March 23, 2016

Irons in the Fire

I made the mistake of opening my email in front of my father the other day. Now, at least 50 years have gone by since he last told me to straighten my room, but he picked up right where he left off.

"You have too many posts in your inbox," he snapped.

Dregs of defiance from 50 years ago bubbled up into my throat. "Well," I observed, "I don't have to answer to YOU about the state of my email."  Then, as the adolescent stomped back to her place in my gut and slammed the door, I found a more conciliatory tone. "You see, Dad, the posts in my inbox all require some kind of action. People I have to call, purchases I am waiting to receive, links I want to read, things I have to put on my calendar. And when I finally get to it, THEN I file or delete the post."

"Well," he said, "you sure have a lot of irons in the fire."

And that's the start of my explanation for where I've been for the past three months. I started to list my irons here, but honestly, they're no heavier or lighter than your own. What is true for me is that I let them distract me, pull me off course.

What course? Being present in this very moment, with my two feet on the ground or the two halves of my tush in a chair. So I'm back to meditating and I can already feel the results. The irons are still there, but they are clearly in the fire, not inside my brain. Which makes a lot more room for me.

And that me has really missed interacting with you all. So how about we pick up where we left off?

When I look to the last post, I see that we left off with Molly, who is still snoring in the key of E minor. I am happy to report that Billy apparently did not read the memo from October 2015 that gave him three weeks left to live. He has lost lots of weight and in the absence of fat, he sported a handsome apres-ski sweater for most of the winter.
Apparently, this abdominal tumor has a rather large appetite and so in order to maintain Billy's weight, we need to feed them both.  Every day, he eats two meals that he could probably share with a pregnant elephant and that involve lots of dog food cans, brown rice, and many trips to the feed store. No wonder he doesn't die, he already thinks he is in heaven.

Talk to you more tomorrow.


  1. so good to see you back here and (((Billy))) look forward to more stories (you are such a good writer)

  2. Joolz
    You"re back!
    We lost Lily in the fall after 6 years of. cancer. She only ate if I cooked whatever she was craving and then only if it was hand fed. Many trips were made to the grocery store many days, trying to conjure up the right protein and/or vegetable and the n serve it the right temperature/texture. It was so streaky and frustrating. Oh, I miss her. Every day. My girl.
    xo to Billy and Mollyl

    1. While Billy was in the kennel over xmas, the owner had started feeding him a conconction of buffalo, oranges, apples, ginger, turmeric,and a million other ingredients that had to be fresh. That seemed ridiculous to me (I don't go to that much trouble to feed Himself, and HE brings home a paycheck.) But then he (Billy, not Himself) started chewing open the wooden doors to the pantry to just to get something in his belly. (Well not anything, he left the potatoes and onions but really enjoyed the spinach wraps.) I made the buffalo thing for him for about two weeks but then just had enough and my kind vet said the goal was just to keep him from feeling hungry, so dump a lot of brown rice in the canned protein. I don't think I could have done what you did, that's for sure. So good to hear from you, hope the west is treating you well.

  3. well, of course to see Billy looking so svelte brings a wide open heart,
    and how did it feel? as it was going, to think now and then about writing but then deciding not to? How did that Feel? Good?, in it's own way?

    1. For several months, it felt completely agreeable. Some regrets at not being in Community out here, but not enough to make me turn my schedule upside down to fix it. And honestly, when I thought about writing, I couldn't think of anything to say. Just nothing worth typing.

      When I came back, I had an idea of what I wanted to say (still have to post THAT) but decided to let my fingers just connect with the keyboard and boy oh boy does that feel good. Have you ever gone swimming in a lake as a grown woman and feel your entire being come back, as if all those little girl Michigan summers had just been unzipped?

      I know that makes sense to you. That's how it felt.

  4. I'm so glad you are back and glad to see Billy hanging in there. Yay!!