Last night a bunch of us met at the U Lutheran Church for Teen Feed. We made a ridiculous (no really) amount of minestrone soup, salad, toasted cheese sandwiches and hot cider. And James baked 6 dozen cookies. And we fed the people. The beautiful people who came in and wanted this, but not that but please more hot apple cider and about 11 more cookies.

Look in their eyes and send them love. Feed them warm food. One lad came back for more soup and said, "it's cold out tonight'.

Yes, it is in January.

Bless them and keep them safe.

And we cleared out in time for the women to come in to sleep there. The homeless women.

I stop us now, wherever I am, with friends, lunch, dinner, wherever and ask that we remember those who aren't as fortunate as we to have food every day and a place to sleep that is warm and safe. Maybe just this day everyone can be safe and warm and fed.

I always wish I could do more. For now, this is enough.

yesterday at the lake

Thinking about

after watching a film he directed and acted in, " jack Goes Boating."

Beautiful, sad, melodic, transparent.

Feeling his loss tonight.

Today when I was having a shower, there was light coming through the wall over the tile and huge banging noises because Jim was ripping off the wall on the other side. A distinct feeling of impermanence, I'd say. The bathroom is about to be demolished. The basement bathroom will be my new bathroom until this one is finished. The basement bathroom is, um, scary. There is an interior door that opens into HELL where the sump pump lives, dirt and wires and the abyss. I have no idea how long I will be using this alternative bathroom. It's possible that I will go down there one day and and never be seen again. 

In the meantime, I made a almond flour pear tart with hard pears that, of course, didn't get softer in the oven. So I pulled them off the tart and now I'm poaching them. My mother did not teach me to cook. I think she hated cooking. She cooked a million meals for seven people and she grew to hate it.

Tomorrow Holly and I go to our old standby Tiger Mountain but we're leaving early so we can finish a trail I found last year. It got dark before I got to the top and I want to get there this time. With homemade peanut butter cookies.

My dreams have been full of inappropriate sexual activities. With young men. Not teenagers, but definitely too young for me. By about 40 years.

Those parts of the brain never age, apparently.

Stormy Sunday with torrential rain, hail and rainbows. Oh, and wind. I drove through a puddle on the way to dance that I thought would be up to my car doors, giant splooshes on either side of the car.

On a day like this, I wish for all the homeless to have shelter and warmth. Dry socks. Hot chocolate.

Medicare and I are, apparently, best friends. They have sent me voluminous mail already. First they sent my premium, which I paid right away. Then they sent three letters informing me that I make more money than the 'no additional fee' people. And then they quoted me what my additional payments will be. There are a variety of amounts. $223.00. $104.00. Etc. These are for parts of Medicare because there are four parts. Part A, Part B, Part C (don't know what this actually is) and Part D, which is the prescription drug part. Woe betide you if you don't sign up for Part D initially and then need it later. You will be penalized. How's that for compassionate care?

I currently take no prescription drugs but one day I might. Who knows.

I read through their letters and I wonder how well others do with their nonsensical messages. I can read. I have glasses. I have my wits about me, more or less. I have a college degree. I have a computer where I can look things up. I went to s seminar where I presumably learned how to decipher all of the above. It's bullshit, I tell you. I am reminded of the room full of monkeys sitting at typewriters pecking away in the hopes that the next GAN (great American Novel) would be written by serendipity. And monkeys.

They have been sent to work for the government.

I'm giving all the mail to my bookkeeper. She is a sly genius and I have used her for all sorts of things. She could be an advice columnist. At least she understands the ways of finance in my tiny midwifery world. Perhaps she can understand what the hell I'm being told to do. What do I owe, exactly?

And again, what about my neighbors around me who speak limited English? Who understand less about the benefits they are entitled to? The old man next door will be cared for by his son and daughter-in-law forever because that's how they roll in the Philippines.  But the Vietnamese and Chinese who live farther down the street? What about them?

In the meantime, the Seahawks are losing in the playoffs and I could care less. I learned today that the broadcasts are about 2 hours but actual real play with real players running around and throwing the ball is 11 minutes.

Time for the Felix to have his outing. He's not half muddy enough and it's thundering out there.  Now there are fireworks going on. Maybe the Hawks won after all. Sheesh.

Bless you, Casey, for all your work in the Sudan. Be well and be safe.

Dear hearts-we had three babies in 12 hours. And how did we do it, you ask. Well you may. While Sara and I were at the business end of a momma with about a 50 cent piece size of head showing, Lynn was texted us that two more women were cooking. That babe got delivered, a lovely big boy, I borrowed a shirt from grandma because mine was, um, a little goopy and we ran off into the night to baby number two while Lynn went to baby number three.

It's all good. Two boys, one girl. All is well.

I slept all night last night. My bed with the flannel sheets and the down comforter is the most heavenly bed in the world.

Whew.

And my house has some color. I'll get a picture up here soon. We talked about (wait for it) lighting, where, dimmer switches, what kind, etc.

It's actually getting done.

Heading for the delicious bed now. With hot chocolate.

Listen to this-all of this.

True Life Stories

One of our mommas had her baby in 50 minutes this morning. Yes, that's all. Start to finnish. Her husband was putting the older kids in the car to drive all of them to the birth center and the momma was in the bathroom and whoops, out came the baby. It be's this way sometimes.

A wee girl.

Of course we missed it. I'm hoping they get right on the development of teleportation. Would really save time.

This morning at dance there was this gorgeous guy who was a remarkable dancer. We were all swooning. I'm not even straight but listen, human beauty is beauty all the same. And the way he moved, uh huh. Be still my beating heart.

(((((((sigh))))))

I'm not even sure he knows we were all gobsmacked. I mean, we were acting ridiculous. Maybe he goes around the world leaving everyone in a stunned state.

Languid. In thrall.

Peggy has agreed to host my birthday party. I have no decent house. And Sara has never had an adult birthday party and she's a week ahead of me so we're going to shower her with giant cakes and dance music and general merriment.

Have a righteous week this coming week. Study MLK. He is our wise man.

“Never, never be afraid to do what's right, especially if the well-being of a person or animal is at stake. Society's punishments are small compared to the wounds we inflict on our soul when we look the other way.”

My head is spinning, just paid my first Medicare bill. They certainly don't waste time, do they?

Got a fire going and listening to the Wailin' Jennies. Pretty girl harmonies. The dog is lying at my feet. I'm not sure what's wrong with him. He never lies at my feet. We're expecting a friend and her dog so he'll be barking and throwing himself around soon enough. Maybe the fire has hypnotized him.

I told my daughter that I intended to paint my house cream, yellow, mauve and orange. She despairs of me. What the hell. It's only paint. The house from the front will be so boring but when you get to the back!!!!! Colors. There's green window trim too.

I (gulp) bought three tickets to the UK and back yesterday. I had a travel agent do it. It was too confusing and frustrating for me to do it. We're al meeting in SF and flying from there. Eden and I need a flight (or tunnel or something) to Paris and back.

Here's the text messaging from her yesterday:

Mom, don't use those colors, are you sure? Maybe stay basic.

(me) The part facing the street will be totally boring.

Those tickets were all crazy expensive. And we're not flying back from Paris?

(me) Oops I forgot about flying back from Paris. I can call her on Monday and see if I can change them

Oh mom. It's ok. Paris is two hours from London.

(me) You're right. We could swim back.

YOU could swim back and I will ride a dolphin.

(me) LOL

Heathrow is a gnarly security airport. Scares me.

(me) So we shouldn't bring our revolvers?

Mom

(me) Ok, ok, I'll leave mine at home.

We had our practice review today. What is a practice review, you ask. Well, my dears, our malpractice company sends a reviewer to our clinic and harangues us to rewrite protocols, consent forms and the like. And she reads charts for completeness and accuracy. I did a bit of nervous eating today.

She'll consider all this for a month and then we get a letter of many pages with a long list of stuff to fix. Gaaaaaaaa, This process is good, of course and important. My problem is that I'm not OCD in that way. In other ways, sure. Clumps of cat hairs on the furniture, under the kitchen table, decapitated rats on the floor, of course I go after all that. With energy and fury.

But the tinkering required to improve consent forms, it just makes me tired. This is when I envy the big daddy medical centers who have WHOLE DEPARTMENTS  devoted to this very thang. The writers of such documents and the legal department chiming in and so forth.

I mean, we're tiny. It's me and two other midwives and a receptionist and a few part-timers who do random papery things. Well, not my insurance biller. She's essential boy howdy. Our young new whippersnapper midwife has offered to jump into the project, bless her.

Big announcement-----da da ta da. I have new doors with handles and deadbolts. And keys. This is a major development. Next there will be a cat door to the actual outside world and not just into the construction zone. We've been contemplating '''''''''lighting''''''''' too. Light fixtures. Sconces and if you know me at all, I effing adore sconces. And deep bathtubs but I'm getting ahead of myself.

I like scones too. They're sconces without the 'c'. And they're edible although the light from sconces is pretty delicious. Maybe they make sconces in the shape of scones.

I've frittered away enough here because i'm stalling. I have to purchase three plane tickets for the girls and me to go to the UK. I promised myself we'd do this for my 65th b'day and yep, that's this year. $$ is tight but somehow we're going. Agh.

Stonehenge. Whiskey. The moors. Hounds of the Baskervilles. The Royals. (snicker) Bubble and squeak. The white cliffs of Dover.

If you're a rat, you don't stand a chance.

Did I ever say how windy my neighborhood is? The remainder of the tarps flap and flap ( I will miss that sound) and the wood pile my electrician put in my yard BLEW DOWN. No really. So after my in-the-dark swim in the pool I stacked wood. All before 7AM. I am a damn wonder woman.

Waiting on the dentist. I'm supposed to be doing clinic today. Back to work, insurance companies are threatening to cut me off because my paperwork isn't in order (yes, it is), WEB hosting has an outdated credit card number and is threatening to bla bla bla.

What about civility? Why all the mistrust, people? I've been faithfully paying for a whole shitload of things: mortgage, loans, rent on the clinic, malpractice insurance, health insurance, utility bills, etc. on time, every month for fucking YEARS.

I wonder about my Facebook page after I die. How's that for a segue? I mean, it's weird. People can still check in with you even though you're on the other shore, as it were. Of course, you can't reply to comments but your page could go on indefinitely.

Ok, time to call the nice dentist. It's past 9AM.

BTW-I found Hugo in the kitchen last night as I was brushing my teeth (remember, I have no sink in the bathroom so many personal rituals happen at the kitchen sink). Anyway, he was happily munching on the top half of a full grown rat. Yetch. I  picked up the dead thing by the tail and dropped it into the garbage can. Ewwwwwwww. And he looked so offended. Why did I take his snack away from him, why???

Remind me why we have pets again? Oh, right, companionship and an opportunity to be inside the lives of other species.

Awesome.

I mentioned the electrician who is working on the house. She offered me wood for the fireplace and she came over yesterday with her full pickup and piled up a stack neatly AND covered it with a blue tarp. Such kindness.

Back from Great Vow Zen Monastery. Those Zen folks are so sweet. Their practice is tough and strict and then they play. They have a marimba band and they performed for us. Imagine the Roshi (a woman by the way) in her 70's in her robes whaling away on the big keys behind the rest of the band, bald headed monks and nuns.

And their food is delicious. Really delicious.

Brought a cold home. Last night in my house again, eating dinner when I found something hard and crunchy in my mouth. Yup,  piece of my tooth. Shite. Of course the dentist is closed today. So I get to stay in bed with a runny nose and a jagged gap in my lower jaw.

My theory: we outlive our teeth. I think our teeth were designed to hold up, more or less, about 40 years. Then after that, they begin to fall apart in various ways. We weren't supposed to live so long but we are.

So what will it be? Another horribly expensive implant or a patch job or what? Who knows. And even though I have dental insurance, anything fancy costs a bundle. In my case, a window or two on the house.

The ground is frozen hard. My new glasses are done but I think I'll spare the folks at the glasses store my germs. I'm terrible with glasses. I put them in my pockets, I step on them, I throw them around with my keys. And I wonder why they are so scratched up. Well, duh.

To forge ahead with my book. I have another interview to transcribe and more to schedule. One of my teachers on the retreat is coming out with another book.  But she's not a midwife so maybe she has more time. Maybe. Although I think that's a damn excuse.

This post is so boring. I think I'll have a lie down.