurt out exactly what I think in the moment, without first organizing and rehearsing my thoughts and running them through my offense-o-meter to make sure they present no more than about a 10-12% chance of making someone not like me anymore?

My point being, maybe I'm too reserved with people I don't know well ... Mr. A thinks I am. He's always encouraging me to speak my mind, to let people know me. And I do, when I feel comfortable. I guess the thing would be to learn how to be more comfortable in a wider range of situations.

How to make friends with people I'm not immediately and naturally inclined to like, is the question. Friendships not of the heart but of social and professional utility, in other words ... something I've always resisted, feeling that it would be insincere and even dishonest to spend time socializing and making nice with people I don't like, just because I think they may be "useful." I still feel that way. But maybe I just need to look harder for ways to genuinely like more people. Is that what Jesus is always talking about? Hmmmm.

Anway. Now I'm just rambling. Time to get ready for work.

P.S. I had to come back and say – yesterday I bought a few apples just because the variety had such a marvelous name, Honeycrisp, and wanted to report that they are indeed crisp, and honey-like – super sweet and tart and crisp and delicious – in fact, they are just about perfect, as apples go. Highly recommended.

Health care

Yesterday at work we had a meeting to discuss changes to our healthcare coverage. One of the results of the layoffs that have been happening since the beginning of the year is that the company is no longer big enough to qualify for the same coverage plans we had before. There are three new options available, with an effective date of October 1. So I'm spending my holiday weekend carefully poring over the stacks of literature I brought home, hoping to be able to extract enough meaningful information to make the best choice.

Losing my health insurance, or no longer being able to afford it, has been one of my greatest fears since I found out I'm diabetic. I sat in the meeting for two hours, feeling like my solar plexus was on fire, wanting to scream or cry. The "plan representative" was chipper as hell, extolling the benefits of the HSA PPO option (the one I will probably end up choosing) over our current HMO, which we can choose to continue – at four times our current cost. She was grinning so hard it looked like her face must hurt. But she was pretty much the only one in the room with a smile on her face. Everyone else looked anxious, concerned, confused.

Well, such is life in a sinking ship. I'm a smart enough cookie and a pretty good swimmer, and am determined to stay on board as long as I can, for reasons that still seem like good ones, at least for now. As an example, in addition to the cost of looking for a new job and getting to and from it once I find it, there's also the daily exercise time I will have to come up with if I'm no longer able to use my bike-to-work time to keep my BG under control. Plus, I still like some of the work I'm doing, and I really like most of the people I'm working with. And of course there's also the access to healthcare – even if it's expensive, the coverage I'm able to buy through my work is still better than what I would be able to buy for myself, assuming I could even find a company that would take me at all. Legally, they don't have to. Even though right now, despite my "pre-existing condition," I'm still pretty healthy.

During the meeting I sat next to a friend from another department whose 24-year-old fiance has been diagnosed with a rare form of cancer. For the last year they've been desperately fighting to get him the treatment he needs. It's inconceivably expensive: he hasn't been able to work, sometimes he needs care at home, and just one of his bone marrow treatments costs upwards of $16,000 a month.

She feels like screaming and/or crying quite a lot, too, she told me. At least it appears he will be eligible to come onto our plan as a spouse, as long as there's no more than a 62-day gap in coverage after his COBRA benefits expire. That was a huge relief to everyone in the room except the plan representative, who was probably the only person there who didn't know the background to that particular question about pre-existing conditions.

All of my issues seem pretty workable when I think of what they're going through. So I've decided to try not to worry so much about it. Even if I someday do lose my coverage and lose control of my diabetes – which seems pretty unlikely, though anything's possible – what would that really mean? Maybe I'd go blind, or have to have my feet or legs amputated. Maybe my kidneys would fail. Eventually I would probably have a heart attack and die.

But I'm going to die someday anyway. This fact has been on my mind a lot lately, for some reason. Maybe it's the change in seasons; summer feels like it's winding down early this year. I've been working late on a deadline for several weeks, drinking way too much caffeine, and not sleeping well – and the other night I woke up around 4 a.m. and couldn't stop thinking that someday I will be dead. It seemed like a stupid thing to think about, but all the same I suddenly found myself crying tears of real self-pity. I kept picturing the face of my friend K. who died in her sleep a few weeks ago of heart trouble probably related to her own poorly-controlled diabetes. She was 72 and so funny and happy and creative and alive – with her big red laughing mouth and fabulous jewelry and her dashing new white-haired boyfriend – it's hard to imagine that she really won't be around anymore. And someday, I won't either.

Now that I think of it I guess it wasn't so strange that I should wake up crying. I've been working so much I still haven't really had time to just sit with the knowledge that K. is gone.

I know no good can come from dwelling on my own death, or worrying about anything that might happen to me between now and then, or afterwards, either, for that matter. Right now I do still have access to healthcare. So I'll just make the best decision I can, keep doing what I can to stay healthy, and focus on enjoying the life I have – instead of worrying about things that haven't even happened yet, and maybe never will.

When you're a chronic worrier like I am – though I'm feeling more justified recently in starting to think of myself as a recovering chronic worrier – sometimes it's good to remind yourself that worrying is always optional. Thoughts do have a way of coming to mind ... but I can choose not to entertain them when they do.

P.S. Here is a link to the article that inspired this long and tedious discourse, in case you're wondering how I get started on these things ....

P.S.S. Speaking of anxiety ... I just added up some of the figures from the plan summaries and it's looking like my out-of-pocket cost for even the cheapest option is almost twice what I'm paying now, and the coverage isn't as good. I think I'm going to go throw up now.

Mistakes were made

Mistakes were made, and I'm mostly just glad that the biggest ones weren't made by me. I did make a few though, chief of which was the assumption that people who respond to an email with "Looks great! Go for it!" have actually READ the thing I'm asking them to approve. Turns out – not so much.

The events of this week have made me so, so, SO SO SO VERY GLAD I did not quit my job to take the job I almost took last month. You may recall I'm still doing some work for the second organization on the side, and even just a few hours a week has been enough to reveal that it's even more shambolic than I had realized – shambolic being a word I just learned while trying to look up the difference between "unorganized" and "disorganized."

It's good that I keep copies of everything. I have emails that clearly show where the oversights occurred, and that might will be useful in helping people understand what happened (and that it was not all my fault). It doesn't solve the real problem, though, which is that this project was already behind schedule before I even became involved, and figuring out what went wrong or even getting a partial credit from the printer cannot change the fact that the success of the thing was largely dependent on the timing – which there is no way to fix. It's too late and that's all there is to it.

And it is satisfying in a way to find an email that shows the mistake that was being yelled about today was actually caused by the person who did the yelling ... But I'm not looking forward to telling her that. I'll have to be very straightforward and diplomatic to be able to explain what happened without appearing to be pointing fingers, or shirking responsibility for my mistakes (even though this one was not mine).

Meanwhile I'm back to 40+ hours a week at my regular gig, at least for the next several weeks, so it suddenly doesn't make a lot of sense to be piling on the side projects again. Knowing this is only a small auxiliary source of income takes a lot of the pressure off – I'm not dependent on the money, so my main motivation is just to do my best work and help the group.

I guess that's why I'm feeling bad about this tonight. I want the project to go well, and it isn't. I'm doing all I can, and it isn't enough. They really need someone who can devote themselves full-time to the work, and that person ain't me. The only reason I'm still working with them at all is to try to help them through the interim until they find someone to hire ... and I was clear that I couldn't commit a lot of time.

This is an organization I've been involved with for more than ten years and I'm suddenly remembering all the friends who've worked for it for awhile, then quit citing burnout due to these same kinds of problems. Hrmm.

Well, we'll see what happens. Right now I have some press releases to write.

Just when things start getting comfortable

I should never write about – or even acknowledge, not even to myself! – how much I'm enjoying something, for example my new shorter work schedule, and some of the work I've been doing lately (the first work I've had the opportunity to do in several years that I feel really proud of and excited about), and even the little promotion and new job title I've just been given .... because it seems like the moment I mention a thing like that, something happens to mess it up.

In this case I guess it isn't exactly messed up, but I'm anxious and stressed anyway, to the point where I'm noticing myself consciously trying to Not think about this situation, even though it isn't actually a bad thing ... because every time I think of it, this wave of adrenaline gushes into my stomach and I feel like I might pass out.

What is happening is that I have an opportunity to do some exciting new work, and I'm trying to figure out how I can say "yes" to it and still keep doing the fun parts of my current job. I've received a formal offer from this new organization, and now based on that information I have to work out the logistics and decide what I want to do and how I'm going to present my request to my current boss .... which terrifies me because what if ... well, it just terrifies me because I'm always terrified of asking ... for ....

Actually this is interesting, because when I think about it I can't really identify exactly what I'm afraid of here. Afraid they'll fire me? But why would they do that? They just promoted me! Afraid they'll say no, and I'll have to choose one job or the other – neither of which is really enough all by itself, since both are currently only part time? Afraid I won't get what I want?

This anxious, sort of sick-to-the-stomach feeling is so familiar to me, and I hate it. I lived with it for years, literally years – pretty much the entire decade of my thirties – and I don't want to give any more of my time to it! Inside my body it feels dizzy, sick, terrified. Like I can't think. And in terms of my way of being and acting in the world, what it always seems to bring up more than anything is just this kind of blind paralysis – like I desperately want NEED to jettison everything that is not absolutely essential to life – basically, everything but air, food, water and possibly shelter – and dig into my current position like one of those crusty crustacean creatures (barnacles?) that cling to the edges of tidepools, the ones that will let you tear their shells and bodies into pieces before they'll let you pry them off their rock.

What I want right now is to call up these new people (they're not even new, actually – I've known several of them for years) and tell them sorry, changed my mind, can't do it, good-bye, please go away now and stop scaring me! And then go back to my job on Monday as if nothing had ever happened.

A few years ago I think that's just what I would have done. Now, though ... It's crazy, because at this moment I really feel almost as if I could actually throw up from anxiety. And yet I know I'm going to go ahead and try to do this new thing.

In my imagination, I see some vague scene of crashing and burning, people pounding on tables and yelling at me, my coveted projects ripped from my grasp and awarded to my nemesis (over whom I've finally, only just in the last week, been given some authority – which I really don't want to give up so soon!) as punishment for daring to ask for more than is being offered .... I see Me, crying and drooling, begging to be taken back ....

At our second meeting, one of the interviewers pronounced me "wholesome, gentle-mannered, and well-spoken." She meant it as a good thing, but all I heard was "weak, weak, weak."

Why do I get so scared about stuff like this? This process of working myself into a tizzy over pending changes or decisions is also very familiar – the deliberate dramatization of something that is not innately dramatic, as a way of immobilizing or protecting myself from having to take actions I don't feel prepared to take. So passive, so avoidant. So embarrassing, to be such a person ... aren't we all supposed to be able to boldly and confidently go for the gusto, taking the bull by the horns, driving our own destiny, etc.?

Anyway. It's good to know the drama is optional – I'm glad I remembered that. I am going to spend some time tomorrow calming myself down and writing lists, sorting out all the variables, and hopefully coming to a clear understanding of what it is I actually would like to have happen here. And then, a plan for how to ask for it.

Even if I totally botch the negotiation and end up homeless in a ditch, just having made the effort will have been a step forward.

In other news, I got a new little section of garden raked out today and planted seeds for sweet peas (the flowers), various assorted lettuces, watermelon radishes, spinach, rainbow chard, cinnamon basil, Italian large-leaf basil, bok choy, sorrel, cilantro, and several different kinds of nasturtiums. It's still kind of cold, and maybe a little early for the basil, but I enjoyed being out there. I cut chicken wire "slip covers" for each of the beds, because Tater can never resist digging in freshly turned soil. I hope the wire will be enough to keep his sweet little paws away.

We also transplanted (a couple of weeks ago) an 8-foot Japanese maple out of a half barrel and into the ground. It's all leafed out now and really beautiful – bright green star-shaped leaves with little magenta flowery looking things that might turn into seeds ... I can't remember what this particular tree does, but will be keeping an eye on them. I'm underplanting it with bok choy. Not traditional, but I think it will be pretty.