Today two babies about an hour apart and in two adjoining rooms at the birth center. We listened as the momma in the other room hollered and yelled-------and in that timeless space, we heard the baby crying. Our momma kept on, determined and sweating, and she did it with her sister and her husband around her. And her mother rushing into the room about 1/2 an hour after the birth.

Such a lovely pink boy she had. Lots of tears. And joy.

Lynn woke me at 6 AM and I was so confused, I couldn't understand what she was saying. An 8 AM appointment in the clinic and two moms in labor so I better get up and come on down. I asked "What time is it?" and "What day is it" trying desperately to remember what I had planned for the day (Is it Tuesday? Wednesday? ) in my very dark bedroom. I got up, put on my scrubs as I figured I might need to be suited up, as it were and headed out to the packed freeway. My one transgression was to take the HOV lane so I'd get there a bit faster.

After both babies were in their mother's arms, I passed Lynn in the hallway and she said, "Isn't this fun?" There are times when I love her so much; for her steadfast attention to our clients, her obvious love for the work and her cheerfulness. She is leaving for 5 weeks for a European adventure and I will surely miss her unflagging energy.

As a partner in this crazy business, I've finally found a gem.

Back at home with the creatures perched all around me.

A home visit tomorrow to see a 5 day old baby and then I must tend to my rambunctious dog. And study the suttas I signed up to study. This one is a long story which I'll save for later.

May all the babies let their parents sleep tonight on this full Leo moon.

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.

About to make potato latkes with homemade apple sauce for Maya's birthday breakfast. Happy birthday Maya my love.

Your mom.

At night her halo lights up

In Calistoga at a spa for Maya's birthday. Gigantic swimming pool that's 95 degrees. Not really swimmable because you get in it and you just want to fall asleep. Had a volcanic mud bath yesterday and a massage. The California experience. California is a different planet than the rest of the US. People here are thinner and more fashionable and more organic than most of the world. Oh and more spiritually inclined in a fruity, hippy, ungrounded kind of way.

Perhaps I'm being unkind.

On the eve of Maya's actual birthday. Her birth was hard and painful and long. And I did it. I grew into being her mother even though I was young and arrogant and impossibly naive. And she became a beautiful, graceful and honest human being. She's a loving mother and my friend.

Today we're waking up to a cool morning, thinking about the ridiculous pool and the town of Calistoga for breakfast.

A friend just called from the East where she sits with her aged mother who is failing. They just got word that her sister has stage 4 breast cancer. Sorrow comes in and stirs and stirs.

As Maude says: "Ah, the great circle of life".

I got a letter from ~~~~Animal Control~~~~~~that my white curly headed dog has been running free or otherwise disturbing the property of others. And I better beware because they will come get him or I'll pay fines or worse (waterboarding?)

Geez, and I was telling some newly introduced neighbor folks how safe I feel in my new hood.  Who is watching me and ratting me out??? I run the Felix down the center of the street to the dead end and back. Yes, he strays onto a few parking strips. I always clean up after him.  He's harmless. Goofy, barky but friendly.

Who is it? I'll never know.

Ok, I'll be taking him to the park more often for his runs. He's not a leash kind of dog. Come to think of it, neither am I.

Obey the rules or else.

If dogs ran free, why can't we?

To California on Monday and Felix to dog camp where he can't get into trouble.

It's time to build a one match fire and huddle.

I applied for MEDICARE  today.




GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAACK.


My right knee is 'catching' and 'popping'. Perhaps my squats at the gym are too enthusiastic.

The lady above was nursing a baby in church. It was Italy so you know to expect such things.

My house is freezing.

I'm going tomorrow to my healthcare place for a lecture/discussion of MEDICARE as I turn 65 in a few months. Lordy. They have sent me vast reams of paper with dense writing to help me consider all my choices. Ah, well, um. I haven't a clue without some guidance what to choose.

Then there's the annual letter from social security reminding me that at retirement age (66? 67? 103?) I will get X amount of $$ and please don't think I can live on this amount. Fool.

Meanwhile, the remodel lumbers along. I have windows and a roof and they've strung up light bulbs for a truly ghetto look. Still I huddle in front of the fire every night with movies from the library and my dear NYT.

Next Monday I leave for California to visit the kinder and then off to a meditation retreat. Back after January first. The pregnant ladies are flying through the door so next year is looking pretty healthy.

Dina was as marvelous as ever. I'll leave you with this song from Seattle's premier chanteuse.

I'm going to see Dina on Sunday with Betsy and Kiara. It will be another tacky and tasteless destruction of all we hold dear during the xmas season. Therefore, I've invited two women who can properly appreciate Dina's ****special**** talents.

I forgot. I saw these women in concert on Wednesday night. They are purely angelic.  (Ignore the stupid ad.)

It's 4:30 and I'm already in my jammies, about to  build a fire in the fireplace. I danced my ass off this morning and took the white dog for a long walk/run/ball chase. Now it's time to knit some more rows for a snood...bet you don't know what a snood is. It's a scarf-y thing you wear on your head/neck and it is impossibly easy to make. The socks take more time.

Tis the dark season. Friends and I went to Playback Theatre last night and revealed ourselves to the improv actors. They danced/spoke/yelled etc. our stories. It alternated between being terrifying and funny, depending on their focus. There were a few children there and I wanted to throttle them. I'm not usually opposed to children per se, I do deliver them fairly often but last night they were obnoxious and hogging all the attention. Their parents tried reining them in, in vain.  The actors were gracious about it but jeez. Sometimes I do appreciate me some child-free space.

I have perfected the art of the one match fire.  I am also getting good at splitting wood for kindling. I love building a fire, almost as much as I love watching it and feeding it throughout the evening. Fires need tending. Sara and her guy brought me a bunch of apple wood, burns much more slowly than the pine from the remodel.

Speaking of the remodel. I now have a new roof and four new skylights. Hot damn.

Another week begins. Babies growing, babies being born, all in the great cycle of life.

Waiting for the corn bread to be done and some weird-ass soup I made with random elderly vegetables and a can of black beans. As we roll around here.

A wee babe this morning around 5 AM. The mom called in the deepest part of the night and the deepest part of sleep. The kind of sleep you crawl out of, the sleep cave where your clan is snugged up next to you and all are warm and safe.

Duty calls so you climb out into the freezing bedroom and the even colder closet to find you birthin' clothes (the ones you can get goop on and it doesn't matter), those delicious wool socks, all your gear, phone, car keys etc to sit in the freezing car with the defroster going full blast while you scrape off the ice so you can see to drive across town.

Quiet highway, perfect time to be riding to a birth; no traffic, no cops, no drunks bumping the yellow line.

The babe comes quickly. Dad is so beautiful holding his girl to his chest. Sometimes we look away because it is too tender.

We go make some tea, clean up, get the mom to the shower so we can strip her bed and give her clean sheets, give our postpartum instructions and head out.

I take my crew to breakfast. It's the least I can do. We've eaten in some interesting places-the all nighters where the hookers and gangsters and late night hipsters go for a steak at 3 AM.

At home I find the electrician and the guys. There's still snow on the roof and ice everywhere so no roofers today. The electrician has recently married her girlfriend. I congratulate her and she tells me she knows someone I might like to date. Oy.

Ok, but I'm pretty good by myself up here on the hill, looking over the mountains and the lake, as long as I have a friend to call who can help me move the dresser or have a meal with me or hike the Cascades on the weekends.

And anyone I ever date who wants to hang around? The moms and babies come first. They always have. They always will. That's the deal with midwifery. That kind of service is hard for some to handle. And that's ok. I used to be puzzled by my lovers who got cranky with me as I ran off into the night. Now it's ok. It really is.

We midwives have a special job. And it's impossible to explain why we do it. It's what our hearts lead us to do. It heals us and maybe it heals the world.

Jim the contractor is in the basement with a shop vac vacuuming out a small ocean of water. A pipe burst {{{{sometime}}}} today and when I got home from lunch/dance/etc there was the distinct sound of water, lots of water coming from the remodel.

The partly dismantled back bathroom was spewing water all over the floors and flooding into the basement.

Awesome.

Now the water is off so I brought in all my water bottles so I can brush my teeth.

He just came in and told me he's coming back with tools to cap the broken pipes so I can have water back on tonight.

I asked him if he'd consider being my ongoing maintenance man once the job is done and he said he would.

This is certainly working out better than having a partner.

Today is the seventh anniversary of my youngest brother's suicide. Today the roofers are here with their compressor and hammering. The wind last night was so fierce, I thought the tarps I've been living under would shred and fly away. Two days ago the ruling came down from Ferguson and that night there was gunfire in my neighborhood all night. This morning I went to my community gym where a cross section of ethnicities come together to exercise. This morning the seniors were doing their calisthenics while four of us grunted and sweated through our workouts.

My neighborhood is primarily Asian. My block is white and black and Filipino and Chinese. Just down the hill from my house the grocery store suffered a few broken windows. Frustration. Fear. Anger. The justice system doesn't treat us equally, does it? Of course we know this.

What to do?

Am I part of the problem or part of the solution? I sold my house last summer and moved here because my old neighborhood had become too monochromatic. Too wealthy. Too smug. I feel more comfortable in this little house among cultures and colors than I did there. And I know more of my neighbors than I did after thirteen years in my old neighborhood.

I know the man two doors down is living with AIDS. I know that Cliff is a retired vet and he DJs on the weekends. And he has a collection of beautiful vintage cars. I know the Filipino man who I bought this house from has a wife and twin daughters and his father lives in the house next to mine. I've met the retired nurse who planted an English garden that she could tend in her retirement but her back is too bad to work outside at all. I've met the man who loves his pit bull. The elderly Muslim family has welcomed me to the neighborhood. I attended the wedding of the couple on the other side of my house. She sold me a gas stove she had in her basement. I gave her the water fountain from my back yard. All in four months.

The Sun this month is focussing on caring. What it means to care.

"The friend who cares makes it clear that whatever happens in the external world, being present to each other is what really matters. In fact, it matters more than pain, illness, or even death."

                  -Henri J.M. Nouwen, Out of Solitude: Three Meditations on the Christian Life

What I've noticed is the courage it takes to be awake to 'the cries of the world'. I think of Rebecca offering coats and food to the hookers near her home.  Or Mary's tender care of her Florida patch and the family and friends she cherishes. My sister midwives who go the extra mile for a woman or her family in need. There is no price tag for that kind of compassion. Indeed, it is priceless.

To care for this broken world takes great courage. And the willingness to be heart broken daily. And to stay with it instead of withdrawing.

As for my brother. Geoffrey, my darling. Please forgive me for being flawed. Forgive me for my anger and judgement. Your wicked ways came from your own unendurable pain. Forgive me, dear baby brother.

Thinking of you, Dirk and Annie, on this bad ole day.

May you be safe from inner and outer harm. May you be happy just as you are. May you be well. May you be free. May you be free.

May we all be free.

I am making coconut maple syrup cinnamon granola and my house smells DIVINE. This is what heaven smells like and I don't even believe in heaven.

 A former client died last weekend. We delivered her two girls in 2007 and 2009. She was beautiful and sweet and kick-ass. She got sick, went into a coma and never woke up.

The memorial is the 29th and I'm going with a few folks from the clinic who knew her.

Ms Moon is rescuing kittens under her porch. Whatever we can do, we must do.

Reprieve

                   "We'll learn that much of what goes on in our minds is not our fault and certainly not our

                       design."

                                                     

                                                                 Paul Gilbert, Ph.D The Compassionate Mind

you can learn to be compassionate

just not all at once

you may want to be compassionate

but what you really want is a small cabin by a river

there are books to read about compassion

I'm reading one now

the dog is eating pieces of onion

stupid dog!

the brain has many departments

the department of eating

the department of fucking

the department of slaughtering your neighbors

you can study this in compassion school

people sit quietly in rows

they sniffle and fidget

they ponder their synapses

you feel your brain heat up

cells jumping with ecstasy

around you people topple over with a bang

stupid people!

science has won again

you're better than the animals

it's obvious

you can bring home the bacon!

I'm listening to Dave Egger's book, "What is the What?" on tape. Engrossing and horrifying tale of the war in the Sudan told from the perspective of a 'lost  boy'. Sometimes I sit in the car outside my house so I can finish a chapter. Sometimes I sit in the car in silence. Human cruelty, greed, brutality on one side. Kindness, generosity and compassion on the other.

We're made of all of it.

The anniversary of my brother's death approaches.

My dears-at a birth now on Milo's birthday! The young man is 12 today. This baby coming is a girl and her momma is outside walking and making a great racket for the neighbors to hear. With her mom and an doula in attendance.

Milo and his momma a few years ago on the beach.

Our mom is yelling. Better bring her back inside.

Today I remember Thich Nhat Hanh. beautiful teacher. He is recovering from a stroke. May he be well. May he be at peace. May he be free.

“Letting go gives us freedom, and freedom is the only condition for happiness. If, in our heart, we still cling to anything - anger, anxiety, or possessions - we cannot be free.” 
― Thích Nhất Hạnh, The Heart of the Buddha's Teaching: Transforming Suffering into Peace, Joy, and Liberation

Is it time for this already? I thought Thanksgiving came first.

BTW, the photo is a swimming pool in some swanky mansion. I'd swim there. I would. Watch me. Especially if they have a hot tub and you KNOW they do. I praise all the god and goddess forms for my local swimming pool RIGHT DOWN THE HILLL I CAN WALK THERE for their heated building, heated pool and hot tub and sauna. Oh yes I do.  Enough of capitol letters.

Last night the compressor kept going on. I finally called Jim and he told me to go unplug it in the basement. Ah-ha! I could have figured that out if it hadn't been 10 at night. I thought perhaps someone was trying to steal it. Why I thought that I have no idea. It would be too hard to steal anything around here.

Now the men are out there completing the roofline. They'll be putting up plywood and then the roofer people will come over and give me a new roof. This is very exciting. No more tarps to flap in the wind. No more crashing rain sounds. I don't think the warmth factor will be improved, however.  I've had the furnace on ever since the blanket wall went up so I'm warm-ish. Polar fleece and giant slippers were designed for this weather.

I've looked at my money situation (hahahahahahahahaha) for signs that I will have enough cash for the completion of this project. I never feel safe. And there are good reasons for that. Being homeless for a while is one reason. Being alone is another. Then there is cosmic insecurity which I suffer from. Global anxiety. Meditation helps some.

The guy selling the Real Change outside the co-op chatted with me a while. I asked if he had a warm place to sleep and he said he did. And he has katz. Mine make pockets of warmth around my knees. Lola likes to swat me in the face in the morning. Just for fun.

The sky today is the clearest blue.

Cold out. Time for hot chocolate with a slug of whiskey. Jim the contractor nailed up some heavy blankets in the kitchen so the draft isn't quite so, um, drafty.



Sitting by the fire, surrounded by stacks of wood bits left over from the building people. I love me a good fire.

And chocolate.

I will not speak of the hike Holly and I attempted yesterday. Suffice it to say that when others post that the road leading to the trailhead is dreadful, believe them. It was dangerous with rocks and gullies and only fit for 4 wheel drives with high axels. My wee Fit was no match. And it was 6 miles straight up. Holly said her palms were sweating.  I turned around.

The day was gorgeous so we sort-of salvaged ourselves with a pretty hike near a roaring creek while the dog tore around chasing imaginary squirrels.  We were way out near Rainier Mt and there was no traffic and no other hikers.

Today all this happened:

I am the master of all I survey. And there is the beginning of a roof!!! This is truly exciting. I brought the men cookies. I might be using the loft for sleeping eventually. As long as I can get up there...

I looked at plane fares for the UK, about $4500. Whew. I have been saving. We'll just have to sleep along the road. In sleeping bags.

Tonight my neighbor came over to ask if I liked cinnamon rolls. Who doesn't like cinnamon rolls? Even though I've been exercising like a fiend and actually counting my calories. The roll even had icing on it. It was delicious. The thing about dieting-you can always start again tomorrow.

And getting up in the early morning to go swimming is heavenly; quiet and peaceful.

Fall is well and truly here.

The whole truth

I'm going to reveal the whole truth of my current life. I figure it's time. Don't know why. Perhaps it's the dark and the rain. BTW, I just heard the term 'dark money'. Might be a poem.

1. I live in squalor. I used to  pride myself on a clean house with order and minimal fur. No longer. If I sweep once a week, it's only because there is too much shite on the floor and it's starting to look like mushrooms could grow in the living room. The dust in my house is admirable.

2. I washed the kitchen floor last week. It was FILTHY.

3. I wash clothes only because I have limited underwear and I refuse to wear the flowered ones from the cheapy store.

4. My 73 pairs of shoes (don't ask) are scattered here and there and I fall into despair if I can't find the right ones on any given day.

5. I no longer cook, an activity I used to enjoy. Refer to #1. Besides there is no counter space in my kitchen. I am eating yogurt and making green smoothies because no cooking is involved.

6. I don't bathe regularly. If you can smell a rather unwashed person, it's probably me. The partial bathroom is gross and black debris is falling into the tub all the time.

7. I don't get under the covers on my bed. I sleep on top and cover myself with my comforter. And I wear the same shirt for three days, including to sleep in. I just take off my bra. If the shirt looks ok the next day, ta-da, I wear it again.

8. I wear my hair in a ponytail because it's easy. I know I'm beginning to look like 'that sort of older person' but I don't even care.

9. I sleep on the couch until I'm too uncomfortable and go get under the comforter on the bed. I just brush all the cat detritus off the bedspread and lie down.

10. I voted in this election but I don't really care about the electoral process right now. Democracy is a figment of our collective imagination. It's all about the money. Lots and lots of money. We're living in an oligarchy. And that's a big problem I can't fix.

11. My house is perpetually cold so coming home is rather grim. The fireplace throws out enough heat to warm my socks.

12. I'm becoming feral.

13. Pretty soon, I'll be barking at the mailman and hoarding random trinkets and bits of junk. Then the hoarder program on cable will be coming for ME.

The End

PS. My contractor brought me a hatchet today to make kindling. My neighbors better not get on my bad side. I mean it.

One of my clients gave me some solar powered thingys to stick in the front yard. One of them makes a beeping noise every 3 minutes.

Why, you ask, am I doing this?

Well.

I have gophers or shrews or moles that make those piles of dirt here and there and make the ground wobbly with their tunneling. The noise is supposed to drive them crazy so they go live next door. As my house is now effing freezing and I'm refusing to turn on the heat as it will just pour out the back where all the gaps in the kitchen wall are, (breathe) I've decided to concentrate on rodent activity as a distraction.

I am burning leftover bits of wood from the construction in my fireplace and if I sit right next to it, there is a bit of warmth. And if I'm wearing all my clothes and a blanket.

I have no idea that a stake in the ground emitting a beeping noise will actually work but perhaps the neighbors will think I have some sort of elaborate monitoring system and they won't break in. My friend Holly wondered about the security of the back area that's held together with a few screws.

What would they take? The katz? If I have anything valuable, it's buried under boxes or in the basement under a serious layer of concrete dust. Besides, if Felix is here, he'd bark his big dog bark and jump on the intruder until the person gave him a bone. Very intimidating, I can tell you.

We fed kids last night. It was a cold night and our hot cider was a hit. There was a baby with her parents there. She kept smiling at us from her car seat. I wondered if she lives in her car seat. Homeless young parents with a baby. Wrong. So wrong.

It might actually be warmer outside than it is in here.

I'm going on retreat on Friday. It's a thing I do at this time of year. Six days of silence in the woods with the deer and vegetarian food and a wee room to sleep in. Blessed silence. Only the far off train whistle and the birds.

And no responsibilities. No phone. No questions from anyone. A chance to unhook including the internet, no WIFI. Lovely.

When I return, we ready ourselves for our last Teen Feed of the year. On Halloween. In cat ears. Or a witch's hat. Or whiskers. As long as we don't drag anything into the food.

There are the bones of two rooms in the back of my house. The tarp roof makes a frightful noise when the wind blows but hey, I have actual stairs to the basement. Poured cement. I told Jim I was leaving for 6 days and when I returned my house would be done. He chuckled, sardonically. I can be such a silly person.

A roof and closed-in walls would be excellent before it gets cold. But my expectations are low, very low.

On Sunday, I was in the bookstore sitting by the bathroom, where there was a bit of a line. Apparently a few book store employees came to extract a homeless man who was trying to use the loo. He started yelling that no one cared about him, he was just a person, why was he being treated this way. It was awful. By the time I got up to intervene, he was gone.

I mean, can't he use the bathroom? What harm is there?

Today on Broadway, in a busy neighborhood, I watched from my car as a homeless man rinsed out/washed a pain of pants in the drinking fountain.

This world breaks me every day. And I must not turn away. We all have the opportunity to witness and hold the humanity of our brothers and sisters in their distress, even when we can't change their circumstances. And we can love them.

You may look this whole world over and never find anyone more deserving of love than yourself.-

                       The Buddha

You know, I always wondered about Joan Armatrading, O glorious Joan whose albums were with me as a budding young lesbo. And I saw her a few times in concert. I mostly swooned but I remember dancing to her music in the living room of an old girlfriend's house and feeling such joy, in her music, in my new found liberation, in life. Joan Armatrading=rebirth.

So I took another run at old Joanie, and guess what? Uh huh, she's GAY as in QUEER etc. She married her g'friend a few years ago. All the while maintaining that her music was most important, not her sexual orientation. Well, I know that but sheesh.

I mean, really. And Annie Leibowitz spent four days with her, to get the right photo. Yeah, well, of course. I'd spend four days with her too. At least.

Sometimes we just know things about people. Our people. 

My house is at a standstill. The BGBGs show up and ponder and mess around a bit and then leave. The concrete guys have not been back. I'd love to have some stairs to the basement. It would be so cool to do laundry without having to climb up and down a ladder.

Rob said lately that he really thinks we should just 'gut' the kitchen because the wiring is so screwy and the plumbing is, well, you get the picture....sob..... Ok, and what will that cost? I'm hoping I can get all this done without a) dying first b) going into massive debt or c) suffering some as yet undisclosed ailment which will render me unfit for my chosen occupation and I then fall into penury and end up in debtor's prison or in a box under the viaduct. ( I always wanted to use the word penury)

The rain is raining all around. The tarp roof mostly keeps the house dry. The flapping in the wind excites the dog who lets me know by barking. And barking. 

Felix jumps on people. So annoying. I MUST break him of the habit. I'm getting close to a dog trainer situation.  He ignores me. He's mostly a good dog except for that. Kind of like a 2 year old who says 'no' a lot. At other times, when no one is around, he's funny and endearing so you figure you'll hang onto him a few more days. 

O Joan, I would have so dated you. Guess after 40 years, it's too late. Sigh. 

What I did Sunday:

And yesterday:

Little boys. Fat little boys. And beautiful families. 

The chimney guy is here and the BGBGs, complete with compressor and banging. Time to leave the house.

Technically, this is not possible

Did you know that you can Google castles for sale?

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/property/luxuryhomes/10377761/The-worlds-best-castles-for-sale.html

And one guy, the inventor of Oracle, owns 97% of Kauai. Did you know that? Some people have WAY too much money.

Where was I. Oh yeah. These are for you, Betsy dear and RK. An art installation in my hood. Couldn't find the poem though. Probably walked away because it was being neglected.

Speaking of bees, my inestimable midwifery partner Lynn had bee sting therapy yesterday for her achey knees. I don't think I'm signing up for this. Nope. Bees stung her knees. On purpose. 

It rained, O praise the weather gods on high and low. However, the tarp tied to my rafters flapped and whipped fearfully all night. Of course, the dawd had to let me know about the noise by barking frequently. I think he wants to kill me. All will be silent and then he'll bark FOR NO EARTHLY REASON, scaring the crap out of me and giving me heart attach symptoms. So I yell at him which makes him think I'M barking too. You see the dilemma? Thought so. 

By the way. Women have different heart attach symptoms than men. Well duh. And guess which group has had the bulk of the research? Uh-huh. So ladies, be warned. Here are symptoms for us girls: 

1. Women are more likely than men to have heart attack symptoms unrelated to chest pain, such as:

   • Neck, jaw, shoulder, upper back or abdominal discomfort.
   • Shortness of breath.
   • Right arm pain.
   • Nausea or vomiting.
   • Sweating.
   • Lightheadedness or dizziness.
   • Unusual fatigue.

   
   

Love and kisses,

your friendly healthcare professional

I built my first fire in the fireplace last night. And today because I was needing to paint and I couldn't fricking find my art supplies in the mess that is the basement right now (besides climbing up and down the ladder to get to the basement), I went to the cheapy store and bought wee paints and gesso and brushes and a few pencils. And it's raining, what a delicious sound it is. 

1. 
   

In a few months my house will look like this

I went to my first group fitness class this morning. My new neighborhood had a community gym that is sensitive to the multi-ethnic folks who live in my 'hood. On the wall behind the counter is a sign that says they won't play music that is violent or insensitive to women(!) AND NO SWEARING. Now that's a hard one. When you're sure your trainer is trying to kill you by commanding you to do one more set of sit-ups, planks and free weights, swear words come naturally out your mouth.  Right? I have made it a long practice to swear when the occasion calls for it.

One of my swimmer pals suggested that I learn a foreign language and swear in that language. My luck someone from Laos or Nigeria would be in the gym and hear me.

Shite. Merde.

I just listened to Creme and the young Eric Clapton. Boy did that take me back to my misspent youth. A lot of drugs and sex were involved and the budding of my swearing practice.

For your viewing pleasure-look what has happened to my house in the last few days:

Hot damn. Hot darn just doesn't sound right.  Maybe I could swear like The Fantastic Mr Fox:

• 
  Badger:

  The cuss you are...

  Mr. Fox:

  The cuss am I? Are you cussing with me?!

  Badger:

  No, you cussing with ME?!

  Mr. Fox:

  Don't cussing point at me!

  Badger:

  You'll cuss someone but me!

  No, you're not gonna cuss with me, you little cuss!

Bodies

Before any more time elapses, I have two stories.

Part 1

On Sunday, I walked der dog to the lake and went to a new beach, closer to my house. Lovely sunny day, a few people on the grass, about 4 in the afternoon. Felix swam and ran and then I noticed a trail that went through the trees. I though, hell, it's a short trail and why not. So I leashed the animal and forged ahead---until I came upon a woman lying on her back on a bench with her, um, pants down and a guy at the business end, um, having, er, sex with her. At first I was confused. Why is the lady hanging off the bench? Why can I see her ass? Why is the man pulling up his pants. Oh, ah, well, ahem.

So I brilliantly said, "Seriously?????" And, "Take that inside". And I marched on to the end of the trail.  I have naked stories, I do. But this was the first time for a sex in the park in broad daylight story.

Part II

Last night I went to ecstatic dance. I know, they're kinda lame and I really love my 5 rhythms but I was itching to dance with wild abandon during the full moon. So I went. On the dance floor was a man with no arms, just hands at his shoulders. He danced with all the ladies and a few men.

We just wanna move our bodies, our imperfect bodies. It was a full moon. The music was loud and wonderful. We sweated and twirled and shouted with joy.

And some of us have sex in the park.

Ice caves. Really

Holly and I were early for our dinner-date night so we went to Value Village and bought Halloween garb. I got a hat

Holly found a wreath with Hello Kitty buttons on it. One of the clerks used it for a tutu but we thought it would be good for face framing and possibly the front door. 

We have to get dressed up for Halloween because it is our last Teen Feed for the year. 

The Playback improv was great. Very small audience but enthusiastic actors. I told my coming out story and they brought it back to me, complete with multicolored scarves and references to crock pots and tea. 

Next month is grief and loss. Gawd, Maybe I'll go anyway. Others better get up there and talk. 

Dance day today. I looked up my local gym and I'm gonna go join. Arg. My personal fitness program is not working so I better go get some help. Yes I'm very active for a person of my sort of age but I could be stronger. So.

The gym has trainers and group classes. The last time I had a trainer, I was training for a half-marathon and I shaved 5 minutes off my time. Pretty good. 

They have a 'silver sneakers' class. I refuse to be THAT person. Even though I'm almost old enough for Medicare. My neighbor just turned 55. The first thing He told me about himself is that he has AIDS. He looks healthy and fit, thanks to science. But his health is always precarious. And precious. So. I'll go lift weights and sweat and complain so I can continue to climb mountains with Holly. Who is not my girlfriend, BTW. She's too young and it would ruin our relationship. 

Slept fitfully. Most have known Lynn was running between two births while I slept. She almost called me but didn't at the end. We have a baby in the hospital, happens sometimes. He's ok, just needs a bit of monitoring.

Tonight I'm having dinner with friends. After, we're going to an improv theatre group that listens to audience stories and then acts them out. The topic-'Coming out'.

We've all got a story or two there. After watching all five seasons of 'Queer as Folk', I might actually be a gay man. I'm not sure.

I came out so long ago. Seems like a dream. Terrifying liberation. And no, dear therapist, it didn't last for six weeks. It's been forty-six years.

Is that right? Gawd. I must be OLD.

Post coming out artist I was in love with. Still am.



I left the front door wide open all night. I did.

Came home this morning after an all-nighter birth. Every scary thing happened at the birth but everyone is fine. I noticed that my hands were shaking afterwards. I stared at them and they stopped. I mean really. Sometimes all hell breaks loose at births and we just wade in. We deal with it. Sara, my new midwife hire was there and she was everywhere at once.

I actually had blood on my butt that soaked through my scrubs to my underwear. I must have sat in a puddle. Sheesh. My student kindly pointed out the er, butt mess. As I was taking my team to breakfast, I took off my underwear,  put my scrubs back on with a long shirt to cover the gore, and ta-da! No one was the wiser. Really need to bring clean clothes to births.

I slept through the guys banging and hauling outside. We had a meeting about the progress. I like them. They come, hammer, drill, saw and haul to the dump. Then there are plastic tarps flapping in the wind hanging from the roof line.

My health insurance is going up again. Gawd it's a fortune. When can I get Medicaid? Can I get Medicaid? This is the plight of many many people here in this ole USA.

Just keep working, that's what I get to do. And I'm lucky. I'm healthy. I have a job I love. And I'm the boss.

Off to bed again. Looks like someone else is in labor.

This is what it looks like:

And tomorrow they are taking off the roof. 

Um.

And I'm giving them another $15000. Fortunately I meet with the nice bank people tomorrow to shake hands and sign papers lending me $$ so I pay off the mortgage AND acquire a bigger loan. See how that works? Thought so. 

My house is making me sneeze. Couldn't be the random dust from concrete and wood and ceiling tiles, right? Naw. 

Rebecca this one's for you-Discovery Park today

On the interminable plane ride to Europe, the free station in the back of my seat had this artist.


I've been playing her obsessively. And pretending I speak French, comme sa?

It rained. All night. It was the most beautiful sound in the world.

I had peanut butter for dinner. On a spoon. Then some edemame. My mother, rest her soul, would not approve. I am thinking about forgiveness. Forgiving my enemies. A Dorothy Day article in the Sun has inspired me. It's a short list.

My mother is on the list.

My contractor insists on talking about the basement and wanting to put in a kitchen down there and sprucing it up for a tenant.

I don't have the $$ for this. I just want some rooms upstairs and a functional kitchen. Not fancy, functional. The basement is where the ghosts live and I don't think they care about a remodel. In fact, it might rile them all up.

What I did yesterday:

This couple were so in love during the labor, I felt embarrassed to witness. He kissed and nibbled her neck, she gazed into his eyes and smiled after contractions.  It was beautiful. This wee babe was born into that. Sometimes I can't believe what I do; the crazy hours, the complicated situations, the random stress and fear. And then there are people like this. My heart breaks with their love for each other and for their babe.

And today I did this:

The view from the top of Mount Washington. And I died, or could have. Blistered feet, wobbly legs and weariness, profound weariness. It was hot, the elevation gain was significant and the trail full of rocks. We had climbed this mountain before but decided to do it again for the view. WTF. I'm totally whipped. Holly was unfazed and Felix was bouncy as usual. I whined for the last mile, really whined. Even though hiking is VOLUNTARY, people. I would have given anything for an airlift back to the parking lot. 

We stopped at the Issaquah PCCon the way home, which, if you are familiar, is a ginormous natural food store in a fancy neighborhood off I-90. I looked a right mess, with my braid falling out, a bandana on my head for the sweat, clothes that were soaked and sweat-stained and I was seriously limping. A few times I moaned a little bit. Everyone else was polished with clean clothes and the glow of money about them. I was the person who crawled out from under the bypass to buy a lemonade. 

I am currently sitting down. I love sitting down. It's divine.

I have a practice where I have some dollars in a cubby in my car and whenever I'm at a corner with a homeless person, I give that person a dollar or two. And then we chat, if there's time. Yesterday I gave a guy a dollar by the on-ramp to I-5. There is often a woman there who has a large selection of signs with sayings like 'Don't worry, be happy!!!' and 'God loves you!'. She's blonde with a thick braid. She looks like an archetypal farmer's wife. But she's sleeping under a blue tarp by the freeway.

Anyway.

The man yesterday reassured me. 'I'm ok, just a minor setback. Don't worry about me. I'm fine!' And as I drove away, I broke down. I've looked in the eyes of so many homeless humans and he got in there. I wept all the way home.

I asked about homelessness in Italy. The economy is pretty bad. The cab driver I asked said that because Italians have such extensive social support, the families are so big, someone down on his/her luck will be taken in. The only people I saw who were street people were Gypsies and they were regularly harassed by the police. In India, begging is a profession and part of the caste system. And the beggars are aggressive and pushy. It was an interesting practice to walk through the streets knowing you'd be assaulted by children and adults who had clearly identified you as a privileged foreigner. Besides, you were paler and taller (and probably healthier with full vaccinations and a full belly).

The children are sleeping again under the overpass on my way to work. They are there in their sleeping bags on the pavement, sharing cigarettes and herb. Our last Teen Feed is next month on Halloween.

This morning the men are grinding and sawing and hammering out back. I don't know where Hugo was but evidence of him through the house is characterized by dirty footprints and fine grit and various plant burrs.

Vacuuming is futile.

The person I'm not dating leaves for the Sudan on Saturday. I bought her a wee external hard drive and loaded it with movies and series so she can watch Sherlock on her computer. I'm worried about her. Nine months is a long time. Especially in a place where there is civil war. I treated her to dinner downtown. Coconut cream pie for dessert. Least I could do.

All my staff is at a birth and I am doing clinic by myself. It's ok, not too busy.

Florence. The Duomo was astonishing. It looks fake, too big and green and white marble, acres of it. Look at the size of the people. Without power tools too.

Italian women reminded me of Manhattan women, all gorgeous and floating on air in their high couture and heels. No gorgeous Italian men. I looked. And no pregnant women. One woman nursing a baby in a pew. And this lady.

I long for Italy. Languorous meals that lasted for four hours. The best tiramisu I have ever eaten. Beautiful small farms of olive trees and grapes. The slower pace. I feel homesick. 

The person I'm not dating is leaving for the Sudan this week. We had dinner together last night, a farewell dinner. She's been fixing up the houseboat she lives on. We might try to see each other one more time before she goes. For nine months. I feel vaguely worried about her. 

I climbed down the ladder today into the basement to get my laundry. In my pajamas. My neighbors don't care and they can't see me anyway. 

And I stepped on the scale this morning. Um, pasta and I are in love but I'm afraid I have to break up with her. Anyway, there ain't no Italian pasta around so I'm probably safe. 

My house is a disaster. The back is gone (hurrah) and there is cement dust everywhere and giant piles of wood and bits of wood and old siding and what all. Wires hanging down. This is all good. My dance retreat starts today and goes all weekend. The katz have fleas and I must get some flea stuff for them. A house guest is arriving and I have to vacuum the couch so she'll have a place to sleep (and hopefully she won't get covered with flea bites).

The foundation guys are outside as we speak, talking in loud male voices about concrete things. I will soon have a new set of stairs to the basement, the cavern they dug will be filled in and they will be gone. Jim and Rob, the two bearded grey haired, balding men with glasses (BGBG) will arrive to continue pondering and ripping off siding and hammering wood and uncovering 'irregularities' in the old house (hahahahahahahahaha). Apparently, I need a tiny 'ramp' into the addition because there is a 2 inch discrepancy between the floors, compliments of the do-it-yourselfers who proceeded me.

The dog has a baleful look on his face because he needs/wants/must have a walk and I'm still in my pajamas.

Ah, Italy:

Art and food

I'm back

Sleeping now. I'll tell all when I've awakened.

Italy is better than they say.