I'm teaching a class now. Grief and Loss. It's cheery. Lighthearted. One of the students asked if we could have some fun today so I suggested that we sing first. So we did. We sang a little song first. We also laughed a little too. Then we told stories about great sadness

Oh, I met with a guy about disability insurance. He was remarkably unhelpful. Then I mentioned long term care insurance. He casually remarked that women pay twice what men do. After I stopped gasping and sputtering, he explained that women have, uh, ovaries and uteruses (duh). Oh and boobs, all cancer prone. But, I protested, men have prostates and he replied that men just die... Ok, I see, men don't go to the doc as much, they die from prostate cancer. Oh, and women live longer therefore, a longer need for long term care insurance. Can I just say, I HATE INSURANCE COMPANIES, all kinds. Even the ones that pay me for caring for moms and babies. Grrrrrrrrrr.

She sang "Because the Night." No band. No guitar.

I'm going to see Patti Smith. Tonight. Right now. I'm leaving right now. I'll let you know about it later. OMG.

The Concher just came. I'm published in this heavenly little hand stitched book and there is a box of home made chocolates!!!!!!!!! Right now I feel incredibly special. Thank you soooo much twopoettruffles.com.

Phinney, the giant cat across the street got a MAJOR haircut because of all the mats. Whoa. He has a poodle cut-all wrong on a cat. I wonder if he feels embarrassed? When cats fall in the tub and get all wet, they look embarrassed and pissed. Sometimes they pretend they meant to do it. But you get to see how round their bellies are and how skinny their legs are.

I think Hugo has lost weight on the new diet. It's just WW III every time I feed them, much growling and surreptitious glancing at each bowl for scraps. Do cats have Buddha nature? Nah, probably not.

My mother had a friend names Alta Zapezik. Her apartment burned down so she came to live with us, actually in my room. She wore leopard skin capris and she had big dyed red hair. And she had a monkey, on a lease. She brought the monkey with her. She lived in my room for EVER. And she had a gay son who babysat for us, until my parents discovered he was gay. Then he couldn't babysit anymore because he would pollute us. Or something.

Was it his mom's capris? Or her all white carpets? Was it the monkey?

I walked 6 miles today. Voluntarily. Ow, ow.

The Concher is finally publishing a poem of mine, hoorah hooray. I guess the book comes with homemade chocolates and they sell all the books til they're gone. This is most excellent news. I can't wait for the arrival of chocolates and poetry. twopoettruffles@blogspot.com is their address if you want to order a delicious book.

WE HAD A DAY OF SUNLIGHT AND IT WAS WONDROUS AND CAUSED PEOPLE TO COME FROM OUT OF THEIR HOUSES AND WALK JAUNTILY DOWN THE STREET.

As for me, I gardened and now my body is ruined. There are some muscles in my lower back and in my calves that would prefer not to be disturbed. Ever again. I make groaning sounds when I get up, sorta like, "Arggha, oomph, ok now...(then I talk to myself) you can do it, you can go to the kitchen and make some dinner, your upper body is alright, at least until tomorrow morning when the GREAT RECKONING will occur. This is the situation when the physical abuse you heaped on yourself makes itself know the next day, or during the night when you have to pee. You utter little squeaks of surprise and dismay that your arms, back, hands, legs etc. no longer resemble the parts you know and love.

When I first started running 5 or 6 years ago, I had the wrong shoes and no support arch thingys. I couldn't walk the morning after I ran. Literally. I couldn't put my heels on the ground. I could tiptoe around, very attractive. Then the nice man at the shoe store put me on a treadmill and videoed my 'gait', like a horse. He declared that I 'pronate' and he pointed me toward the 'pronate shoes'. Then he stuck plastic sole things on my feet and put my feet in plastic bags which he blew up with a fancy machine. All in the middle of the shoe store. So I sat there until the plastic soles molded to my arches and he stuck them in my new running shoes. It was magic. No more foot pain. So I moved on to falling down while running and I can tell you, that hurts like a mofo. Plus you get big scabs on your knees.

Exercise can be fun!

But frogs come out of the sky like rain.

-- Anne Sexton

I'm crispy. Working for 12 hours straight is too long. By my last appointment, I can't remember anything. What's that word-perineum, periosteum, peri-bottle, periwinkle??? Cripes. I love my clients but when we are all yawning, it's time to go home and have some toast and hot chocolate.

It's been raining here since the Great Flood. Or the Red Sea. The one Moses parted. I expect to find fish on my lawn or no lawn, just stuff floating around. Oh look, there go my red gardening shoes, swirling in little eddies.

Haiti is horrendous. I can't bear the pictures. Hurricane Katrina. And that horse's ass, Buchanan, saying they DESERVED IT because they made a pact with the devil because of the French. WTF? There is a special very hot place reserved just for ol' Pat. I know, I know, not Buddhist. Can't help it. Some people are IDIOTS. And dangerous.

When you don't feel so hot, sometimes it is a mistake to eat Ethiopian food. I don't really want to elaborate. I am going to lie down now and contemplate the first statement.

My children are gearing up for my big birthday party. They've decided that my friend's house is too small and they need to find a hall to rent. I have visions of the party happening here with babies and children ransacking the house and chasing the cats under the furniture. I have nothing against babies and children. I just haven't child-proofed my house in a long time.

There is also food spillage and general mayhem. And public drunkenness. And random nudity.

Actually, the conversation with my daughter went like this (via iphone)

Maya: Hey mom. What about an Avatar theme? Everybody wears blue and braids. Tails.

Me: Hilarious.

Maya: Pointy ears.

Me: Big yellow eyes.

Maya: Could be fun.

Me: Totally.

Maya: Milo likes the idea. (grandson)

Me: Of course he does.

Maya: Half naked painted blue. We could make your friend's place look like the forest.

Me: Easy!!

Maya: We could fly on our banshees.

Me: Oh yeah and be 10 feet tall.

Maya: For sure.

Me: I wonder if the Nav'i have midwives?

Maya: They're probably all midwives.

That's my girl.

Rejection #2.

Sigh.

Hiked in the Cascades today. Mild, clear day with many springs crossing the path, little waterfalls and unseen birds. Lots of moss, one tree completely covered with hanging moss, all bright green. Found 2 shrines, one with the virgin of Guadelupe and Shiva cards, the other a lantern with a plastic baby in it and a broken wind chime. Other humans finding themselves in the woods marking their time there.

My first rejection for my manuscript, "Immaculate Answers". At least they had the courtesy to write. Bastards.

Still dark out but the rain has stopped. Woke with anxiety, my old friend. We all have something; mine's the snake of doubt paired with global catastrophe. It runs underneath the Hollywood version, after Dorothy gets to Oz. It's the haunted forest where the trees throw their apples at you. It's creaks and screams in the night. It's fangs. It's blood on the floor.

Every year Yoko takes a full page in the Sunday NYT. This year it said LOVE from John and Yoko.

She looks better in her 70's then I ever looked. Ever.

Oh, they paddled 1000 miles. Cripes. I might go to Alaska this summer to kayak. Or maybe I'll go to Hawaii. Big mountains, bears, frigid water versus warm water, tropical fish and drinks in pineapples.

Hmmmm.

I'm SO HAPPY to be home!!! I loved seeing everyone on my travels but I'm here in my own house with Lola on my lap and I even haven't gone upstairs yet. The plants didn't die, the hot tub is still running and the house is reasonably clean. A miracle.

I sat next to a guy on the train who reeked of cigarettes and had a long white beard...no, not Santa. Santa doesn't smoke.

I plugged in my ipod and read an entire book by Ivan Doig, who is a local. Four guys steal a cedar canoe from the Tlingits up in New Archangel (a fur trading port controlled by the Russians) hell and gone up north. They paddle to Willapa Bay in a canoe in open water, good Christ. This really happened. They were indentured servants who escaped. The book title, "The Sea Runners".

Open ocean in a canoe. In late winter. Shite.