I've been looking at wedding dresses on-line. You can look like a cupcake, an hourglass or a slut in white. And so expensive!!

Since I am in the house with your basic rotten cold, I'm today making my way through all the Harry Potter films. It's several hours worth of entertainment. It's either that or Angels in America, a 6 hour extravaganza.

My fridge is stuffed with food, I have tinctures, tea, clean hankies and Felix at my knee. My sweetheart has been quite solicitous as well and my clinic schedule has been rearranged so I don't have to work for the next few days.

Tomorrow the workmen come back and the banging and hammering and sanding will begin again. Such is my little life.

Crocus are coming up as are the tulips. There are no daffodils but I'll remedy that in the fall. Buds are swelling on other plants and weeds are appearing as well. I have to admire weeds for getting an early start.

Uh-oh, maybe a cold is creeping up on me. I've been so healthy as my two partners have sickened and collapsed. We had seven babies in seven days plus clinics and home visits. And now we have a break with no one in dates, as they say. No one who is 37 weeks yet. Ah, a break. Time to get sick for a bit?

Downing elderberry tincture, astragalus and cough drops. And kombucha. I even bought a 'growler' of kombucha. I have no idea if it is really good for me but it is tasty.

Houston and I went to the ocean for my early birthday/Valentine's Day. Because we are idiots, we turned our backs on the ocean and the ocean obligingly sent in a large wave that knocked the dogs down and filled up our boots. This while the weather was blustery and rainy and cold. RaaJaa, the dachshund rallied valiantly but sheesh.  He's a shorty. We walked on the beach anyway while RaaJaa gave us the stink-eye. Honestly, we were soaked. We stopped to empty out our boots and squeeze out our socks. Of course the boots stayed wet the entire weekend.

The last Republican debate was the most amazing shit show. And that's all I'll say.

Watched a docu last night about the Freedom Riders in the the South in 1961. Incredible. I was eleven. Courage and bravery; multiple arrests and awful beatings. Young men and young women. Finally the Kennedys got involved and the National Guard.

The next push in the remodel saga. The basement has a new beautiful bathroom and doors and lighting. Hoorah. Next down there will be a kitchen and painting walls and ceilings. Then there's the upstairs kitchen. All kitchen stuff is spread around the house, ah yes. Covered with sheetrock dust. There is a new ceiling and a doorway has been eliminated. Most exciting are cabinets, countertops and a new sink, already paid for that will be installed in a day, very cheaply. Windows and the exterior will have to wait.

Ok, are these hot flashes or do I have a fever?

Shit.

At a labor. Sitting in a bedroom in the dark listening to the mother breathing and moaning.

This job is crazy.

I live in the south end. The family lives way the hell and gone on the other side of the most rapidly growing city in the universe. AND there were school busses. AND accidents. AND it's raining (natch). I used up my curse words getting here. And I was saying not nice things about school children who were getting on/off the yellow busses.

Ok, be here now. Not in traffic anymore. Just here with this family and a new human.

I got myself to the gym this morning only to re-injure my neck. I had a pulled muscle that was all better, all gone and now it's back. Shit. I watched a film about Iris Apfel, the oldster with the giant round glasses and the outsized fashion sense. She said, "Well, you just live with pain, physical pain when you get to be 90".

Hard to accept. And I'm far from 90. I'm going to try running now. In the rain. I've signed up for a half-marathon in May and previously I would be training hard by now but I don't even know if I can run a block.

Time to call the chiropractor and the massage therapist.

Oh no.

Sitting in the birth center listening to a mother in labor. Poor dear. She came in at only 1 cm dilated and whopping contractions every three minutes. We stuck her in the tub and it helped a little. She got out and is lying on the bed but she's making a bunch of noise. Hopefully her youth and strength will get her through without needing any intervention.

So here's the blanket story:

When I was in Edinburgh last summer, I bought a beautiful shawl made of Scottish wool. There are sheep everywhere and I mean everywhere. I've worn it a few times for special occasions. Last week, I wore it over my coat and I thought I looked pretty damn chic.

In the coop, the deli woman said, "Oh, isn't it nice that we can wear blankets when it's cold out?" Blankets? This is not a blanket!!!!! Gawd, what a dork. I felt myself getting so offended, I couldn't even respond. A blanket, really???

Later I took it off at Houston's house and with my bag and computer I had it folded up and ready to put in the car. Off I went home at night. When I got there, I realized the shawl hadn't made it into the house. I looked everywhere. I looked in the car. I looked in all the closets, I looked in the car again. No shawl. I went to bed. (and btw, it's raining hard in the city). I text Houston to see if I left in in her house. Nope. In the morning I am on my way to work and I think, I'm going to see the spot where I parked last night and see if my shawl is there. Long shot, right? It's been pouring all night and we're talking the city. So I drive back to Houston's neighborhood, find my parking space and lo and behold (as my mother would say), there is my beloved shawl, on the curb, soaking wet. I snatch it up (it weighs 80 pounds), drape it over the back seat and go to work. When I get home that day, I hang it in the bathroom to dry. It's wool, right? Sheep get wet all the time and they dry out too.

I know, it's only an object, a thing. But I remember the shop where I bought it. Eden and I had walked through the entire town. We'd had a whiskey sample. We'd had lunch in a funny little veggie place. We'd seen bagpipers. We were a long way from home. So the Scottish shawl is back, washed thoroughly by the Seattle rain.

It is NOT a blanket.

Um, ages since I posted here. Christmas in the Bay area, lots of food was consumed including pogatcha (sp?), Hungarian cheesy biscuit things that were swimming in butter and a food event brought to you by Eden for Maya's birthday. It was a layered pasta, cheese, meatball, salami and red sauce situation wrapped in a pastry shell. Quite towering and indescribable. Since I'm not much of a meat person, I ate a bit of the cheese and sauce and let others have at the whole thing.

There was a bit of hiking in the gorgeous redwoods and dancing (natch) and Maya's surprise b'day party that was quite fun. I even spent time with my ex-husband without incident. And saw my brother and his wife. Harmony reigned.

Houston drove from Sacramento to meet my kids and walk over the Golden Gate bridge, something I've never done even though I once lived there. We walked together on a beautiful crisp sunny day. And Houston asked me to marry her. She had rings and everything. She said she was going to ask in front of my kids but lost her nerve.

Holy shit.

I cried and said yes and spent the rest of the day in a daze. Social media being what it is, random strangers now know. People want the date and time and location. Sheesh. We need some time to get adjusted to the idea. I have a remodel to finish. So we might be able to live together.

I'm very happy. This person I've known for five months makes me laugh. We finish each other's sentences. We are mad fiends for movies. We swim together. We're going skiing on Thursday. We're run/walking the Vancouver marathon in May. We have silly dogs. I miss her so much when we are apart. And we are apart frequently because we don't live together and we have busy lives and there is plenty we do separately.

She likes opera (!) Tomorrow night we're watching the latest Sherlock on the big screen (yeehaw!!!)

So I have a playmate and a buddy and a lover and a friend. Who I love and who loves me back. Amazing. At my sort of age.

"We are all broken by something. We have all hurt someone and have been hurt. We all share the condition of brokenness even if our brokenness is not  equivalent. I desperately wanted mercy for Jimmy Dill and would have done anything to create justice for him, but I couldn't pretend that his struggle was disconnected from my own. The ways in which I have been hurt-and have hurt others-are different from the ways Jimmy Dill suffered and caused suffering. But our shared brokenness connected us."

                                  Bryan Stevenson,  Just Mercy

If you want a thoughtful, heartbreaking and beautiful book, try this one.

In the Bay with my children and grandchild. Gratitude for sweet family and many comforts. Good food, jigsaw puzzles, blessed rain.

May justice and mercy prevail on Earth.

Waiting in the airport to go to California. Meeting Eden in San Fran where we'll pick up a car. Whenever I get together with my children, I relax. They plan, they drive, they cook. I act like a proper grandma and do whatever I want.

I've learned the trick of checking my bag at the gate. No cost and I don't have to lift the damn thing over my head into the bin.

I'm really hungry. Too bad. Airport food is, as we know, way expensive and not very good. When we landed in Lucca, Italy, the airport had an expresso bar and wee pastries. Diane declared that was the best coffee she'd ever had. Of course this was after an eleven hour flight but still. No Starbucks or Quizno anywhere.

I'd love to go back to Europe. Don't know if I'll be able to afford it again.  Eastern Europe with Eden. In the meantime, there's snow in the mountains and for Christmas, I want Houston to go skiing with me. Maybe Mt Rainier, a most exquisite place. Winter NW foxes. Shaggy peaks. Quiet.

The sump pump is going on and off as the rain rains on all around. Grey and cold. Still in bed at 10:30. So far I've ordered The Big Book of AA from Amazon, looked at the Social Security page to see how to apply for benefits next year (do I want to apply for benefits next year???), researched degenerative disc disease for my daughter (ug) and thought about, in a very circular way, how to finish the remodel on my damn house. It is very livable now but the basement is not rentable at all.

Retirement. Oy, when to retire? I got a call from the answering service a bit ago and someone is in early labor. Not looking forward to losing a night's sleep. Don't want to be on call anymore. As much as I love my work life, call is so...wearing. I've declared that age 70 is my limit. One of my partners is an ND and she's needing to have a clinic day to see patients which, selfishly, I'll be impacted by. I've been encouraging her to begin to see clients as a doctor and she's finally doing it. But.

The Dalai Lama is saying maybe he's the last of his line. The NYT had an interesting article about him at 80. The Chinese has effectively invaded and destroyed Tibet and scattered the Tibetans. As we all know, this leads to cultural destruction, a time honored tradition of all conquerers. We are all wanderers and immigrants, layer upon layer of civilizations in the substrata. Our layer will be full of Barbie dolls, cars and disposable diapers.

Yesterday I learned that a former client is very sick with cancer. She has a young child. My dear Jude continues to improve after treatment. She's even starting to eat again and she can walk around the block. Big improvement.

It's time to take myself to my cushion and offer it all up. Today the word is equanimity. Upekka in the Pali language. It is what it is, with wisdom and kindness.

Been a while since I've been here. Moved a lot of art from the basement to the actual house. Now putting it up here and there. How I've missed the photos and landscapes and abstracts and so on. Some of it mine, some my daughter's, some from friends. I won't have enough wall space to hang everything so I'll have to rotate.

The plumber came over today to give advice and an estimate for the basement. Ug. She said to keep the bathroom, just give it a spruce up. I think it needs dynamite but ok, I'll go with it-new drywall, new fixtures in the shower, a sliding door instead of a hinged one. Ok, that works. As for the kitchen, I'm to look for a counter top with sink already installed. We have recycled building warehouses in our town so I'll be haunting the aisles looking for something that will fit. And she said, build out the MIL kitchen first so I have a kitchen while the upstairs kitchen is being torn down and rebuilt. Good idea!

Dealing with anxiety, situational anxiety. I hate it. I want it to go away and never come back. I think there are tigers who will eat me and I will DIE. Metaphorically speaking, of course. Can't say more than that right now.

Made it through Thanksgiving. Hardly thought about Geoffrey. While sorting through basement detritus, I found a few pictures of him, and other dead folks too. At one point I made a shrine to all who have gone on but there are too many now, doesn't stop, the parade of the dead. My dear Jude is getting better but boy howdy, cancer treatment sucks.

Kindness begins with me. Right here. To myself and to all beings, I send loving kindness. So much suffering in the world. May it all be touched with kindness. May we all be free from suffering. Everywhere.

Neighborhood rock, um, art with bunnies

Still in bed and dealing with work stuff in my pajamas. Difficult situations with clients. As they say, comes in waves. On call today and tomorrow. Then I'm cooking Thanksgiving dinner for six? seven? people. Hope the babies let me sleep Wednesday night!

It finally got cold in Seattle, felt like it never would after the weird sunny summer we had. Reluctant to put on layers and boots and slog through the mud in the yard. A pathway is in my future.

Talking with my siblings. Attending AlAnon meetings. Whew. It seems like the healing never ends. My sis told me she's always wanted a relationship with me and now we have one. After 47 years. I counted. A whole new chapter unfolds.

Now thinking about the next remodel project. Kitchen or MIL? Or both together for more fun fuckery. The kitchen because it's gross and I do like to cook. The MIL because it's a revenue stream and maybe the future home of my GF.

My knee is miraculously better. After some serious work on the IT band, which hurt like hell, by the way, it is practically all better. Danced on it on Sunday. Signed up for the Vancouver half marathon next year. I've done it twice before. Beautiful route in a beautiful city. I'll have to train. 13 miles is a long way. I'll walk-run it.

Ok, time to get up and deal.

Sara called to say that their hot water heater died and the plumber won't install a new one until they've rid their basement of the rats. Blech. Ah, the ratty problem. Been there. Ask me all about the life cycle of the rat. I know it.

This photo is the back of my house. Daycare colors, right?

Vancouver was grand. Yes, it rained and we didn't care. We laughed a lot. We ate sushi and Malaysian food. We went to the movies. We went to the market on Granville Island where the chocolates and bakeries were food porn. Towering stacks of strawberries. Local cheeses. Reminded me of the markets in Paris.

We were on the 10th floor of a high rise overlooking Stanley Park. And on Sunday there was a dusting of snow on the mountains. We had an amazing view of the park and the ocean and Whistler.

I didn't want to come back. At all.

I have an actual living room with painted walls and a rug on the floor and a couch.

It feels weird to be living in the living room. After the cave bedroom where I was for a year. Houston asked about curtains in the new bedroom and I don't want to put any in there because I want light. Born in February, I'm a natural melancholic.

I'm sitting under my beloved angel lamp which finally has power...

And the living room is painted, and I have paint all over me. There is a rug on the floor that's been rolled up in the basement for a year. Furniture all rearranged. I have to figure out how to hang pictures with lathe and plaster and picture rails.

And Houston and I are going to Vancouver tomorrow for the weekend. Yippee!!!!

My knee is not as wrecked as I thought but the PT person says 6-8 weeks of healing. Whaaaaa. What about skiing?? Or swimming. Or even walking. Sheesh.

It's supposed to rain all weekend so we'll bring boots and raincoats and umbrellas and books and knitting (well, I'll bring knitting) and we'll watch dumb TV and sleep in and well, you know. And eat fabulous food and walk in Stanley Park.

No dogs. No katz. No clinic or births.

I just might sleep for 12 hours a day.

My grandson is turning 13. How in the world did this happen? He was just born.

Last night the rain let up enough so that Houston and I could scamper to the hot tub and get in it. The moon was sliding through the clouds. After all, it was Halloween and a perfect All Souls moon.

It is so interesting, falling in love. I turn it over in my hands like an intricate shell. Who is this person? At our sort of age,  we've got a lot of weather in us. And time. And suffering. And wisdom. And yet. We're tentative, the back and forth dance. And yet. We can't always be on our best behavior. That game has to slip sometimes. And there we are, revealed in our mistakes and small cruelties and shame.

I told her I've signed up for the full catastrophe. Why not? The biggest challenge is to stay right here and not go galloping off into the future or the past.

This brief life. This too brief life.

I've decided to rejoin my family after 47 years. Major, I know. Being disowned really fucked me up.  (duh) and now I'm looking at my remaining siblings with tenderness and love. They have persevered with me and I've been holding them at arm's length. The folks are dead.  My youngest brother committed suicide in 2007 and this year his anniversary is Thanksgiving day. Ug.

Brevity, dear ones. Let it propel us all to increasing kindness in our lives and make amends where we can and are called to.

Let peace begin with me.

I'm in the kitchen at the birth center listening to a momma in labor. She's been here all day and she's getting louder now as darkness falls over the city. Mammals have higher hormone levels at night so we birth when the predators are sleeping, or so they say. We're ancient, you know. In spite of soap and bath water and Glade plug-ins.

I've been here all day seeing clients in the prenatal clinic. Babies and moms and dads and toddlers. We've got a few babies who are struggling to gain weight, to nurse properly. Little babies don't have a lot of reserves so we stay on them til we figure out what is wrong. Low milk supply? Sucking disorder with a tight frenulum? Back when my kids were small, you shoved a boob in the baby's mouth and hoped for the best. I was so sore for a while. No instructions on proper latch or position. We know more now but still some babies need donor milk or some formula and some mothers just don't want to nurse, for a variety of reasons. Reminds me of the recent NYT article that talked about the disservice done to mothers who don't breastfeed. We make them bad or wrong. Honestly, you don't know, looking at a bottle fed baby. Perhaps the kid was adopted. Maybe the mom has to work.

Today I talked with my young colleague about buying the business from me (gulp). I need to find someone to 'value' the practice so I know what to ask for, price-wise. In the next five years, I need to stop being on call for births and 'retire' from that end of midwifery. I could still do some clinic and keep my hand in training students. But the night call is, shall we say, difficult. In five years I'll be 70, jeezus. How on earth did that happen. And I might want to spend more time with the ones I love, including my honey. She remains my honey, after almost three months!

Much time has gone by. I know.

Still here. Got sick again, so tired of being sick. I went on a 6 day retreat and spent much of it sleeping. It was so glorious to sleep and sleep and sleep some more. And have someone else do the cooking. My dear teacher, Adrianne was the dharma teacher and she gave me full permission to do whatever I needed to care for myself. Of course, on day two, I stepped out of bed and turned my knee just so so now I've been hobbling around with a elastic knee thang. Got a hitch in my giddiup.

The planet keeps turning. We've had about a billion babies. Yesterday about 3AM, Lynn called to tell me she had a 'situation'.  From a dead sleep, I snapped upright. Wha??? Apparently, a young lady who lives a mere three blocks from me was pushing and I would probably miss the birth but could I get over there NOW? Yeah, sure, ok. I threw on my scrubs and ran out the door. Stupid Mapquest sent me to the wrong house. I staggered up the stairs with my heavy gear to see someone peering at me through their blinds. I ask if it's 4010 Burn Street and they say no. I mean, a wild looking woman on their porch at 3AM. You'd say no too. So I go back to the street and start walking, looking for a likely house with lights on. There are no visible house numbers. Then I see someone opening the door a crack and I head for it.

I drag my stuff up another flight of stairs to find the momma lying on her (white) couch with a baby on her chest. The dad and the doula helped deliver the wee girl. Placenta is still in so I get to work, getting out gloves and scissors and meds and such. My student arrives with the other midwife and together we tidy up and finish the birth. The grandma had two hour labors too.

Whew.

I saw them today for their 1 day home visit and the mother is radiant. Really. She's so happy to have her new girl and her family around her.

Last night I spent time with my dear Jude, who is in the midst of cancer treatment. We decided that cancer treatment is time spent in the hell realms. She said if they offer her more of the same, she would refuse. Dear sweet woman. She's on oxygen and a feeding tube. I read to her until she got tired.

From one world to another. Today my hot tub was installed. Tomorrow I hope to plug it in, fill it up and heat me some water so I can sit on my new deck in my new tub (with my new honey) and contemplate the night sky.

Pray for Peace

Pray to whomever you kneel down to:
Jesus nailed to his wooden or plastic cross,
his suffering face bent to kiss you,
Buddha still under the bo tree in scorching heat,
Adonai, Allah. Raise your arms to Mary
that she may lay her palm on our brows,
to Shekhina, Queen of Heaven and Earth,
to Inanna in her stripped descent.

Then pray to the bus driver who takes you to work.
On the bus, pray for everyone riding that bus,
for everyone riding buses all over the world.
Drop some silver and pray.

Waiting in line for the movies, for the ATM,
for your latte and croissant, offer your plea.
Make your eating and drinking a supplication.
Make your slicing of carrots a holy act,
each translucent layer of the onion, a deeper prayer.

To Hawk or Wolf, or the Great Whale, pray.
Bow down to terriers and shepherds and Siamese cats.
Fields of artichokes and elegant strawberries.

Make the brushing of your hair
a prayer, every strand its own voice,
singing in the choir on your head.
As you wash your face, the water slipping
through your fingers, a prayer: Water,
softest thing on earth, gentleness
that wears away rock.

Making love, of course, is already prayer.
Skin, and open mouths worshipping that skin,
the fragile cases we are poured into.

If you’re hungry, pray. If you’re tired.
Pray to Gandhi and Dorothy Day.
Shakespeare. Sappho. Sojourner Truth.

When you walk to your car, to the mailbox,
to the video store, let each step
be a prayer that we all keep our legs,
that we do not blow off anyone else’s legs.
Or crush their skulls.
And if you are riding on a bicycle
or a skateboard, in a wheelchair, each revolution
of the wheels a prayer as the earth revolves:
less harm, less harm, less harm.

And as you work, typing with a new manicure,
a tiny palm tree painted on one pearlescent nail
or delivering soda or drawing good blood
into rubber-capped vials, writing on a blackboard
with yellow chalk, twirling pizzas–

With each breath in, take in the faith of those
who have believed when belief seemed foolish,
who persevered. With each breath out, cherish.

Pull weeds for peace, turn over in your sleep for peace,
feed the birds, each shiny seed
that spills onto the earth, another second of peace.
Wash your dishes, call your mother, drink wine.

Shovel leaves or snow or trash from your sidewalk.
Make a path. Fold a photo of a dead child
around your VISA card. Scoop your holy water
from the gutter. Gnaw your crust.
Mumble along like a crazy person, stumbling
your prayer through the streets.

~Ellen Bass

Another shooting at a school, this time in Oregon. Are we becoming inured to it?  We're helpless? Nothing will happen? Nothing will change? Gun laws won't change, can't change?

Reading Between the World and Me, by Ta-Nehisi Coates. He's coming to Town Hall here but already sold out. Astonishing book.

The Peace of Wild Things

BY WENDELL BERRY

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the night at the least sound

in fear of what my life and my children’s lives may be,

I go and lie down where the wood drake

rests in his beauty on the water, and the great heron feeds.

I come into the peace of wild things

who do not tax their lives with forethought

of grief. I come into the presence of still water.

And I feel above me the day-blind stars

waiting with their light. For a time

I rest in the grace of the world, and am free.

In bed (again) with a rotten cold. I just finished with a rotten cold only to get another one. And this time, I'm quite grumpy about it. I have things to do, places to go, babies to deliver! I think flying isn't good for me but it's the fastest way to get from place to place. Recycled air loaded with germs in planes.  What's up with my immune system anyway? Too many years of sleepless nights???

I sound like an old man who has smoked for 40 years. Felix is terribly bored with me so I'll take him for a walk in my sweats.

The hot tub is being delivered next week. Last night I got up and took a bath. Water, the great soother. With a hot tub, I'll be able to immerse myself without throwing water away every time.

Beautiful day outside. Time to take the Felix to the park and shop for food which will miraculously heal me.