2021/09/11

2021 – Day 254

Da Goddess @ 21:28

Twenty years is a long time. It’s a long time for something that seems like something happened just yesterday.

September 11, 2001.

We’ll never forget. Nor should we. Sure, the edges have dulled, but the fire rages on in memory.

20 years
240 months
1,044 weeks
7,305 days
175,317 hours
10,519,020 minutes
631,141,200 seconds

Never forget 2,996 souls dead.

2021/07/19

2021 – Day 200 – There She is Gone

Da Goddess @ 02:50

I will love you always, as I know you always have loved me. I will remember you forever, as you always remembered me. I will go forward with love in my heart and courage to face the unknown. Life continues, but it’s lost a little magic since you left this corporeal existence. I know your magic will find its way to another soul; that’s what you once told me happens when someone you love dies — everything good and kind and wonderful about them finds a new soul and returns to this realm. I believed you then and I believe it still. Your lessons stay learned. Well, most of them.

I was blessed to have you as my mother. You taught me how to find not and how to bring it to others. You taught me the beauty of wonder and how it’s so important to hold on to it, to share it, to encourage it, to keep it alive in your heart. You taught me to laugh, even when you most feel like weeping or when you’re scared. You were my home, both literally and figuratively. You were my True North and my home port, my first love. You were and always will remain my mom.

Love doesn’t end just because someone dies. Your love is in every sunset chased, flower noticed, in the laughter of a child, in the very air I breathe. You were made of stardust and to stardust you shall return until you find the next new spirit is borne into this world.

Thank you for your love and for all the light you shined upon us all. I will love you always, as I know you always have loved me. I will remember you forever, as you always remembered me. I will go forward with love in my heart and courage to face the unknown.

I am standing upon the seashore. A ship at my side spreads her white sails to the morning breeze and starts for the blue ocean.

She is an object of beauty and strength. I stand and watch her until at length she hangs like a speck of white cloud just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.

Then, someone at my side says;
“There, she is gone!”

“Gone where?”

Gone from my sight. That is all.
She is just as large in mast and hull and spar as she was when she left my side and she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port. Her diminished size is in me, not in her.

And just at the moment when someone
at my side says, “There, she is gone!”

There are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices ready to take up the glad shout; “Here she comes!”

And that is dying.

~ Luther F. Beecher

Thank you for your love, my dear.

At around 0130 this early morning, she left us.

Vale, Mom.

2021/06/30

2021 – Day 181

Da Goddess @ 03:48

Tomorrow will mark the halfway point of the year. It’ll also be one day closer to Mom leaving us.

I can’t do anything to stop the inevitable, however I am sure as hell going to be with Mom as much as possible.

Juggling has never been my strong suit. Okay! Fine! I’ve never successfully juggled more than two balls for more than a few passes. Yet, when it comes to my family and my personal shit, I’m juggling the fuck out of a lot of things. I’m also slowly losing my mind. Guess as I get older, there’s much more shit to stuff in a sock.

The point of all this is…completely lost to me. I don’t even recall what I originally intended.

See? Losing my mind.

If seen, approach with extreme caution as it has been known to be exceedingly sarcastic, caustic, barbed, and considered “a loose canon and could go off at any time.”

Alas, I have no control over anything any more.

Adrift. Asea. In the weeds, as they say. Why, yes, captain of this faulty noggin, I’m staring at you.

2021/06/23

2021 – Day 174

Da Goddess @ 20:58

It’s been quite the day.

It all started last week. Mom was admitted to hospital with CHF/COPD problems. She’s still there. She’s had every kind of test one can imagine. But what she went in for isn’t necessarily why she remains there. You see, there’s a lot going on. Granted, you don’t reach almost-86 without a few problems, right?

Mom has cancer. She likely only has about six months left. She wants nothing more than palliative care and we’ve all agreed this is the right path for her.

Our family is pretty practical about this stuff. That’s how we were raised and those are the rules.

While I’m not ready to be without a mom, I certainly don’t want her suffering. So, I’ve made my peace with her decision and am going to do whatever I can to make sure she’s having as much fun as she’s hoping for, is as comfortable as possible, and gets to do what she wants as often as we can make happen.

Here’s a question for you: what ideas do you have for a dying 86yr old who’d like to be silly, laugh a lot, enjoy our first big family gathering since covid became a thing? Fancy dress (costume)? A movie “premier”? A M*A*S*H* party? Glasses with funny noses? A petting zoo? Gimme some ideas I can run past her, please.

Oh, and if you have an extra prayer or kind thought, could you send it my mom’s way? Thank you.

2021/06/10

2021 – Day 161

Da Goddess @ 00:08

My friend’s dog meows.

Yep.

Her dog meows like a cat. I heard it with my own two ears. Upon hearing it yesterday, I immediately enquired about the meow. I asked because I know for a fact that her wife is allergic to cats, so I knew it was likely just some loud neighbor kitty visiting at the door or something. “No cat. That was Molly. She’s really weird now.” I’ll say! When I dog sat for them years ago, Mol did NOT meow. She barked. Like your normal, average, everyday, common, garden variety dog.

That is no longer the case. This previously regular doglike dog is now a badass who sounds like a motherfucking cat.

And that’s pretty cool. I’ve demanded video so we can make her go viral and let her become a big doglebrity. I’m only asking 10% of her earnings. I’m not greedy. There’ll be plenty of cheddar to go around.

Anyone else have an animal capable of subverting societal expectations? I’m thinking we could have ourselves a pretty major double, triple bill for events.

Tell me what your animal does so I can work it into act.

2021/06/09

2021 – Day 160

Da Goddess @ 02:51

A reminiscence, if you will. Throwback Thursday, but on a Wednesday.

I was digging through some old emails in search of photos buried deep within the recesses of gmail archives. I ended up reading every exchange from beginning to end and had such a good laugh at most of it. Some friends really bring out the funny in me and I wish I could bottle that up and confidently uncork it at an open mic night somewhere…soonish.

But I digress.

Within those emails is a copy of the post that got me my first real boost of blog traffic. I wish I could remember the blogger’s name. I can see his original blog in detail, right down to the color, and then there’s just nothing at the header. Like someone went in and erased that specific part of the memory. He was military. He eventually had Sgt. Mom post on the site, too. And then he disappeared. Lots of bloggers did back then, didn’t they. Back before Facebook, Google Plus, The Tweety, Instagram, and the rest, there would just suddenly be a void where previously there’d been a very prolific writer. One a week. Then 1.5 a week. After Facebook, the exodus was more pronounced. So, yes, there was a blogger (Sgt. Stryker???) who read this post and loved it so much he shared it. I got a lot of new readers. And that may have been the reason I went into full-on naughty blogger mode for a while.

Here’s the post in all its (mostly) unedited (I took out the excessive periods I once used in ellipses and shortened the “aarrggghhh” to have roughly one fifth of the original number of letters — nobody has time for such nonsense) appallingness (I can’t even come up with the word I would prefer to use because of the mind erasure thing, though I’m almost now 95% certain it was Stryker).

______________

July 21, 2002

Nipple Blog

My nipples aren’t on the same horizontal plane.

Now, most people wouldn’t notice this nor would they care. Even if they did they probably wouldn’t write about it. Not me. I noticed and I’m posting!

I noticed that my nipples were out of alignment when I walked into the bathroom, flipped on the light and saw myself in the mirror. I’ve noticed it before but it held me riveted tonight for some reason. My shirt and bra allowed for this assessment in a way that I hadn’t readily anticipated. Light blue shirt, lacy bra, hugged the upper body just the right way. And, I was a little chilled. Oh hell. I was poppin’ a boober, okay? (Poppin’ a Boober is the female equivalent of the pubescent boy’s erection…..it happens whether you want it to or not.) Yep. The headlights were on.

And, as I stood there I saw that the left side was lower than the right. It wasn’t merely something that required a boob-in-bra adjustment. I tried that and it didn’t stay. So, I did my girly bra-off move and stood there looking at my naked breasts and decided that, indeed, my nipples just don’t fall in a symmetrical fashion. Both my boobs seem to sag to the same level. Not the nips though. They aren’t wildly off. Not like one is in North Dakota and the other somewhere around Kansas. Just off a fraction too much to be a comfortable quirk.

I don’t know what to do about this. I don’t know why it suddenly concerned me. Like I said, I’ve observed this before. It just didn’t strike me as anything to ponder or worry about. But it does now. I feel very self-conscious about my breasts at the moment. I’m sitting here alone. Worried about my nipples. How sad is that?

I started to imagine myself going to the store, walking through the frozen food section, poppin’ a boober, and feeling all eyes upon my unlevel nubbins. Should I readjust? Ignore? Pride dictates that I at least attempt a brastrap adjustment as a means to hopefully bring about a level playing field. Homeostasis. But, wouldn’t that be acknowledging to the store that I KNOW my breasts are less than perfect? (Pretend they are!) Or would my nipple oglers think that it was a flaw in the bra that caused that temporary bust unsightliness? If I ignore, my erect and obvious misalignment could cause more stares. Conceivably, I could be at fault for nasty shopping cart accidents as my fellow shoppers stare at the unnatural state of my breastesses. I don’t have insurance for that!

This leads to more worry. Imagine the courtroom scene as a man (who was trapped under the 400lb display of canned yellow waxed beans that collapsed after ramming his shopping cart into them) describes the terror of becoming distracted by my unsightly bosom. And, the judge, being of reasonably sound mind, would wonder how such a thing could possibly create that much havoc. He’d summon Rusty the Bailiff to bring in a walk-in fridge, order me in, and then, when my nipples were at the peak of hardness request us to reenact the debacle.The plaintiff, distracted by the nipples that naggingly nixed his normal shopping habits, would jump up and shout, “Look! Aren’t they frightening? Ohhhhhhhh, my eyes! Aarrrrggggggggghhhh! Make her warm up, please!” And he’d collapse in sobs as his broken leg and arm twitch in painful spasms from the sudden movement. The judge would have no choice but to award damages to the injured. I’d have no way to pay up.

Should I be forced to wear a heavily padded bra? With my breasts…that’s really not a very good idea. They’re big enough already. A padded minimizer bra? Nooooo! That’s cruel and unusual punishment. Those things hurt. They scrunch the boobs to no end. And, they invariably give you the double cleavage that’s even more unsightly than the misaligned milk pumps. You know what I mean. The way that the cup of the bra cuts into the upper portion of the breast that isn’t completely encased in lycra and lace. I can’t afford to send someone out to shop for me either. That’s out of the question. I mean, I live alone at the moment. Even when my kids are here they’re too young to go to the store alone. And, I refuse to have nipple realigning surgery! UGH! That’s just gross.

Why is this bothering me right now? WHY? What should I do? I don’t have any answers to those questions and I’m too flummoxed to think. I guess I’ll just go try putting my boobs in different bras and see if I can’t come up with an idea. If all else fails…duct tape. Seems to work for everything else in the Universe. Wait…upon reflection, even that is too harsh a penalty. Oh man. I’m destined for therapy. Dr. Phil? Are you available?

I was tempted to remove the name of the blight on the “psychology” field he professes to be part of, but had no other name to substitute. Dr. Joyce Brothers? I don’t even know any more. My brain is mush these days.

Okay. There you have it. I throwback to 2002. Nineteen years ago.

2021/05/25

2021 – Day 145

Da Goddess @ 19:29

We’re just about 40 days shy of the halfway point in 2021 and it doesn’t seem like that’s real or even possible. And that last sentence had a question mark at the end of it in my head. Most things do these days. Have question marks at the end, that is. I’m just not sure what anything means or where anyone stands any more. I’m not even sure when I can use “anymore” or it it’s always been “any more”. I used to know these things and now I know nothing.

My own life and in my own head, I’m Sgt Schultz. Is that not the dumbest thing you’ve ever heard? At the very least, one should be Hogan or — should things take a weird turn — even Colonel Klink or Carter. No one should be the Schultzie of their own life. No one.

And yet, here I am.

I guess it’s better than being General Burkhalter, eh? He was never on the right side of anything and wasn’t lovable like Schultz.

Huh, maybe I am Schultz. And maybe I am okay with it.

Nah. If I can’t be Hogan or Newkirk or Kinchloe, I don’t think I want to be in this sitcom at all. I mean, would you?

2021/05/18

2021 – Day 138: Double Nickel Edition

Da Goddess @ 00:01

I can’t drive; I’m 55.

I made it! I made it. I made it? No, yeah. I MADE IT! I almost said “I made it, motherfuckers!” but that seems unnecessarily profane, especially as I’m saying this to you, my friends. You are not motherfuckers. For the most part. I mean, technically, some of you are literally fucking mothers, though I’d hope not your own because that would be, uh, erm, different and unexpected. Definitely unexpected. And very different. Not that I’m judging you. I have so many other things for which to judge you. I don’t want or need to know that part of your life and I’m totally good with n.e.v.e.r. knowing that part. Not that I’d judge you for it.

Back to this day. This momentous day. This day on which I hit a milestone of fifty-fucking-five years of age!

Mr. Andruski, wherever you are, fuck you. You said I’d never make it. Hell, you didn’t even think I’d be alive long enough to graduate high school. Well, I did graduate high school, college, and while I didn’t realize my dreams as I’d dreamt them high school, I most certainly realize many others I’d conjured along the way. All without your “valuable insight and guidance.”

Can you believe the vice principal of a high school would say such things to a teenager and to her mother? Those words — and “you’re gonna wind up a wasted slut lying face down in the gutter if you don’t watch yourself, missy!” — actually led to one of the worst moments of my life: my dad slapping me across the face and my nose pouring out blood by the bucketsful! To be fair, my dad didn’t intend for it to happen. I don’t think he’d ever would’ve done it if not for my mom and I yelling VP Andruski’s words at each other. My dad only heard me screaming those words and thought I was saying those about, and to, my mom. He stormed into my bedroom and smacked me, just as I was turning my head, which is what led to the spurting of blood from my nose (all over the bedroom, which included the white chenille bedspread and the yellow and orange medium shag carpeting). I was 14, I was angsty, I hadn’t been the most well-behaved teenager (is there such a thing? Has there ever been such a thing in the history of the world?), and I was mouthy as fuck. And yet, despite the fact that I’d been ditching school and had run away at least twice at that point, this was the only time I can recall my dad raising his hand at any of us kids. Definitely the only time he’d ever done so with me. And I was the problem child of the family.

This is where I feel it necessary to tell you a couple of important facts:

1. My dad was a yeller and had a horrible temper. But he wasn’t violent. No beatings for us! He’d just scream and throw vile words our way.

2. My dad did NOT like blood. The very sight of blood made him woozy. Even the mention or, rather, the description of blood was enough to make him go green or ghostly pale.

With these two factors in mind, imagine him raising a hand to one of his daughters, actually going through with the impulse, his hand making contact with my nose instead of my cheek, and a profusion of blood issuing forth from my proboscis. The shock of the violence and the sight of all that vivid red against the white bedspread and yellow carpet caused my dad such agita that he yelled louder, stammering and sputtering, all while going green and turning quite pale. He stomped out of the room, as much as one who is close to fainting can stomp, that is, slammed the master bedroom door, and left my mom and I staring at one another.

Forget our argument (for the time being). I was shaking, crying, and holding my hands over my nose while the blood seeped through my fingers. My mom went into full parental mode. She wrapped her arms around me, doing her best to calm and comfort me. At some point, I don’t remember her doing it (maybe she used some form of maternal magic I never learned), she’d grabbed a t-shirt or dustcloth and had me wipe the blood from my nose and mouth and chin while holding it gently but firmly to my nose to stanch the bleeding. I think she was just as shocked as my dad was, as I was! And I know she was as concerned for him as she was for me. She sent me in to the bathroom to clean my face while she went to check on him.

Long story not-so-much-shorter, we all survived that incident, no thanks to Andruski. It never would have occurred had he not spoken that way to me and my mom. Regardless, we made it through that and many other incidents over the years. Years that asshole predicted I’d never see.

But I have. So, take that and shove it, Mr Vice principal! (I’m sure he’s dead by now, but I feel so much better having said this!)

So, yeah. I’ve made it to 55 and I’m proud of it!

My life has been full of extremely interesting moments. Some were terrifying, some exhilarating, some dull as dishwater, many unexpected, but all mine. And that’s more than many people get. To be cavalier about or take for granted any of these moments would be disrespectful to those gave me life, to those who never got to experience what I have, or even to myself.

To quote from my favorite conversation on getting old (from the movie ‘The Guardian’): “Hell, I’ve always been old, Ben. You know what, though? I don’t mind. I mean, if my muscles ache, it just means I’ve used them. If it hurts to walk up them steps now, it’s just ’cause I’ve done it a hundred times to lay down next to a man who loved me. I got a few wrinkles here and there, but I’ve laid under thousands of skies on sunny days. I look and feel like this, well, because I drank and I smoked and I lived and I loved, I danced, sang, sweat, and screwed my way through a pretty damn good life, if you ask me. Getting old ain’t bad, Ben. Getting old, that’s earned.”

I’ve earned this. I’ve been annoyed, tormented, pestered, plagued, molested, worried, badgered, harried, harassed, heckled, persecuted, irked, bullyragged, vexed, disquieted, grated, bested, bothered, teased, nettled, tantalized, ruffled, bent, broken, spindled, and I’ve lived, damnit! I’ve earned all this.

So, hey there, 55. Nice to see ya.

2021/05/16

2021 – Day 136: 19 Years

Da Goddess @ 09:53

Are we who we think we are? Or are we who others think we are? Can both these perceptions exist simultaneously and both be equally true? If you know how others see you — and it gives you pause to reflect — does that invalidate what you thought of yourself? Or, if it changes how you see yourself, does THAT invalidate your previous view of who you thought you were? Should it? Should we then reconsider everything we thought we knew?

Is it possible for our actions to be purely received as we intended them, or is everything we do — regardless of our intent — completely at the mercy of how others perceive them?

These are the things running around my head at the moment.

I’ve been blogging for 19 years as of today. I guess I somehow thought I’d have a better idea of who I am and who I was at this point, but I feel I may never have any answers and I’m not sure if I want them any more.

Of course, I didn’t have any idea when I started this blog back in 2002 that I’d still be at it almost 20 years later. Hell, I didn’t have any idea I’d still be at it even two or three years ago. It makes me wonder if I should continue on; if I should make it a full 20 years of blogging; if I should take it up to May 16, 2023, which would be the end of my 20th year and call it quits then; or do I just keep on plugging away until my fingers seize up or fall off? I won’t make any decisions for now. I’m not in what anyone would call a prime decision making frame of mind at the moment. Have I ever truly been in that frame of mind?

Sometimes I don’t know if the me who started this blog is the same person who is currently writing this entry. I know both of us have inhabited the same body, but is that really all it takes to be the same person? I have no clue.

As I say almost every year, the only thing I know for sure is how much I value the people I’ve met through blogging. Each of you have left an imprint on my heart. Some have taken a bite of said organ, some have helped it grow, some have tried to rip it out and stomp it in to oblivion, and some have returned time and time again to help patch up what’s been bitten, beaten, torn, and bruised. You who have helped me grow, who have nursed me back from the brink of disaster, you are the ones I like best. Obviously. Feel free to tell the others. I won’t deny it. (If you were my children, this would be an entirely different conversation.)

Speaking of nursing, can you believe I was still a nurse when I started blogging? That seems a lifetime ago! It definitely seems like it’s, at least, been half a lifetime ago.

Little Dude was just four or five, and Mojo was eight or nine. Now? They’re grown and off on their own journeys of self-discovery, exploration, adventure, mundanity, heartache, heartbreak, recovery, triumph, and, hopefully, fulfillment and contentment. Instead of the precious, fragile little beings I once held close and fussed over every breath or cry or sigh or laugh, I have to remind myself they’re now capable of wiping their own bums, fixing their own meals (and mistakes, for that matter – steaks and mistakes, anyone?), determining their own lives. In the time since starting this blog, they’ve become fully formed people who no longer need me for, well, anything. It’s both sad and wonderful.

It’s the way the world works. Time passes; living things grow; living things die; we change; we do our best to get from one day to the next.

Using that particular lens, I can see I’m still me, just the older version of me; the me who has seen fire and seen rain (literally, at times); the me who has loved and lost and cried and laughed and LIVED. I don’t think I’d want to be the same exact person I was when I started blogging. Sure, there are some parts of this strange trip I might wish had gone differently, but I can’t say I’d want to have come through all of it and to not have changed in some way or another. I’d be crazy to not want to learn and grow along the way.

And so, with that in mind, I think I’m going to be okay with not knowing if I’m the me I think I am or if I’m the me you think I am or if I’m some mashup of the two. We can revisit this a year from now and see if I’ve miraculously found the answer. See you then?

2021/05/11

2021 – Day 131 – Two-Fer Tuesday

Da Goddess @ 21:06

Show this to some young person in your life. Tell them this was a big hit when you were a kid. In the comments, post a link to the pic you took of them as they listen to it.

And then you can tell them this was another big hit. But nobody ever knew why. Or how.

“And they whirled and they twirled and they tangoed
Singin’ and jingin’ the jango
Floatin’ like the heavens above”

That’s a beautiful bit of writing, isn’t it? It has no right being in this song.

If you want to fall down a weird ass rabbit hole, go to YouTube and listen to all the covers of this song. From America to Todd Rundgren and countless others. It’s insaane! But, whatever. At least I didn’t include “Disco Duck” here. I love you too much for that.

2021/05/07

2021 – Day 127: Three Years & a New Loss

Da Goddess @ 15:55

Dad’s been gone three years now. I’m 100% aware of this, yet I still have moments when I almost forget. Almost. Just before I reach for the phone or think “he’d love this!”, I remember. Or the memory becomes less foggy. Either way, I have that incredible split second moment of him being alive again.

I know I’ll never stop grieving the loss. I know the edges of it will dull and the corners round off with time. I know this. I’ve done this before. Just never lost a parent before. Grandparents, sure. But they were old and th…oh yes. That’s right. I remember now. Dad was old, too. It just doesn’t feel like he was old in my heart and my heart calls a lot of the shots on such things.

I miss you, Dad! I love you and miss you and wish I had even five minutes more with you. Even if those five minutes were you yelling. I’d take it.

Dad

* * *

I’d meant to post this other news sooner, but I somehow managed to forget each time.

Jan from the Cascade Exposures blog, who also occasionally posted here, passed away in March. At the beginning of April, I texted her a link to a place I knew she’d want to explore. I didn’t hear back right away as I normally would. Odd. And then I woke up Easter morning to “This is Jan’s mom…” and I knew. I said a quick prayer that maybe she was just in hospital or something, but I knew. I just did.

I didn’t ask for details. I don’t know the exact day she died or the cause. I’ve just felt blessed to have known her and for her mom taking the time out of her grief to let me know her daughter was gone.

Jan had just retired after 30yrs at the same job. She’d loved it. But she finally had the chance to retire and she took it. With the pandemic, work was becoming a hassle with rotating team shifts and such. So, she was excited to retire, hang out with her sweet Lily cat, and she and her mom were planning some trips for the moment they had the okay to safely travel. Jan was going to show her mom Death Valley, which I guess she hadn’t stopped talking about since she and I had gone. I completely get that. It’s a special place for so many reasons.

I wish I could say it gets easier to say goodbye to people as I get older. The simple truth is it gets harder for me. Of the bloggers I’ve lost (Rob, Mikey, Scott, and now Jan), it just seems to me that the world keeps losing bright lights and big hearts. There will always be a place in my heart for these special souls, but especially for Jan. I consider myself fortunate to call her my friend and deeply honored that she called me one, too.

Jan

Okay. That’s it. I’m going to spend the rest of my day tending to my body and soul with some TLC and a warm shower to wash away the sadness.

Please promise me you’ll be here when I get back.

2021/05/02

2021 – Day 122: Kalo Pascha – Christos Anesti!

Da Goddess @ 00:01

CHRISTOS ANESTI! Christ is risen! Christ is risen from the dead, trampling death by death.

Christos Anesti!

Kalo Pascha to one and all. May the sun shine upon us and warm us for today and always. May Christ’s death and resurrection save us all.

For the first time in many many years, I’m actually sharing a home with another Orthodox Christian. I shall knock on his door in a moment and celebrate this gift.

2021/04/29

2021 – Day 119

Da Goddess @ 14:08

There’s one place on earth I don’t like to visit. It’s a “goddess temple” in the middle of nowhere in Nevada. What bothers me most about this place is not that there are bad vibes or negative energy there, but that there’s nothing there. It’s a void. It’s as though someone took a great cosmic vacuum to this plot of land and pulled up every last mote of emotion, of energy, of soul. I end up feeling physically ill and injured every time I’ve visited (the 1st time for a photowalk, the 2nd & 3rd times with others to see if they felt the same as I had). When I walked beyond the border of the property, I would suddenly feel a burst of fresh, cool air in my lungs and my body would straighten, my mood would brighten, and I felt as though as veil lifted from my vision. I would wander around, my camera to the eye and I’d want to photograph everything, from the sky to the gnarled exposed roots of a plant that had forgotten what it had once been. I’d walk and walk until my travel companion would have to come looking for me, having called out for the past hour and getting no response. Then came the agonizing walk back through the void. I’d approach it full of hope that I’d just had a momentary lapse of health or mood, only to suddenly feel ill once more the very instant my foot crossed some unseen but very real plane. At that point, I’d hurry as quickly as my now hobbled body and soul could toward the car and drive as swiftly as possible away from the wretched place.

I’ve never been able to figure out how a location could feel so absolutely empty while surrounded by glorious mountains, hills, skies, flora, and fauna. Oh, and that reminds me of the lack of animal life in that space. No insects, lizards, birds, or any other sort of creature was ever spotted on that property. Beyond it, life was practically teeming in the air, on every surface. How could that be?

It’s been over ten years since I last visited the site and I’ve considered a trip out there again to see if anything has changed. But then I wonder if I really need to experience it again and think of several other locations I’d much prefer to see once more.

I think I’d like to try Jay’s Grave* instead. At least I would be able to identify the sensations and give them reason to exist. Plus, fog! And apparitions!

* * *

* Word for word the comment I’d left for Tom Cox’s “GHOST” entry.

Please consider adding Tom to your list of regular online visits. He’s a marvelously evocative writer and his podcasts are lovely.

* * *

There is another post I started a week or two ago explaining my absence, but this was more important. Shall post that one soon.

2021/02/10

2021 – Day 41

Da Goddess @ 06:04

Getting your medical information from a political source is like getting groceries from a guy living in his van down by the river.

Sure, you’ll get something; but is it a safe something, though?

Keep researching. Keep reading. But, also be mindful of the source. When it comes to coronavirus, make sure your sources are using current data from medical resources. Anything else is not going to reflect our situation and the needs that must be addressed at this time.

I’m still tip-tapping away. My internet connection is intermittent and fleeting at best. I will post more soon.

In the meantime, please enjoy this:

I heard this song while being transported to physical therapy and dug it. I’m not much of a big Christian music fan, but a good song is a good song is a good song. This is catchy and it’s simply a great bit of music.

2021/02/08

2021 – Day 39b

Da Goddess @ 05:44

There’s a post from yesterday (which I couldn’t publish due to connectivity issues) on another device I can’t access at the moment. In that post, I mention I’m working on something about the coronavirus and basic health concerns. It ties in with the discussion happening in the comments from this post.

As someone who spent a lot of money and time on education to become a registered nurse, and who spent a great deal of time continuing my education in the pursuit of practicing the best care possible (I still do this even though I’m no longer licensed because I want to stay informed and I like to learn), I value the wisdom that comes from those who are on the forefront of medical care — through research and clinical practice — and I have to take care to approach new information with an open mind free of personal or political bias. To be frank, disease doesn’t give a flying fuck what party you belong to or who you vote for. Disease just happens. And we fight disease with science, with fact, and with the knowledge that addresses the disease. Politics may decide funding and dissemination of information to the public, but the actual fight against the disease isn’t political for medical professionals on the frontline. It can’t afford to be.

Anyhow, I have thoughts. So many thoughts. About Covid and healthcare in general. About how information is spread. About how people want to believe in practices other than that based on scientific and medical facts. I’m all for complementary medicine — homeopathy and holistic approaches — when they’re used in conjunction with that of conventional medicine. Together, that’s where the best stuff happens. I have a few too many friends who rely on homeopathic remedies and/or supplements as their own personal shields against disease and who then are surprised when they discover they’re ill.

Basically, my thoughts cover all of this and more and it’s coming. I just want to say it right.

So, please feel free to join the conversation in this other post and I can address topics of concern directly.

My goal isn’t to make anyone feel bad, but to open minds and hope that logic and common sense win out over what feels to be self-interest (even when it’s not intended as such).

I love you all and value our conversations, whether here on the blog or via email or text or phone calls. So, don’t be afraid to join in. I won’t bite. I promise. It’s not hygienic and it’s difficult to do while masked.

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