Thursday 13 on Saturday: Gratitude

Back in the day, I used to post a "Thursday 13" every week, sometimes events, sometimes feelings, sometimes images, sometimes all of that. 

I'm reviving the tradition, even though it's Sunday. This Thursday 13 is about Gratitude:

1. It's a chilly 50 degree grey day today and I've turned on the new propane stove in the living room to blanket the chill. The gas fire glows. I like that so much.

2. JB and I planted tomatoes this morning. We put a 3 x 6 raised garden bed in our small front yard, filled it with organic soil, and were so excited as with a spoon we planted 6 tomato plants (3 varieties), 6 basil plants, 12 marigolds, and 2 zucchinis. This is a tiny garden for sure, but it's still a thrill.

3. I'm so glad that Prince Harry is in love with someone who loves him back. He strikes me as such a decent and nice man--I sense his Mother's influence on the little boy he was when she died.

4. My back: well, I'm still not standing without pain for more than 3 minutes at a time but I'm improved. I'm more active and I'm more social. 

5. I've started physical therapy and was assigned a therapist named Patience. I knew nothing else about her, but I almost asked for someone else solely because her name seemed weird to me. I admit how shallow this is. Turns out Patience is excellent --above and beyond. No promises, but I think I may be able to strengthen my back to a significant degree. 

6. This time of year here in Provincetown is abuzz. All kinds of repairs and fresh paint and new oyster shells on driveways, all ready for the non-stop tourists that have already begun to come. I'm not much into crowds or shopping, but I cannot believe the bay and ocean is all around me. 

7. JB volunteered to help a local motel, not even a block from our house, for a month, putting out a buffet breakfast for guests. They're waiting for the seasonal visa workers Trump has held up. In return, besides her paycheck, we are graciously allowed to use their pool this summer. Since I'm forcing myself to swim as part of  exercise for my back and as a way to MOVE, this is great news for me. 

8. I've lost 35 pounds. More motivation than I've had in years. 

9. I feel so glad about the people in my life. I listen to Donald Trump and his vanity and attacks on immigrants and I know my family and friends would not and do not carry that kind of rigidity or mean-spiritedness inside them. I don't mean this politically--I mean in their hearts. 

10. I have 4 grandchildren who are all healthy, interesting, fun, and unpredictable. JB and I rent a small studio apartment near them and besides for my joy in seeing my daughter Jess, I love when the kids come to visit. I try to keep the place stocked with new puzzles and clay and other entertaining ways. I also always kept a stash of Devil Dogs--what could be a better treat?!--until my daughter forbade me to give these unhealthy treats to the kids. Now I have Oreos and chocolate coins. 

11. My book is written. I love the characters. It's time to send letters to agents and publishers hoping one will ask to see the manuscript. I still have to edit and proof the whole thing, and I have to write a synopsis of the whole story, which is harder than it sounds. But I'm pushing forward. 

12. Mattie is now a 10 month old puppy. I'm unable to walk her (grrrrr) because of my back but boy is she enjoyable. And easy. And smart. We're conjuring up a doggie sandbox for her in the corner of our side yard, hoping we can achieve a dog-friendly plant-saving garden. I'm grateful I can work on the garden, sitting on my stool. :^)

and:

13. I don't say this to brag: I find that most people like me.  More often than I would expect I'm told I'm interesting and fun. I think this is because I listen. I'm interested in hearing and talking about about the big and small parts of people's lives. You can't be a good Counselor if you don't listen, and that's true of being a friend or acquaintance too. 

So all in all a pretty good week. I hope this is true for you too. The USA is a scary mess, that's for sure, but today I'm just happy to be sitting on the couch. 

love

kj

Friends

How many friends do you have?

How much time do you spend with your friends?

Do most of your friends live nearby?

Do your friends know and are friends with each other?

When I was newly married, in my twenties and starting my career, my then-husband and I had a group of about 15 friends and we all hung out and did things together. A few people in this circle were extra special to me but mostly we all collectively planned pot luck dinners and days at the beach and lazy weekends smoking weed and drinking wine.

Since then, my friendships evolved into more singular connections: people I met from work, from my neighborhoods, from shared interests, from blogging, other parents, sometimes from friends of friends. The common thread now is that my friends are all over the place and I don't have a "hang out" group where I and they just knock on the door and fall into daily life. My friendships are also now more selective, probably because time seems more finite. They are also deeper, and most prominently, at a distance, some folks an hour or two away, some a state or two away, some a country or two away. I don't have that circle that I suspect comes from living and staying in one place. 

I count about five or six people I would  call in an emergency or in whose company I'm comfortable enough that I don't worry about when or how we connect. There's a wonderful comfort in that. But because they're most often not local, JB and I and they have to plan ahead to see one another and that's not the same as a knock on the door or an impromptu cook-out.  

I live in the small town of Provincetown now and I think some deep and long lasting friendships are forming. When we first moved here JB was sick and now I'm slowed by my back pain so that's  slowed our connections but even so,  I don't see that we'll have a circle of friends who are also friends with one another. I am SO lucky to have wonderful interesting people around me, that's for sure. I can't complain, but still, I wish my friends and I wish my Jessica and her family were closer; close enough for a quick anytime drop-by. Close enough to share my chicken soup and lettuce from our garden or to drop off our puppy for a dog-sit. In other words, close enough to be spontaneous.

I'd love to hear about your friends and about your thoughts on friendships....

love

kj  

A Pup Named Mattie

We had no intention of getting a puppy. For one thing we're too old. For another, we're partial to older dogs who need and deserve a good home. And for another thing, we weren't ready.

Here's what happened: my daughter's brother-in-law posted a Facebook photo of Mattie and he left a comment, 'you might be interested.' I impulsively called the rescue group listing her and found myself talking to her foster mother. Mattie was being housed on Cape Cod, so it was easy for us to visit her foster home, watch her play with the three other dogs who lived there, and hear about how sweet she was. The die was cast: we decided on the spot to adopt her. 

Except that Jess' brother-in-law didn't direct his comment to me in that Facebook post at all. He was nudging someone else to consider Mattie, not me! Which is another way of saying that Fate took the wheel and destiny delivered Mattie to our little family.

Her foster mother was right. She is a wonderful dog, smart, sweet, flexible, kind. At nine weeks old she was pretty much potty trained in a day, slept through the night, and even now is uncharacteristically patient for a puppy.

Mattie was rescued off the streets of the island of Aruba. She was was flown to the United States with about 40 other puppies before she ended up in our neck of the woods. Aruban street dogs are called Cunucus, a rare breed named after their homeland, the small Caribbean Island in the Dutch Antilles. The word "Canucu" means 'countryside' in the local language of Papiamento. These dogs are known to be athletic, courageous, loyal and intelligent. Mattie is all that. If they have any faults at all, they dig and bark. They are also agile and have amazing leaping ability. This is apparently an adaptation for lizard-chasing in prickly terrain, which may be a necessity in Aruba but not here in Provincetown. :^) Cunucus are pack dogs who live on the streets, forage for food from tourists and by their own means, and are targeted for rescue, especially the puppies, by a few wonderful animal welfare groups. 

It has been 2 years since we've had a dog and in those two years JB and I had the luxury of no responsibility for any one but ourselves. No longer. Now we're tethered to Mattie, but not because we feel responsible. It's simpler than that. Love has taken over. I'm amazed by how easily and completely that can happen. We care about her, we've all bonded. Because of my immobility this pup has learned all kinds of commands from me on the couch (sit, stay, leave it, bed, come, kiss, paw, no, yes, kiss kiss kiss) and all kinds of fun in the outer world from JB (daily dog wrestling at the local dog park, runs on the beach, walks on a leash.) She rides in the car with us, plays with our grand kids, welcomes and snuggles with our company and friends, and sleeps right next to me each night.

Dogs are special beings. When they're loved and with guidance, their loyalty and unconditional love can't be matched by us flawed humans. I hope once I'm back on my feet we'll head to our local animal shelter and bring home that 6-7 year old dog we first planned for. We're sure Mattie will like the companionship. Meanwhile, forgive me for saying she's a special dog, but I think she is. Most of all, she's kind--my favorite quality no matter what your species.

So here's to Mattie aka Matilda 'Mattie' Marie. She has a too-small yard to play in and a non-athletic and kid-less family, but all in all she landed on her feet. And so did we.

love

kj

this post dedicated to my friend Wieneke xo

Thoughts...

There's no escape from the mess that is current American democracy. This week the President of France addressed a joint session of Congress and his message and articulation of unity and justice and  compassion was especially striking because it contrasted so sharply with the angry and divisive rhetoric of Donald Trump. Many and most Americans are hoping that the mid-term elections in November will begin to right the ship. I don't know what troubles me more: the abhorrent treatment of decent immigrants or the flagrant danger of dissing the Paris Climate Accord. (Yes, I could add the attack on the free press and all our systems of justice and government.)

I know great damage has already been done but I have hope. 

  

As I prepare to shop my second novel, here's a reminder my first book is a good beach read. I still remember what it felt like to first hold this book in my hands. The characters of Alex and Lily live with me still. Writing is a lonely profession: it has to be done alone. To me it's a mysterious process, how words follow one after another to create a story. Sometimes I reread what I've written and I hear it for the first time, like someone else wrote those words. These days my mind is on my current heroine Christine Macabee, mother of 4, devotee of poetry and all things John Denver, a woman whose belief in devotion both comforts and deceives her. 

I'm glad to be a writer. 

This is where I live. Provincetown, on the very tip of Cape Cod, a peninsula where the light bounces off the sea like no where else. (First 2 photos courtesy of the Provincetown Photography Page.) 

I long to step into spring and summer. I still can't walk very far; I can't walk Mattie  and I can't walk along the sand. But some progress is happening. No more pain meds, my activity has increased, I'm still losing weight (!), and hope still floats. I'm determined to keep my attitude high and in check because maximizing what I can will clearly help me. 

Recently my brother was hospitalized and discharged home with hospice care. His situation is well more serious than mine, but his attitude is similar: he's determined to enjoy his days and wait to worry. When my parents died, one of the last things my Father told me was, "I'm not afraid, I'll see my Mother." And my Mother, two days before her last breath, with her eyes closed and her body withdrawing, said to herself, quietly and with no fear, "I hope I'm not dying." I chuckled about that since because she was so matter-of-fact and calm. Years apart, they both died peacefully and surrounded by love and family. They never once complained. I think that will be my brother and I hope when the time comes that will be me too.

Dying is hard to talk about and hard to plan for. Do you know about Five Wishes? Google it. Totally helpful. 

I'm so glad to be blogging again. 

love

kj

Write What You Know....

Going on 4 months later, I did not expect to still be wondering why I have groin and hip and leg pain that often hurts too much to walk and stand in a normal natural way. Which is another way of saying I am not able to plot and plan my gardens this Spring, I’m not watching our puppy frolic on the beach, and I’m not gabbing and socializing with my family and friends as I love to do. Twice now JB and I have prepared ourselves for major surgery, 5 times I’ve had injections hoping to locate the problem and lighten up on pain, but here I am again, reasonably comfortable sitting on the couch and unreasonably unable to stand and walk normally, figuring out what to do next.

Every night I fall asleep in our newly renovated all-white master bedroom and every morning as the light shines in and Mattie the puppy wakes me with her joyful licks, I think this will be a day when whatever ails me has fixed itself. I know it’s true that sometimes things and circumstances do indeed fix themselves. That hasn’t happened yet, and my concern grows bigger that I’m not helping myself, that it’s not healthy or justified to be so sedentary. I’m thankful that 2 of the injections gave me almost total relief for a glorious one or two days, assuring me that the cause of my inactivity is pain, not passivity. 

From the couch I’ve had time to notice certain areas of my character and they are surprisingly comforting. For one thing, to borrow a scene from the bay, just a block down the street, I still see starfish and reject seaweed: I believe I will in time be on the move again. I have a lot to be thankful for and every day I review that list: JB is well again and cooking us these super meals, our puppy is a goofy joy, my Jessica and her husband are happy and healthy and so are my 4 spunky grandkids, my manuscript is done and ready to be shopped for publication, I’ve lost almost 30 pounds, I’m swimming to strengthen my back, I love my house and the nearby ocean, I'm almost retired, and I have terrific friends and interesting people around me. The point is I have a lot going for me.

Pain has a way of removing a person from day-to-day life but I’m doing what I can to ride through the worst of it and I’m lucky because the pain isn’t relentless. I also have a couple of doctors who are riding this uncertainty with me—we try one approach, evaluate, and move on to the next. 

I’ve had an unusual amount of time to sit and reflect. And for some reason that reflection has taken me back to the very day I graduated from high school.I remember that day so well. I knew everything would be different the following morning. A couple of friends went to college with me and stayed near by but mostly I moved on to a new life: I got married, moved away, built a career, raised a phenomenal daughter, fell in love again, learned to garden, traveled the world. Over the next fifty-plus years, I lost touch with my high school friends and I built a satisfying life. Then a funny thing happened. When I began to wind down my high-energy career and took more time to relax, I reconnected with some of the friends I‘d left behind so long ago. I found I am still the same person and so are they. Despite all the changes and good or bad circumstances folded into our lives over half a century, to quote the songwriter Paul Simon, “after changes upon changes we are more or less the same.”  I’ll be damned.

Which brings me to the point of this post, if there is one. Last night I learned that it’s time for my brother, 7 years older than me, to arrange for hospice care now, so he can comfortably stay at home with his wife. Because I’m a Case Manager and at his request planned to speak with his doctors he called me first. “I don’t want you to be surprised when you talk to them,” he said. “It’s grim but I’m alright. I’ll have time to take care of things.”

It seems my brother approaches challenges like I do. I’m not in the middle of the worse challenge life might eventually throw at me, but there’s evidence so far that neither I or my brother aren’t likely to fold or whimper. I look backwards again and I see my parents didn’t fold or whimper either, even when they were dying. It must be in my DNA. And it must be because I've been lucky. 

And I should add, a week after I wrote this, the 5th injection has so far worked! Pain is a zillion times less. I’m might be gardening afterall. 

Love

kj

Update 😬

My surgery was cancelled. There is a possibility that I have a second problem and it not the bone slippage may be the source of my limiting pain. This would be good news. So i’ve Had an injection into the suspected site and so far the pain has significantly decreased. Too soon to tell, but hopeful.
💜

Attitude

Whirlwind times. On April 2nd I'll undergo a 4-5 hour surgery with the hope and goal that in the months that follow I'll be able to walk and gallivant without the limits of pain and endurance. The recovery will take up to a year, but I can expect to improve each week, and I'll be mobile from the start. After almost two months of confusion to confirm a diagnosis, I've found a neurosurgeon and hospital program where I have full confidence. Backs are tricky: the literature says the success rate is about 60% and my own rehab experience confirms that. 

But I'm more optimistic than I am concerned. The surgeon tells me to shoot for  80-85% improvement and I'm psyched about that goal. Even if there's evidence to the contrary, I'm happy to accept his prognosis. This has been a wake up call for me: it's time to get myself in shape and stay that way. So I've lost 23 pounds so far and I'm heading toward the next 23 pounds. I'm swimming, I'm done with sugar and white flour, and I'm 'waiting to worry.' I hope to get off blood pressure meds sooner or later. I have a good life, a great family, loyal friends, plenty of interests. I live by the sea and I know enough to be astonished. 

I'm surprised that I've been mostly good natured over the last two months. Sometimes my pain level is through the roof. But not always, and that's an important distinction. Mine is not a relentless situation so I have moments when I'm relaxed and comfortable. My doctor prescribed a little pill so I can get a good night's sleep. I'm heading into this surgery with a positive attitude and a commitment to take care of myself better than I have before. And when I lose enough weight, I'll start dressing myself like the (now older) babe I want to be. :^)

I don't remember my parents complaining about anything, including their last weeks of preparing to die. I make jokes that I'm the black sheep of the family because I LOVE to complain. But honestly, I think I'm handling my impairment pretty well. I've decide to anticipate the best and I'm willing to put in the work toward that. Maybe 3 weeks from now I'll be shaking in my boots, but I hope not. 

For the record, I told JB I thought I've had a good attitude 70% of the time. She disagreed: "Maybe 60-40," she said. So maybe I'm not coasting as easily as I wish. But once my eyes open in post surgical recovery and I'm assured I'm still alive, I'll be spending at least 60% of my time anticipating good things ahead. And I'm shooting for 70%.

At least I hope so!

love

kj

The Book!

Amanda asked about my current novel. I have finally finished it, the manuscript is being reviewed by two readers, and unless their feedback leads me to massive revisions, I'll soon be shopping for an agent or a publisher. This requires a one page query, on which a response of yes or no or maybe is based.

I have some work to do on this query, and I've deleted the paragraph that describes the story from start to finish, but here's a taste of the book. I will love your impressions and reactions.

love love
kj

In the words of the novel’s protagonist Christine Macabee, mother of four:

“My family history is told without fancy prose or superheroes, and admittedly with some drama around the themes of neglect and illness and crimes and death and alcoholism and infidelity and even a failed attempt at convent life. If you’re looking for threads I suggest you look to John Denver, Robert Frost, and Billy Collins. And I suggest you learn all you can about devotion.” 

The Answers to Everything is a work of fiction expanding seventy years and centering on the Macabees, a middle class family guided by its gutsy Mother Christine, who has a dual passion for the redemptive powers of poetry and her fantasy husband John Denver. Christine’s childhood and motherhood are comically supported by her uppity righteous older sister Louise who manages to rescue her from one crisis to another, and by the failures of first her alcoholic parents and then her alcoholic husband, Jimmy. Their four children, each with a story of his/her own, are shaped by Christine’s version of devotion and their own life circumstances: Claudia, devotedly languished in a seven year affair with a married man; Cole, a television sports reporter who is physically attacked for being gay and forced to face his own addictions; Emily, a Plain Jane who serendipitously lands a good guy who seems to stabilize the whole family; and John, the youngest, who quietly observes and easily accepts his family as everything he needs.  

Christine’s answers to everything are poetry and devotion. She painfully learns these tools aren’t perfect. 

The Author has a background and Master’s Degree in Counseling and Rehabilitation. She has a keen understanding of how people behave when faced with the commonplace and the extra- ordinary. She has self-published one book, The Light Stays On, (multiple excellent reviews on Amazon) and from time to time writes essays and poetry on her Blog, OPTIONS For A Better World. 

The Answers to Everything is approximately 100,000 words and divided into four Parts, beginning with Christine and Louise’s neglectful childhood and ending with a gathering that includes a number of new and surprising additions to the Macabee family. This is a story that aims to entertain and educate around the unique challenges of alcoholism, infidelity, differences, and the strengths and foibles that make a family. 

Backing Up

I'm on a wild ride. 

About a month ago I started having significant back pain that has increasingly (and painfully) affected standing and walking. It's a slipped disc. This would be a big deal for anyone but is probably less so for me because I don't mind being sedentary. I'm happy to sit on the couch, work on my novel, read books, cruise social media, play pretend slot machines. But this is different.

For one thing, I turned 70 in August. This is probably the first time I've announced that publicly because 70 sounds pretty serious. I've noticed that sometimes kind people offer me their seats on buses and in waiting rooms. Sometimes, probably because even before my latest bout with pain, my back announces I'm creaky in my movements. So combine this new age with an impairment that is (luckily) my first big medical challenge and I'm a novice feeling my way.

I've had shots and consults and prescriptions. If I don't have relief in the next week or so, I'm headed for a surgical consult and it would be a biggie: probably a laminectomy and fusion. It's a 3-4 hour surgery and I'm told recovery is painful and extensive--3-6 months. That route will gobble two full seasons of my life.  Plus, major surgery has obvious risks. 

I am fortunate I have a partner who is able to help me in a thousand ways. She is currently cooking us three meals a day, bringing me ice packs, supervising our new puppy (yes, a puppy) who arrived a few weeks before the slipped disc, proofing my manuscript, and watching Netflix with me.

I woke up one morning a couple of weeks ago and reminded myself that my attitude matters as much as my effort. I'm determined to stay positive, and to WAIT TO WORRY. I'm also forcing myself to a pool a few times a week (I hate it) to counter the weakness that comes from not moving. 

And: I'm actually finishing my manuscript. Finally. For real. Even preparing my query letter for an agent or publisher. This time of forced solitude and sedentary sit-downs hasn't been all bad. It's also scared me enough that I'm losing the weight I've needed to lose for years.  I'm going to do that. I'm envisioning that there will be an endpoint where I'm healthier and stronger. Wouldn't I love to dress like the cool hip woman I want to be. :^)

I have a doctor here in Provincetown who reminds me that 70 in Provincetown is 50 anywhere else. A few months ago I asked him why I've had so many medical issues in the last year or so when I've never had any before. He smiled, "I'd say you should be grateful. Most people start to decline when they hit 50 and you've had a good 20 years without problems. So you're playing a little catch up, that's all."

He is a good doctor. I'm lucky in that department also. So far: Optimism reigns. 

love

kj

Ohm.....

I am on the first day of  a five day retreat at the Kripalu Retreat Center in Western Massachusetts. JB and I arrived last night and for the first time in probably years, I was in bed by ten o'clock. We are here to settle down, relax, and follow a routine that is spiritual and restful. 

I am also here to work on my novel as much and as often as I can. I hope to finish a full edit by the end of the week and if I'm lucky, read it from start to finish and see what I have. There are solariums and cozy rooms with comfortable chairs and couches, overlooking the lake, where I can write. People here are quiet. Last night we did our first meditation and I was aware of my body, my sore back and tight throat, in a way I often don't think about. My back pain is a hindrance, but last night I let myself feel the pain instead of trying to avoid it. 

Kripalu is a quiet place, filled with daily and optional events like yoga, meditation, chanting, drumming, and workshops centered on breathing, health, and well being. The center sits on a lake with mountains in the background. Three buffet meals a day are included in the daily price and each meal is definitely healthy but also uniquely delicious. Breakfast is silent, a unique and nice change from what you'd expect in a room of a hundred or more people. Our room is spartan: a bed, two lights, one closet. The bathroom and showers are down a hall and shared. JB and I have splurged and signed up for massages and facials. We have been here a few times before, but never for five days and nights. JB has brought an art piece she's working on. Tonight we are going to a workshop on Animal Communication. Tomorrow JB thinks she'll go to the 6 am yoga class. Not me. Not yet. But I plan to be up by six.

This afternoon we went went to a workshop on the importance of routine. Since we moved to Provincetown, because JB was sick and then I was sick and because I've transitioned from paid work to way more free time, I have no routine. I'm thinking about that. I can't imagine going to bed as early as ten each night, but I'm thinking about it.

I looked around at other people in the solarium where I wrote today, and I was reminded how lucky I am to love to write. I'm excited about this novel, about this Macabee family I'm writing about. 

Actually, today I'm content. No worries. JB is good, Jess and her husband and the kids are good, we have money in the bank, and I'm here in a sacred place trying to spend sacred time. I have plenty of complaints but not today. 

And how happy I am to post again here!

love

kj

Finally!

• It's been so long since I've posted here I had to create a new password. I still can't figure out how to post photos and I'm sorry about that because I have a lot to catch up on.
• 
  
• Thank you so much for the comments looking for me.  I'm well, except for a back problem I can't yet shake. It affects my walking and that's a huge loss for me. I'm still hoping it's a temporary problem.
• 
  
• These days I've almost wrapped up my paid work and am settling into Provincetown by the sea after almost a year of renovation and reconstruction of our house. It looks absolutely beautiful, but a week after we paid the final check, problems became apparent. No heating duct to the new addition master bedroom, exterior water damage to our new kitchen wood floor. A few other biggies as well. We've tried to get the problems resolved with the contractor but haven't. This means arbitration and legal action. No fun. It's a first world problem and nothing that extra money won't fix, but it's also a violation of trust. I'm trying to stay calm about it, successful about 65% of the time so far.
• 
  
• Most recently my heart has followed a six year little boy named Devin Suau who out-of-the blue got this horrible and cruel brain stem cancer called DIPG, and died two weeks ago after nine months of the doctors telling his family there is absolutely no treatment and no survivors in the last 40 years. It's been tragic and I'm proud to say my daughter Jess has helped Devin's family--her friends--in irreplaceable ways. You can read about Devin on Facebook at #whynotdevin. It will make you sad, but it will also do your heart good. 
• 
  
• I am finally knee deep in completing my second book. It's been a long haul. I'm not a great writer but I'm a great quality controller, meaning the book won't find its way into the world until I'm satisfied it's as good as I can make it. I struggle especially with the order of my chapters. I just can't seem to tell the story in the zig zag way I want to.  This is a book about a family, about devotion, and about forty years in the life of a gutsy woman I admire named Christine Macabee. 
• 
  
• I wish I could show your pictures of my four grand kids; I will once I know how to post photos again. They are a joy to me, ages 10, 8, 6, and 4. Spunky, poor listeners, always interesting. 
• 
  
• I'm writing on a new laptop, sitting on a new couch, looking at a new living room where tomorrow a new propane stove will be installed. I'm beyond excited thinking about the warmth of a stove all winter. 
• 
  
• What else? I'm overweight and wish I were motivated. I keep hoping I'll wake up one morning and be ready to take care of this. I'm thoroughly disgusted with Donald Trump and thoroughly depressed to think that almost 40% of Americans like him. He's a dangerous man. Praying for the Congress to grow some you-know-whats.
• 
  
• I'll end now with the hope my future posts are more interesting. I'm glad to be here. Finally. And I hope all is well with each of you. Barbara and Friko, I especially think of you. 
• love
• kj

Spring

It's been a wild month. Winter has given way to Spring and that's a wonderful thing. I'm a happy gardener and I like nothing more than seeing new growth and planning my own plots of land. 

But. I'm unsettled and I don't like it. After four months away JB and I won't be back in our own home for another 2-3 weeks. We've had to leave our rental on the bay and move to another temporary place while the construction and renovation of our house continues. It's a bit of a helpless relationship--dealing with contractors. You can prod and try to manage but they call the shots in getting things done. We have a contract that says finish by May 15th and my fingers are crossed.

I'm also aware of a very unsettled world. I'm shocked at the power Donald Trump has amassed already. I hope I'm still alive to see his influence waned and gone. I hope there is a pendulum that swings back to tolerance and inclusion. And peace. I don't know how "we've" collectively stopped caring for one another so dramatically. 

Last night I had dinner with twelve friends from high school. We will all turn 70 this year. It is amazing for me to say outloud I will soon be 70. That's not an age that can be fudged. The conversations about achy bodies and joyful grandchildren and no-bullshit living and the importance of memories left me thinking that my own experience is more common that I think.

I'm currently unsettled because I have reasons to be. I want to get back home and plant my seeds and six packs. And not just in soil. I want things to slow down bit. More time to finish my novel. Enjoy the kids. Feel the sun. Walk in low tide sand. Be kind. Be astonished. Lighten up.

Fingers crossed.....

love

kj

'

Hello!

How happy I am to be back at my blog! For the last few months I've been unable to include photos and that's very much cramped my style of communication here. But as of this morning, it looks like that problem is fixed. So my first update is my current location.

1. JB and I are staying on the bay in Provincetown, while our house is being renovated. This 3 months away from home, two miles down the street, means that we are waking up to sunrises like this every morning, each day watching the flow of the tides and the bounce of light off the water. 

It has been restorative. It's so lovely. Thank you to the universe for offering up an affordable rental that is perfect in every way.

2. #whynotdevin: at the end of January, a 6 year old little boy who is the son of my daughter's good friend Christine was out of the blue found to have a cancer called DIPG. Its location on the brainstem means that there is no treatment, no cure, no survival. In 40 years, not one child of the 200-300 kids each year in the USA has survived more than two years. The average life span with DIPG is 9 months.

Something remarkable has happened with Devin and his family. At first his parents asked, "Why Devin?" Then, as they refused to accept the fact that there is no hope and he will die, they asked, "Someone has the be the first one. Why not Devin?"

They, my daughter Jessica, and now many many others, started a national campaign to raise awareness and research funding for DIPG and to save Devin's life. Google or Facebook whynotdevin and you'll see what is happening. The fight has gone viral. Please help with prayers, wishes, donations. The tumor is aggressive and time is critical. We are truly manifesting that Devin will survive and thrive.

3. The renovation of our house: it is a much larger project that we ever imagined. New foundation, new shingling, new electric, new kitchen, new bath, new roof, upgraded windows and insulation and of course, all kinds of fun shopping and planning and designing.  It's been scary financially but JB and I are willing to let our knees knock as long as we don't jump in blind. 

5. Grandchildren: Last June, in the panic of Jessica's cancer (mis)diagnosis, we quickly rented a studio apartment so I could help with the kids and help however else needed. The little one room apt has been a godsend because our grand kids can come and stay and play. Here we made flowers with 5 year old Logan and he taped a flower garden to the picture window. 

I am in love with these kids. I love that I am lucky enough to have children whopping up my life.

6. And finally, TADA: if vision becomes reality, this will be our new Cape Cod kitchen. To say we are excited is a vast understatement. With luck, the whole renovation will be done by mid May.

7. And one more finally: my book manuscript is done. With the help of a few trusted readers, I'm in the revision and editing stage, hoping to begin shopping for an agent or publisher in a month or two.

All in all, I'm in good shape. Excited. Curious. Grateful. I say this with recognition that the world is 50% terrible; that the USA president is dangerous; that the age of Aquarius is in hiding. 

love

kj

Here I Am

I don't have pictures. But I can tell you that I am sitting on a couch in a rented vacation apartment watching seagulls fly over the bay, right in front of me through a sliding glass door. I will wake up to the sight of a glorious sunrise also right in front of me for another two months, until the renovation of our currently uninhabitable house is complete.

I can tell you that my partner JB has had a hell of a time with anxiety for many months and we are finally seeing some daylight. Every day she battles and her tools are finally working.

I can also tell you that my daughter Jess has a very good friend who like her also has 4 children and the youngest of her four boys, Devin, age 6, has been suddenly shockingly diagnosed with DIPG. It is a cancer at the brainstem with a zero survival rate. Zero. Not one child has survived longer than 2 years, and it could be 8 months or less. My daughter has mobilized to help Devin and his family and this is no small matter. In three weeks, a statement has been made: "Somebody has to be the first." 

And the answer has gone viral: #whynotdevin 

You can find Devin and his story there on Facebook. He's been on the news and well wishes come from everywhere and he's taken root in my heart. I'm not alone. Please pray for him, send him a card, help with GoFundMe, and pray again for the miracle he deserves. If you know the Pope, please ask him to pray too!

I have plenty more to catch up on here, but I think for now I'll leave it at #whynotdevin. 

I hope all is well in the world of each of you, barring unreal politics. I have finished my book and am editing the manuscript. It is a joyous feeling.

Love

kj

Advice in the New Year

"Write your sorrows in sand and your gratitude in granite"

This comes from a wise and far away blogging friend, who sometimes writes in letters and a language that I don't understand, but not this time. We live in different countries and are influenced by different cultures but after many years of blogging, we know each other's heart.

I will remember this advice so well that I'm hoping it may have the same effect on you.

Happy year ahead, with love
kj

ki-jaana-main-kaun --thank you for sharing, my friend hdwk xoxo

Mish Mash Musing

This time of year, I miss the way blogging use to be. Before Facebook, I and about 30 or 40 connected folks would blog weekly, often more, and share all kinds of small and large thoughts and talents and going-ons. I loved connecting with my blog friends all year, and especially sharing the holidays together.

I felt like I had a reason to take photos, to write poems, to share what wisdom I might trip upon. I miss so many people! 

For what it's worth, this Christmas and the wrap-up of this year is ending with hope. There's been real and potential illness swirling around me and my family for a number of months and that takes its toll. But we're all okay--improving daily, and I am nothing if not grateful. So this Christmas I have no complaints. 

I have holiday advice if you have an interest:

1. Expect nothing. Not community, not civility, not presents, not well being. And then let whatever good happens wash over you.

2. Give. This always makes me feel good. Find someone or some reason to give and offer your time, your money, a gift, a surprise, a meal, a donut, a kind word. You'll be the better for it. Guaranteed.

3. Wait to worry. My old standby mantra. Don't worry a minute before you have to. Because if you wait, chances are the reason to worry may have morphed or lessened or maybe even disappeared. 

That's it from me. Thanks as always for stopping by my beloved blog. I'll be visiting you too.

And thanks for the friendship. It counts for a lot.

Happy happy holidays with

Much love,

kj

 

My Mom

There was never a time

Those last seven years

When your smile was lessened 

By any fear.

You moved to a place

Far away from your home

You knew not a soul 

And you moved in alone.

A walker, a wheelchair, your memory gone

Yet whenever you saw me it was like a new dawn.

You'd ask, “How did you even know I was here?”

And I learned the right answer, I learned to be clear:

“I will always know Mom, there will never once

When I don’t know where to find you, not a day or a month.

Always you'd greet us, so happy and kind;

Every day you lost memory, but never your mind. 

You died with such grace, Mom,

No complaint or false fright

We watched you breathe softly and pass into the night.

It’s been two years already, 

 I’m so proud who you are

And I know there’s a card game

Taking place on a star.

It appears that I am writing again, regularly, and happily. I've had a reason to look back at my words over the last few years and some of them may find their way to my blog. Like this one, which is kind of topical for me since the holidays are here and I think about certain people who have come and gone. I'm no fan of that. 

Divine Justice

Twice I’ve tried and failed. I hate regrets and I have two big ones.

Through an intermediary I send word to my first deep and true love. It is 25 years later and I calmly see my part in the painful bitter betrayal that choked us both. The response back is a non response: a dollop of vanilla variety silence. If I read into it, the non words are clear:  ‘I am ignoring you. Leave me alone.”

The second regret is less complicated but equally unfortunate. I lost a good friend to a bad decision, one that was not then and definitely not now worth anything close to the cost. It’s been four years. I’ve sent a couple of cards and left a couple of phone messages, apologizing, lamenting, hoping for a reconnect. I’ve gotten word back, olitely and indirectly, that the time is not right… maybe some other time. 

I am looking for redemption and find it buried in rejection.

Isn’t that just the way sometimes? You have to let go of someone you wished you had gripped harder or softer. You have to accept what you can’t make right. That’s your only chance. 

I’ve phoned my friend Dory and we’re sharing a double scooped hot fudge sundae in downtown Northampton. It is a warm breezy Sunday night in June and gratitude skips around our ankles. Dory has made a few regret calls herself lately, with similar results. 

We are two minds now less emcumbered by several less people. 

It’s a divine loss and the ice cream is also divine. Just ice and no heat. 

Isn’t that just the way sometimes?

love

kj

I Can't Say Why...

this is herring cove in Provincetown at sunset. I can view a similar scene
just about every night and I am reassured of holiness.

I should say something,

this week knowing

how much has changed

in the flick of a ballot.

I am not a fan

of the man. 

Anger builds and fear swells. 

This country damaged and misled:

I should tremble but not yet I don't 

I should despise but not yet I won't.

Crazy, I believe the worse won't stand

Crazy, I believe this trouble gets us truth

I'm sorry we are all so pained

But I'm betting in the end we gain.

I can't explain why or how I am reserving judgement about the terrible miscarriage and mistake of electing Donald Trump as America's President.  For some  reason I think he is going to blow the lid off the racism and fear-mongering and divisions that have festered in the land for some years now, and for some reason I think a majority of people--decent people--are going to scream and insist 'Enough' and 'No More.' I don't know what that will look like--how severe the correction will be--but I believe there will be a correction that is already overdue.

I'm sorry the USA is putting us and you though this, World. It must be our Amrican nature to roll the dice. This time that recklessness will break our hearts, but I don't think the damage will drown us. 

I can't tell you why I think this way. But for some reason I do.

Love

kj

Am I an Elite?

It could not be a more beautiful Autumn here. I am writing every day, benefiting from the ocean air and sunsets, and planning for a huge renovation of our kitchen and second floor. We will have to move out of our house for three months this winter and soley by luck, we've found an affordable two bedroom incredible place to stay, directly on the bay. I will watch the tides and the weather coming in and changing with the eagerness of a puppy.

I am also following the human and political drama of the American Presidential Election. I do not support the candidate who targets Muslims and Mexicans and speaks with uncensored vulgarity. Still, I try to dig into how he can possibly have the support of so many Americans. I know at least two dozen decent thoughtful people who agree with him and I find that boggling. 

The candidate likes to point fingers at the 'elite' who are rigging the election against him. "Washington insiders," "Not regular hard working Americans," "People who read the New York Times and watch CNN."

I don't live in Washington DC and I read and listen to all kinds of commentary and news, including the Times and CNN. Am I a regular hard working American? 

I think so. 

I'm a college graduate and I'm white and along with JB we have income and savings that got  us a second home for a time and allowed us to get our daughter through college. I don't worry about making rent and we find ways to travel as we wish. I'm older now so I work only part-time, on my own terms. I spent a recent five years in the middle of an impoverished community serving white, black, and Hispanic families. My Father was a mason who left school in sixth grade and my Mother was a seamstress who came to the USA speaking only French and dropped out of school even earlier. I grew up in a middle class industrial town in Massachusetts, my family owned the house my Father and uncle built themselves, I went to a state college, I started my own business, I'm quick to volunteer. 

And:

When Obama was elected to the Presidency, I accepted, with relief, that the melting pot of different nationalities and races and religions and sexual preferences won out: that the melting pot would finally take root. I knew there was an real and mostly white anger that the country had changed, that manufacturing and employer loyalty had fled, that people on entitlements seemed to have it easier. I knew that but I thought the majority of Americans had spoken democratically and decisively. 

I was so wrong. That anger simmered and Donald Trump has now given it a legitimacy that borders if not crosses race baiting and violence. It's US and THEM.

He blames the problems and the differences on the elites. 

Based on education and income, that must be me.

But that must be him too. And all of government. And all of our educational institutions. And all of Congress. And the Generals. It looks to me like it's everyone but the powerful mostly white males who like to rule with authority and are not interested in nuance or balance. And it's not the folks who feel like the wrong direction has ruined the country.

It's not the folks who have felt powerless, who long for job security and a time that won't be coming back again no matter who is President . This man says he will take the country back to the 1950's. Back to when jobs were permanent and unions had clout. Back to when black people were second class citizens in silence. Back to when the United States had no interest and no need to collaborate or cooperate with other countries. 

It is my hope that the damage already done settles down and enough people understand we have to heal. 

Am I an elite? I must be; I qualify. But I don't feel a whole lot different than most other people I meet and know. I'm likable and fair and it shows. 

My biggest fault is that no matter how hard I try I cannot understand how and why good people I know continue to support a man who is pretty much a pig.

love

kj