Three Things That Went Well Today...And Why.

1. I had a really good talk with Sabrina, and got some new strategies for overcoming my obstacles in life. Also reframed some things that had been bothering me. This happened because I was contemplative about how I've been feeling and also had a seeking heart to find better ways of doing things. I opened up my heart and was vulnerable. I spoke authentically. And when you do that, I think it touches people's hearts, and they want to help if they can. Sabrina suggested reading "Flourish" and trying this exercise from the book. So here I am...writing down 3 things that went well today and why. And I plan on doing this for a while.

2. I took several bags of trash out. Practically filled up the trash can. I decided that I would rather have these cluttery things gone from my bedroom immediately, and so I cleaned off the windowsill, and went around my room gathering up things that I knew were trash, and took them out to the cans immediately. It went well because I didn't think too much about it, I just took action and did it ASAP.

3. Made plans to see two of my friends tomorrow in SF. I called them, and FB'ed them, and extended an invite. It went well because I reached out and made a concrete plan.

An Evening In With The Hounds

J-Lo came bounding into my bedroom tonight, proudly carrying the dried tortilla I gave to her this morning, after it fell on the floor while making breakfast. "Come here Pretty Girl." Her brown eyes darted in my direction but she didn't move. Skimper-Scamper came merrily over into the circle between my legs, where I had patted the bed cover and invited Ms. Lo. I crawled down to the foot of the bed and encircled the sleek elegant dog in my arms. She needed love. I hugged her, laying my head on her backside and scruffed up her neck the way she likes. She moaned at me, like she wanted something or was not quite happy with the situation with the puppy, but I just kept on loving on her and telling her what a good dog she was. I leaned down and inspected her tortilla, half-eaten, and quickly becoming brittle and air dried. I broke off a small piece and offered it to her, but she didn't want it. The tortilla had become more of a trophy. Kind of like a shiny red toy fire engine that one kid gets to flaunt in front of the other. When she turned away from the morsel, I offered it to Cecino. He voraciously munched away at it, immediately drawing the attention of the Whippet. She moaned again, as if to tell me how dismayed she was that I gave it to him. I snuggled up again to her and told her it was all right. She could share. Slowly, the puppy came gently creeping up on my right side. At first he just sat there quietly, intently eyeing me and Ms. Lo. Then he crept forward some more gently sniffing her feet while I pet her. Eventually, he got close enough to nose her tummy, and then he did this thing that I had seen him do before, but didn't understand until now. His tongue came out and he gently prodded her nipple, attempting to urge out some milk. She moaned again, this time at him. He stopped. But came back and tried kissing her tummy-tum again. I had seen him do this, but I always thought it was just a gentle sign of affection. I was never close enough to notice that he was lapping at her teat. J-Lo's never had puppies. And her nipples are barely even there. But this puppy was trying to suckle at her belly. I had witnessed him air-suckling in his sleep before. Poor little one. Poor Ms. Lo too! No wonder she gets snappy with him sometimes. Dear dear puppies. How I do love you.

I have been digging out things from my freezer, working my way through the still edible yet mysterious items. Last evening, I boiled up 4 Cornish game hens. I had bought a bunch of them FIVE years ago! My mom and I had our share, but the last 4 were buried deep in the back of my freezer taking up valuable real estate. The hens had been wrapped in that thick industrial shrink wrap that turkeys come in, and then packaged and wrapped again. They didn't have freezer burn, and smelled just fine when I defrosted them. But still, five years is a long time, and I knew that I wasn't going to be willing to eat them. So I boiled them up for the hounds. They know this drill because every once in a while, when I get a good deal on chicken (usually thigh meat), I'll boil up a big stock pot of it for them and then shred the chicken, discarding the skin and bones. Then I'll take the chicken stock and make a big pot of rice for them. Monica taught me how to do this. It's great! And the dogs love it. I mix it in with some of their dry kibble and some cottage cheese. I fed them the feast last night. From the looks of it, they'll be feasting for a while on the two stock pots of home made dog food. 

The Comfortable Feeling of Being Known and Loved

She had a way of making you feel comfortable in your own skin, and just feel good. I remember days, times, being  together, just *being*. Laughing. Being known and loved. And feeling so content and full of joy that it seemed that the both of us just shined. Sunshine just shooting out of us from all angles.

We glowed together. 

I miss her. It's been over a year now, and I still miss her. I feel haunted. I went from not being able to dream of her, and wanting so desperately to be able to, just to be able to hug her and laugh with her, tell her I love her one more time, and to hear it from her; to dreaming of her almost every night. That's something only Mac knows about me. -And now you. I dream of my dead mother every night. In my dreams she comes to me. Sometimes I remember that she's dead in my dreams, and sometimes I don't. But always, we are together, and I feel the love.

Living in her old house, my childhood home, I realize that in some way, my heart has been waiting for her to come home. My family has been in this house so long, I know every sound. I even know the sounds of the cars in front of my house. I remember a younger me, sitting in my room; I would hear the muffled sound of my mothers Volvo come up the street and park in the driveway. Sometimes, she would stay in her car a few minutes longer enjoying the song that was on the radio. And then, I would hear her car door shut, and she would bounce up the front walk and steps, keys jingling, the all too familiar sound of her opening the lock in the door, and then bounding in the house. She'd call out to me and come find me, fresh faced and happy -always happy to see me. She loved coming into my room and sitting on my bed and catching up with me. I loved it too. I would do the same thing to her. When I would come home, I would find her and come sit on her bed. We'd talk about our days. The people in it. The things that frustrated us, or made us feel real good. She worked at the post office in Sonoma, as a window clerk. Sonoma's a small town. And everybody knows everybody else there. I remember times that I would drive the 45 minute commute (one way), just to have the pleasure of her company. We'd leave early in the morning, sometimes as early as 4 O'clock, when the world was still cold, dark and quiet. I would drop her off in the morning, and pick her up at the end of the day. Now that I'm older, and gas prices are obviously much higher, this seems like a strange thing to do. But we loved it. We both really loved each other. And being together, doing nice things for one another, was part of that joy. I hope to find that again. In me, and in other people. I love you Momma, and I still miss you. You were one special lady.